by Jo Leigh
She had all the earmarks of someone with social anxiety, although she hid it well. If he hadn’t been paying such close attention, he’d have thought nothing of her behavior. He doubted a single person in their circle would remember that Molly had hardly said a word.
By the time they were asked to take their seats, he’d learned to identify how nervous she was by the pressure of her body against his. So he asked a lot of questions, mentioned Molly’s columns without making her blush too much and generally kept things moving along. He was glad these kinds of situations were easy for him. His talent for small talk was a gift, one he’d used to his advantage in college and on the beer circuit.
He held Molly’s chair, then sat down himself. Bending close to her ear, he put his hand on hers and asked her quietly if she was okay.
She turned her palm over so her fingers threaded through his. “Yes, thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate you being here tonight. I would have been a complete mess on my own. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, I don’t mingle well. Give me a class to teach or a wine to discuss, and I’m good to go, but the small talk...not so much.”
“I thought you were great, and no, don’t shake your head. You should believe me. After all, I was right about you being the most beautiful woman in the room.”
“You’re a liar, but a sweet one.”
He wanted to kiss her, but that might draw too much attention. Instead, he squeezed her hand and lifted his now-flat drink for a private toast. “To the guest of honor.”
She laughed. “I’m really not.”
“That’s good, too. Less pressure when it’s time to make your speech.”
“I think you’ll be surprised,” she said, then took one more sip. “Just don’t expect any extemporaneous anecdotes.”
“Deal.”
The room darkened, and a silver-haired man took the stage. The applause was generous, but Cam wasn’t sure if it was because they all knew who he was or because the first round of wineglasses was finally being filled. The master of ceremonies introduced the vintage before he introduced himself. It was a Maison Louis Jadot Savigny-lès-Beaune Clos des Guettes Premier Cru Blanc 2011, to be accompanied by a rabbit, spring vegetable and pistachio terrine. Très sophistiqué.
Cam looked at Molly. “What do you think of the pairing?”
“Won’t know until I try it.” She grinned. “But considering the occasion, I’m reasonably sure you can trust the selections.”
He smiled back and sampled the rabbit terrine, then had a sip of wine. Together, they were far more unforgettable than their names. The fun part was watching all the wine nerds swirl, sniff and slurp as they tasted. He saw a lot more raised eyebrows and facial tics than he was used to. At least he wasn’t the only amateur at the table. Although Cam could discern some things about the wine that the general populace would miss, he was definitely out of his league in this room full of wine aficionados.
As the evening progressed, the conversation at the table turned more jovial. Wine tended to loosen things up, and he wasn’t the only one who was finishing each glass. Admittedly, the portions were small, but they added up.
“You’re attending the Long Island Wine Camp this year, aren’t you, Molly?”
James Furulya, a master sommelier and consultant, had asked the question. He’d come without a date, and Cam had noticed early on that he was more interested in Molly than the Gérard Bertrand Domaine de Cigalus IGP Something Something.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be there. I’m doing the food-and-wine-pairing event and teaching three classes.”
“Fantastic,” he said. “Can’t wait to see what kinds of wines you choose. I love listening to your radio show.”
Molly paused with her fork in midair, then went back to her plate. “Don’t tell me you listen to Wine for Newbies.”
“Not every week,” he said with a wry smile. “But often enough.”
Cameron disliked him. He was far too old for Molly, and if he thought his comb-over was fooling anyone, he was out of touch. He was also the only one of the six strangers at the table who hadn’t introduced himself to Cam.
“I’m flattered. Thank you. I’ve heard the camp is great fun for everyone. At those prices, it better be, huh?”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” Comb-Over said. “I once hosted a single-day event in Silicon Valley that charged over five thousand dollars a head.”
“What were they serving?” she asked.
Furulya responded. In detail. Then he invited Molly to another wine event taking place in late September. It sounded snooty as hell. The whole time, he never once shifted his gaze away from Molly’s.
The only thing that shut him up was the announcement for the next award. It was Molly’s category, and amid all the applause when her name was announced, Cam stood up with her, worried and pleased and more nervous than he’d been at any of his own competitions.
She gave Donna a one-shoulder hug and turned back to him. “I’m okay,” she said.
“Go get ’em, tiger.”
Finally, she smiled like a winner—that great smile he’d seen the first night.
He didn’t sit down until she was at the dais and had lowered the mike.
“Thank you very much to the members of the International Wine Writers Association for this incredible honor. I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for the generosity of my editor, Donna Woppner, and the whole team at Wine Connoisseur. Thank you for giving me all the encouragement and support a newbie could hope for. And a special thanks to Phillip and Simone Alexander for introducing me to the world of enology. It’s a privilege to be here with so many legends in the industry.”
That was it. Short and sweet, but from the reaction of her fellows, she appeared to be a big hit. Cam wouldn’t have guessed she’d be so confident on that stage. A hundred questions about her spun in his head, but he’d ask exactly none of them. Tonight was for celebrating.
* * *
MOLLY SHOULD HAVE BEEN listening to the closing speech, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the evening and how different it had been from any of the social engagements she’d attended in the past. Not because she’d won a prize. If anything, that should have made things ten times worse. She’d never done well at large functions, and when she’d told Cameron that she wasn’t comfortable with small talk, it had been the understatement of the year.
It wasn’t as if Cam’s presence had miraculously transformed her into a social butterfly. Not at all. Without a concrete task to perform, she was pretty much hopeless and most often wound up hiding in the restroom for ages or drinking too much.
Tonight, Cameron had done all the hard work. He was wonderful with strangers—charismatic, charming—and yet he did that great thing where he made everyone else feel interesting. After a few conversations, she’d come to anticipate Cameron’s questions. They were always insightful and there was no doubt his curiosity was genuine. The person he was talking to would invariably stand up straighter and ignore the complimentary Champagne for the more flattering attention. Cam even knew how to make a perfect exit. One that reminded them again of whom he was with and how proud of her he was.
All in all, it had been a pretty magical evening. It seemed hard to believe that not only was the event over, but she hadn’t even noticed the time flying by. She should have left at least an hour ago. Cam had excused himself for a few minutes, and Donna sidled up to her. “You were great up there,” she said. “Like a seasoned pro.”
“I practiced,” Molly admitted. “A lot.”
“Good for you. It paid off.” Leaning closer, Donna said, “He is so scrumptious, I can hardly stand it. You can’t let him go.”
“Come on, Donna. As if I have a choice? You saw his card. He’s only here tonight because we never...you know.”
“That’s not the only reason he’
s here. No one’s that attentive if all they’re after is a one-night stand.”
Molly shook her head.
“When Eddie was your date, he barely spoke to anyone, including you. Cameron was here for you, not the food and drinks. It’s like you’ve been a couple for years.”
“He’d have been that way with anyone. I told you he was great.”
Donna narrowed her gaze. “You’ve got some strange notions, Molly. Seriously strange. Look, go home, have a ball, but don’t assume anything. Play it out, see where it goes.”
She shook her head. “What’s the use? You know I can’t afford to get involved like that.”
“You and your damn schedule.” Donna sighed. “I admire your ambition, hon, but all work and no play—”
“Gives me a huge advantage. Because everyone else is out there dating and flirting and juggling appointments and missing deadlines. I won’t do it.” She picked up her statue. “This is it. The last pass I’ll get. As of right now, I’m no longer emerging. I’m a wine writer, a critic, a talk-show host, a teacher. I’m competing in a field that’s already bursting at the seams. Everyone was nice as could be tonight, but the truth beneath all the smiles is that I’ve ruffled a lot of feathers becoming a master sommelier before I turn thirty. It’ll only get worse if and when I become a master of wine. I’m on a very tall pedestal and they’re all waiting for an earthquake.”
Donna didn’t respond right away. She didn’t dismiss the speech out of hand, which Molly had expected. Instead, she nodded. “I can’t tell you you’re wrong. But I will tell you I wish I’d done a few things differently when I had the chance.”
“What do you mean? You love your job.”
“That I do. Anyway, none of that matters. You just enjoy your night. You deserve every second of happiness. Now I’m getting the hell out of here. Wayne’s drunk, even if he is holding it together well. So I’m gonna send him home and get a good night’s sleep. And here comes your knight in an elegant tux. Have fun, and don’t forget to use protection.”
“Donna!”
“What? I’m just saying.”
They both stood as Cam returned, and Donna said something to him that Molly couldn’t hear. A few people stopped to congratulate her. By the time they’d moved on, she’d been asked to act as sommelier at a big-deal benefit hosted by the governor and to participate in a wine-tasting fundraiser for Hurricane Sandy victims. Great for her career. But horrible for her clothing budget and overtaxed nerves. Not that she could afford to decline a single invitation. Networking was a huge part of the game.
Donna had obviously heard and gave her an excited smile as she steered Wayne toward the door. Cameron, bless him, had waited patiently off to the side. Now that he could get to her, he moved in and touched her back. The warm pressure of his palm helped her relax.
“You ready to go? Or do you want to stick around and schmooze with your fans?”
“No.” She laughed and grabbed her bag while he picked up her award. It was late. In fact, she didn’t dare think of what that meant for her class tomorrow. Especially knowing what still lay ahead.
Cam kissed her sweetly. Her lips parted and his tongue slipped past them, but it didn’t go much farther. When he pulled away, she wanted to yank him back, but there were too many people around.
Instead of offering his arm, as he’d done on the way in, he took her hand. Although they’d touched all throughout the evening, holding hands seemed more intimate. It was something a guy did with a girlfriend.
He wasn’t that, but he’d helped her feel safe tonight. Certainly she could have come alone, and she’d have bumbled her way through the chitchat. It wasn’t only something she’d done many times before, but something she needed to practice. She couldn’t ask Cameron to be her escort for the rest of her life.
The thought caught her so entirely off guard that she stopped walking.
“You okay?”
She nodded, even managed a smile. But her body wasn’t okay. It was buzzing and yearning, not for sex, which would be understandable, but for the way Cameron made her feel.
When they were stalled by the crowd at the exit doors, he rubbed a tiny circle on her wrist with his thumb, and she knew that she totally wanted to have sex with Cameron.
How had this one-night stand become so confusing? It was supposed to be the most sensible, simplest way to satisfy her needs—no strings attached.
If she slept with him, there was a good chance things could end there and they’d never see each other again. On the other hand, if she slept with him, he might want to see her again.
If they continued to see each other, her life was bound to get complicated. But it would also mean he’d be around to escort her to all the functions that seemed to be landing in her lap. With him at her side, she could see herself taking risks in the social arena, which could mean the difference between making her mark in the wine business and ending up as a footnote.
“Molly?”
They were on the street, and she only vaguely remembered getting there. “Hmm?”
Cam gestured to the bellman, waiting for her to enter a taxi. Embarrassed that she hadn’t been paying attention, she hurried to duck into the cab, which wasn’t easy in her gown. Cameron followed, but only after he’d slipped the doorman a five.
“I imagine you’re pretty exhausted,” he said. “All that attention and excitement.”
“I guess I am.” She laid her head back. “But mostly I’m relieved it’s over.”
“Not for long. I counted three invitations to future events, and I suspect quite a few more will be coming your way. But at least you won’t have to do any more speeches.”
Molly laughed. “That was the easy part.”
“You did pull that off well, which, you do realize, isn’t how that usually works with most people.”
“Yes, I am painfully aware of that.” She brought her head up. “Believe me, I’d rather be able to wade through the small talk without getting tongue-tied.”
He brushed the side of her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You were terrific tonight, all the way around. I had a great time.”
“You did, didn’t you?”
His chuckle was warm and soft. “Yeah. It was different from the kinds of gatherings I’ve gone to lately. And you were right about the wine. I was trying to figure out how to sneak some of those bottles home, but I suppose they’d have frowned at that.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Donna’s got that covered. The bottles really are up for grabs. No one shop gets to resell them, so the U.S. publications tend to divvy up the spoils. We’re not the biggest kid on the block, but we’ll get our share. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get at least one bottle of something great.”
“Use your new clout to get something you like, and we can drink it together.”
She turned and stared at him, wishing she could see his face better in the semidarkness. Was he only making conversation, doing that small-talk thing he did so well? Or was he seriously thinking about a next time for them?
“You okay?”
Before she could respond or make her heart stop pounding, her cell phone buzzed.
It had to be Phillip and Simone.
She knew they couldn’t have forgotten about tonight. “I’m sorry but I have to take this,” she said, fumbling with her ridiculously tiny purse.
When she produced her cell, the name displayed on the caller ID startled her. It was Roxanne. Molly tried to stanch the flow of disappointment coming from deep inside her. She couldn’t answer, not now, not without fearing her voice might betray her. Keeping her head down, she tucked the phone back into her purse.
“I really don’t mind if you take the call,” Cam said.
Molly shook her head. “No. That’s okay. It’s not who I was expecting.”
&nbs
p; He slid his arm behind her back and pulled her closer. “That look on your face had me worried for a minute.”
She let her head drop to his shoulder. “No need for that. I’d say tonight was a resounding success, and we still have much to look forward to.”
The way he exhaled told her a lot. That he hadn’t been sure they were going up to her apartment or that anything would happen between them once they got there.
An hour ago she’d been so sure she was going to sleep with him. He’d been the perfect date in every respect. Capping the night off with sex would’ve been the perfect ending to a perfect evening. But now she wasn’t sure anymore.
She feared that trying to make more out of tonight, or out of Cameron, would only end in another disappointment. And she’d had enough of those to last a lifetime.
7
MOLLY’S APARTMENT WAS pretty warm despite the valiant efforts of the window air-conditioning unit. That meant things were going to get sticky. Which wasn’t a bad thing, except... Cam looked at the kitchen shower and realized the nozzle would probably reach his shoulder. Oh, well. Compared to the fact that he was here with Molly and that they would soon be getting naked and sweaty, a lousy shower wasn’t a big deal.
At least he hoped they’d soon be naked. Something was bothering her and he had no idea what. He was fairly certain it had nothing to do with him. Her mood shift had happened around the time of that call she hadn’t answered. But if something really had been wrong, he doubted she’d have invited him up.
“I have iced coffee in the fridge,” she said, putting her award in the center of the only table in the place. “I also have wine and a few bottles of beer. Instant iced tea. Maybe a soda...”
She opened the little fridge and he got a decent view of the interior. Mostly beverages and yogurt.
