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“I have Instacart here for you.”
She turned questioning eyes to Adam, and he nodded.
A slight frown furrowed her brow.“Send them up.” She hung up.“Instacart?”
He showed her the app on his phone.“I ordered wine for us.”
“Sneaky.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
It didn’t take long for the delivery to arrive.
“I’ll get it.” Adam tipped the man, closed the door behind him, and pulled the bottle out of the paper bag.“Oh, yeah,” he said, eyeing the light green label,“now we’re talking. Do you have a corkscrew?”
“No.”
“She doesn’t have a corkscrew.” He sighed and shook his head.“OK, then. Not a problem.” He reached for the black duffel he’d left right by the door.
“Don’t tell me you carry a corkscrew in your gym bag.”
“I don’t. But I always—” he unzipped the front pocket“—carry my trusty Leatherman.” He held up the blue-handled steel multitool.“I suppose it would be pointless to ask if you own wineglasses.”
She led the way back to the kitchen.“Mugs, water glasses, or red Solo cups. Your choice.”
“Solo cups. Take me back to my college days. I liked it there.”
She found the package in an upper cabinet.“I would challenge you to a game of beer pong, but you don’t like beer.”
He couldn’t picture her playing beer pong. He could, however, see her being studious in a library, taking notes and poring over textbooks.
How the hell had this woman ended up working for Eleet?
Adam made quick work of the cork, then poured the ruby liquid into the two red plastic cups. He mentally shook his head. No decanter, no glasses to show off the color. A damn shame.
She touched her cup to his.“Cheers.”
He watched her take a sip of Cab and draw her tongue over her upper lip.
“Oh, this is good,” she said.
“Caymus Special Reserve. One of the best California Cabs, in my opinion.”
He took a sip to fortify himself. It was time to get the truth out of her, whatever that may be.
He sought her gaze and held it.“You have refused all my requests over the last two weeks. Tell me why.”
“Your requests?” Her voice sounded incredulous.
He nodded, frowning.
She regarded him, brow furrowing.“I received six.”
“Six.” His jaw clenched. Six men had requested time with her.
How many fucked you?
Why did that bother him so much? In all the years he’d met with escorts—more than he could count—he hadn’t given a damn about who else they saw.