Sheerly Irresistible

A harried young bartender hurried over to her. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a glass of wine,” she said, deciding to keep it simple for him. “Merlot, if you have it.”

The bartender looked at the older man. “Do we have it?”

“Hell, yes.” He pointed to one of the lower shelves. “Second bottle from the right.”

The bartender set a bottle on top of the counter.

“That’s pinot grigio, not merlot, you idiot!”

“I love pinot grigio!” Claire exclaimed, then smiled at the red-faced bartender. “You must have read my mind.”

“Get the lady a glass,” the older man ordered gruffly, then he turned to Claire. “You must be new in town.”

“How can you tell?”

“You’re too nice. Besides, I’ve been running this place for the last thirty years. I can spot a tourist a mile away.”

“Thirty years?” Claire echoed. “Then maybe you remember my father, Marcus Dellafield. He conducted a research study here called Strangers in the Night about twenty-five years ago. I’m his daughter, Claire.”

The bartender’s scowl faded into something that could almost be called a smile. “Well, hell. Of course, I remember Marc. I’m Dick Vandalay, owner of The Jungle.”

Marc? She’d never heard anyone call her father that before. Somehow it didn’t seem to fit with his dignified image. But her father had been a relatively young man back then. Handsome, too, from the photographs she’d seen. Her throat tightened and she had to swallow hard to keep from choking on a sob. She reached for her glass of wine and took a long sip.

“I haven’t heard from Marc for a while.” He looked around the bar. “Did he come with you?”