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turning up and that she was just as attracted to him as he was to her.
    “I work at Belvedere—that’s why I asked. I’m a fitness coach. If you did work out there then I probably would have seen you there.”
    “That makes sense,” he was alluding to her muscular frame but immediately tried to make it sound that it was her logic he was agreeing with.
    “I’m in sales,” he responded in kind. He knew what question would follow, so he dove in himself, “I work for a wine label.”
    “Which one?”
    The question made him panic. It was possible that she was up on wine and would know his family’s name, know him. “Are you a wine connoisseur?” he asked trying to sound casually interested.
    “No, not at all,” she laughed. “I’m usually a fan of the cheapest thing on the shelf, I’m sure you’ll think me a terrible philistine.”
    “No, it’s nice, I talk too much wine in my day-to-day. I work for a small label out of Chile.” Lie number one, he thought. He knew this game and knew it would only get harder and harder to remember all the details of his story. He had to try to keep the outright lies to a minimum.
    “That sounds like a nice job. What sort of training did you go through for that?”
    “The company, Valenzuela, did most of that.”
    He’d picked at random, naming a competitor he’d visited a few years ago that made an especially nice Merlot although they didn’t have any offices in the US only distributors.
    “Well red wine is supposed to have great health benefits so I guess we practically work in the same industry.” Madison took another sip of her drink, thankful each time it went down. She was beginning to loosen up, her shoulders had relaxed a bit, her stomach was still a flurry but she thought it was mainly excitement from the situation.
    “I like the way you think.”
    “So you’re a wine guy that drinks beer,” she looked down at his drink.
    “Can you blame me?”
    “Well, I love running and working out despite my job so…”
    He wanted immediately to tell her everything. He wanted to impress her—to let his family status win her over. He was afraid that he might not be able keep her interested alone.
    “Do you play any sports?” she asked when he didn’t respond. He shook himself out of the thought. He wouldn’t be winning anyone over if his mind kept drifting off like this.
    “I played rugby in college, then played with a men’s league for a few years. I broke my arm and realized that rugby may be a difficult sport to play as a grown up with an actual job and responsibilities.”
    She clucked her tongue, dismissing the notion. “Pish tosh, I’ve never heard something so ridiculous.”
    He laughed, “You’re right, I do miss it, I was thinking just last week about finding a men’s league around here—or maybe something else.”
    Madison nodded approvingly, and he was happy he’d said the right thing.
    Two hours later they had both relaxed enough to find themselves laughing at each other’s foibles and anecdotes. Madison felt tipsy after her second drink and Connor felt a buzz from laughing so much.
    “Oh, my God,” Madison looked up at the clock. “It’s almost ten.”
    She exhaled deeply.
    “You have to go?”
    “I have clients that start at five tomorrow,” she cringed just saying it. Normally she didn’t mind but tonight it felt like a true imposition. Connor made a faux cringe in response to hers.
    “That’s rough,” he leaned back into his chair and nodded his head at the waiter for the bill. When he brought it over Connor laid down cash and turned back to Madison.
    “Can I walk you home?”
    Madison looked at him with an unreadable expression. He wished he could take it back; walking her home was too private. She probably didn’t want him to know where she lived.
    “You just gave him a two hundred percent tip,” she whispered.
    Connor felt his face go red, he was doing it. He was acting out of character. How could he be such an