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“I count lots of things,” I reply, casually lifting one shoulder. “Windows, exits, people who look like they know where the bathrooms are. It’s a habit.”

Andrei glances toward one of the men stationed near the entrance. “What does your count tell you?”

“That you have more security than the average wine tasting.” I take a sip and watch him over the rim of my glass.

“The people attending this event value their privacy.” He smooths one thumb over the scar on the back of his hand.

I lower my glass and raise my eyebrows. “That sounds like the answer someone gives when he has no intention of giving the real one.”

Andrei inclines his head, and the hint of amusement returns to his eyes. “You ask direct questions, Miss Brewster.”

“I’ve been told subtlety wastes time.” I take another sip, hoping the glass conceals more of my nerves than it probably does.

One dark eyebrow rises. “Who told you that?”

“Mostly people who wish I would practice it.” I smooth a crease from the skirt of my dress. “Do you always study your guests this closely?”

“Only the interesting ones.”

His answer catches me off guard, and the next question disappears from my head.

Birdie makes another soft noise beside me and becomes very interested in the vineyard outside the pavilion.

I clear my throat. “You’ve known me for less than five minutes.”

“And yet you’ve questioned my approval process, my assistant’s employment, and my security.”

“When you list it that way, five minutes sounds productive.” I lift my glass to hide the smile tugging at my mouth.

His mouth curves at one corner, although not enough to qualify as an actual smile. Even that small hint of one changes his entire face and sends an inconvenient rush of warmth through me.

Attraction has terrible judgment. It should recognize that this man may know why my brother vanished and excuse itself from the situation, preferably with an apology.

Andrei takes another drink while I look past him toward the rows of vines beneath the evening sky. Amber lights follow the slopes until they disappear near the production buildings below.

“How much of this do you own?” I ask, gesturing toward the vines.

“All of it,” Andrei replies as he turns to follow the direction of my hand.

“The vineyards, the winery, and the cottages?” I look from one building to the next, trying to imagine owning enough land to require an estate map.

“Yes.” He speaks as if possessing half the hillside is hardly worth discussing.

I tip my glass toward the stone-and-glass residence overlooking the property. “What about the house on the ridge?”

“That too.” His eyes return to my face, amusement lingering in them.

“Do you live there?” I ask, glancing up at the illuminated windows.

Andrei studies me before answering. “I do.”

My curiosity gets ahead of my common sense. “Alone?”

Beside me, Birdie chokes on her wine and presses a hand to her chest.

The question sounds much more personal after it leaves my mouth than it did inside my head. I glance at her as she presses the back of one hand to her lips.

“What?” I ask.