“What is it you want?” Shield asked.
“I should say I want my life back, but I don’t. I…I just want to live. For once, I want to be free of everything, including myself…who I was before all this.”
Shield didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. If she hated anything, it was superficial sentiments and conventional comfort speeches. She wasn’t about to tell Thomas her life wasn’t so bad, because it clearly was, and who was Shield to tell her otherwise? She also wasn’t about to tell Thomas things could get better because Shield couldn’t know that, either. If she was right and the president had gotten to the point of having to fake an attack and get five people killed in the process, chances were things could only get a lot worse.
Judging from her panic attacks and almost tangible fear, Thomas had clearly been persuaded to do something she didn’t want. Her statements tonight seemed to confirm that supposition. Shield was almost positive the president had to be convinced to go along with whatever was happening, because one sentiment was missing from her demeanor: guilt. But who could have so much power over the president of the United States?
They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Shield picked up the bottle of Il Grigio Angelo. “Would you do me the honor of trying my wine?” she asked Thomas. “Since I’m sure you’re an excellent critic, your opinion is important to me.”
“I don’t know that I’m an expert and by no means a connoisseur.”
Shield found it hard to believe that the president hadn’t had her share of good wine, coming from a prominent family and considering all the formal dinners she’d no doubt attended as a senator. She was probably just downplaying her privileged background and being careful not to give the impression of a chief executive who enjoyed alcohol. “But you enjoy a glass now and then?”
“Very much.”
“Will you try some?”
“I’d love to.”
Shield uncorked the bottle and poured for the president.
“How about you?” Thomas asked.
“I’m on duty.”
“I won’t tell, and I’m sure just one won’t compromise your ability to protect me.”
Shield smiled. “It won’t. But aside from that, we only have one wineglass and I’d rather not ask for another. It would draw attention, and I don’t want that.”
“Very well.” Thomas lifted the goblet. “Cheers, then.” She took a sip.
Odd, Shield thought. The president, because of her position, had to have been trained in the basics of wine. Yet Thomas had skipped swirling, sniffing, and allowing the burgundy liquid to permeate her palate before she swallowed. Maybe wine wasn’t her thing, after all. Shield was disappointed. She didn’t know why, but she wanted Thomas to like it. “What do you think?”
“It’s heavenly.” Thomas leaned back in the armchair with the goblet. “Truly delicious.”
“Do you generally enjoy wine?”
“I know this will sound very wrong, but I really don’t know much about it.”
Shield laughed. “I can tell.”
Thomas looked chagrined. “Uh-oh. That bad, huh?”
“May I?” Shield looked at the glass.
Thomas handed it over and Shield held it up to the setting sun. “This is a merlot.”
“Okay.”
“Can you describe the color?”
“Red.”
“Red wine is produced from grapes that are not only red, but purple and blue as well. The many different varietals of red wine give it names like dark red, light red, almost black, maroon, deep violet, and burgundy. If you look at it again, how would you describe it?”
Thomas looked from her to the wine. She stared at it for a while and pursed her lips. “Maroon, almost black.”
“Very good.” Shield lifted the wineglass and swirled it. “Aerating the wine like this introduces more air molecules into it, which can capture the aroma molecules and carry them up to the nose. More dominant aromatics that arise after swirling can overwhelm some subtle ones, so most professional tasters will sniff the wine briefly first before swirling. The closer the nose is to the wine, even right inside the glass, the greater the chances of capturing aromatics. A series of short, quick sniffs versus one long inhale will also maximize the likelihood of detecting aromatics. The human nose starts to fatigue after around six seconds, and so a pause may be necessary between sniffs.” She stopped swirling and placed the goblet under Thomas’s nose.
The president took successive brief sniffs.
Fast learner, Shield thought. “What do you smell?”
“Fruit, but not sweet. Earth, and…smoke?”
“Excellent. Inferior merlots can smell like vinegar.”
“This definitely doesn’t smell like vinegar.”
“I know.” Shield didn’t want to sound arrogant, but she prided herself on the quality of her wine.
“How would you describe it?” Thomas asked.
“A full-bodied and complex ruby, with a soft sweetness and velvety aftertaste. Hints of wild cherry and blackberry, finessed with a slight cocoa tone and undercurrents reminiscent of the rich, smoky soil of Tuscany.”
Thomas sighed. “That’s beautiful. So…romantic.”
“And now, finally, is the time to taste.”
Thomas lifted the glass to her mouth, never taking her eyes off Shield’s, as if waiting for her permission.
“Before you…” Shield stopped.
“Yes?”
They were staring at each other and Shield couldn’t look away. The president looked more relaxed at that moment than Shield had ever seen her—softer, somehow, and more…real, not the figurehead politician, but a warm and inviting woman. Again, Shield was struck by how beautiful Thomas was when she was stripped of her perfect media-friendly hairdo and flawless makeup. She’d evidently showered after her workday before changing into the comfortable-looking long-sleeved blue T-shirt and designer sweatpants she now wore; her fresh-scrubbed face and slightly flyaway, short brown hair gave her an enticing approachability. But the vulnerability in Elizabeth Thomas’s dark eyes really drew her in and made her forget momentarily what she’d been about to say.
Shield also couldn’t remember when she’d decided it was proper to stare at Thomas’s kissable mouth. What was she doing? This woman was the American president and was also apparently involved in some scheme.
“May I…” Thomas’s hoarse voice brought her back.
“Yes…if you know how.”
Thomas paused a long moment before replying in a soft voice, “Teach me.”
Shield shivered involuntarily at the words. Damn it, this was insane. Was she actually flirting with Thomas? And more insanely, was the president actually flirting back? “Take a small sip and keep it on your tongue. Give it a chance to mix with your saliva. It decreases the acidity and enhances the flavor.”
“How long?”
“You’ll know.”
Thomas slowly brought the glass to her lips and, her eyes still fixed on Shield’s, took a small sip. The setting sun had created a green hue in the president’s deep-brown eyes, and her lips shone from the maroon liquid. Thomas closed her eyes to swallow and let out a small groan.
Shield’s whole body reacted to the sound, every muscle tensing involuntarily, and she had to stop herself from moaning as well.
“Your wine is…delicious.” Thomas’s voice was barely audible.
Unable to trust her own voice, Shield smiled and looked out the open doors to the balcony.
The situation was becoming more unprofessional by the second. Flirting on the job, and never mind with Thomas, was against her every taught and self-imposed code of ethics. Shield cleared her voice before she spoke.