As he lifted his wineglass and gave Devina a nod, she ate up the attention, positively glowing with happiness. Then again, he’d just spent the balance of the meal talking about something she wasn’t familiar with, relegating her to a shut-out observer seemingly without a care.

“I’ll clear and bring in dessert,” she said, getting to her feet. “No, please, sit. It won’t take a moment.”

Jim lowered himself back into his chair and focused on Vin. In the quiet that bloomed while Devina went in and out of the butler’s door with the dishes, you could practically smell the wood burning between the guy’s ears.

“What’s on your mind,” Jim asked.

“Nothing.” A quick shrug was followed by a sip of wine. “Nothing whatsoever.”

Dessert was homemade cherry-and-chocolate-chip ice cream and coffee so strong it could put hair on your chest. The combination was sublime, and yet it wasn’t sweet or savory enough to clear the frown from Vin’s eyebrows.

When the dessert plates were empty, Devina got to her feet again.

“Why don’t you two go back to the study while I clean up in the kitchen?” She shook her head before Jim could offer to help. “It won’t take a minute. No…honestly, let me do it. You two go back and talk.”

“Thank you for dinner,” Jim said as he got out of his chair. “Best meal I’ve had in ages.”

“I second that,” Vin murmured while tossing his napkin onto the table.

When they were in the study once again, Vin went to the wet bar in the corner. “Hell of a cook, isn’t she.”

“Yeah.”

“Brandy?”

“Nah, thanks.” Jim paced around, looking at the leather-bound books on the shelves, and the paintings and drawings and framed U.S. stamps. “So you build things up in Canada, too?”

“I’m all over the country, actually.”

Vin picked up a fat glass and poured himself a couple of inches, then sat down behind the desk. While he swirled the brandy sniffer, he swept a wireless mouse around and the planes of his face lit up as the screen saver on his computer flickered off.

Jim stopped in front of the drawing Vin had fixated on when he’d been thinking of Devina. The depiction was of a horse…sort of. “This artist do a lot of acid?”

“It’s a Chagall.”

“No offense, but it’s weird.”

Vin laughed and regarded the piece of art…or shit, depending on your taste…with grave appreciation. “It’s relatively new. I got it the night I met Devina. God, I haven’t looked at it for a while. Reminds me of a dreamscape.”

Jim thought about the life the guy must live. Work, work, work…come home…not see all the expensive stuff he owned.

“Do you see your girlfriend?” Jim said abruptly.

Vin frowned and took a sip of his brandy.