I’m not versed in flirting or innuendo, but I felt I understood his meaning and found myself enjoying it.

“Would you like to see the house?” he asked.

“Very much so,” I told him.

He guided me through the kitchen, the living room, and dining room, which was fine but then he led me to his office. His desk was in the middle of the room and there was a large bookcase with wooden panels on the side against the wall by the door.

“This is my little sanctuary,” he said.

“It’s lovely.”

“Would you like to see a secret?”

I didn’t know what he meant, but the gleam in his eyes said that he wanted to show me.

“All right.”

He went around to the side of the bookcase and waved me over. He popped one of the wooden panels off the side to reveal a hidden compartment. Inside was a bottle of whiskey and the flask I had seen him drinking from at my party. He took it out and gently shook it at me. I could hear the liquid inside.

“Care for a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, but don’t let me stop you.”

“Of course not.” He smiled. He unscrewed the top and took a long sip.

It may have been none of my business, but my curiosity got the better of me.

“If I may ask, why do you hide your whiskey in there?”

“My wife doesn’t approve of me keeping liquor in the house.”

There was a trace of anger in his voice as he answered.

“Does she set the rules?” I asked, trying to be flirtatious.

“I’m afraid I may have pushed my luck in that regard once or twice,” he said, returning the flask to the hidden compartment and replacing the panel. “Come. Let me show you the rest.”

He led me out of the office and to the stairs. He made some pretense of not wanting me to lose my balance and offered his hand. I took it but when we reached the top, he didn’t let go. We walked right past the two rooms at the top of the stairs and went to the door at the end of the hall.

“This,” he said, “is my pride and joy.”

Believe me when I tell you, it was the most beautiful room I have ever seen. The walls were paneled in rich wood. There was a settee, a writing desk, an ornate dresser, and a massive bed. The room even had a fireplace. On the mantle above, there was a framed picture.

“What do you think?” he asked, still holding my hand.

“Well, at least you have a fireplace for those cold nights.”

He smiled that wicked smile and pressed my hand. “That’s not the warmth I seek.”

“Don’t you have a wife for that?”