The show went to commercials, and he let them run, turning the sound down instead of fast-forwarding through them. “It’s called Pentimento,” he said as he took up his glass and held the clear white to the light. “Which is a term for when a painted-over part of a picture begins to resurface and show itself. The guy said it packs a punch.”

Peri eyed the glass, watching how the wine clung to the side as she swirled it. “Can’t be worse than absinthe,” she said, her gaze rising to Jack.

He shrugged, downing half his glass. He eyed her for a moment, then shuddered. “Try it,” he said, voice husky. “Damn, that’s good. I think I found my newest best friend.”

She didn’t like his long-running love affair with sensation, but he never drank when they were working, so she could overlook it. Breathing deeply, she took a sip, letting it linger for a moment before swallowing. “It tastes like any dry white wine, a bit smoky, though.”

“Wait for it,” Jack warned, and her eyes widened as the flavor shifted, the faint hint of smoke blooming into a tartly acidic fire. It was like having swallowed a warm, glowing piece of amber.

“Wow,” she said as vertigo hit her, the alcohol so smooth that she hadn’t even felt it going down. She took another sip, enjoying the mutation in her mouth. This could be addictive, she mused as she set her glass aside to take up the bottle. “Where did you get this?”

“Cincinnati.” Jack settled in beside her, his glass in hand. “I picked it up while you were in that yarn shop. For an hour. God, Peri. An hour? It was in the local wine rack.”

“You’re kidding.” She spun the bottle around to read the label, and Jack shrugged, turning the volume up as the program came back on. “Potent.” She set the bottle out of his reach, knowing he’d drink it all and fall asleep if she let him. Jack was warm against her, and she relaxed, feeling just those two sips take a grip on her as she tried to get into Jack’s show. But then her disbelief was plucked, and she stiffened.

“No way!” she protested, wiggling to tickle his ribs and make him grunt, his hand rising to keep his wine from spilling. “Jack, they’re floating in a circle to summon a demon!”

“It’s not that bad!” he said, laughing as he set his glass safely down. “Apart from the floating thing, it makes perfect, sympathetic, logical sense. See? They have a salt circle to contain the summoned. And candles to serve as a medium between the real and theoretical.”