He smiled politely at Rafe. “Could you excuse us for a moment? I need to have a word with my date.”

Without further ado, he took Jordan by the hand and pulled her off to the side of the room. He braced one hand on the wall next to her and peered down into her eyes. “Honey, before we came to this party, you might’ve mentioned that the host had the hots for you.”

She stared back up at him, not looking particularly intimidated. In eleven years of law enforcement, Nick had made many a suspect sweat under the duress of what he knew was an impressive don’t-fuck-with-me face, yet she didn’t so much as bat an eye. Granted, none of those suspects had been wearing a knockout dress with a slit nearly down to the ass, so perhaps the don’t-fuck-with-me face wasn’t in top form right then.

“I didn’t know myself, darling,” she said. “And we still don’t know that for sure. But let’s say for argument’s sake that Xander has more than a professional interest in me. Will that be a problem for you?”

Her words were careful and well chosen. To anyone who might be listening, it would seem as though she was merely placating a jealous lover, not an FBI agent who was a little cranky to be first learning of this development in the midst of an undercover op.

“I can handle it.” In some senses, Nick supposed, Eckhart’s attraction to Jordan could be a good thing. He doubted she would have much trouble convincing him to step away with her for a drink. Still, he was eager to keep things moving. They needed to mingle. Drink some wine. Plant a few wireless recording devices. The usual social obligations.

“We should rejoin the others,” he said.

“Wait.” Jordan put her hand on his arm, stopping him before he turned away. Her eyes were clouded with concern. “I’m sorry if I put you in an awkward position tonight. I honestly didn’t know until I saw the wine list.”

She looked so genuinely troubled right then, Nick couldn’t help what he did next. He reached out and touched her chin. “Don’t worry, Rhodes. I’ve got this.” He grinned. “I think there’s a glass of wine with your name on it at the bar.”

“For five thousand dollars a head, there better be a lot more than one.”

“Now I see why no one drives to this party.” He took Jordan by the hand, turned around, and –

– Nearly ran into Xander Eckhart, host of the party and Nick’s target for the evening.

“I always thought it’s because parking is a bitch around here,” Xander said in response to Nick’s comment. Despite his light tone, his eyes were cold as he stuck out his hand. “Xander Eckhart.”

Nick shook his hand, squeezing a little harder than was necessary. “Nick Stanton.”

“I see you’re here with Jordan.”

“I am.”

Jordan moved to his side. “Xander, I wondered when we’d see you. You’ve outdone yourself tonight, as always.”

Xander broke the stare down with Nick long enough to turn his attention to Jordan. He took in her appearance. “As have you, Jordan. I’m flattered you made it. I know you’ve been keeping a low profile because of everything that happened with your brother. In fact, I was surprised when my secretary told me that you called this week to add a guest to your RSVP. I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone.”

Nick linked his fingers through Jordan’s. “The late RSVP was my fault. I had originally made plans to be out of town this weekend. But when I realized it was Valentine’s Day, I rescheduled my trip to be with Jordan. Couldn’t miss out on the most romantic night of the year, could I?”

“Yes, that would’ve been a real shame,” Xander said dryly.

“Nick and I were just discussing the wines on the tasting menu,” Jordan interjected. “It looks to be a fantastic night.”

“I suppose you could say that I’d been hoping to make a memorable impression this Valentine’s Day. Certain recent developments, however, make me wonder if I’ve overshot a little.” Xander gestured between them. “So I’d love to hear how you two met.”

“At Jordan’s store,” Nick said.

“Oh, are you a wine man, Nick?”

“Can’t say I am. I know white and red.”

Jordan winked at him. “And now pink.”

Nick smiled. True. “And now pink.”

Xander looked between them. Whatever he saw, he didn’t seem to like it.

“Will I sound overeager if I say I can’t wait to see what you have in the cellar?” Jordan asked Eckhart. “You’re always full of surprises, Xander.”

Nick had to admit he was impressed. Not too many civilians could pull off acting this naturally in an undercover job, particularly in front of someone they knew was laundering money for a drug cartel.

Her suggestion worked like a charm.

“Who am I to make such a beautiful woman wait?” Xander gestured to an open door on the opposite end of the wine bar. “I’ll take you down there myself. Follow me.”

ECKHART LED THEM through the door and down a freestanding glass staircase. “Since this is your first time, Nick, I’ll give you the fifty-cent tour.”

Actually, the FBI had already paid five thousand dollars for that privilege. “I appreciate that, Xander.”

“Given the value of my collection, I normally keep that door upstairs locked,” Xander told him. “But I trust my guests tonight. Most of them, anyway. And with the others, I trust the six-foot-five, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound security guard I’ve got stationed downstairs.”

As they descended into the lower level, Nick quickly understood the reasons for Eckhart’s security system. He’d studied the blueprints of the building, and had been aware that the wine cellar took up a large portion of the space. But neither the blueprints nor Jordan’s descriptions had prepared him for the sheer magnitude of the wine cellar he faced now. Or rather, the wine cellars.

They stood before three rectangular glass chambers, each approximately twenty-five feet long and ten feet wide. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass panels, Nick saw rows upon rows of what he knew, through Huxley’s report, to be over six thousand bottles of wine stacked horizontally on slotted ebony wood shelves. Glass doors, several inches thick and flanked by elaborate security panels, guarded each of the three chambers of the cellar.

“Reds; whites; champagne and dessert wines,” Xander said, pointing out the three chambers of the cellar. “Different storage temperatures for each, obviously.”

Obviously.

“Over three million dollars in wine,” Xander continued, making no attempt to disguise his pride. “Granted, a lot of that is for the restaurant. My own personal collection is worth roughly a million.”

Nick resisted the urge to ask how much of that collection had been bought with Roberto Martino’s drug money. “It’s certainly a lot of wine.”

A crowd of about ten people mingled near a door to their right, which Nick knew from the blueprints led to a private tasting room. A robust man in his early forties came over and greeted Jordan enthusiastically.

“Jordan – perfect timing. I need you to settle something. True or false: two years ago at this party, you and I were talking right here when a drunk guy, somebody’s date, came out of the bathroom with his fly open and his tweed blazer tucked into his pants like a shirt. And he spoke to us for five minutes without ever noticing.”

“Very true. He slurred something about how he’d never been drunk in his life because he had such a high tolerance for alcohol.”

The man proudly turned back to the group at the door. “See? I told you. Can I steal you away for a few minutes?” he asked Jordan. “I need you to convince these guys that I’m not making this up.”

With a glance in Nick’s direction, she smiled politely. “Sure.”

Nick watched her walk away, as did Xander. Then the two men turned and faced each other.

Xander didn’t waste any time before launching the first salvo. “So. You didn’t mention what you do for a living, Nick.”

“Real estate.”

“Are you a builder?”

“An investor. I rent out residential properties, mostly to college students and recent graduates.”

“Real estate has really bottomed out these past few years, hasn’t it?”

“Luckily not rental property, Xander. With everyone staying in school these days because they can’t find a job, I’m turning people away.”

Xander laughed haughtily. “Who would’ve thought the low-income housing market could be so lucrative?”

“Me.”

A silence followed.

“Mind if I give you a piece of advice, Nick?”

About a hundred not-so-polite responses came to Nick’s mind, including one he favored about where, exactly, Eckhart could stick his advice, but for the sake of the undercover operation, he held his tongue. Causing a scene or being tossed out by a six-foot-five, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound security guard was not in the FBI’s best interests. So he kept his sarcasm in check. Mostly. “I’m all ears.”

Xander sounded smug. “Jordan may find you diverting for now, but how long do you think that’s going to last? I see men like you all the time in my clubs and restaurants. You can put on the suit and look the part, but you and I both know that she’s way out of your league. It’s just a matter of time before she realizes it, too.”

Nick pretended to think about this. “Interesting advice. But from what I can tell, Jordan’s been doing a pretty good job by herself of deciding who is and isn’t in her league.” He grabbed Eckhart’s shoulder and squeezed. “Have a drink, Xander – you sound like you need it.”

He walked away, leaving Eckhart standing alone in the corner.

“Everything okay?” Jordan asked as he approached.

“Just getting acquainted with our gracious host,” he said. “Now, what does a person have to do to get a drink around here?”