At the Grey Wolf

Their eyes locked as she came closer. It was then that she saw the dark-haired man behind the bar that Christian had been talking to. He wore a short black bolero jacket open to his waist, exposing a white chest. He moved with unusual grace and speed for a man, pulling down glasses and mixing drinks while talking on his cell phone and flirting with women at the bar.
“That’s Christian, isn’t it?” Bethany yelled at Amanda. “That’s the guy from the park. My god, that bartender is beautiful.”
Amanda nodded, unable to take her eyes off Christian. The bartender was beautiful, almost too beautiful for Amanda. Like a Ming vase that you put on display. Not someone I would ever want to . . .
He glanced at Amanda and smiled as if he had read her thoughts. He nodded slowly and she tried to pull away from his gaze. He’s looking at me as if he can read my mind. She turned to say something, but Bethany seemed to be in a trance. Amanda took her friend’s hand and pulled her closer to the bar.
Christian nodded, making room for the two women. “Ms. Perretti, what a coincidence.”
She noticed that the bartender had come closer, dangling a wine glass by the stem.
“Michel, this is Amanda Perretti.” Christian gestured as if he were presenting her.
Amanda felt Michel’s eyes peer into her as if she were under his personal microscope, yet she could get no read on him. She felt as though she had smacked up against an invisible wall.
“Welcome to the Grey Wolf,” he said, and she heard the trace of a French accent.
Then he smiled and kissed her hand before she could react.
Amanda could not believe her luck. “This is my best friend Bethany Daniels.”
Bethany nodded, unable to take her eyes off both men.
“What is your pleasure this evening?” Michel’s voice felt like silk wrapping around her. He reminds me of Thomas in a weird way, she thought. Maybe it’s the way his voice makes me feel.
“I’ll have a glass of Merlot, thanks,” Bethany blurted out and reached for her purse.
“Nothing for me, thank you.” Amanda waved her hand.
“It’s on the house, my beauty.” He smiled and pushed the wine glass toward her.
Michel seemed young, with his smooth skin and flirtatious manner. In fact, they both looked young, yet their eyes spoke of age and pain. Christian’s were especially bottomless, yet sensual, while Michel’s seemed icy and cold under all his bravado. She sensed a deep connection between them.
Out of habit, Christian flipped his hair behind him. “So we meet again?”
“They say that meeting once is coincidence but meeting twice is fate.” Michel said and winked at her.