“The Penne Agli Scampi, Angelo. Simply exquisite.” Cassidy leaned toward Angelo and rested her chin on her palm, elbow on the table. “But wasn’t that a Piedmont white rather than a Tuscan?”
Russell couldn’t look away from her. She was so unaware of every motion. There was no posing. Her emotions weren’t carefully considered and exhibited for the benefit of the camera or the moment. She had a natural honesty that had him mesmerized.
Angelo pulled up a chair and joined them. “I cannot fool you, Miss Knowles. I thought the Tuscan wines a little too fruity for something as delicate as the scampi. I decided that as long as the wine was Italian, I’d let it wander a little farther afield than the cuisine.”
“Absolutely right. Now the heaviness of the San Rocco Barolo was the perfect choice for
