Pour them two welcoming glasses of dark, rich wine from the sideboard

“Let’s get you both settled in properly first,” you say, offering a hospitable smile as you step away from the registration desk.

You move over to the heavy timber sideboard beneath a window, where a crystal decanter catches the deep, amber rays of the sinking sun. You uncork it, pouring the dark, rich Cabernet into two heavy-bottomed glasses. The deep aroma of dark cherries and oak immediately blooms in the air, mixing with the scent of the cedar fire.

“A little something to take the edge off the drive,” you say, turning back.

You walk over to the lounge area, carrying the glasses. Jack and Anne have moved closer to the hearth, the orange glow of the flames dancing across their faces. As you approach, Jack takes his glass with a nod of appreciation, his fingers briefly brushing yours, a firm, deliberate contact that carries that same unbothered, commanding confidence.

When you turn to Anne, she is already unbuttoning the top of her coat. She catches you watching her, and a faint, nervous flush creeps up her neck. As she reaches out to take the glass from your hand, her fingers tremble just a fraction. Your skin brushes hers, a lingering, warm contact that makes her dark eyes flutter upward to meet yours.

Up close, the soft, fine-knit fabric of her sweater does nothing to hide the remarkable, lush fullness of her breasts against her otherwise slender frame. She is acutely aware of how closely you are standing, her breath hitching slightly before she takes a slow sip of the wine.

“It’s wonderful,” she murmurs, her voice a bit lower now, her gaze dropping to the dark liquid in her glass. “Thank you, Mark.”

Jack steps a half-inch closer, his broad chest nearly brushing Anne’s shoulder. He places his free hand on the small of her back, his fingers spreading wide, possessively pressing her just a bit forward. He looks at you over the rim of his glass, his eyes bright with a sharp, voyeuristic thrill. He is thoroughly enjoying the way you are looking at his wife, and even more so, the way she is reacting to it.

“Mark was just saying how the rest of the world disappears up here, darling,” Jack says, his deep baritone dripping with an easy, slow rhythm. “I think he’s right. I can already feel the tension melting away.”

Anne shifts slightly under his touch, her eyes darting between you and her husband. The reserved, conservative exterior she arrived with is already showing its first, delicate cracks, replaced by a quiet, intoxicating wave of vulnerability.