Intoxicating (11 page)

“You're really weird, you know that?”

“Why? Because I know how to enjoy myself?”

“But a bicycle built for two?” She wrinkled her nose. “Really?”

“It's no different from riding a regular bicycle, you just have to get into a rhythm with your partner.”

That's what worried her—getting into a comfortable rhythm with Wyatt, because the temptation was very strong, but she had no illusions about this man. He was a romantic, like her family. She knew better than to lay her heart on the line over chemistry. She was a clear-eyed scientist. She didn't let hormones and pheromones control her brain. She was in charge. Not biology.

Yeah? Keep telling yourself that. Maybe it'll stick.

Wyatt secured the picnic basket inside the wire basket attached to the front of the bike.

What would it hurt? A fling with him. Appease her biology and then scrub him right out of her mind. She knew this couldn't lead anywhere. She didn't want it to lead anywhere, but if he could help her to relax, could ease some of her tension, then why not just let it happen?

Why? Because it wasn't her way.

Maybe it's time to change your ways.

“Front or back?” Wyatt asked. “What?”

“Do you want the front or the back?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, in the front, you get to steer. You're in control. But the back is the power position. The motor, if you will.”

Kiara stared at the bike. What would he do if she just turned and fled to the safety of the lab and reneged on her promise? “You've got stronger legs than I do, you take the back.”

“I don't know about that,” Wyatt said, his gaze roving over her legs. “You've got some awesome legs on you, lady.”

Don't fall for his charms. Don't be like every other woman on the planet. Resist. Resist.
“I like being in control. I'll take the front.”

“Good choice.” He took the bike from the rack.

They mounted the thing in unison and it took a wobbly minute to get accustomed to riding together, but they quickly got in sync and once they were underway, the bike sailed along with swift ease.

“Where to now?” she called to him over her shoulder, noticing how good it felt to have the wind ruffling through her hair on this early Saturday morning in June.

Don't fall for the romance of it. Of him. Don't you dare.

“Head for the marina.”

“Are we going to the mainland?”

“I'm not giving away my secrets.”

“You're a tease.”

“Is that a problem?”

“How can I be in control if you don't tell me where we're going?”

“That's the surprise. You're not really in control.”

Kiara tightened her fingers around the handlebars. “Turkey.”

“Stop tensing up,” Wyatt called to her.

“How do you know I'm tensing up?”

“I'm behind you. I can see the set of your shoulders.”

“On the way home remind me to take the backseat.”

“You? In the backseat? It'll never work.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I'm in front I can't see your sexy butt. What do you think gives me the impetus to keep pedaling?”

“No fair, I wanna see
your
butt.”

“You can see it on the boat.”

“So we're going on the water. I have a clue!”

“Yes, Irene Adler, you have superior powers of deduction, especially considering that we're on our way to the marina.”

“Who's Irene Adler?”

“Don't you ever read any fiction?”

“Hey, I went to college. I suffered through the requisite English classes.”

“No Sherlock Holmes?”

“No.”

“No fiction on your own?”

“I started
Grapes of Wrath.
I thought it was a book about vineyards. I couldn't get past the chapter-long treatise about a turtle crossing the road.”

“The turtle was symbolic.”

“I got that. It was still boring.”

“I've got my work cut out for me,” Wyatt said. “I'm considering having you kidnapped and deprogrammed.”

“What for?”

“I think your brain has fermented with so much focus on winemaking.”

“You're just jealous,” she said.

“Of what?”

“My incredible powers of concentration.”

His laugh ran out over the streets of the village, and Kiara acknowledged it had been a very long time since she'd had this much fun. Okay, so she'd been a bit quick to prejudge bicycles built for two.

They arrived at the marina and Wyatt directed her to park the bike beside a kiosk that rented sailboats.

“We're going sailing?” It had been years since she'd been sailing.

“We are.”

“You know how to sail?”

“I do.”

But, of course, he knew how to sail. He was that kind of guy, glib and smooth and charming. He was probably an expert sailor.

Her suspicions were confirmed the minute they were out on the water in the rented sailboat, the picnic basket stowed in the bottom of the hull between them.

The rays of the sun glittered off the water and the breeze was refreshing, but not cold. It was a perfect
morning for sailing. The ocean rippled calmly, the sky was filled with innocent cloud puffs. The only sounds were the sail flapping in the wind and the steady clank of the rigging against the metal mast.

Along the shore came the sound of seagulls squabbling near the ferry landing. In no time they were away from Idyll and it occurred to Kiara that she was out here alone on the ocean with Wyatt. No other people. No distractions.

Just the two of them.

Delight shivered up her spine.

“Cold?” Wyatt asked. “No.”

“C'mere.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

“Come sit right here.” He patted the transom of the boat beside him. “I'm going to help you relax.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Why? Does relaxing scare you?”

“Frankly? Yes.”

“Why?”

“You know you sound irritatingly like a three-year-old.”

“That's because three-year-olds are very inquisitive. It's how they learn.”

“So, following that line of reasoning, you are trying to learn what?”

“As much as I can about you.”

“Why?”

“Ah.” He grinned. “Now who's the three-year-old?”

“You got me.”

He patted the spot again. “Come. Sit.”

She edged over, keeping her body very rigid. “What are you up to?”

“You're going to love this, I promise.”

“Love what?”

“Have you always been this suspicious?”

Had she? Probably.

“I won't bite, I promise.” He paused. “Unless you want me to.”

“Yeah, that's what the Big Bad Wolf said to Little Red Riding Hood.”

“I thought you didn't believe in fairy tales.”

“I don't.”

“And here you are referencing one.”

“It's not a happily-ever-after one.”

“Red gets rescued. What's not happy about that?”

“From the wolf's point of view, he sort of got murdered. Not much happiness in that.”

“So, you believe in dark fairy tales, but not the good ones.”

“I'm a pessimist. Get used to it.”

“You're missing out on so much.”

“Like what?”

“Serotonin for one thing. The feel-good hormone.”

“Technically, it's a monoamine neurotransmitter.”

“Remind me not to argue with you about anything science-related.”

“While you were reading Sherlock Holmes, I was reading biology textbooks for fun.”

“You're strange.”

“I read that pessimists actually have a better grip on reality than optimists.”

“Hence the reason they are pessimists.”

Kiara snorted. “I've spent my life surrounded by
optimists. Do you know how frustrating it is for twenty people to try and cheer you up when you simply want to worry, pout and sulk?”

“I'll let you worry, pout and sulk if you want to, just not today. Today is about having a good time. Relaxing. Letting go. If you clear your mind, your creativity will come back to you.”

“I'm not creative, I'm a scientist. I deal in solid facts.”

“Scientists are creative too. Where would the world be without Galileo and Sir Isaac Newton and Einstein? In fact, wasn't Einstein famous for some kind of quote about the imagination being more powerful than anything else?”

He had a point. She'd spent so much of her life resisting anything that smacked of whimsy that she'd closed herself off to many creative avenues. She'd tried so hard to stay levelheaded, her feet anchored to the ground. It was not an easy thing to do amidst the Romano clan.

“Shh,” he said. “Close your eyes and let me take your worries away. Just for today.”

Kiara did as he asked. Closed her eyes. Took a deep breath.

A second later she felt her skin tingle at Wyatt's touch. His fingers skimmed over the back of her neck, gently kneaded her tight muscles.

“When was the last time you had a massage?” he asked. “You've got knots upon knots.”

“I've never had a massage.”

“You're kidding?”

“Who has time.”

“You do. Right now.”

“Plus, I've never been all that keen on strangers touching me.”

“Must wreak havoc with your love life.”

“What love life?”

“Exactly,” his said, his fingers firm but gentle as he rubbed the kinks from her neck.

In spite of herself, Kiara could feel her shoulders relaxing. Wyatt had a way of making a woman feel totally at ease around him. Which was disconcerting. For another thing, it had been so long since a man had touched her so tenderly that she soaked up the experience like a flower soaking up the sun.
You're so easy.

He moved from her shoulders up her neck, his fingers finding sore spots and then dispatching them with steady, rhythmic strokes. Kiara moaned softly. This mini-massage felt so incredibly good. Sitting on the open water, the sailboat skimming over the rocking waves, the sun shining down on them, Wyatt's fingers working their magic, a sweet sense of perfection settled over her. She had been missing out. This felt sublime.

But if you did it all the time, it wouldn't be special. Just enjoy the moment, tomorrow you'll get back to work and everything will return to normal.

It was a valiant promise. She wanted to believe it. How great to be able to take a day off, recharge her batteries and go back to work. But she feared it was not going to happen that way. Feared that she wouldn't be satisfied with just one day. Feared that this was only going to make her want more, more, more. Wyatt was an easy person to grow accustomed to. Never mind that he was serious eye candy. He had a way of making her spirits lift simply by walking into a room.

His fingers were at her scalp, rotating circles through her hair. It felt so good, she moaned again and her spine curled against him as his fingers kneaded and stroked
and caressed. It was the most intimate thing she'd ever done with a man besides sex.

“That's it,” he murmured. “That's right. Let all your worries drain away. Just let go, Kiara. Let go.”

And darn, if she didn't. At least for a few minutes. She thought of nothing but the pressure of his hands on her head and the warmth of the sun and the smell of the sea and the sound of the metal clip banging gently against the metal pole. It was sublime. One she'd remember for a very long time—long after Wyatt had vanished from her life. Because he
would
vanish. He was an intern. They were total opposites in every way. And Kiara knew she was not the easiest person in the world to get along with. She'd always imagined she'd eventually marry. Someone like herself. Another scientist as absorbed with his work as she was with hers. A practical, measured man who would fall into lockstep with her.

But after meeting Wyatt, she wasn't sure she wanted that any longer. Her imagination conjured other possibilities for her future. Possibilities with a man who was
not
like her. A man who was so different he fascinated her at every turn. A man who was the yin to her yang. The other half who made her feel whole. The—

What in the hell was she thinking? That was romantic stuff. The Romano way. She'd fought against the impracticality of romantic myths her entire life.

Why do you think it's a myth,
whispered a voice in the back of her head.
No one in your family has ever gotten divorced. Why do you fight it so hard against it?

“You're tensing up again. Stop thinking about work. Look at your watch, it's after five.”

She laughed. “It's hard not to,” she said, reluctant to
tell him what she was really thinking. “My work isn't just a job. Wine isn't just in my blood and my bloodline. It's in my heart and soul as well. It's all I care about, besides my family.”

“Now that sounds like something a die-hard romantic would say.” Wyatt traced his index finger down the slope of her nose. “And along with what you told me that day I fed you soup confirms it. You are not one-hundred-percent clear-eyed scientist, Kiara. No matter how much you proclaim to the contrary. You are a complex and fascinating person, and I'm very happy you agreed to spend the day with me.”

Deep: Having lots of flavor that last a long
time and keeps changing in the mouth.

T
HEY STOPPED FOR
their picnic lunch on a small uninhabited atoll. They could have been the only two people in the world. Wyatt insisted Kiara let him take care of everything. He wouldn't even let her spread out the blanket in the field of wildflowers. It was odd. He wasn't a caretaker by nature. Usually, the women were the ones taking care of him and he had always enjoyed being pampered.

But with Kiara, he wanted to take care of her. She so badly needed someone to look out for her. Not that her family didn't take care of her, but they depended on her for their living. She needed someone who she could depend on.

Wyatt wanted to be that guy.

The smile that curled on her face when she kicked off her sneakers and sank down on the blanket made
him
smile. She stretched, purred and propped herself up on one elbow to watch him take their lunch items from
the picnic basket. The massage had done wonders for her. If she were his, he'd hire a masseuse to give her a rub-down once a week. She deserved the best.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” he asked, taking containers of rosemary chicken and potato salad from the basket.

“Insisting I get out of the lab. This is nice.”

“My pleasure.” Out came a jar of black olives, sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil and a loaf of crusty Italian bread.

When her gaze met his, he saw that her smile had changed. He'd never seen that particular look on her face, not even that morning in the wine cellar. It was part desire, part gratitude, part something else, and it made him want to know more about her. He wanted to dive deep into her smile and make a home there.

“You make me feel…” She paused.

“What?” He leaned closer.

“Like…” She tilted her head, considering. “That it's okay to be imperfect.”

“Yeah, it's okay. We're all human. There's no such thing as perfect.”

“I know that, but there's something that's always constantly driving me to strive for perfection.”

“You put too much pressure on yourself.”

“Maybe it's a birth-order thing,” she said, reaching for a grilled chicken wing. “Being the oldest and all that.”

“You have brothers and sisters?”

“One sister. Deidre's only twenty-two.”

“Where's she?”

Kiara shrugged. “She's a bit of a drifter. But I'm also
the oldest girl out of a flock of cousins. In fact, Maurice is the only cousin older than I am.”

“And yet he didn't turn out to have a problem with perfectionism.”

“It was just a theory. How about you? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Two older brothers.”

“Ah, you're the baby of the bunch. That explains a lot.”

“How's that?”

“Explains the smile for one thing.”

“What's wrong with my smile?”

“You whip it out every chance you get. It's a bid for attention. The youngest child gets lost in the shuffle.”

“So, you majored in psychology along with the science of winemaking?” he teased.

“Deidre's just like you. Charming, but irresponsible. There is something to birth order, Maurice aside.”

Wyatt lowered his head. “Now, just because a person has some degree of charm does not make them irresponsible.”

“Doesn't it?” She didn't back away.

“Perfectly said by a perfectionist.”

“I'm judging again, aren't I?”

“That's not always a bad thing.”

“I don't like being this way, it's a hard trait for me to break.” She wiped her fingers on a napkin she plucked from the basket. “You help me in that regard. It's one of the things I like most about you.”

“What else do you like about me?” He popped an olive into his mouth.

“Obviously, your deep humility.”

He playfully tweaked her nose. “Okay, I'll go first and tell you what I like about you.”

“Don't do that.” She looked embarrassed, dipped her head and spooned a bit of potato salad in her mouth.

“I like how you blush when someone pays you a compliment. Like now.”

She brought a hand to her cheek. “Stop looking at me.”

“You make me feel like I've found a port in which to weather a storm.”

“Oh.” She laughed. “That sounds terribly sexy.”

“You're making fun of me.”

“I like your smile.”

“You like that, huh?” Wyatt smiled.

“I like how you're showing me what it's like to be flexible and spontaneous.”

“And I like how you set a good example. You keep me in line.”

“This is starting to get mushy.”

“I noticed that.” Scary mushy. Mushy to the point where he was finding it a little hard to breathe. “Let's see what else we've got in this picnic.” He pulled a bottle of Decadent Midnight from the basket.

“Isn't it early for that?”

“Look at your watch. It's after five.”

“Well, isn't that handy?”

He reached for the corkscrew and the two wine flutes left in the basket. He poured it up, passed a glass to her, kept one for himself and recorked the bottle. “A toast.”

She raised her glass.

“To the best damned dessert wine in the country.”

“We have to wait until next month for that proclamation.”

“I'm stating it now. Decadent Midnight is a winner.”

“So are you,” she said.

“You didn't think that about me the first day.”

“We already know I have a problem with snap judgments.”

“To second impressions,” he said and they both took a second swallow of the sweet, impressive wine.

“Now,” he said when they'd finished the wine and he'd put the glasses away. “I'm going to finish that massage I started in the boat. Give me your feet.”

“No,” she curled her feet up underneath her. “My nails aren't polished.”

“Like I care about that.” He wriggled his fingers in a come-here motion. “I care.”

“Give me.” He reached for her foot and held on even when she tried to pull away. He stripped off her ankle sock and kneaded her sole with his thumb. Instantly, she stopped fighting him.

“Oh, my gosh, that hurts so good.” She moaned.

“Hold on, darling, we're just getting started.”

Darling? Had he just called her darling? Wyatt cringed, afraid she'd think it was a cheesy endearment, but she was lying flat on her back, her eyes closed, a dreamy smile on her face. She was getting into it. Good, good.

After a few minutes he moved to the other foot and the only sounds were the breeze rustling through the palm trees and Kiara's gentle breathing. He smiled. He'd done it. He'd gotten her to relax completely.

In fact, she was so relaxed she'd fallen asleep.

Wyatt felt a sweet tugging sensation in the center of his chest. A sensation that was at once foreign and
welcome. This was his kind of day, easy, lazy and slow-paced. And he'd gotten her to share it with him.

He stretched out beside her, propped up on one elbow, and gazed down at her, watching her sleep. Her chest rose and fell in a smooth, even rhythm. Her eyes were closed so he reached over to remove her glasses.

Without the barrier of her glasses, she appeared incredibly young and vulnerable. It shocked him, the fact that he wanted to just stare and stare and stare at her. He couldn't get enough of looking at her.

She smiled in her sleep and the sight of it kicked him in the gut.

He wished they were in Greece. He'd love to show her his home. Take her around to all his favorite spots. She'd bloom there. Away from her family and responsibility. Away from the winery.

The idea of it made him feel excited in a way he hadn't in a very long time. Why? What was so compelling about Kiara? Why was she always on his mind? Why, for the most part, had he given up spying on her and started truly to be her intern?

Speaking of which, he'd promised his brothers he'd check in with them this weekend.

He got up from the pallet and left her sleeping, then walked to the edge of the water where the sailboat was anchored, pulled out his cell phone and gave his brothers a call.

“So what have you found out?” Scott asked.

Wyatt thought of the problems Kiara had been having with the grapes. He could tell his brothers about that, or he could just keep his mouth shut. “Not much.”

“Some spy you are.”

“C'mon,” Wyatt coaxed. “I've haven't even been here a month. What were you expecting?”

“The secret to why Bella Notte's wines are kicking our ass.”

“Honestly,” Wyatt said. “I think it's Idyll.”

“What?”

“There's something magical about this island.” Wyatt turned and glanced back up the hill to where he'd left Kiara sleeping.

“What are you talking about?”

“It's this earth. This place. I believe the only way you could replicate Bella Notte's results is to buy some land here and plant your own vineyard.”

Scott snorted. “Seriously, little brother? That's the best you can do?”

“It's the only explanation I can come up with.” That and Kiara's supreme devotion to winemaking. He'd never seen anyone with her level of commitment. And the wine industry was chock-full of dedicated vintners, so that was saying something.

“Her wine Decadent Midnight is going to beat you boys at the Best of the Best and there's nothing you can do to change that.”

“The hell you say,” Scott snapped. “There's always something you can do to kneecap the competition.”

“You are not going to kneecap her,” Wyatt growled. “This is a tiny, family-owned winery. These people are just trying to get by.”

“Yeah, by dethroning us.”

“That's nothing but DeSalme ego talking.” Wyatt splayed a hand to the nape of his neck, anger surging through him.

He wasn't easy to anger. In fact, he hardly ever got
mad. But Scott was getting on his last nerve. “There's no way Bella Notte could be serious competition. Yes, they might win awards and take a small bite out of our dessert-wine market share, but they have no goals beyond providing a good living for their family. They have practically no distribution. All Kiara wants is to make quality wine and ensure that the winery survives for future generations. You should see her. She's so passionate about wine. Her face lights up and she—”

“Ha. I'll be damned,” Scott said, disbelief in his voice.

“What is it?”

Scott hooted. “I never thought this day would come. Wait until I tell Eric.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You. You've fallen in love with Kiara Romano.”

“I have not,” Wyatt denied hotly.

“Hey, Eric.” He heard Scott shout. “Guess what? Wyatt's in love.”

“I'm not in love.” Irritation welled up in him and he thought of all the times his brothers had teased him when he was a kid. It had been tough growing up with two older brothers who were always pulling pranks on him. He'd learned that the best way to deal with them was never let them see him sweat. He'd developed the survival skill of allowing everything to roll smoothly off his back. He reminded himself of that lesson now. Scott was simply trying to get a rise out of him. Well, he wasn't going to let that happen. If Scott wanted to tease, he would play along.

“Wyatt and Kiara sitting in a tree…”

“Mature. Real mature, Scott.”

“K.I.S.S.I.N.G.”

“Okay, yeah, you got me dead to rights. I'm truly, madly deeply in love with Kiara Romano. I admit it. Happy now?”

“All right,” Scott conceded. “You might not be in love with her—because frankly, I can't see you giving up your Lamborghini women for some plain-jane grape farmer—but you do admire her.”

Wyatt had to bite his tongue to keep from jumping on Scott for calling Kiara “Plain-jane.” He did not want to stir the pot. “I gotta go,” he said.

“Call next week and keep us posted. In the meantime, keep your pants zipped. If you're this crazy about her now, I'd hate to see what happens if you were to sleep with her.”

“I'm hanging up now.” He punched the off button, pocketed his phone and turned around to find Kiara standing behind him, staring him straight in the eyes, a very odd expression on her face.

Panic swept over him.

Just how long had she been standing there?

 

H
AD
K
IARA HEARD
Wyatt correctly? Had he just told someone on the other end of the phone that he was in love with
her?

Her heart reeled crazily in her chest. But how could that be? They'd only known each other a few weeks. Granted they had great chemistry and things were moving quickly toward a sexual liaison—she had brought a condom with her.

But love? No way. No how. She wasn't ready for anything like that. Didn't know if she would ever be ready to fall in love with a man like Wyatt. Falling heedlessly
in love flew in the face of everything she stood for—logic, coolheadedness, emotional strength.

But she couldn't deny the hot rush of excitement coursing through her blood. She wanted Wyatt.

It's just lust. Chemistry, sex. Nothing more.

He stared at her sheepishly, but neither one of them made a move or said anything. Finally, after a long moment, he said, “That was just… I was talking to…my brothers.”

“Oh,” she said mildly, belying the rich gallop of her pulse.

“Did you have a nice nap?”

“Yes,” she said. “I feel a bit embarrassed falling asleep on you like that.”

“You needed the rest.”

“So,” she said, deciding to ignore what she'd overheard. She definitely could have been mistaken about what he'd said. She didn't want to assume anything. No need to freak out.