Intoxicating Read Free

moved around the table, coming closer.
    Wyatt’s body tensed. He didn’t hear what Maurice was saying because all his focus was concentrated on the woman pouring the wine.
    She affected him on a visceral level, but he couldn’t say why. Maybe it was the graceful way she moved even in those heavy boots. Maybe it was the appealing contrast between her delicate bone structure and her all-business, no-nonsense attitude. Maybe it was just the romantic setting.
    But if it was Bella Notte that had captured his imagination, then why was it Kiara who captivated him and not one of the interns?
    Wyatt had no time to ponder this because Kiara had reached his side.
    She leaned over to fill his glass and her fascinating scent went straight to his head. She smelled honest, clean—like wildflowers and sunshine and oatmeal. She’d had oatmeal for breakfast.
    Wyatt had been born with a heightened olfactory sense. For years his family had thought that with histalent for identifying the fine layers of scents, for sure he’d go into the wine business. But Wyatt was a bit of a rebel. He never did what was expected of him. Besides, there was a whole world out there to explore. Why confine oneself to a single profession?
    He flattened his palms against the table.
    His sense of that moment unfolded vividly and slowly as he clocked everything—the brush of her hand against his shoulder, the warmth of her body turning to slip between the two chairs, the sound of her breathing so quiet and even. He didn’t see her so much as feel her.
    A thought, unexpected and shocking, embedded in his brain.
    This woman. She’s the one.
    And then she was gone, moving away, leaving him feeling bereft and adrift as she made her way back to the other side of the table where she’d started.
    Alarmed, Wyatt shook his head, tried to empty her from his thoughts. What the hell was this? He wasn’t the kind of guy who put claims on a woman. Everyone knew that. Wyatt DeSalme was footloose and fancy-free and…
    He could not stop staring at Kiara Romano. Forcefully, he pried his gaze from her, made himself listen to Maurice, who had launched into the history and traditions of Bella Notte and how important interns were in the production of their wines.
    Wyatt read between the lines. While under Kiara’s management, Bella Notte’s wines might be making a splash, but the small vineyard was still cash-strapped to the point where they depended on the free labor of interns to make ends meet. His brothers would gleefully rub their hands together at this bit of information. BellaNotte was vulnerable financially, just as Scott and Eric had suspected, and he was here to deliver the crippling blow.
    But that thought, which had excited him this morning because his brothers were finally taking him seriously, was bothersome, and he had no idea why. The Romanos were nothing to him except DeSalme competition. This was just business, a little underhanded espionage to expose the enemy’s weakness. It was perfectly legal—as long as certain lines weren’t crossed—and was done every single day of the week in corporate America.
    So why did Wyatt feel the need to take a long, hot, soapy shower and scrub his soul clean?
    After the wines were poured, Maurice passed out index cards and pens. Kiara stood beside the sideboard, assessing the assembled interns. Wyatt could feel the heat of her gaze on him.
    He glanced up. A frown creased her lips.
    â€œYou are about to taste the three top wines produced by Bella Notte. Taste the white wine first,” Maurice said, “and then write your impression on the card. Do not compare notes.”
    Wyatt thought it was odd to have the interns in for a wine tasting at eight in the morning, but what the hell? He cradled the wine glass in his hand, swirling it around and inhaled the fruity aroma.
    Not the usual chardonnay, which gladdened his heart. Chardonnay was so overdone in California.