Intoxicating Read Free Page B

in.
    He opened his eyes and there was Kiara Romano, her stare cutting through him like a laser drill. To hide his guilt and his pleasure, he forked in a bite of hot gooey lava cake.
    And that’s when magic exploded inside his mouth.
    Had he died and gone to epicurean heaven? His brain searched for a word respectful enough to describe the sensation but there simply were none.
    Time hung suspended, a precious moment he’d never have again—the first time he tasted the true flavor of decadence.
    Seconds? Minutes? An hour?
    The pleasure was so barbarically beautiful he didn’t ever want it to end. It tasted like the most sublime sin, and to think that the frumpily dressed woman with the smart green eyes was responsible for this…this…thing of sheer perfection.
    His tongue slipped through the comingling of wine and chocolate—sweet and wet and hot. The combination of lava cake and Decadent Midnight rivaled great sex. He found the comparison surprising, but apt. It was all pure, thick, oozy pleasure. He’d never felt so giddy over a wine.
    With every sip, as the indulgent notes tumbled androlled over his taste buds, his appreciation grew. A symphony. There was a virtual symphony in his mouth. It tasted like Vivaldi’s “Autumn”—eager, crisp and rapturous, but underneath a haunting melancholia for things that could not last. Figs and apricots and musky late-autumn piqued his tongue. The wine’s dark flesh caressed his throat. In that moment he was one-hundred-percent fully alive.
    It was jaw-dropping, heart-stopping extraordinary wine of profound and complex character. A well-deserved twenty on the Davis scale. Wyatt’s eyes flew open and he grabbed his pen and began to write, his hand barely able to keep up with his thoughts. It was almost as if he was channeling Bacchus, spewing his impressions on the index card in the pell-mell hurry reserved for people rushing to catch a flight just as the airplane doors were closing.
    His brothers were right to be worried about the competition from Bella Notte Vineyards, and unless they could find Kiara Romano’s Achilles’ heel and get her to drop out of the contest, Decadent Midnight was going to thrash not only DeSalme in the Best of the Best Award—but every other wine in its category.
    Happiness lingered on his tongue. A sweet skin of unforgettable sensation. He felt as if he’d just lost his virginity and couldn’t wait to go back for more.
    The beautiful wine had what the French called terroir: taste with a true sense of place. It tasted like where it was grown. Idyllic.
    A hedonist’s wet dream.
    Everyone else had finished writing, but Wyatt couldn’t seem to stop. Words fell, rain on the page, rushing to express his appreciation for Kiara’s wine.When he’d finally filled the entire note card, front to back, he set down his pen and looked around.
    At some point during his purge of words, the blonde intern had gotten up and Kiara Romano had taken her seat. She studied him from across the table. Her eyes bright, shoulders thrust forward, chin quivering.
    He smiled at her.
    She blinked, a glazed, blissed-out expression shading her eyes. A smile identical to his own just-made-love grin curled at her lips.
    With one swift motion, she pushed back her chair, then stood up and held out her hand.
    â€œYou,” she commanded. “You come with me.”

2
    Acidity: The tangy element in wine that
makes it feel bright, crisp and lively.
    T HE MAN WAS perfect.
    Too perfect.
    He set off all Kiara’s internal alarm bells. She did not trust perfect.
    Kiara led the way down the corridor. She heard the sound of his sneakers slapping against the terrazzo floor. As a natural introvert, she didn’t particularly care for this part of her job. Welcoming the interns, being all warm and fuzzy and inviting when all she wanted was to scuttle back to her quiet lab or the peaceful vineyards. Maurice was