Intoxicating (12 page)

Wyatt was walking away, putting distance between them. “Yes?”

“What's next on the agenda?” She laced her fingers together, a pitiful defense against the doubt assailing her.

“I thought that we could go for a walk. There are supposed to be some caves on this island. If you're up for exploring them?”

“There
are
caves on the island,” she said.

“Have you been there before?”

“Not since I was a kid.”

“Do you want to find them? Or is that lame?”

“Not lame,” she said, but not sure she wanted to be with him in a dark, confined place. Not sure she could
trust herself alone with him in such a situation. “I'd love to.”

He reached out and took her hand.

Her galloping pulse came to one momentous halt, then jump-started again with a wild, irregular rhythm. This wasn't normal. Something was wrong with her. She felt dizzy and off-balance and she wasn't thinking about work or wine.

Why wasn't she thinking about wine?

Why? Because the man peering deeply into her eyes had robbed her of all rational thought.

He held on to her hand and she had no inclination to take it away. They walked up the hill together, past their blanket and picnic basket. The caves weren't far. In the middle of the week like this, the atoll was deserted. No tourists hanging around. The locals were all working. They had the place to themselves. More danger.

It took less than ten minutes to get to the caves. They held hands the whole way. It felt so intimate, this casual act of affection.

They reached the mouth of the caves. There was a sign-in book inside a protective wooden box so the park rangers knew to come looking for them if they didn't return in a timely manner.

Wyatt let go of her hand long enough to sign them in, then reached for her hand and drew her into the darkened cave. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket and flicked it on. Inside it smelled damp and musty. A small rivulet of water ran through the middle of the cave. There were two walking paths, one on either side of the water. Wyatt went first. Kiara felt as if she were back in high school, coming to make out with her date, even
though she'd never done such a thing. In high school, she'd been in the honor society, too busy getting good grades to do anything so daring.

“You know,” she said. “The Idyll winery owners used these caves to hide their bottles during prohibition.”

“We're not supposed to be talking business today,” Wyatt reminded her.

The stalactites overhead dripped water into the rivulet with a soft plunking noise.

“This isn't about work,” she said. “This is history.”

“It's borderline work.”

“Can you imagine what it was like living back then?”

“When wine was outlawed? A dark day in history.”

“It almost killed wine-making on Idyll. It probably would have if we hadn't been so isolated. If they hadn't had these caves to store the bottles in.”

Names had been carved into the cave walls. Tourists leaving their marks. Lovers etching their names, proclaiming their love. Schoolkids showing off for each other. Defacing the cave was an odd tradition she didn't approve of, but she couldn't deny there was a sense of history seeing the names of people who had come before them. People just like them who had worked and played and fallen in love.

Watch it, Kiara, you're in danger of sounding whimsical.

No one had ever accused her of being whimsical, and yet here she was thinking whimsical thoughts. It was all Wyatt's fault. Until he had shown up, she'd had her head screwed firmly onto her shoulders.

Once they were out of sight of the opening and the only light was from the thin flashlight beam, Wyatt stopped.

“What is it?” Kiara whispered.

“This.”

He flicked off the flashlight. Kiara gasped at the sudden darkness. Excitement lifted goose bumps on her arms. The complete darkness was both scary and exhilarating.

Wyatt's arms went around her. He pulled her up tight against his chest.

Kiara did not protest. Her whole body was alive. Tense with anticipation. She licked her lips. Waited.

His kiss came slowly, in inches. First his mouth was on her cheek. Just resting there. Then he slid his lips toward hers. Her body tightened in response, every part of her growing taut from her nipples to her feminine core.

He found her mouth and pressed his lips to hers. Lightly. No rush. No pressure. Simply there.

In the blackness of the cave all visual sense was gone. Only sound, touch, taste and smell existed. His lively scent was a delightful contrast to the dankness of the cave. The sound of his breathing a brilliant accompaniment to the plunk, plunk, plunk of water sliding down the cave walls. His taste sweet as Decadent Midnight.

Her fingers found his chin in the darkness, slid up his jaw to cradle the back of his head in her palm.

Her rib cage was pressed flush against Wyatt's chest and she could feel his hardness straining against his jeans, poking audaciously into her side. Her own desire ramped skyward.

The palm of his hand was pressed against her butt. She ached to have his skin against hers. Yearned to feel his palm playfully swat her fanny.

His fingers went to the zipper of her denim shorts
and she did not stop him. He kissed her, teased her bottom lip up between his teeth. She moaned softly into his mouth.

He eased his hand past the open zipper, down the waistband of her panties.

Her breath slipped threadily past her teeth, he was right where she wanted him to be, yes, yes. His kisses started an inferno inside her and his fingers, oh! His fingers! His wicked, wicked fingers.

Her body was so slick for him. When he slipped an index finger inside her, she let out a soft mewling noise.

Wyatt's mouth crushed hers—hungry, demanding, fast. Ha! She wasn't the only one who had trouble slowing down.

His tongue thrust past her teeth, discerning, exploring, then teasing and savoring, and all the while his finger was buried inside her.

She wriggled against his hand, wanting more pressure. His other hand stroked her nipple through her T-shirt until it was stiff and sensitive.

Their raspy breathing echoed off the cave walls, making it sound as though there were other people in the cave with them. That escalated her excitement.

Her shorts where slipping down her hips and the next thing she knew they were around her ankles. With a soft growl, Wyatt lightly bit the side of neck, sending fresh shivers spiriting down her nerve endings.

His biceps bunched as he held her. She could feel his muscles flex. He pressed her back to the cave wall. In the pitch black she reached for him, found his head level with her breast, one palm skimming up underneath her shoulder, his other palm spread against the curls between her thighs, his index finger still inside
her, gently stroking. Her panties slipped down to join her denim shorts around her ankles. She raised her arms over her head, grasped hold of the rough, damp cave wall as Wyatt pressed his hot mouth to her cool belly.

Kiara writhed against him.

The scent of her womanhood rose in the darkness. The deep musky aroma around her, the smell of her feminine power lifting her to a fever pitch. She felt like the ancient goddess of wine and this man kneeling before her worshipped her. It was a startling fantasy for a woman who didn't put much emphasis on such things.

“Kiara, you are so beautiful.”

“You can't even see me.”

“I can feel you all around me.”

The smells and sensations inundated her. The subterranean cool of the cave. The rich aroma of her own body. The sound of the water dripping into water pools. Primal. Basic. Raw.

Kiara was barely breathing. Wyatt's tongue was trekking a purposeful path down her belly, going lower and lower. How utterly erotic. Her fingers found his hair, tangled in the thick strands. She pressed her back solidly against the porous rock wall behind her as if she was glued to it.

“Spread your legs,” he said.

“Wh—” She moistened her lips. “What are you going to do?”

His laughter was devilish. “What do you think?”

“I…I don't know if I like that.”

“What? No one had ever gone down on you before?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Oh, you poor, poor, darling. We're going to fix that
oversight right now.” Then his mouth was there, where his hand had been.

This was great, this was wonderful, this was scary. She issued a prayer, thanking the heavens for sending her a man with such an accomplished tongue. A bit of embarrassment was thrown in, but his mouth soon whisked away those worries.

His tongue found her most sensitive hood. Her tender flesh bloomed and he sucked with inexorable gentleness, stirring her thick pleasure.

“Wyatt,” she murmured restlessly, thrashing her head against the wall. “Wyatt.”

She clung to his hair, savoring the wild, sensory ride, letting loose for once, not holding back. His touch was incredible and she was unprepared for her body's flammable reaction. His tongue laved and caressed her. She ached and trembled. Craved and cried out. Her skin sung an endless song. Her heart wept with happy gratitude.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Carefully, his masterful mouth manipulated her taut feminine peak until it was stiff and throbbing. She whispered and moaned, laughed and sighed, barely able to tolerate the exquisiteness of it all.

“Ooh, ooh, Wy—
att.
”

“That's it. Call for me, darling.”

She clung to him, digging her fingers into his shoulder muscles. So close, so close, so ready to climax. She was dripping wet for him, soaked to the core. She was afire, alive, burning with need for him. She was trapped in the sensation.

His tongue waltzed and tangoed, flicked and tickled. The wet, slippery glide was unbelievable. His fingers
were back, teasing her molten center. She rocked into him, held his head against her pelvis, begged for more, more, more, but even as she did, the dual motions of fingers and tongue were more than she could bear.

“Please, please, please.”

Ever so lightly, he barely touched his teeth to her pulsating hood and that was it.

Her control shattered into a million brilliant pieces and dropped blindly into the orgasmic abyss.

Finish: How long the flavor
lasts in the mouth.

A
LL THE WAY
back to Idyll Wyatt mentally chastised himself. The red-hot desire that burned so out of control whenever he was around Kiara unsettled him. He thought of the song “Every Which Way But Loose” again. He'd thought of it the first time he'd laid eyes on Kiara. Without even trying, she did indeed turn him every which way but loose.

The thing of it was, he didn't want her to let him loose. He wanted her to grab hold of him and hold on with both hands for dear life. Forever and ever. Amen.

But he couldn't tell her that.

She was sitting up front, her face turned into the wind, her auburn curls flowing out behind her like flames. The late-afternoon sun cast her features in an ethereal glow. How had he ever thought her frumpy? He must have been off his rocker. She was the most supreme of goddesses.

That he couldn't have.

Not until he came clean about who he was, and once she found out who he was, she'd hate him.

Because he was her enemy.

 

K
IARA DANCED INTO
her apartment feeling better than she'd felt in…well,
honestly
…had she ever felt this good?

Wyatt had kissed her on the porch. She'd invited him in, but he'd told her that she needed her rest. She was still recuperating from her cold and shouldn't overdo it.

“Too late.” She'd grinned. He'd given her a heck of a workout in that cave.

“Besides,” he said, “tomorrow is the first night of the full moon and Maurice said the place gets crazy for those three days in June. He wants the interns up extra early to get ready for the influx of tourists.”

“Technically, the full moon is only one second long,” she said. “But that doesn't play well in romance land, so around here, we call it a full moon as along as it looks pretty full to the naked eye. We sell more wine in those three days alone than we do throughout the entire rest of the month. It's madness and I can't believe I forgot that tomorrow is the first day.”

“You've had other things on your mind.” He grinned.

“Your fault. You know,” she said, “I should put you back in the lab and send Lauren to the vineyards.”

“That wouldn't be fair to Lauren,” he said.

“You're a better assistant.”

“Why, thank you.” He kissed her forehead, his lips leaving a hot little brand on her skin. “Good night and get some sleep.”

Then he turned in the twilight to walk to the interns'
quarters, the most wistful expression she'd ever seen on his face. She'd almost called to him and told him the hell with her cold and their busiest days of the year, and to get in her bed now. But she didn't. She needed some time alone to process what was unfolding between them and how she felt about it.

So she closed the door, turned on her MP3 player and humming to the Black Keys's “Too Afraid to Love You,” she twirled around the room.

Felix greeted her by butting his fuzzy head against her calf and twining around her legs. She picked him up, stroked his chin. “My bad boy now tamed.”

He meowed.

“Oh, you disagree, huh? Still have some spunk in you yet? I suppose no bad boy is ever totally reformed.”

Felix wriggled to get down and she let him go.

She thought of Wyatt and his wicked tongue. There was some bad-boy action she never wanted to see reformed. Oh, gosh, had she actually let him do that to her? Grinning, she covered her face with her hands.

Were they actually embarking on a wild fling? She could handle that. She just needed to know that's what it was. She didn't want to get her hopes up because she could see herself falling in love with him if she wasn't careful.

The Black Keys announced that they were too afraid to love.

Apparently it was epidemic.

Okay, she had to be reasonable. This feeling was lust. Pure and simple. Well, maybe not so simple, but it was physical, hormone-fueled biology. Understandable.

Why then did she have a sudden urge to raid her
cousins' storybook collection for a copy of
Cinderella
or
Snow White
or any of those other fairy-tale princess stories she'd eschewed as a six-year-old?

So where did they go from here? Who made the next move? Should she let him? Would it be too bold if she did it? This was crazy-making.

Deep breath. Chill. You don't have to label it right now. No expectations. Take it as it comes. Concentrate.

The Best of the Best Award was coming up on July first, a kick-off to the long holiday weekend just three days away. Three hectic days filled with Full Moon in Juners descending on Idyll. She'd focus on getting ready for that and then, after Bella Notte won the competition, she'd let things between her and Wyatt take their natural course.

Satisfied with her plan, Kiara went to bed and quickly fell into a deep sleep filled with sexy dreams of a good-looking dark-eyed man who knew how to do incredibly delightful things with his awesome tongue.

 

W
HILE
K
IARA SLEPT
like a baby, Wyatt paced the grounds outside the dormitories. What was he going to do? He was torn, trying to think of the best way to confess.

First you have to call Scott and Eric in their Sonoma, California, offices and tell them that you're out.

He checked his watch. It was almost midnight. He didn't care. He couldn't sleep until he settled this. Eric might still be up. He was a night owl like Wyatt. He yanked the cell phone from his pocket and punched the speed dial for his brother.

“Yo!”

“You still up?”

“I'm answering the phone, aren't I? What's up baby brother? You got any juicy info for us?”

“Yeah, I'm quitting.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Dammit, you're calling a default?” Eric said. “I owe Scott a hundred bucks. I swore you wouldn't cross-face us.”

“I'm not cross-facing you,” Wyatt said, using the wrestling term in order to communicate with his brother. The guy was still hung up on his college victories. “I'm escaping.”

In wrestling terms,
escape
was used to indicate when a bottom man frees himself from the top man's control, coming out of the bottom position. Well, he'd been in the bottom position for thirty-one years and he was done.

“Give Scott the message, will you?”

“He's going to be really disappointed.”

“Sorry,” Wyatt said, “I've made good my escape.”

“So when you come to the Best of the Best Award—”

“I'll be on Bella Notte's side.”

“Dude, that's as foul as a full Nelson.”

“You ought to know. You pulled them on me often enough.” Just like that, Wyatt had thrown his lot in with David against Goliath.

The first part of his mission was over. Now for the hardest part. Coming clean to Kiara.

The last day of the full moon fell on June thirtieth. The day before the Best of the Best Award in Sonoma. He'd tell her then. He'd take her to the top of Twin Hearts, ply her with Decadent Midnight and then tell her the truth about who he was.

 

T
HE NEXT THREE
days were totally chaotic. The parking lot at Bella Notte was filled to overflowing. Cash registers rang constantly. Bicycles built for two clogged the road up to Twin Hearts bluff. Everyone at Bella Notte was pressed into service.

Everywhere Wyatt looked there were lovers, both young and old, holding hands, picnicking in fields, wandering through the vineyards, take the winery tours. It was just as crowded in Idyll when he went into the village for supplies.

Things didn't start to wind down at Bella Notte until the last evening of the full moon. The winery closed at five to the general public, but the road outside was still lined with cars on their way up to the peak. He had to hand it to the Romanos, their romantic legend certainly lit a fire in people's hearts.

Feeling more than a bit nervous, Wyatt approached Kiara as they finished cleaned up the tasting room after the day's traffic.

“There's something I need to talk to you about,” he said.

She gathered up wineglasses and put them on a tray. “I'm listening.”

“Somewhere private.”

“This is private.” She waved a hand at the empty room.

Wyatt shook his head. “A Romano or an intern could stroll in here at any time.”

Kiara's brow furrowed. “This sounds serious.”

“Could you just indulge me?”

A smile tilted her lips. “Oh, I get it. This is code for let's go make out. I know we've been swamped from
dawn to twilight for the last three days and haven't had a chance to talk.”

“You got me,” Wyatt admitted. Anything to get her to leave with him. He had to tell her who he was and what he was up to. He couldn't let her get to Sonoma without spilling his guts. He couldn't handle the guilt of it anymore. Didn't want to handle the guilt. Their relationship couldn't move to the next level until she knew who he really was.

Ha! After you tell her who you are, do you really think there's going to be a next level? Be real, DeSalme.

“It's a beautiful night at Bella Notte. We only have a few weeks left together.”

A sad expression came into her eyes. An expression that matched the heavy feeling settling into the pit of his stomach. He was so afraid he was going to lose her.

Don't tell her.

He had to tell her. He should have told her before now.

If you tell her, she's going to throw you out.

“Let's go up to Twin Hearts,” he muttered.

“On a full moon? In June.” She shook her head. “No way.”

“Because of the legend.”

“Yes, because of the legend that if you and your sweetheart share a bottle of Belle Notte wine beneath a full moon in June at Twin Hearts, you will be together forever. Throngs of tourists will be up there waiting for some silly myth to strike them. It's nuts.”

“If you don't believe in the myth, then what are you so afraid of?”

“I'm not afraid. Who says I'm afraid?”

“Prove you're not afraid. Let's go.”

“Nothing is going to happen.”

He reached out a hand to caress her and she sank against him. He loved how she responded to his touch. “You mean nothing that doesn't normally happen when the two of us get together.”

“Nothing is normal with you Wyatt,” she purred.

“Right back at you, Kiara.”

She kissed his throat. “Forget Twin Hearts. Let's make love right here. We'll lock the doors.”

He chuckled. “I can't believe how much you've changed. Four weeks ago you wouldn't have dreamed of using the tasting room as a rendezvous spot.”

“True,” she admitted, “but you have taught me the value of recharging my batteries.”

“So let's take things one step further. I pushed you from your comfort zone and look how much fun you've been having. Not only how much fun you've been having, but how much more productive you are. Let's push some more. Come on, let's go up to Twin Hearts.”

She looked up into his eyes. “Wyatt, I hope you aren't expecting anything more from this relationship than I'm able to give.”

He made a derisive noise, but inside he felt sick. “No, no, of course not. My goal is to help you.”

“Help me? How's that?”

“Look how you let the myth control your life.”

“The myth doesn't control my life,” she argued.

“Then prove it. Go to the peak with me.”

“Okay, fine,” she said. “I'll go. I'll prove it's nothing but a crazy myth. But I have to be home early. Tomorrow is the Best of the Best Award in Sonoma.”

“No problem.”

“Let me finish up here and I'll meet you in the parking lot in thirty minutes.”

 

K
IARA COULDN'T BELIEVE
she'd agreed to go to the peak with Wyatt. She'd spent her adult life avoiding this very scenario.

But she had to admit that Wyatt made a good point. By avoiding Twin Hearts, she was letting the legend control her life just as surely as the romantics allowed it to control theirs. So even though it made her uneasy, she agreed to go.

They took a Bella Notte van, but ended up having to park half a mile away on the side of the bluff because the parking lot was jam-packed.

“I told you,” Kiara said. “It gets crazy around here on the full moon in June. The peak is littered with lovers. It's not going to be the least bit private.”

“We're here in defiance, remember?” Wyatt reached out to squeeze her hand. “To prove there's no such thing as the Romano myth. Besides, Maurice told me the secret spot that's off-limits to tourist.”

“You told Maurice you were bringing me up here!”

“Course not. I just asked where the Romanos go for their romantic full-moon liaisons. He told me where the Romano property line ends and public access begins.” He reached into the backseat for the blanket and a brown paper bag.

“You brought wine!”

“We can't disprove the myth if we didn't follow it to the letter.”

“It makes me nervous.”

“If it's only a myth you have nothing to worry about,
right?” He was too damned convincing with his adorable smile and winsome eyes.

Yes, all right, so why did she feel so vulnerable? Hope, that damnable thing, was nibbling around the edges of her mind. The romantic Romano soul clashing with Kiara's scientific mind. It wasn't until they were halfway up the bluff, picking their way past picnickers feeding each other, opening bottles of Decadent Midnight, kissing under the bright light of the full moon, that she realized part of her secretly wanted to believe it was all true.

“There's no such thing as Santa Claus,” she muttered under her breath like a child whistling in the dark to prove she's not afraid of it.