JustOneTaste

Just One Taste

Sami
Lee

Sarah is in Victoria to expand her
father’s chain of wine bars into the Australian market. It’s a hectic job that
leaves little time for a social life but that doesn’t mean she’s going to
ignore her carnal needs entirely. She contacts an exclusive escort agent who
promises to send a man capable of fulfilling her every desire. David, the man who
arrives, is nothing like the practiced lothario she expects, yet the night that
ensues is more intensely passionate than any she’s experienced. Sarah is just
starting to consider making David a kept man when she realizes the chilling
truth.

David isn’t an escort at all. He’s
a vineyard owner who’d planned to approach Sarah with a business proposition.
She thinks he set her up, but David had barely expected to
speak
with
Sarah, let alone sleep with her. It’s an honest case of mistaken identity that
resulted in the best night of David’s life. And for David, one night of Sarah
will never be enough.

A
Romantica®
contemporary erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

Just One Taste

Sami Lee

Dedication

To sexy beta guys everywhere—may you also have your chance
to shine.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to my editor Carrie for accepting my little winery
book and making it shine too.

Chapter One

Sarah Harrington glanced at her pearl-faced gold watch for
the umpteenth time and willed herself to calm down. It was twenty after seven.
Her date was only twenty minutes late.
It doesn’t mean you’ve been stood up.
Under the circumstances, why would he do that? This is his business, Sarah.
It’s not personal.

Not reassured by her inner pep talk, Sarah took another sip
of her Shiraz. It was good, one of the best she’d tasted recently. The
bartender had informed her it came from a boutique vineyard in the Yarra
Valley, just outside Melbourne. He’d been chatty about the place but Sarah had
listened with only half an ear, distracted by anxiety over what she had come to
this exclusive upmarket hotel to do.

What she
would
do if her partner for the evening ever
showed up.

There was no way she could call him direct to check on his
whereabouts. That wasn’t part of the deal. She’d dialed the number of a woman
named Kendra who ran an exclusive agency catering to women with more money than
time, like Sarah. She’d been promised anonymity and discretion. Perhaps she
should have extracted an assurance of promptness or at least a description. All
she’d been told was the man’s name was David, he was in his early thirties and
he was supposed to be here by seven.

Sarah glanced at the gold-etched doors that separated the
bar from the hotel lobby. The only person walking in was a woman wearing an
elegant pantsuit and too much makeup. Sarah sighed and returned to her wine. If
only she had time for a bona fide social life instead of filling her days to
the brim with work, stooping this low might not have been necessary. For God’s
sake, she’d contacted an escort agency.

Admit what it is, Sarah. You’re paying for sex.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Would you like another?”

Sarah glanced at the bartender then down at her almost empty
wineglass in surprise. She hadn’t realized how much she’d drunk—and that had
been her second glass. She turned her wrist to see her watch once more. Almost
a quarter to eight. He wasn’t coming.

The rejection pierced her like a sword through the abdomen.
It was ridiculous—she was stung at being stood up by some faceless man who
meant nothing to her. But it was impossible not to feel small when you were
discarded by someone you’d
paid
to be with you.

She offered the bartender a wan smile. “No, thank you.”

“There’s a smooth Merlot that comes from the same estate.
Maybe you’d want to try that?”

“I’ve had enough for tonight.” She’d had enough of sitting
here, waiting for an escort to show. People tended to wait for Harringtons, not
the other way around. She picked up her purse and slid off the barstool, her
heart growing heavier with each step she took toward the door.

Perhaps a vow of celibacy was the answer.

* * * * *

David Genero brushed a hand through his hair as he strode
across the burgundy carpet of the hotel’s lobby, trying to repair the damage
done to the neat style by the fierce wind. It was a chilly evening, the kind
where curling up in front of the fireplace on his property held particular
attraction, even if he would have been doing it alone now that Melissa had
left. Eight months ago, but it felt like less. He’d been working nonstop so he
barely noticed the days racing by or the quiet emptiness of the cottage nestled
within the vineyard.

Proving Melissa’s argument, David supposed. Perhaps the
vineyard
had
meant more to him than she had.

No question, he’d reached the end of his tether. One phone
call from his friend John, who worked the bar here during the week, and David
had been dressed in the only suit he owned and behind the wheel of his
four-wheel drive, breaking limits to get here and see for himself. Sarah
Harrington,
the
Sarah Harrington, American hotel heiress and head of the
Harry’s Nook chain of wine bars, was sitting in the lobby bar of the Regent
drinking one of David’s wines.

The perfect opportunity for him to introduce himself.
Perhaps slip her his card and invite her out to Windy Valley for a tour.

David swallowed the foul taste left in his mouth by what he
was about to do. He wasn’t that guy. He despised opportunism, yet here he was.
He didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t do something to increase sales soon, the
winery his uncle left him could go under. The Harringtons had opened a Harry’s
Nook in Melbourne a few months ago and another was set to open soon. If David
could convince the company to stock his wines, it would give his business a
much-needed boost.

But so far the minions in the organization had given him
short shrift, reducing him to this.

Someone pushed open the door to the bar just as he started
to pull it back. He did the bulk of the work, taking the gold-etched glass out
of the blonde’s hands and standing back to allow her passage. She offered him a
polite smile as she passed, her blue eyes sliding over his face. A pretty,
summer-sky blue that hit David somewhere in the chest while the delicate waft
of her perfume enveloped him, making him want to move closer.

The woman’s face was arresting, from the slender line of her
nose to the fine curve of her lips. She was attractive in a way that David
sensed would improve through the years and she carried herself with a regal
aura that spoke of good breeding, her spine stiff and straight like a Norfolk
Island pine. As she moved past him, David’s attention remained on her. He stood
there holding the door open like a porter, watching her move on endless,
stockinged legs to the elevator. She was wearing a black dress, simple and
elegant with long sleeves and a scooped neckline that hinted at a ripe
suppleness but stopped short of revealing it. It was classy and expensive—like
the woman wearing it.

She must have perceived him staring because she turned back
and held his gaze with one that gave nothing away. He had no clue if she was flattered
by his clearly appreciative male reaction or displeased by it. The thought that
it might be the latter roused him from his trance. He mentally shook himself
and stepped into the bar, letting the door swing shut behind him.

What was he doing? He’d come here to meet one woman and had
just spent far too long staring at another—checking her out like an awestruck
adolescent, to be precise. He forced his mind onto the task at hand. Sarah
Harrington. If she was still here, he had to talk to her.

David strode to the bar and caught John’s eye. The other man
nodded in acknowledgement, finished serving the customer in front of him and
headed over. His first words made disappointment sink through David. “You just
missed her. She liked it though, mate. Finished two glasses.”

Poor consolation if he couldn’t keep the business open in
order to produce any more. “Don’t suppose she offered to stock loads of it in
her wine bars?”

“Sorry, mate. She was nice though, nicer than you’d expect
for a rich American.” John chuckled. “A stunner too. Leggy, blonde. The type
blokes like you and I don’t get a chance with.”

Sarah Harrington is a blonde.

Thinking of the woman at the door, David could have kicked
himself for not putting two and two together then. “Shit. John, I’ve gotta go.”

Then David was running. In the back of his mind he was aware
this was not the way to handle things, but he was operating on instinct and an
unhealthy dose of desperation. He shoved open the glass doors and saw the
blonde standing by the elevator. As he watched, the shiny silver doors parted
and she took a step over the threshold.

David made it to the lift just as the doors began to whoosh
shut. He stuck out his hand to stay their progress. “Sarah?”

The way she glanced up was all the answer he needed. It
was
her. Belatedly, he realized he should have addressed her as Miss Harrington.
Not
a very professional beginning, Genero.
First he openly ogled her, now he
got too familiar and… Actually he’d sunk to ogling again.

Christ, she was breathtaking.

“David?”

He started at the sound of his name. She knew who he was?
Then he remembered John saying on the phone earlier he would try to lay some
groundwork for him, talk about his friend who owned the little winery that just
needed a chance to grow. John must have told Sarah about him.

“Yes, it’s me.” David stuck out his hand to formally
introduce himself but the elevator doors dinged and tried to close on his arm.
He pushed them back with a determined thump. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize who
you were when I first saw you. I didn’t think you…”

She waited, one brow raised. “Didn’t think I’d…?”

“Be so beautiful.” Inwardly, David winced.
Smooth, man,
real smooth.

She assessed him shrewdly, perhaps trying to work out if he
was spinning a line. Of course, she must get a lot of that sort of thing. David
called himself a first-class dunce.

“I apologize—again.” Once more, the doors tried to close and
David held them open by sheer will. He didn’t want to come across as any more
presumptuous than he already had by stepping into the elevator before she
invited him to. “Can I start over? Please? I’ll try not to say anything else so
trite and expected.”

He saw it then, a ghost of a smile twitching her lips. “You
think I expect to be called beautiful?”

David found his focus roaming over her face, helplessly.
“Don’t you?”

They eyed each other for several heartbeats. Then Sarah
glanced pointedly at the door, which was about to close on David’s arm once
again. “I think you’d better come in.”

Letting out a breath, David stepped over the threshold into
the lift. The doors closed with a sigh, locking them into the artificial cone
of silence of the carriage. Sarah pressed the button marked sixteen, the top
floor of the hotel. Obviously she’d be staying in one of the most expensive
suites.

Now that he had his time with her, David had no idea how to
begin. Her attention rested on his profile. The heat of it compelled him to
turn his head to face her.

In her heels she was almost six feet tall, nearly equal to
him in height. She stared him down as though seeing inside him and making
assessments he couldn’t hope to fathom. She didn’t flinch as he returned her
scrutiny, although he could do nothing to hide the fact he found her appealing.

“Thank you,” he said, hoping to distract her before she
realized he was undressing her with his mind.

That calmly measured inspection continued. “What for?”

“For not telling me to go to hell. I wasn’t sure you’d agree
to meet with me.”

“I wasn’t sure I
should
meet you. I don’t usually… I
don’t usually do this sort of thing.”

“I know.” David was abashed his situation had forced him to
take such measures. He’d hunted down Sarah in her own private time and cornered
her in an elevator. “Believe me, neither do I.”

Skepticism toughened her features. No doubt people subjected
her to all sorts of boorish requests in the hope of gaining their slice of the
Harrington fortune. And here he was, doing exactly that. Why would she believe
he’d never been this pushy before?

“You have every reason not to believe me,” he told her. “But
I hope you do anyway. I’ve never done this before.”

Her eyes widened, disbelief turning to surprise. Her
breathing stilled and it made David hold the air in his lungs as well. He felt
in tune with her, aware of her body as he couldn’t remember being of any other
woman’s.

He couldn’t help the way his appraisal wandered, moving over
her high cheekbones to the tiny pearl earrings dangling from her lobes. He
examined the tight French twist she’d forced her hair into, not a strand out of
place, and imagined ripping those pins from her golden tresses. Would it rattle
her quiet composure? He realized his desire was reflected in his tense features
when shock registered on her face. He cursed his inability to veil his base
reaction, even as he wondered what she’d do with the knowledge his failure gave
her.

What she did stole his breath. Her lashes lowered, her gaze
narrowing with interest as it dropped to his mouth. Cornflower-blue irises
turned stormy as she surveyed his lips with slumberous interest, making no attempt
to hide the fact she was wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

That expression alone was enough to make David’s cock jerk
and swell. He’d never been this close to a woman so refined or beautiful. He’d
certainly never had a woman—a lady—like Sarah Harrington give him the
come-hither treatment. He wondered what she’d do if he took her up on her
silent invitation. If he wound his arms around her and covered her mouth with
his, pressed her up against the wall of the elevator and…

The ping that announced their arrival on the sixteenth floor
startled David out of thoughts fast becoming dangerous. They both stared at the
empty hallway without moving for so long the doors began to slide closed again.
David shot out his arm to stop them.

Sarah laughed. It was a husky sound, as though her throat
had to work rarely used muscles to make it. David suspected she didn’t laugh
much or often, and the thought made him sad for her. “Is your arm going to make
it through tonight, do you think?”

“I’m not sure.” David moved it back and forth, pretending to
check for damage. “It might need first aid.”

Her laughter petered out, leaving a faint smile behind.
“Follow me, then.”

She was inviting him to her room? David’s dick reacted with
predictable enthusiasm at the notion before his brain registered she was
conceding to talk business.
Business, Genero.

His heart in his throat, David followed Sarah along the
thick-carpeted hallway.