By Lori Wilde
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The kid stuck out his hand. ” He shook the kid’s hand. ” Oops, almost flubbed. He had to be careful. This was his opportunity to prove once and for all that he was as capable as his older brothers. His family had always marginalized him and he’d allowed it to happen. Oh, that’s just Wyatt. Pretty-boy Wyatt. Little brother’s all charm and no substance. Okay, yes. It had taken him some time to find himself. A year of backpacking through Europe with a group of buddies hadn’t done it, although his knack for fun and adventure had landed him a job in Italy as a Ferrari salesman.
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 good at the public relationships aspect of running a winery. Kiara was not. But she was the one who needed an assistant—her family had finally convinced her to delegate some of the lab duties—and the man behind her had demonstrated all the essential qualities.
It was an ancient, provocative lure. Rows and rows of wine racks provided an intriguing honeycomb of product. Most of it, of course, was Bella Notte harvest, but they did keep competitors’ wines on hand as well. Kiara visited that section of the cellar and stood studying the options—Mondavi, Gallo, DeSalme. Hmm. DeSalme made a red dessert muscat in the vein of—but certainly not in the league of—Decadent Midnight. She’d use it for the comparison. She took a bottle of the DeSalme wine, along with a bottle of Decadent Midnight, went up the back stairs and into the family kitchen.
Intoxicating by Lori Wilde