by Lori Wilde
“We’ll see you when we see you. Everything is fine here so don’t worry.”
“You’re such a good daughter,” her mother said. “I never have to worry about you like I do your sister.”
“Deidre’s still young, Mom. Give her some time to figure things out.” Kiara’s younger sister had dropped out of college to sing in a band. She lived hand to mouth, traveling all over the country, bunking with whoever had a ready couch, getting into various minor scrapes along the way.
“You didn’t need to figure things out.”
“She’s a free spirit.” Something Kiara had never wanted to be. She had been born responsible and a bit of a control freak. She insisted on shouldering more than her share of the burden at Bella Notte, although her family kept trying to get her to relax, slow down, take a vacation. She just wasn’t built that way, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t understand her younger sister’s need for adventure. Kiara had never had such an urge. She was happy here. She knew who she was and what she wanted out of life. She’d never needed to figure it out. “Dee just needs time and space to grow into herself.”
Dee had come home when their father had first been diagnosed, but during his bout with chemo, she’d said she couldn’t deal with seeing him suffer, and she’d taken off again.
Maybe Kiara should have judged her sister for it, but the truth was, she’d taken on more and more of the daily operations of Bella Notte as her way of coping with her father’s illness. It was easier to work hard, keep her mind busy, so she didn’t have to think about losing him.
“I hope you’re right.”
“Stop worrying. Enjoy Dad’s good news. Go out and celebrate.”
“You’re right,” her mother said. “I’ll call you when we’re on our way home.”
“I’ll let Grandfather and Grandmamma know. Goodbye.” She ended the call.
“Kiara?” In Wyatt’s deep-throated voice, her name sounded like a one-word poem.
A sweet shiver ran through her.
She turned to find him on his back on the floor, peering up at the bottom of the refrigeration unit. “Yes?” She kept her tone steady.
“It might be something fairly simple like the fan blade.”
Kiara pressed her palms together in a silent prayer. Please let it be something simple like the fan blade. She was barely making payroll as it was, and in order to be able to afford insurance, they had been forced to take out a policy with a huge deductible. Granted, insurance would cover some of the damage they’d experienced, but certainly not all of it.
Plus, with the ferries being out of commission, by the time a repairman got over to the island, the wine could spoil. Anything Wyatt could do to save her time and money would be a godsend.
“I think I can fix it,” he ventured.
“You’re a refrigeration repairman?”
“Not exactly.”
“Why should I trust you to fix it? You’re just trying to keep your job. I’ll call someone to come out.”
“From the mainland?”
Shoot.
“If you’ve got a tool kit, I can fix this,” Wyatt promised.
She didn’t want to rely on him, but what choice did she have? Maurice was hopeless at anything mechanical, and Grandfather had cataracts. He’d have a difficult time seeing the fan motor, much less repairing it.
Her dad was the one who usually made the simple repairs around the vineyard. Or he used to before he’d gotten cancer. She should have already hired a part-time maintenance man, but she’d been trying to save money.
Wyatt pushed up off the floor and got to his feet, dusting his hands against the seat of his faded blue jeans. “Tell me where the tools are, and I’ll get right to work.”
Against her better judgment, Kiara showed him to the tool shed. She entered ahead of Wyatt, flipping on the lights.
The interior was hot and crowded with tools, supplies, and equipment. Perspiration beaded on the nape of her neck, and corresponding beads of sweat pearled on Wyatt’s forehead. He started grabbing tools.
“Do you need a tool belt?” she asked.
“It would help.”
She snatched a leather tool belt from the shelf and tossed it to Wyatt. He strapped the leather holster around his lean waist. He filled the pockets with a hammer, a drill, screwdrivers, a soldering iron.
Kiara stared at him, taken aback by how different he seemed with a tool belt on him. Now, he appeared competent, capable, far less flippant.
But was he really able to repair her unit or was he just showing off because he wanted her to reconsider her decision to kick him out? If he fixed it, in all fairness, she should reconsider her decision. Especially since most of it was predicated on the fact that the attraction she felt for him affected her to the core.
“You’re certain you can do this?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not yanking my chain?”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
“Your hands look kind of soft. Not vineyard hands at all.”
“I’m tougher than I look.” There was a sudden edge to his voice that matched the sharpened expression on his face.
Kiara didn’t want to be captivated, but the man looked impossibly compelling with the tools strapped to his waist, testosterone oozing from him. She felt trapped in a dreamy bubble of pure sensation where every touch, every action was weighted with sexual tension.
Wyatt shoved a hand through the thick lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. Mesmerized, Kiara followed his movements. Followed him like a puppy when he went back to the refrigeration room.
Wyatt assumed his spot on the cement floor once more.
Kiara paced, arms akimbo, and prayed Wyatt could fix it. Her gaze tracked to Wyatt’s legs. “How’s it going?”
“Could you give me some space to work?” Wyatt asked. “It’s hard to concentrate with you breathing down my neck.”
“Okay, I’ll just go stand over here.” Kiara walked to the opposite side of the room. “Go on.”
Wyatt shot her a go-away look but went back to what he was doing. A couple of minutes later, he let out a curse.
“What’s wrong? What is it? Did you break something?”
“It’s nothing. I curse a lot when I’m working. It’s a guy thing.”
“Can I help? Do you want me to hold your flashlight?”
Grinning, Wyatt sat up and crossed his legs tailor-style. It was only then that Kiara realized how that last comment sounded and felt her cheeks burn. Thankfully, he did not volley back with some suggestive retort.
“I was thinking outside might be a better place for you. I’m sure there’re a hundred other things you need to check on,” he said.
“You mean go off and leave you alone in here?”
He nodded and widened his eyes comically. “Uh-huh, just like that.”
“But I don’t even know you. What if you were sent here by my competition to sabotage my winery?”
“You do know how paranoid that sounds, right? It’s not like I orchestrated the earthquake.”
He was right. She did sound paranoid. “Scratch that, I know you’re not here to sabotage my winery. I’m just—”
“A bit of a control freak.”
“I wouldn’t say freak.”
“Control Nazi?”
“All right, I get the picture. You want to be left alone to work in peace.”
“No offense.”
“None taken.”
Wyatt went back to banging his tools.
Feeling dismissed, Kiara wondered how she’d lost control of the situation. Wyatt was right. She felt insecure when she wasn’t on top of everything, and she really didn’t want to leave him alone. For all she knew, he could cause more damage to the refrigeration unit.
But honestly, there were other things she should be doing. It wasn’t easy for her, but she was simply going to have to trust him.
As soon as Kiara left the room, Wyatt got to his feet, snagged the cell phone from his pocket, and put in an emerg
ency call to his brothers.
“’Lo,” Eric said, answering on the first ring.
“I’m here. At Bella Notte.”
“You feel the quake out there? News is saying it was 5.9.”
“Yeah.” Wyatt thought of Kiara’s lips and her smoky-green eyes. “I felt the quake. It’s why I’m calling.”
“Look at you, baby brother. All James Bond and stuff.”
“Hardly James Bond.”
“Problems?”
“Kiara Romano took an instant disliking to me.”
“You?” Eric hooted. “Unable to charm a woman? What? Doesn’t she like men?”
“No.” Wyatt scratched his head. “I definitely don’t get that vibe. I think I rub her the wrong way.”
“You better get rubbing her the right way. I got the new sales figures, and we’re down two percent in dessert reds, but guess whose sales are up?”
“Bella Notte.”
“You got it. I still can’t believe Kiara’s not drooling over your pretty bod. Will miracles never cease? I didn’t know there was a straight woman on the planet who wouldn’t fall at your feet.”
“Ha, ha. I’ve met my match. Yada, yada. Can we move on?”
“So are you going to be able to stay there if she dislikes you so much?”
“That’s just it; she’s already kicked me off the island.”
“C’mon, Wyatt.” Eric grunted. “Take her down. She’s one woman running a tiny little winery.”
Making damn fine wine.
Wyatt heard the disappointment in his brother’s voice vibrating through the airwaves, felt it twist his gut. Dammit, if he hadn’t outgrown the need to impress his older siblings...
“I thought you wanted to prove to Scott and me that you’d grown up. So do it.”
“All is not lost, thanks to the earthquake.”
“How’s that?”
“The earthquake caused some minor damage to their refrigeration unit. At least I hope it’s minor.”
“No, no, damage is good. We need to crush Bella Notte before they ever have a chance to rise up off the mat. No holds barred, bro.” His brother was always ready with a wrestling metaphor.
Eric had taken the Princeton wrestling team to the championship during his reign. Wyatt made it a point never to wrestle Eric. He always lost.
“Repairing the damage is a way of me keeping the job. Besides, if I don’t do it, she’ll just find someone else who will.”
“Let me get this straight.” Eric chortled. “You’re going to repair a refrigerator unit?”
“Laugh it up, fuzzball.”
“Beyond unhooking a woman’s bra in under ten seconds, you have no mechanical skills whatsoever.”
“I have more skills than you think. I own a yacht.”
“That a mechanic fixes when it’s necessary.”
“I’ve done some repairs myself.”
“So what do you need me for? I can’t fix a refrigeration unit.”
“Duly noted. Just connect me to the head of our maintenance department.”
“That I can do. Hang on.”
A few minutes later, he was talking to the head of DeSalme’s winery maintenance department, and the guy was talking him through repairing Kiara’s refrigeration unit.
Luckily, as Wyatt had suspected, it turned out to be nothing more than the condenser fan that had been warped by bumping up against the coils during the vibration of the earthquake. All he had to do was disassemble the condenser, hammer out the bent fan blade, and put it back together.
He’d no sooner hung up with the refrigeration guru and tightened the last screw holding the fan in place when Kiara entered the room.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
Wyatt got to his feet, holstered his screwdriver, and dusted off his palms. The unit hummed quietly. “Finished.”
Kiara looked impressed and incredulous. “You pulled it off.”
His instinct was to gloat, but instead he shrugged. “All in a day’s work.”
“I can’t believe you did it.”
“Your confidence in me is overwhelming.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“So does this mean I get my second chance?” He lowered his voice and his eyelids, studying her closely.
“I suppose I’m obligated.” She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her apron, rotating her shoulders forward in a gesture that closed her in and shut him out.
Wyatt might not be an expert on condenser fans, but he knew women. “Something else is bothering you,” he murmured. “Can I help?”
She waved a hand, nodded. “No.”
“You’re sending mixed messages.”
“What?”
“You nodded but said no. My experience has taught me that body language speaks louder than words.”
“Who are you exactly?”
“I’m just a guy who’s interested in making wine.”
“What do you do for a living? Most of our interns are students. You’re too old for that.”
“I do a little PR work now and again.”
“When you’re not being a slacker or repairing condenser fans?”
“That’s right.”
She cocked her head. “I can see that. Cut the hair, shave the beard, and I’m sure you look very slick.”
“Sarcasm?”
“Truth.”
He stepped closer. “Why don’t you like me?”
“You seem to like yourself well enough for the both of us. I wouldn’t worry about whether I like you or not.”
“You make a good point.”
She shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m being tacky, aren’t I? I apologize. It’s been an...unexpected day.”
“Honestly, if there’s something else I can help with, I’d be happy to jump in.”
Kiara gave him a look he couldn’t identify. “Does that usually work well for you?”
“What?” He feigned innocence.
“That genuine insincerity.”
“I’m not insincere,” he protested.
“Just very PR.”
“I do have a way with women.” He couldn’t help grinning.
“And modest too.” She snorted and folded her arms over her chest. “What a catch.”
“You really don’t like me, do you?”
Kiara shrugged. “You’re growing on me. Sort of like mold.”
He laughed. “Good mold, like penicillin?”
“That remains to be seen.”
“You are such a skeptic.”
“Scientist,” she corrected. “I’m a scientist. We’re taught to dig deep, skim far below the surface.”
“And what do you see when you look at me?” He didn’t know why he was inviting her critique. It was bound to be harsh. Wyatt had never been a glutton for punishment. Why now?
“As champion of living life on the surface.”
5
For the rest of the day, Wyatt and the other interns worked with the entire crew of Bella Notte, including Mia, Samuel, Elliott and Juliet, to clean up after the earthquake. Kiara avoided Wyatt as much as she could, spending most of her time tallying the damage and talking to friends and neighbors in town.
By and large, most everyone reported only minor injuries and minimal damage. The earthquake had been startlingly inconvenient but caused no long-term problems for Idyll. By midnight, they squared away the majority of the mess, and everyone fell into bed exhausted.
The following morning, Wyatt arrived at the lab at seven a.m. on the dot, smirkless and ready to work. He was dressed in a pair of olive-green cargo shorts that hit him just above the knee and a white-and-maroon Bella Notte polo shirt.
He’d combed his hair and shaved his beard stubble. He smelled of sandalwood soap and ocean breezes, and he seemed to be taking his second chance seriously. The fact that he was trying to reform went a long way to earning Kiara’s forgiveness.
Unwise, unwise, whispered her subconscious mind.
Especially after t
he restless night she’d spent, tossing and turning, sleeping in fits and starts. Battling sizzling hot-sex dreams where a shirtless Wyatt was the star attraction. Remembering the heat of his fevered touch in the darkness of her fantasy pushed Kiara’s thoughts to the edge.
It was daylight, she reminded herself. She was a grown-up. She could handle working with him.
“I’m ready,” Wyatt said mildly. “Tell me what you need done.”
“I’m putting your nose into service.”
“Sounds painful,” he teased.
“Do you know what Brettanomyces is?”
“It’s a yeast that commonly causes spoilage in the production of red wine.”
Surprised by his knowledge, Kiara threw him a sidelong look. “That’s correct.”
“What? You think I’m just a pretty face?” he joked.
“Most particularly, Brett attacks sweet reds like Decadent Midnight,” she went on, doing her best to ignore his tease. “To help control it, I rigorously work the vineyards to achieve fruit maturity at lower levels of alcohol, but Brett is still an issue.”
“Where do I come in?”
“Brett smells like a sweaty saddle, and if it gets in the wine, it makes it taste like that.”
“Not the flavor we’re shooting for.”
“No, and the equipment for detecting and dealing with Brett is extremely expensive. We could saturate the wine with sulfur dioxide and then strongly filtrate it, but that affects the taste. The key is to keep Brett out of the wine to begin with.”
“So, you want me to sniff your grapes?”
“In a word,” she said, “yes. But first we’re going to the wine cellar, and I’m going to let you sample a bottle of wine that I believe has gone Bretty.”
“Horse sweat, yum, can’t wait.”
“It won’t be that bad. If it’s Bretty, it’s only marginally so, which is why I’m having you taste it. Anyone can spot a heavily Bretty wine, but it takes a discerning tongue to pick it up in minute levels.”
“I’m game. Let’s go.” He looked at her with shrewd eyes, as if he knew exactly how she’d spent her turbulent night.
Kiara gulped, felt her cheeks heat.
He moved toward the door, and even through the chemical lab smells, his scent wafted her way, that fresh masculine scent that had haunted her dreams.