Joanna Neil - His Summer Bride

‘Give it up,’ she murmured. ‘I wouldn’t want your hopes to be dashed.’

They tasted several more wines, including the Merlot, which her father seemed to favour most of all. It was another red wine, rich and fruity with notes of currant and cherry.

Katie was glad of the savoury biscuits and the cheese platter that Nick brought out a short time later. She had missed lunch and she was beginning to feel more than a little heady. Alongside the various cheeses, there were pizza slices and bruschetta— slices of toasted bread topped with prosciutto and tomato. He had provided a selection of nuts, too, served with slices of dried apricot.

‘This has been such a great experience,’ she told him. ‘I’ve never been to a wine tasting before, and to be here surrounded by greenery and row on row of vineyard slopes has been wonderful.’

‘I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it,’ he said, giving her an appreciative smile. ‘Perhaps we should go along and have a look at the processing complex, before the wine goes right to your head. You’re looking a trifle flushed, and it might help if you were to stretch your legs for a bit.’

‘Okay.’

He helped her to her feet, and they strolled slowly over to the stone-built production plant. Nick explained some of the processes involved—the pressing of the grapes, the addition of yeast and the many checks that were done to test each stage of the fermentation process. In each separate room there were photos and clear text descriptions on the walls to enable visitors to understand what went on there. There were photos, too, of Joseph Bellini, his son Sebastian, Nick’s grandfather, Thomas, and finally Robert and his two sons. Katie stared at them in wonder. They all had the same rugged good looks, the strong bone structure, and that dark, Italian machismo.

‘I had no idea such a lot of effort went into producing a bottle of wine,’ she told Nick a while later as they stood by the window in the scrupulously clean barn where the grapes were poured into a giant hopper. The building’s double doors were open to allow a cooling drift of air into the room. ‘It must be tremendously satisfying to overcome all the hazards of production and finally taste the result—and discover that it’s perfection.’

‘It is. Wine-making is in our blood. It has become a part of us, much as the hills and valleys all around have become our home. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than this small corner of the world.’ He gave a crooked smile. ‘My brother chose to travel, to go from place to place marketing our wines, but that wouldn’t do for me. My roots are here. I love this valley and my beach house. I’m very content.’

‘I imagine you are.’ She gazed out of the window at the surrounding hills and then looked back at him. ‘You must be very proud of your ancestors…all the dedication, strength of mind and sheer stamina that has gone into making the business what it is now. No wonder you’re such a fit-looking family—what I’ve seen of it so far. It must be in the genes.’

He leaned against a guard rail, turning to face her full on, his dark eyes glinting. ‘Fit is good, isn’t it?’ He slightly raised dark brows. ‘Does this mean you’re beginning to alter your opinion of me?’ He reached for her in a leisurely fashion, his hands at the base of her spine, drawing her to him and holding her lightly within the circle of his arms. ‘Perhaps there’s still hope I could persuade you that I’m the sort of man you could go for?’

She laughed softly. ‘There’s always hope, I sup pose.’ She looked at him from under her lashes. ‘But I wouldn’t get too carried away if I were you.’

‘A good thing you’re not me, then,’ he murmured huskily, ‘because I have entirely different ideas on that score. Carried away sounds just about right to me. Carried away is a chink in the armour, and definitely something I’d like to explore a little further.’

He came towards her, his arms tightening around her waist, and as his head lowered she finally began to realise his intention. He was going to kiss her, and even though, way down in the depths of her mind, she knew she really ought to be doing something to stop him, she did nothing at all. And as his lips brushed hers in a touch that was as light as the drift of silk over her skin, she discovered the last thing on earth she wanted was to pull away.

Just the opposite, in fact. Instead, she wanted to lean into him, to revel in his warm embrace, and delight in the strength of those muscular thighs that were pressuring her softly against the cool, steel wall of the hopper. And he must have known what she wanted because he drew her ever closer until her breasts were softly crushed against the wall of his chest and she could feel the heavy thud of his heartbeat marching in time with her own.

He kissed her, tenderly at first and then with rising passion, so that his breathing became ragged and his hands began to smooth over her curves.

Katie was lost in a haze of fevered pleasure. The sun was bright in an azure sky, and for a moment or two time seemed to stand still. There was only the sensual glide of his lips as they slowly explored the contours of her face, her throat and the creamy expanse of her shoulder, laid bare by the thin straps of the cotton top she wore. And with each lingering kiss her senses soared in response.

It was all so exhilarating, so perfect, and nothing like anything she had ever experienced before. What was it about him that made her feel this way? Did he have some kind of magical touch? If so, she wanted more, much more.

Only, as his lips began to slide lower, drifting into unsafe territory, alarm bells started to ring inside her. He gently nudged aside the delicate cotton strap and ventured even further into the danger zone, trailing soft kisses over the rounded swell of her breasts and leading her to a heady, disturbing place where feeling and emotion were all, and logical thought was banished.

Even so, a tiny sliver of common sense began to filter through the mist that spread, unbidden, through her brain. Perhaps it was the swish of sprinklers being started up on the lawns outside that alerted her, or maybe it was the soft flap of a bird’s wings that dragged her attention back to the reality of what was happening. What was she thinking? How could she have let this happen?

She struggled to get herself together. Wasn’t Nick the man who avoided commitment? Wasn’t he the one who was trying to persuade her father to sign away his land?

And here she was, betraying every instinct she possessed by falling into his arms at the first opportunity. She was a fool. She ought to have known better.

‘Are you all right?’ Nick lifted his head, depriving her of that heavenly, forbidden contact, and she tried to answer, but no words came. ‘Have I done something wrong?’ His voice was a soft murmur against her cheek.

‘No… I… Yes…’ She tried to ease herself away from him, her hands flattening against his chest as though she would put an end to his kisses. Why, then, did she feel the urge to stroke the velvet-covered wall of his rib cage and let her fingers explore the broad expanse of his shoulders? His muscles were firm and supple, inviting her to touch him and savour the moment.

Truly, she was a basket case—a woman at the mercy of her hormones and not to be trusted with the slightest task. ‘I don’t think I’m ready for this,’ she said huskily. ‘I shouldn’t have let things get this far.’

‘Are you quite sure about that?’ His hands caressed her, and his tone was soft and coaxing, inviting her to drift back into the shelter of his arms once more. ‘Life could be so much sweeter if only you’d allow yourself to taste it.’

She pulled in a shaky breath, willing herself to resist temptation. ‘I’m sure… absolutely sure.’ Even as she said it she wondered if she was trying to convince him or herself. She straightened and took a step away from him. ‘I don’t know how you manage to do this to me,’ she said huskily, her gaze troubled. ‘I need to feel good about myself, and none of this is helping. I’m very confused. I need time to think.’