Читать книгу To Love a Wilde - Kimberly Kaye Terry - Страница 11

“Do you like what you see?” Holt asked Yasmine, as she’d been staring out of the truck’s passenger window for several moments.

Immediately he felt like an idiot, trying to come up with some lame attempt at conversation. In his desire to find something clever to say, to keep their conversation going, his mind had gone blank, the only thing surfacing being about the weather.

If his brothers could see him now, the self-proclaimed love doctor fumbling trying to come up with conversation, they’d break their necks falling out laughing at him.

“The weather, I mean,” he clarified, clearing his throat when she lifted one brow in question.

A small smile tilted the corners of her generous mouth upward before she nodded. His eyes trained on the small dimple that flashed when she smiled. “I do. It’s beautiful out. Nothing like the weather-channel prediction I got before I headed out this morning.”

“Yeah, I think I saw that. Uh, on the weather channel, that is. About the forecast and it being a cold day,” he said and promptly clamped his mouth shut when he saw the humor lighting her dark brown eyes.

Real smooth, Wilde, he thought, inwardly kicking him self in the ass. He didn’t know the last time, if ever, a woman had reduced him to a stumbling boy. He quickly turned his attention back to the road.

“Has it been nice like this for long? I remember how cold it can get sometimes this time of year.”

“We’ve had a good winter. Nothing like New York, though, I bet,” he’d said and when she lifted another brow, he hastily turned his attention back to the road. “That is where you’re living these days, right? I, uh, think I remember Lilly mentioning that you had moved from Chicago to New York a few months ago.”

In fact, he’d known exactly where Yasmine had been living, from the time she graduated from culinary school in Chicago and moved to study in Paris before settling back in Chicago. He’d followed her rise in the culinary world, read everything Lilly would so proudly show off to him and his brothers about Yasmine. He’d always chosen to ignore the fact that he’d always been aware of what she was doing, where she was living and the reason for it.

Holt knew it was a bad idea when his brother had asked—scratch that—told him he had to pick Yasmine up from the airport. He also knew it was a bad idea the minute he saw her standing on the sidewalk waiting to be picked up.

But he had no idea how much he’d underestimated what a bad idea it was until he had her in his pickup, her luggage stored in the back and the two of them in his cab, her unique scent reaching out and grabbing him, pulling him up short.

He didn’t remember her skin looking so soft, so clear and beautiful. Nor had he remembered the tendency she had to pull the full, lush bottom rim of her lips into her mouth, her thick brows coming together in a frown as she contemplated whatever it was she was thinking of.

There was something … different about her. To say she was pretty was too mild a description.

She’d lost the baby fat she’d carried as a younger woman, her face and body now slimmer, yet she’d held on to the curves. As he’d opened the door and helped her inside the cab of the truck, Holt’s gaze had zeroed in like a torpedo to her backside. And damn, what a backside she had.

Although she was small in stature, the top of her head barely reaching him at chest level, she wore high heels that drew even more attention to her long legs. Her faded, ripped-up jeans cupped her firm buttocks with deadly, sexy precision, making his mouth go dry.

She’d removed her jacket and beneath it wore a simple button-up blouse, but there was nothing simple about the way the soft fabric molded and hugged her generous breasts. As she turned to thank him, he’d caught an upclose and personal view of them as the pretty brown skin swelled well above the V neckline of her shirt and pressed against the fabric. He caught a glimpse of the bow on the front of her bra when one of the straining buttons broke free.

She’d turned around and caught his gaze on her. Following his line of vision he saw her cheeks again blossom with color when she saw that her button had come undone. Fumbling, she’d hastily rebuttoned her blouse.

The fact that she’d blushed again made a part of him want to believe that blush was because of him, before he immediately dismissed the idea. She’d just been embarrassed that her blouse had come undone.

He’d been aware of her crush on him as a young woman, but there was no way the sexy, sophisticated woman she appeared to be now still held that same schoolgirl crush.

Beauty aside, Yasmine now exuded a sexy confidence, one that didn’t jibe with his memories of the shy, clumsy girl he’d known long ago. One that made him even more aware of her than he ever had been back then, reminding him how as even a young girl there had always been something about her that had both attracted him to her and made him want to run the complete and opposite direction away from her.

Not that she had ever done anything to him to make him feel that way.

He turned to glance her way. She was staring out of the passenger window, deep in thought. Nerves assaulted him, which made not one bit of damn sense. He’d known Yasmine since she was a young girl, when she’d moved to the ranch after her parents died. He remembered the day she first came and Jed had allowed Lilly to introduce her to the family.

She’d barely spoken a word, simply bobbed her head up and down as Lilly introduced her to the family. She’d solemnly shaken hands with his father and his brothers. When he struck out his hand to shake it, she’d only placed her hand in his for a brief moment before snatching it back as though she’d burned it. He’d caught the way her eyes had widened when they met his and the subtle way she’d wiped her palms down the side of the red-and-white gingham dress she wore.

A smile of remembrance split his face for a fraction of a moment before he frowned. The fact that he remembered what she wore, from the top of her plaited hair down to the old but polished Mary Jane shoes she wore surprised him.

“Lord, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen that,” she said, dragging him out of his thoughts. He turned and glanced out of the window. The stretch of the two-laned highway bordered a ranch, where in the distance cows were contently grazing.

“Don’t see much of that where you live, I suppose,” he said, and turned back to the road.

She laughed softly. “No, not really. Nothing but glass and buildings, bustling people and everybody is always busy … There’s never a dull moment.”

There was a short pause before he continued.

“Do you ever miss it? Ranch life, I mean,” he asked. “Does all that … busyness get too much?”

He felt her gaze on him before she sighed softly. “I do sometimes. Miss the ranch. Mostly I miss the quiet,” she replied, her voice soft. Although Holt kept his focus on the road as she continued, he listened attentively to her. There was something different about her, something indefinable. He wondered if and how much she’d changed from the sweet, shy girl she was the last time he’d spoken with her, nearly ten years ago.

“But I love the life I’m living. I enjoy what I do … the traveling, meeting new people, new adventures. My life is now what I always wanted it to be.” She paused, then continued. “What I always dreamed it would be, anyway. Sometimes I have to pinch myself just to make sure it isn’t just a dream,” she said, laughing softly.

“I’m not surprised at all that you’re successful, Yasmine. I remember even as a young girl you were always in the kitchen with your aunt, helping to cook. You always seemed at home there. And damn if some of the creations you came up with weren’t some of the best cooking I’ve ever had,” he complimented her, lightening the moment.

Yasmine laughed outright. “I guess you don’t remember some of those hot-mess creations of mine, then?”

He chose that moment to glance her way and nearly hit the car in front of him. One side of her sensual, generous mouth hitched in a smile, and a deep dimple flashed in her cheek. He hastily turned his attention back to the road in front of him.

Ahead the two-lane road they were traveling had stilled due to construction. The road sign indicated it would be one lane for the next two miles, causing a small cluster of congestion. He turned back around to face her.

“Well, all I remember is what a fantastic chef you were. And I’m proud of you, Yas. We all are,” he added, clearing his throat before continuing. “So tell me all about it. What was it like to win the competition?”

Her smile grew and her face became even more animated. “I swear I’ve never seen so many drama queens as I did during the taping of the show!” She laughed, and proceeded to fill him in on the behind-the-scenes action, which was much more drama-filled than what the camera crew had been able to capture. Not that they hadn’t tried.

By the time she finished they were both laughing, and the earlier awkwardness evaporated. Yasmine went on to tell him how she felt the moment the competition heated, and she, along with the last two competitors, were the only ones left from the original twelve contestants.

As he inched along in traffic, Holt became caught up in simply watching her as she spoke, the way she used her hands to speak, the deep sparkle in her dark eyes, the way she nearly bounced in her seat, she was so animated. So much so that one of the buttons on her blouse threatened to slip free if she kept moving like that.

Holt firmly kept his eyes away from watching her chest and admiring the way her silk blouse clung and molded her generous breasts.

Damn, she most definitely had grown up, he thought.

“And now I hear you’re going to be an executive chef at a famous restaurant? Starring in your own show, as well? That’s got to be exciting. But like I said, I’m not surprised.” He encouraged her to continue the conversation, enjoying listening to her, watching her animated face as the traffic all but stilled.

“That came out of the blue,” she said, shaking her head, the smile still on her face. “The offer for my own show, that is. As far as the restaurant, it’s something I’ve dreamed of. I just never thought it would happen this soon.”

“Yeah, it seems like all of your dreams are coming true, Yas. And it’s everything you deserve.”

There was a slight lull as Yasmine sat back, the smile slipping from her face as she turned to him.

“God, I’ve spent the last hour talking about myself. I’m sorry!” she said, her cheeks flushing with color.

“No, I’ve enjoyed hearing about what you’ve been up to. It’s been a long time since we’ve actually spoken. I like hearing about what’s been going on in your world, Yas,” he said.

It hit him that he hadn’t realized how much he’d actually missed her, not really seeing her over the past ten years, and only hearing about her adventures through her aunt.

“I’m looking forward to getting reacquainted,” he finished.

“Thank you,” she murmured. Holt caught a hint of a blush steal across her cheeks when he risked a glance her way, capturing his attention before he forced himself to look away.

He hid a grin. So, he could still make her blush.

It was a start.

“So, Holt Magnum Wilde … what have you been up to?” she asked, and he heard the humor in her voice.

Holt had studiously avoided letting anyone know his middle name, only using his middle initial whenever he signed a document. It had always been a source of embarrassment. From what he’d gathered, his mother, at the time of his birth, had been enamored of an old television show featuring a character of the same name. Outside of his brothers, no one else knew what the middle initial stood for.

Well, with the exception of Miss Lilly and obviously Yasmine.

She laughed as he groaned, and Holt immediately felt an answering grin tug at the corners of his mouth at the sound of her tinkling laughter.

Once it died down he answered her question, infusing as much of a casual note into it as he could. “After Dad died my senior year in college, I came home for the summer and helped my brothers with the ranch. Things were hectic around the place for a while, but we pulled together, got everything back on target.”

“I was sorry to hear about his death. He was a good man,” she said softly, placing her hand on his arm. Immediately she drew back.

He knew the gesture had been instinctive to her, she’d always been a warm person and didn’t mean it as anything but a way to show comfort. But he felt the heat of her soft hand through his jacket as though she had made direct skin-to-skin contact, sending a jolt of electricity from his arm directly to his groin.

“Yeah, he was. He’s still missed. The place isn’t the same without him,” he said, remembering the man he’d called father for nearly ten years. The only man he’d ever been able to call that name.

“I’m sure he would be proud of you … you and your brothers,” she murmured, sympathy in her voice. “Proud of what you all have done with the ranch.” She paused and lightly massaged his arm. It was all Holt could do to keep it together, keep his mind on the conversation.

He turned to her, his glance falling first to her hand and then to her blouse. The button that had been threatening to come loose had finally slipped free of the fastening, and he caught a peek of the lace that covered the crests of her breasts.

Taking his hand off the wheel briefly, he covered her hand, squeezed it, before casually removing it.

He wanted to curse when he saw the crestfallen look on her face, the way her cheeks again bloomed with color, this time, he knew, from embarrassment. He realized instantly she perceived his action as some kind of rejection. But damn if he could allow her to continue her innocent, yet stimulating, massage. Not without slamming into the car in front of them and causing an accident.

As it was, he was having a hard enough time keeping his erection in check around her, and had been since the moment he saw her bending over, her round little butt filling her jeans to perfection, and the peek he’d gotten of her slim waist as her shirt lifted away from the waistband of her jeans … He drew in a deep breath.

“Anyway, after that I returned to school, got drafted into the NFL and played professional football for a few years.

“Yes, I knew that … I mean, Mama Lilly mentioned you playing pro when you got drafted,” she said, correcting herself.

Yasmine swallowed an embarrassed groan after he gently, yet firmly, removed her hand from his arm.

God, what had possessed her to touch him like that?

In all actuality she hadn’t thought much about her actions, simply reached out to him … it had come so naturally. But, as soon as she had, she’d felt an electric heat sear her hand when she’d touched him.

And it didn’t help matters in the least that her stupid blouse refused to stay closed. At that moment the button popped open, and the look in his eyes when he glanced down at her had made her treacherous nipples respond in kind. It was as though someone had kicked up the air-conditioning fifty degrees colder.

She’d ordered the shirt online, and hadn’t tried it on before donning it that morning, along with the just-as-useless new bra. Not that he’d believe her if she told him—he probably thought she’d worn the shirt on purpose, knowing it was a size too small.

And besides, even if she said anything, she’d feel even more foolish drawing more attention to the fact, she thought glumly.

As far as knowing what he’d been up to, well, she’d been well aware of Holt and his activities, at least the ones that seemed to make the news with the regularity that would make any one of the celebrity male sex sym bols green with envy. He’d had his pick of women, beautiful women, from actresses and models to heiresses and famous female athletes.

His … exploits had been fodder for many a news outlet, particularly during his time playing pro ball.

Much as he’d been during the time she’d lived at the ranch, Holt Magnum Wilde was still a magnet to women. Beautiful, rich … sophisticated women.

Although he’d only played pro ball for three years before retiring, it seemed he was just as busy off the field as he was on the field.

In every photo she’d seen, he’d had a woman draped on his arm.

More often than not, two. Sometimes three.

Every time she’d glance and see his name mentioned in regards to a woman, Yasmine had subconsciously held her breath, waiting for the time when one of them proved to be more than a passing fling, yet they never had.

Even retired, although his exploits weren’t as well advertised, the man still managed to make news. Nothing had changed.

As usual, with some woman on his arm, from the heiress he’d dated last year to the daughter of one of the most lucrative cattle farmers in Wyoming, he still had his pick from a bevy of women to choose from.

And although they’d seemed to click on the ride, and his interest in her life seemed real, he still saw her as nothing more than that little girl who’d had a crush on him.

Obviously nothing had changed about him in that regard, either.

She suppressed a sigh, planting the largest, fakest smile on her face that she could when he glanced her way, hoping he couldn’t read her thoughts.