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

Chapter 2

“But then again, would it be sooo bad meeting Mr. Right? How romantic would that be... I mean sure, you’d have to stay in Wyoming, but then again— Uh, Naomi?”

Naomi was oblivious to the small fingers being snapped in front of her face. “Girl...are you even listening to me? Naomi?” Now frustration flavored her friend’s tone.

Alyssa stopped her monologue and stared at Naomi, still snapping her fingers in front of Naomi’s face in an attempt to get her friend’s attention.

Naomi tore her gaze away from Canton and turned her focus to her friend.

“Huh?” she asked, feeling completely unglued.

Naomi had no idea how long she and Canton Wilde had exchanged that long, intense moment.

For Naomi, it felt as though time had stood still. Unconsciously, she brought her fingers to her forehead to wipe away the sweat she knew just had to be there.

Dear God, the man had brought her to a heated mess with just a look. But it was more than a look. It was a sensual exchange, the likes of which she’d never experienced.

“Girl, ummm, are you okay?” Alyssa asked, a look of concern etched on her pretty face.

“Yeah, I’m good... I, just, uh, was checking out everything,” Naomi murmured, trying to gather her wits about her enough to form a coherent reply. “That’s all,” she replied, forcing a casual smile. “So this is game night, huh? Looks like fun!” she went on, completely flustered from her exchange with Canton Wilde, but trying desperately to adopt a cheerful facade for her friend. “I should have let you bring me here before! Of course, as I’m just now legally able to, I guess that couldn’t have happened, huh?”

Naomi clamped her mouth shut, feeling as though she were blabbering. Nerves. That’s all it was.

Rattled nerves had her blabbering incoherently, sweating and acting crazy.

She offered Alyssa another shaky smile, hooked her jacket over the back of her bar stool and climbed back onto the high-backed chair.

She hastily lifted her drink from the table and brought the cool glass tumbler to her lips.

Alyssa was watching her carefully, a concerned look on her face.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Naomi waved her concern away with a flip of her hand as she took a healthy swallow of the drink Alyssa had ordered them.

The alcohol smoothly went down, the taste a curious blend of sweet and sour; oddly mellow, and very good.

Moments later, the liquid began to burn her throat slightly. But it was too late; Naomi had drunk half the glass before she realized its potency.

She scowled and placed the drink on the table, and gave her friend a look. “Girl, what in the world did you order for me?” she asked with a squeaky voice, the strength of the alcohol compromising her vocal cords temporarily.

“Oh, it’s not that bad! It’s just an apple martini. They’re delicious!” Alyssa replied, and to prove her point took a healthy swallow of her own.

With a lifted brow Naomi watched her friend try to fake the funk and pretend the drink wasn’t strong.

She gave her friend kudos when she held her own, only giving a slight grimace, but still had to tease her. “Uh-huh, right!”

“Well, I thought it was innocent!” Alyssa said, holding back a laugh. “But, look, it came with a little umbrella. How could anything be bad that comes with its own little parasol?” Ever the comedian, she lifted the tiny drink accessory in her hand and twirled it around. “Awwww...see, isn’t it cute?”

“Yeah, sure, Lyssa. It’s about as cute and innocent as a baby rattlesnake,” Naomi replied drily.

“You know, the drinks they serve here on game night are known to sprout hairs on your chest. If you’re not used to strong drinks, you might wanna stick with a Shirley Temple.”

Naomi swiveled in her chair and nearly fell out of her seat when she glanced up, way up, into the eyes of Canton Wilde.

When she toppled forward, but before she could actually fall, he was there, big hand cupping her elbow, steadying her.

“You okay?” he asked in his deep, sexy-as-hell voice.

Large, sculpted, beautifully defined muscles were revealed in the short-sleeved checked shirt he wore as he held on to her arm. In reflex, she grabbed his forearm to steady herself, feeling the ripple of coiled masculine strength beneath her fingertips.

Naomi barely repressed the desire to hold on and never, ever let go. She bobbed her head up and down, robbed of speech when he asked her again if she were okay.

Girl, get yourself together, she mentally chastised herself.

“Yeah, um, I’m fine,” she said, not speaking much above a whisper, and she didn’t think he heard her in the loud club.

“Yeah, you are,” he replied.

Startled, not thinking she heard right, Naomi’s eyes flew to his, and she flushed at the look in his stare.

The clarity of his meaning shone brightly in his gaze, and Naomi knew he was the one.

Standing so close to her, Naomi could smell him. Her eyes nearly feathered shut at his appeal. His cologne was lightly woodsy, blending with his own natural scent, which made for an intoxicating aroma.

She inhaled deeply, taking in all of him, everything feminine in her coming alive as she reveled in his unique masculine scent.

Naomi made a bold decision.

One she probably wouldn’t have made had she been (1) completely sober, and (2) not goaded into a rash act by her friend’s meddling.

Actually, in her heart Naomi knew that Alyssa had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with the decision she was making. The decision to claim Canton Wilde for the night.

Just one night.

“May I?” he asked, interrupting her scandalous musings.

“Yes, um, of course,” she said, without looking or asking Alyssa if it was okay for him to sit with them.

In all honesty, Alyssa had all but vanished from her mind and thoughts.

Which was why she didn’t notice the “shit-eating grin,” as her daddy would call the look on Alyssa’s face. Or her mumbled excuse to leave the table, to go say hi to a “friend” she saw across the bar.

For Canton and Naomi, there was no one else but the two of them. He sat across from her and placed his hand over hers and she shivered.

“Before I ask to buy you a drink, will you share your name?” he asked, a deep dimple creased just one cheek, and Naomi nearly groaned aloud at the sexy characteristic. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

She shook her head and offered a slight grin.

“No, you won’t tell me your name, or no, I can’t buy you a drink?” he asked, and her grin widened.

“No, no! I mean, yes, you can ask my name, but no, I have had enough. I, um, think I need to keep a clear head around you, Canton Wilde,” she said and nearly bit her tongue out when he widened his eyes.

“I’m at a disadvantage, apparently. You know mine, but I don’t know yours,” he said, the small smile still in place, and she relaxed.

“It’s Naomi. Naomi McBride. And I, um, I know about you and your brothers. Your sister, too. I mean, who doesn’t know about you? I mean, the Wildes. I mean—”

She stopped, and clamped her mouth shut. If she said “I mean” one more time, she’d find a way to kick her own ass...

He laughed outright.

Hmm. Naomi barely held back a moan. The sound of his full laughter caused several people around them to turn and look. The closest table was a group of women, who all gave Canton a head-to-toe, in-depth once-over. Something Naomi was sure he got a lot. The man was fine with a capital F.

The fact that he was looking only at her, and not giving the table of ogling women any notice, made her smile brighten just that much more and her confidence kick up another notch.

“Well, if I can’t buy you a drink, how about a dance?” he asked, grin still in place on his fine face.

The thought of being that close to Canton, his unique scent washing over her, brought a fresh rash of goose bumps slithering over her entire body.

Naomi was hopeful yet nervous of what might be...

She made a promise to herself right then that before the night was over, if she had her way, they’d be doing a lot more than dancing.

Naomi nodded and smiled, meeting his hot blue stare, his eyes searching hers for what, she had no clue. She drew in a ragged breath as she held his gaze before she placed her small hand within his much larger one.

As he led her to the dance floor, she gave no protest when he drew her body close, so tight...she felt the length of his hardness, his girth against her stomach. She swallowed. Oh, my...

As he wrapped his strong, muscled arms around her slim waist, without thought or hesitation Naomi brought her hands up to rest on his hips, her fingers casually twisting around the loops of his belt while her head rested against his rock-hard chest.

The beat of his heart strummed strongly, deeply, against her ear. Even his heartbeat was purely masculine.

Hypnotic.

She allowed her eyes to drift close.