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

Chapter 3

Seven years later

Canton Wilde leaned back against the antique brass railing surrounding the wraparound porch, crossed his big booted feet one over the over, and observed the woman he’d been watching for over fifteen minutes.

His attention was fixed, unwavering on the woman. With little thought to the brisk air besides lifting the collar of his worn plaid shirt, Canton continued his observation of her. She appeared to be in the midst of fighting a losing battle with the seat belt inside her old Jeep. Even though he was a distance away, Canton could clearly feel her irritability.

A chuckle erupted from his mouth.

He shoved away from the railing.

Canton wasn’t sure if it was the surprise of his own chuckle, one he admitted, if only to himself, was a rare thing to hear. Or if it was the sight of the woman as she finally emerged from the Jeep that made him catch his breath and push away. Once he got a good look, his Wilde instinct kicked in...it was more of the latter than the first.

He narrowed his eyes and leaned back again, at an angle that placed him away from her line of vision should she glance his way.

Damn if he even knew what in hell had made him stop in the first place. He’d intended to grab something to eat and a beer at the end of the day, tired as hell and pissed off at the latest load of crap he’d had to deal with from Cyrus White, the representative from the Rolling Hills Corporation, a task he detested.

His older brother, Tiber, who like him and his siblings was part owner of Wilde Oil Enterprises, was also the family lawyer. Tiber was the Wilde who dealt with the other bigwigs, execs and lawyers alike. Tiber was the sophisticated Wilde. The Wilde who dealt with the likes of snakes such as Cyrus without wanting to wring his narrow-ass neck. Something Canton wished like hell to do. But he promised Tiber he’d refrain.

Tiber was all the things Canton was not. Refined, tactful when need be, when dealing with other corporate types. A fact Canton was immensely happy about.

Until he’d had to take over for his brother.

He bit out a curse.

Tiber was out of country at the moment, so the job of acting CEO fell to Canton. He’d much rather be out on one of their oil rig sites with the men, overseeing the drill or working on one of the rigs right alongside them as he was known to do on occasion. Somewhere he’d be right now had he not had to fill in for his brother.

Being in the field with the men was much better than behind some damn desk dealing with corporate America.

If Canton had his way, he’d have nothing to do with either Cyrus or Rolling Hills. Neither the man nor the company he represented had sat well with Canton. Something was off about both. He always left feeling apprehensive and annoyed after any dealings with either. And he never felt that way when he was on the rig.

But at the last family meeting, he, along with his brothers, Tiber and Brick, and their younger sister, Riley, had decided that they’d hear the company out, after the board had given Tiber a report containing the preliminary offer. Canton, as CFO, had already gone over the numbers several times with their head of accounting.

After the family made a favorable decision, Tiber, who was at the time acting CEO of Wilde Oil Enterprises, was to be the contact for the Wildes with Rolling Hills.

That was before there was trouble with one of the Wildes’ international accounts and Tiber had been forced to go overseas and handle the issue personally. Which left Canton in the position of temporary CEO until his return.

He uttered a disgusted grunt and mentally shrugged off the memory of his latest bout with Cyrus.

He returned his attention to the woman.

But...something about her had caught his attention, just as he’d been about to enter his family home.

He didn’t really know how long she’d been there; could have been five minutes or an hour. He knew she hadn’t seen him. Hell, he doubted she was aware of much going on around her from what he’d observed.

She’d been staring out her driver’s window, away from the mansion, as she’d been parked at the very edge of the road. Slowly, she turned the ignition on. After a few sputters, hisses and coughs, the old Jeep crackled to life.

She drove so slowly up the winding driveway he wondered if she was someone who’d lost her way and was trying to figure out her next move.

But no one gained access past the gate guard and this close to the Wilde family mansion without getting vetted.

So it was someone they knew.

Canton waited. He’d eased his large frame into a strategic position, one where he knew she couldn’t see him until he was ready for her to see him.

Something about this intrigued him.

For the moment he forgot all about Rolling Hills and the disturbing little man who rubbed him the wrong way. His focus was all on the woman approaching his family’s home.

There was something familiar about her.

The woman faced the front of the mansion. From Canton’s distance he saw the determination and set of her shoulders as she hoisted her bag closer to her side, squared her shoulders even more, if that was humanly possible, and closed the door to the Jeep.

Damn, she was beautiful...

Fully emerged from the truck, she made her way toward the house, and finally, finally he could see her full body.

He dragged in a swift breath as the woman drew closer.

The soft sway of her walk and smooth curves gave new meaning to the word stacked.

It was cool outside, and she wore a classic hip-length white leather jacket with the belt cinched tightly. The ends were tied in a big bow, like a present, highlighting her small waist, nicely rounded hips and full, plump breasts. All clearly visible beneath her layers.

Hell, Canton thought as he watched the woman approach, a figure like hers couldn’t be hidden or camouflaged behind anything so inconsequential as a jacket.

From his vantage point, he watched her approach. There was even something familiar about the way she walked.

Although the autumn air was chilly, the sun shone brightly and caressed her toasted brown skin, which seemed to glow even more against the stark whiteness of her leather jacket. The way the light bounced and flickered against her smooth skin brought more awareness to Canton.

At that moment the wind chose to blow, whispering air against her body, molding the soft leather jacket she wore even closer to her sinful curves, making Canton’s body harden, tightening with every step she took closer.

His attention was riveted on the woman.

The wind again blew a gust of air over her. She wore her hair in a high bun, but tendrils of curls escaped and whisked across her face. The woman raised her face toward the sun, a half smile tilting the corners of her full mouth upward.

It was as though she and the sun were old friends, communicating. She remained in that pose for what seemed like an eternity. And Canton wouldn’t have been able to look away had his life depended on it.

When she lowered her head, she continued her pace toward the door.

He knew he should walk away. Something was telling him to move his ass now, before she caught him.

Something told him if he didn’t his life would never been the same again. That instinct he had, the same instinct he’d inherited from his rough and rugged father, the same instinct that he and his brothers and as their baby sister all shared, the kind of instinct that told a man in business when it was time to move, in poker when to fold.

The same instinct that was now telling him to turn and move away before it was too late. But damned if he could.

So he just stood there, watching her stroll closer to the house, to him. He frowned when he caught her lips working, as though she were talking to herself. She stopped, closed her eyes and performed the sign of the cross. He felt one side of his mouth quirk in a half smile.

She had no clue she wasn’t alone, that she was being watched. Something told that if she did, she would be mortified.

She was stylishly dressed; he ran his gaze over her as she came closer. From the soft-looking leather jacket cinched tightly at her waist, over her curved hips in the calf-length leather skirt, down shapely legs, housed in knee-high boots, she was the epitome of sophistication. He wondered if she were from around Cheyenne.

Canton’s frown deepened. She was so lost in her own thoughts, he knew that she believed she was alone.

But Canton observed her as she walked with determination in her stride, up the winding path that led to the house.

She was a woman on a mission.

Everything about her told him that.

He again felt that curious shift in his awareness. Whatever her mission was, that same instinct that told him if he wanted his life to remain unchanged he should run the hell in the complete and opposite direction, also told him that part of that mission she was clearly on would involve him.

She reached the front of the house and lifted her face, and it was then that Canton nearly gave himself away.

He had never forgotten that face.

He’d never forgotten the feel of those curves on that body...

His hungry gaze roved over her, head to toe.

She had one of the prettiest complexions he’d ever seen. Her heart-shaped face was the color of deep milk chocolate with a hint of cream. He had never forgotten the color or feel of her...

Large, light brown almond-shaped eyes stood out against the richness of her complexion.

But it was her lips that captured him now, as they had before. Neither had he forgotten how they tasted. Full, plump and delicious, they called out to him, beckoning him, daring him to taste their ripe lushness.

Just as they had seven years ago.

His body hardened, alert; like a hunter watching his prey, his gaze was unwavering.

And in that moment Canton knew his life had, again, changed forever.

He also knew in that moment that running was the furthest thing from his mind. And neither would he allow her to run this time.

Hell no. Not this time. Not ever again. His face, body and everything else about him tightened up.

A purely masculine gleam shone from his eyes as he pulled his hat down further on his head, shielding his eyes.

Hell no. She wouldn’t get away from him this time.