She’d drawn in a deep breath when she saw Holt and the girl locked in an embrace, her blouse off and skirt hiked up as he was moments away from making love to her. He must have heard the sound, because he pulled away from the girl and glanced around, his features pinched.
Embarrassed and afraid she’d get caught, she’d quietly fled the stable, but not before she heard the girl’s entreaty that he return and the soft giggles that turned to moans as he quickly picked up where he’d left off before being interrupted.
That same night Yasmine stayed up, images of Holt and the half-naked girl plaguing her mind, until finally she’d sat up in bed, determined to tell him how she felt, unable to keep her feelings to herself.
She’d opened the door, not exactly sure what she was going to do, when he was walking down the hallway, a towel wrapped around his lean hips.
Yasmine gulped, her eyes rolling over the length of his hard naked chest that even then showed the promise of the man he’d become.
He’d smiled at her, subtly adjusting the towel, and asked what she was doing up so late.
She’d stuttered, making idle chat, before shyly telling him she was going to miss him when he left for school. She’d smiled, stuck out her chest in her best imitation of Amanda, the girl he’d taken to the barn, and leaned against the door, trying her best to appear sexy but knowing she was failing miserably.
His smile had slipped and Yasmine knew she should just stop, go back inside her room and abandon her plan. But she didn’t.
This was the last time she’d probably have alone with him before he left. If she didn’t tell him how she felt now, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to summon the courage to do it.
It was now or never, she’d thought.
“I’ll miss you, too, Yas,” he’d said, drawing nearer. He placed his hand on top of her head as though to ruffle her hair. For some reason that was the impetus she needed to show him she wasn’t a kid anymore.
At that moment, she’d grabbed him, pulled him inside her bedroom and kissed him with all the passion and longing she’d had building up for him for six years.
At first he’d been still as a statue, but a moment before he broke free, she felt his lips soften and a hint of a response. He’d wrapped his arm around her waist and dug deeply into the skin, the thin, flimsy nightshirt she wore riding up enough that the heat from his palm scorched the skin on her back. The kiss lasted little longer than a few seconds before he’d broken free, a deep frown settling over his handsome, chiseled features.
Yasmine had been so embarrassed she’d wanted to crawl up into a hole somewhere and die. She didn’t need him to say a word—the look on his face, a mixture of anger and pity, said it all.
She stumbled away and spun around, hoping to God he’d just leave and not say anything to her. Just leave. She felt a hand on her shoulder and swallowed down the melon-ball lump that had gathered in her gut and turned to face him.
“Yasmine, I—”
She held up a hand, stopping him before he could continue, and forced a trembling smile on her face. “I’m sorry, Holt, I don’t know what came over me … Can we just forget that I did that? Please?” The last word was barely above a whisper. She was so choked up with embarrassment she simply wanted him to go away.
His eyes searched hers, concern darkening his blue eyes to a smoky gray. With a nod he patted her awkwardly on the shoulder and left her room.
As soon as he did, Yasmine, in true teenage-girl form, full-on angst, cried herself to sleep.
The next day, Jed packed up the truck and he and Holt headed off to get him settled into the dorms.
That was the last time Yasmine was ever alone with Holt.
Since then, on the occasions she came to visit her aunt, she made sure that Holt was nowhere around. Anything else would have been too mortifying.
Yasmine settled back in the seat, and unable to resist, again cast Holt a sideways glance.
When he’d taken her bags at the airport, she’d caught the way his glance had stolen over her and had barely refrained from patting her hair and checking her makeup. Tall, he stood at least a foot taller than she. Thankfully she’d opted to wear heels traveling, giving her the added inches so she at least didn’t have to crane her neck to see his face.
He hadn’t removed his Stetson when he greeted her, and glancing up at him, her breath had caught at the back of her throat, as he was a living, breathing poster boy for raw, masculine cowboy if she ever saw one.
Lord, the man was fine, she thought, expelling a long breath while mentally reciting over and over that she was an adult and no longer an adolescent with a schoolgirl’s crush.
When he’d turned toward her after placing her luggage in the back, her self-affirming mantra reminding her of her sophistication flew right on out the window, and she felt like the shy, adolescent she had once been all over again.
The fact that he had been checking her out just as much as she had him hadn’t escaped her attention. That had been just enough to boost her confidence and make her realize that she was the one in control.
But in no way was she going to delude herself into thinking anything more of his casual appraisal than what it was. She was well aware of her attributes, without conceit. Although not as beautiful as the women he dated, she felt confident in the way she looked. She knew she’d changed some in both looks and attitude, grown up a lot, since the last time he had seen her, and the change no doubt was one he noticed. But that’s all it was.
She inched closer to the door.
And he was in for a big surprise if he thought she still held on to that silly schoolgirl crush.
Chapter 4
“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 sidewa
lk 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.
To Love a Wilde Page 3
