“Oh Jesus, Nic,” Shelby scolded. “You’d do the exterminator if he had muscles and a driver’s license!”
Their laughter hung in the heavy, humid air. It was a lighthearted moment, one of many Rhi had shared that summer with her tight-knit group of friends. She remembered it so clearly because of what happened next. One minute they’d been dishing naughtily about hot guys, and then for Rhiann—the world wobbled a bit and was never quite the same ever again.
“Excuse me ladies,” a deep, male voice cut in. “I knocked at the front but there was no answer. Sorry to interrupt your, uh. . . . recreation time,” the stranger told them with the slightest hint of a disparaging jeer in his voice. “Is Professor Wilde available?” Producing a manila envelope that looked stuffed to the gills, he added, “He wanted this information as soon as it was available.”
Had the time slowed down when the unexpected stranger spoke? Rhi wasn’t sure, but that was how she remembered the encounter.
An interminable silence followed while she mentally scrambled to pull it together—a task made difficult by the vision of male perfection standing just a few feet from her. My Lord. A mad rush of butterflies descending into the pit of her stomach put a hitch in Rhiann’s breathing.
Tall, lean, and gorgeously broad-shouldered, he looked out of place in the sweltering heat of that summer day. Dressed in a brilliantly white, button-down shirt tucked into a pair of grey slacks, he struck an odd chord next to the four friends in their bathing suits and sunglasses.
He had the bearing of an authority figure—reminding Rhi of a soldier or police officer. It was the way he held himself—how he stood—with his back ramrod straight, feet apart. Something slithered along her spine. A sense of physical awareness that came as a shock and made her uneasy.
Although he was buttoned up all tight and proper, he sported a sexy don’t-give-a-fuck stubble that only added to his appeal. It suggested an inner rebel bad boy lurking just below the surface.
Reaching for the plain, gauzy cover-up she’d thrown in a crumple on a lounge chair, Rhi slid it on quickly. She was fiddling with her long, plait of brown hair sweeping it over her shoulder to hang down over a breast. God, he made her so nervous, and she didn’t even know his name.
Liam paced back and forth along the bank of windows in his office. The executive wing of the BPG headquarters, what was, in essence, the throne room of his very own personal kingdom, was about as swank as a top-notch New York City designer could manage. Every square inch had the intention to impress and fill visitors with a sense of awe. Power and money practically oozed from the air vents.
But for him, the space was nothing but an accessory. Like his ridiculously expensive suits. Or the twenty thousand dollar watch he favored. He played the game, and he played it well. But honestly. He might as well have been in a concrete bunker with a street-level view wearing a department store timepiece and an off-the-rack business suit for all it meant to him.
Money was something he no longer concerned himself with. Human collateral aside, Liam could have anything he wanted. And right now, he wanted Rhiann Wilde.
The second he was back on U.S. soil after slogging through a long, protracted deal BPG was negotiating in Europe, every waking moment became consumed with her. Even when he slept, his dreamscapes resembled erotic tableaus of lusty scenes with the sexy brunette that easily turned into a nightmare.
Since his return, he’d done nothing but pace, frown, and somewhere in that reverie, acknowledge that the impressive office, expensive suits, all of it—the trappings of wealth and the advantages of power that made up his world—were covered with her unseen fingerprints. On the outside, the things driving his ambitions provided the fuel he needed to succeed as quickly as he had. But on the inside? In the shadowy corners of his mind? It was all about the girl.
Now that his mother was gone, and the crappy little empire built by his morally corrupt father decimated, Liam could no longer hide his admission. At the core of all his hopes and desires was a smart-ass brunette with a killer body and a blow me attitude who at the present moment didn’t seem to give a good goddamn about his accomplishments or social standing.
Gruffly snorting at the absurdity of thinking he had anything that would in any way impress the one female not swayed by his shit, he saw the error of his arrogance too late. After all, Rhiann Wilde knew the college boy inside the man. She’d gotten naked with him on his crappy double bed with the lumpy mattress in his postage stamp sized studio apartment. Hell, she’d even been under him in the backseat of his beater Toyota with her jeans and panties in a ball on the floor.
Dropping like a stone onto his desk chair, Liam swiveled away from the city view and scowled at the report he should be reading. But he couldn’t concentrate on it spread out before him.
It was useless to deny that he’d fucked up royally by letting his impatience take control earlier. Driven and unwilling to wait, he’d foolishly played his boss man card at the magazine. Regretting the scene in the executive office at Passion and growling at his own stupidity, he knew he should have waited for a better time when he could lure Rhiann to his inner sanctum here at BPG. Maybe seeing him in his normal surrounding would have been more impressive.
Impressed by his cock and balls swagger and the plethora of expensive toys he was surrounded with? Yeah. Fuck that. Nothing he had, did, or said more than bounced off her like a quarter on a hospital bed corner. She couldn’t care less. Only thing was, he still remembered a time when she could barely breathe whenever he was around. A time she hadn’t been such a bitch or as disdainful of his presence on the planet as she was now.
Giving in to the endless pull of the memory, he let the recollection of the day they first met fill his senses. It was the summer before he got his master’s degree. He’d landed a coveted gig as a professor’s assistant, which led to that fateful day when he’d first laid eyes on a teenage Rhiann Wilde.
As the memories swept him away, he remembered it had started the same as any other day.
Of fucking course, the A/C in his beat up car had to choose this day to go haywire. And why the bloody hell not? After all, the start of the day had been a shit show of epic proportion, so dealing with the cloying heat as he drove away from the university, deep into the neighborhoods that proliferated around the college town, only added insult to injury.
On his way to deliver some important documents to his work-study mentor, he’d barely had five minutes to take in the huge piece of information he’d just uncovered concerning his father’s business. Okay, so maybe the term father was being used quite loosely in this instance since in the bigger picture of his life, Adam Ward was nothing more than a sperm donor. A lying, cheating sack of shit that he classified as a biological other, rather than an actual parent.
Learning that Ward’s company, a business that had been in family hands for more than seventy years, was leveraged to the max and desperate for an infusion of cash to keep it afloat, fanned the inner bonfire of hatred and anger that was always on the back burner in Liam’s emotions. He’d hated him since he was old enough to understand that Adam Ward had destroyed his mother’s life and turned a deliberate blank eye his way.
Besides ruining Ward, the only other constants in his life were the need to watch over and care for his mother and his steely determination to squeeze every last drop of knowledge and experience that he could from his university years. The last was how he ended up working as an assistant to one of the English department professors.
He liked Robert Baron-Wilde and was lucky to have landed the coveted placement with the gentlemanly scholar. It was one thing to earn an undergraduate degree with high honors, maintain an impressive G.P.A. in his master’s courses, and be a sponge for every academic experience he could fit in, and quite another to see up close and personal how a man of true integrity, with a brilliant mind and an open temperament, conducted himself.
Driving through the country back roads, he thought about the refined professor and wondere
d how he would handle being faced with an all uphill climb out of a desperate and gloomy start in life.
Careful to avoid the judgment of others by keeping the enormous chip he carried on his shoulder hidden from view, he ground his teeth and gripped the steering wheel as the weight of the emotional burdens he dealt with slammed into him.
His mother was a grey character—overwhelmed by social convictions that were an anathema to her son. His knuckles turned white from the savage grip on the wheel as he thought about the whispered cruelties Carolyn Ashforth had endured as a pregnant, unmarried twenty-something who found herself on the short edge of acceptability after a brief, disastrous affair with her married boss.
Rebuked and refused by the father of her child, she’d been forced to move away and struggled to make a life as a single parent. Alone and overwhelmed, she succumbed to the emotional beat down delivered by the gossips in the small town where they lived, fueled by an overzealous church elder who served Carolyn up as an example of non-righteous behavior for all who bought into his shit.
By the time Liam was a teenager, their roles were reversed; he was acting as the responsible adult, keeping their modest boat afloat, while she worked at a shit job, flying as far off the social radar as was possible while feeding her problems and woes with a never ending supply of doctor prescribed fixes. He couldn’t remember a time when she was anything but sad. And broken.
Earning a full ride scholarship to the renowned university had been the first step in his well-thought-out plan to make something of himself so he’d be in a position to right the many wrongs done to his beloved parent and see to it personally that Adam Ward was ground to dust.
After five years of focus and hard work, he was about to begin his final year in grad school. More than ready to conquer the business world, he was planning to kick ass and take names the minute that master’s degree was in his hands.
And that was why the assignment with Professor Wilde had been so high on his list of must-haves. Short on social graces, he knew that his serious demeanor and oft-time scowling expression made him a curiosity, but he was smart enough to know that perfecting an outer presence that was as powerful as his academic achievements was key to his plans moving forward.
The good professor was a fantastic role model. Successful and respected, the man was married with a gaggle of kids and highly regarded in the community at large. Without a decent father to show him what it meant to be a man, emulating someone such as Professor Wilde was the next best thing.
Pulling into the driveway of the large, red brick colonial home on the curve of a cul-de-sac, Liam couldn’t help but admire the slice of perfect suburban heaven the home represented. A large wreath decorated in patriotic colors hung on the front door while a vast collection of urns, pots, and planters containing colorful impatiens, asters, and petunias were scattered everywhere. Long hedges clustered with beautiful hydrangea heads ran along the walkway.
Peeling his sweat soaked torso off the worn leather upholstery, Liam scrambled from the dilapidated car, grabbing the envelope he was delivering from the passenger seat. This was his first time at the Baron-Wilde’s, and his eyes drank in every detail of the professor’s home.
Liam had briefly met Mrs. Wilde at a university function after he’d been offered the assistant position. He liked her immediately. Easy on the eyes, she was the perfect college professor’s wife—charming, well mannered, smart, and funny, Darcy Baron-Wilde had instantly made him feel welcome and appreciated. She’d even cracked a few lame jokes about her sometimes-addled husband and expressed her relief that someone had consented to take him on. Apparently, she felt that being Professor Wilde’s assistant required hazard pay and a strong stomach. He smiled, remembering how gracious the woman had been.
After ringing the doorbell several times and getting no answer, he pulled at the collar of his shirt, trying to fan some relief from the cloying heat, and sighed. Dammit. These papers were important, and he’d been instructed to make sure the professor got them in a timely fashion.
While deciding what his next course of action should be, Liam heard laughter coming from the back of the house and strode in that direction, hoping to find the professor. A tall fence surrounded the yard and had an iron gate that he peered through before releasing the latch and stepping through.
The first thing he saw was the large pool. The second? The most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes upon.
“EXCUSE ME, LADIES,” A stranger announced as he stepped into their midst. “I knocked at the front but there was no answer. Sorry to interrupt your, uh. . . . recreation time. Is Professor Wilde available? He wanted this information as soon as it was available,” he told them while holding up the overstuffed envelope.
Rhiann could hear her heart knocking in his chest as he spoke—his eyes never left her face even when she scrambled to cover up her modest one-piece bathing suit.
“And who might you be?” Nicole inquired as she stepped forward and swept her hair off her shoulders in a practiced move that Rhiann knew was intended to draw attention to her chest.
Crazy, fucking Nicole had wrangled a boob job out of her parents for her eighteenth birthday, and dammit if she’d been flaunting the picture-perfect globes at everyone with eyeballs since.
Miffed that her friend was so obviously trying to grab the spotlight, Rhi shuffled uncomfortably, clutching the front of her cover-up and frowning with displeasure.
Expecting to find the handsome stranger drooling over Nic’s outrageous chesticles, she was surprised to see his expression harden. Suppressing a grin, Rhiann felt unexpected delight that the white-shirted man with the serious scowl appeared completely uninterested in her friend’s obvious antics.
“My name is Liam Ashforth,” he declared while returning his gaze to Rhiann. “Professor Wilde’s grad assistant. Are you Miss Wilde?” he asked with an air of expectation.
Uhhhh . . . was she Miss Wilde? Rhi’s thought process completely scrambled and stuttered to a stunned halt when she got a good look at Mr. White Shirt up close. Holy shitballz—the guy was jaw-dropping handsome. Besides the fact that he was kinda tall and had a presence that obliterated everything around him, this Liam Ashforth was one seriously devastating example of smoldering hotness.
Rhiann looked past the scowl, which she assumed was his default setting, and zeroed in on his eyes. They were an unusual grey color with hints of deep blue and were surrounded by thick, dark eyelashes—the kind any reasonable person would die for. His gaze was steady, direct, probing—and drew her in effortlessly.
Straight light brown hair in need of a trim swept across his forehead, all but begging her to reach out and push it back off his striking face. An unremarkable, perfectly proportioned nose sat above his mouth—which, although drawn in a grim line—made Rhiann think about all the ways those lips could drive a girl crazy. And that sexy stubble? Yikes.
She heard Shelby snicker and realized she was behaving like a star-struck teenager. Fuck. Why was it when she wanted to come off as sophisticated and self-assured, she looked like a tongue-tied twit instead?
Finally remembering who she was, Rhiann clumsily stuck out her hand, which for some bizarre reason jerked to the left, and smacked the stranger on the arm. Her eyes squinched shut in horror, but she managed to recover quickly.
“Hi. Yes. I’m Rhi. Uh, Rhiann Wilde. Sorry, but my dad isn’t here right now.”
Liam Ashforth reached out in slow-mo. His grip was firm, warm, and when he gently squeezed, she swore her knees nearly buckled. The butterflies in her belly took flight and rushed headlong through her senses as she swallowed the lump of awareness that rose up in her throat. Um, what the hell?
Making matters worse was the deep rosy blush she felt moving up her chest, to her neck, and settling cheek to cheek on her face.
Leave it to Nicole to get all bent and try to detour the attention in her direction. Sashaying toward them, she took full advantage of the song playing in the background to unleash some provocative
Shakira hip-shaking moves that were almost as immodest as her surgically enhanced D-cups. Embarrassed by her friend’s obvious attempt to tease, Rhiann tried to pull her hand from Liam’s strong grip, but he didn’t let go. Not even when Nic was right on top of them doing that ridiculous shimmy.
The look he gave Nicole was so frigid and icy that it made Rhi shiver. In the background, Shelby and Freya bawled with laughter when Nic sucked in a gasp at his unmistakable disapproval, earning them both a stern frown.
Sulking like a spoiled brat, she mumbled, “Was just messing around. Jeez! No need to get your boxers bunched up.”
Oh, hell. Why couldn’t she just leave well enough alone?
“Nic,” Rhiann barked harshly. When she had all the girls’ attention, she made a face and mock-whispered, “My dad? Remember?”
Pulling Liam away, she led him in the direction of the patio door telling him shyly, “Sorry. Girls just having fun,” as they walked.
Before he could say anything, she started talking, her body a mass of jumbled, jerky movements. “How long have you been working with my dad? Do you like it? Has he shown you his first edition collection? He’s mad for those old books.”
Rhiann realized she was talking a mile a second and that her body language screamed kid. Even so, Liam was looking at her like she was on the menu—a thought that wasn’t altogether unwelcome.
“I like it very much,” he drawled. “Working with your father.”
He’d answered her question, but the way he was looking at her muddied how she interpreted the words he chose. Glancing sideways at her group of friends, she saw three pretty girls in an assemblage of racy swimwear. All told, there was plenty of tits and ass on display. Rhiann was only wearing a one-piece—an ugly, functional one at that.
And yet unless she was going daft, the scowling grad student with the mesmerizing eyes and dangerous mouth just told her that he liked what he saw. Not only that, he’d also shown a clear dislike for the suggestive behavior of her friends. Heat exploded inside her.
Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2) Page 4