Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2)

by Halliday, Suzanne

  Shit. Seeing her decked out for his enjoyment had him instantly regretting his studied attempt to go casual this evening. What for some guys would mean a chance to throw on some old, worn jeans and a concert t-shirt for him meant removing his jacket and vest, loosening the tie, and rolling back his sleeves. Unless he was sleeping, naked in the shower, or playing racquetball at the gym—this was how he dressed.

  His self-doubt and double thinking decisions already made were completely forgotten when he saw her brazenly check him out from top to bottom. The dazzling smile lighting up her face and the beam of approval for what she knew was an effort on his part, shut all that other noise down.

  They stood there in the parking garage, staring and grinning at each other until the driver cleared his throat uncomfortably to gain Liam’s attention.

  Right. The driver.

  “Are we good here, sir?” the man asked.

  “Yes. Thank you,” he replied, shutting the car door and putting a solicitous hand on his companion’s arm. “We’ll call in a few hours to arrange Miss Wilde’s return.”

  “No problem, Mr. Ashforth,” he replied with a deferential nod. “Good evening, ma’am,” he added in Rhiann’s direction. She smiled and tilted her head in that cute way she had that struck Liam as so very proper and ladylike.

  As the car drove away, he urged, “Let’s get you inside,” while giving her a little shove toward the doors. “It’s too cold down here without a coat and since I’m without my jacket at the moment . . .”

  “Oh shoot!” she exclaimed. “I left my coat in the car.”

  “Well, you don’t need it, and I’m sure the driver will realize you left something in the backseat. Come on, then,” he commanded as he held the door open. “In you go.”

  As she passed by, he felt her fingers drift across his stomach. “I like this without the jacket look.”

  Breathe, dude, he reminded himself.

  “You did that for me. Thanks.”

  She walked into the foyer and waited for him to escort her to the elevator and it was all he could do not to stumble over his feet and fall flat on his face as he reached for her. He needed to get them somewhere private in a hurry before he embarrassed himself.

  The second the doors of the elevator closed and their small stainless steel and wood cocoon shot them up toward his two-floor penthouse, she turned and flattened Liam against the wall with her sweet body.

  Deftly separating the top button below the collar of his shirt, she dipped her fingers beneath the crisp fabric and ran them lightly against his skin.

  “There. That’s better,” she purred, stepping back and patting him on the chest like a good boy.

  Liam looked down where her small hand rested near his stomach and gritted his teeth for directly below he also saw the way his dark grey trousers tented from his fearsome erection. What he wouldn’t give for her to trail those fingers lower and explore his manhood.

  It was probably good that she didn’t, though, because he’d surely vapor-lock and drop like a stone if she touched him right now.

  “You look stunning, Miss Wilde,” he told her.

  She did an adorable little curtsy in those tantalizing heels then grabbed onto his exposed forearms.

  “And you, Mr. Ashforth, sir . . .” He loved it when she batted her eyelashes in mockery every time she used the term. “Look relaxed and almost laid back!”

  Dramatically clutching her hands to her chest, she snicker-drawled, “Be still my wild heart!”

  “We aim to please, milaya moya.”

  She blushed. She actually goddamn blushed!

  “And please me, you have.”

  Oh, man. This was going to be a great night!

  “So, what’s for dinner? Takeout?”

  She smiled at the faux outrage on his usually scowling face as her Jungle Lord grasped her hand in his and pulled her from the elevator toward his door. There were two penthouse homes evidenced by another set of imposing doors at the other end of the huge marble space that was the entrance to the exclusive suites.

  “I slaved all day in a hot kitchen and you have the balls to ask if we’re having takeout? Shame on you, woman!” he teased.

  The minute he guided Rhi through the door, she had to catch her breath and watch her footing when Liam’s elegant home unfolded before her eyes. It was exactly as she pictured his place would be right down to the nearly complete absence of color. Everywhere she looked was incredible luxury obvious by the artwork on the walls and the carefully chosen and specifically placed accessories.

  It was beautiful but completely impersonal. Some decorator or stylist’s view of what made up the personal tastes of mega-tycoon Liam Ashforth. The terms impeccable and superficial came to mind. This was his idea of what he supposed a home should look like for a man in his position. The thought brought more sadness than pleasure.

  But it was when she caught sight of the city all lit up and twinkling in the night—a view that dominated the entire space through a wall of windows—that she gasped with pleasure. The city that never sleeps. Rhiann hoped he found the vista as magical and charming as she did.

  As if on cue, her stomach growled loudly, causing her to press one hand to her tummy and send the other one to cover her embarrassed wince.

  “Let me guess,” he drawled. “Your boss is a dick who makes you work through your lunch break, right?”

  Rhi slapped him on the shoulder and laughed. “Shut up! My boss is a hot piece of tycoon ass who is far too busy in his ivory tower to impede the feeding habits of those he overlords.”

  She smiled easily when he laughed at her jest. Without all the snarling and sniping, they found a happy middle ground that was more giggles, jokes, and teases than heavy, serious stuff.

  “Overlords? Jesus Christ, Rhiann! How do you come up with this shit?”

  “Are you going to feed me or not?” she huffed. “A really good overlord would have been cutting my food for me by now. Sheesh.”

  He grinned wickedly at her and bowed with a sweeping gesture. “After you,” he murmured. “Big kitchen to your right. Can’t miss it.”

  As she tottered off in the direction he’d indicated, it took her a moment to realize that he wasn’t right at her heel. Looking over her shoulder, she found him standing where she left him, arms folded across his massive chest and his eyes quite boldly fixated on her ass.

  Oooh, that man, she giggled. Score ten points for the dead-sexy outfit and killer shoes.

  The gleaming kitchen, of course, had not a one thing out of place, which only added to her amusement. Seeing zero evidence of any honest-to-god cooking having gone on, she thought, This oughtta be good.

  A small round table was set with a beautiful tablescape that seemed a tad out of place in Liam’s sterile environment. A low bowl filled with beautiful hydrangea heads sat in the middle of the cozy setup while place settings that screamed, Waterford were arranged across from each other. The effect was elegant, romantic, and intimate.

  The second he had her seated, Liam shook out a linen napkin and placed it in her lap, managing to cop a feel of her legs where they crossed while she laughingly gasped in outrage at his audacity.

  Strolling into the kitchen, he returned seconds later with a large serving tray jammed with stuff that he dropped onto a sideboard. Then with all the aplomb of a celebrity chef, he flung back two lids to reveal a basket of bread and a smaller tray holding a bunch of jars and containers. What the hell?

  Picking up a glass pitcher, he came to her side and poured something into her glass. It was white.

  Really? White? Milk?

  Next, he placed the smaller tray on the table along with the bread and gave her a good look at what was on the menu. The second realization hit, Rhiann clapped her hands with unabashed delight and screamed, “Oh my god! Peanut butter and jelly? Liam! Oh. My. GOD!”

  He looked so delighted at her reaction that she wanted to take a snapshot for her memory so she’d always have this unguarded moment to reme
mber.

  Shoving his hands into his pockets, the great tycoon, her half man, half lion alpha beast and undisputed Lord of the Jungle hung his head and shrugged with such touching self-deprecation that her heart melted at the sight. Awwww.

  “I remembered it used to be your favorite, so I . . . took a chance that maybe something you liked before,” he coughed and shifted uncomfortably then looked her right in the eye. “Well, I hoped you’d still like it or at least could like it again.”

  Rhiann blinked at him and shuddered slightly as she inhaled. That was pretty damn close to a declaration. The time for teasing and dancing around each other was about to end. Apprehension curled in her belly, way down low where her real emotions lay.

  Relieved beyond explanation when he lowered into the chair across from her, she smiled warmly and tried to relax.

  “Okay, so . . . ,” he informed her with the basket of bread in his hand. “This isn’t just any old white bread. Oh, no! For you, I made a special effort to get a loaf of bakery bread that is so fluffy they insist it’s made of angel’s wings or some such nonsense.” Dropping two hearty slices onto her plate, he added, “Plus, it is of no redeeming nutritional value whatsoever, which I recall was also one of your requirements.”

  He really did remember. Squeeeeee! Was it wrong that she knew without a shadow of a doubt that this whole scene was going to make it into the book she was currently writing? Well, she didn’t care. It was, dammit. What Liam was doing was so sweet and romantic that she just had to write about it.

  “Now for the peanut butter, I chose two classics—not knowing which one you’d prefer.” Pointing at one, he boomed in a studio announcer’s voice, “Here we have Jif. The one that choosey mothers choose.”

  Rhi giggle-snorted at his spot-on delivery—quickly covering the bottom of her face in embarrassment.

  “And then there’s Skippy. According to them, enjoying that peanut butter is spreading the fun.”

  Next, he pointed at two pots, each with a handle sticking up from the inside.

  “My personal favorite—homemade strawberry jam. I get this stuff delivered monthly. A little Jewish grandmother in Brooklyn makes it, and believe me, it’s the best around. The other pot is her grape jelly. I like that one too, but the gooey strawberry one rocks.”

  Chewing on her finger, she smiled at the effort he made. “Hey,” she asked. “Got any chocolate syrup?”

  Bolting from his chair laughing, he declared, “That I do!” He flung open a pantry door and grabbed a big squeeze bottle of her absolute most secret guilty pleasure of all time—Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup.

  While he made them each a chocolate milk with all the serious concentration of a master mixologist, Rhi whipped together two mammoth PB&J sandwiches, cut corner to corner and arranged them with one end stacked against the end of the other on the fancy china.

  When Liam sat down, he looked at her artful presentation and gave her a thumbs-up and a wink. Picking up his chocolate milk filled goblet he asked, “What shall we drink to?”

  Rhi cleared her throat and held up her glass. “Here’s to our gooey, dripping, double-breaded passion and the chocolate infusion we wash it down with.”

  They clinked glasses then each dug into the sandwich with grunts and sighs of appreciation. It was the most perfect dinner ever.

  CURLED UP TOGETHER ON A big, wide sofa across from a gas fireplace, they watched the golden lights from the flickering flames dance on the walls. Rhiann had removed her shoes and was sitting with her feet tucked under her bottom, enjoying the quiet and how easy they were with each other even in the silence.

  “I have something for you,” Liam told her. Opening the drawer on a side table, he pulled out a flat, square box wrapped with a turquoise colored ribbon that he’d adjusted so it looked perfect.

  A box with a ribbon? Oh my! Rhiann absolutely adored presents, no matter what they were. Her mom used to tease that she could wrap a rock in pretty paper, slap a bow on it, and Rhi would be ecstatic. It was true.

  Something about wrapping paper and ribbon gave her a case of the happies. It had something to do with the energy that went into creating a gift. In this case, a pretty box with a beautiful ribbon bow was all but vibrating with Liam’s energy as he held it in his hand and prepared to hand it to her. Didn’t matter what was in the box. Not really. The gift mojo was what got to her.

  He surprised her when he murmured, “Can’t remember the last time I gave anyone a present.” After a pause, he shrugged and said, “Carolyn, maybe.”

  Oh, god. His mother? He hadn’t given a gift since his mother? Rhi searched her memory—how long had she been gone? The idea that Liam lived such a closed-off, isolated life made her stomach churn. And now here he was, sheepishly pushing a present into her hands.

  Swallowing past the lump of emotion stuck in her throat, Rhiann held the box on her lap, admiring the pretty ribbon and bow—then looked up into his blue-grey eyes and beamed from ear to ear.

  “Thank you!” she gushed with delight. “I love it!”

  Her fingers moved across the large, flat box, taking in the feel of it. The muted grey of the smooth cardboard was the perfect backdrop to the wide, fancy ribbon wrapped several times around and topped with the clever bow that completed the swank look.

  Liam looked a bit bemused at her reaction—eventually ending up with a questioning smile on his face.

  “Don’t you think you better open it first?”

  Oh, whatever. Men! They didn’t appreciate the small stuff. She wanted to enjoy the unique energy of the gift before tearing into it.

  Clutching the box to her chest, Rhiann pushed onto her knees and leaned into Liam for a thank-you kiss that seemed to take him totally by surprise.

  Tugging the end of the bow, the ribbon unfolded and went limp as she unwound the entire length and laid it aside. As she pulled back on the lid of the box, she looked into his face for another smile. He’d given her a present!

  Elegant tissue paper the same turquoise color as the ribbon met her eyes next. Separating the delicate tissue, she found a fabulous pair of silk thong panties in a dusty rose shade that would look bangin’ with her coloring.

  Lifting them carefully, she noticed the silk was almost completely see-through. The exquisitely flimsy lingerie also had a satin bow on the back with long ribbon ends that would tease her ass.

  Inhaling sharply, Rhi turned astonished eyes his way. “Did you pick these out yourself?”

  “Yes, I did.” He chuckled. “And it was a singularly fascinating experience, I must say.”

  She’d noted the name of a high-end lingerie boutique embossed on the box’s corner. Knowing how exclusive their clientele was, she wasn’t surprised to hear him say it had been an experience.

  Rhiann placed the dainty panties back in the box as if they were the crown jewels.

  They’d been making progress—finding their way to a place not mired in the past or entirely stalled in the present—where she hoped something meaningful was developing. They both still had their secrets. Those no-go areas around which they tread most carefully, but he was trying awfully hard to convince her that he was sorry for his part in how things ended before. With each day, she moved inch-by-inch closer to giving him her trust as the tension of the past eased. And from there? Who knew?

  “Maybe you’ll wear them at the wedding? Think of me?”

  She couldn’t tell if he was kidding around or making a request and that bothered her a bit. The lines were blurring.

  Moving off the sofa, she caught her reflection in the nighttime windows as she bent to slip her shoes on. Everything about the way she looked was for him. The demure but surprisingly sexy dress and the killer lace heels were all about his pleasure.

  They were playing a dangerous game. She desperately needed Liam to be on his knees with desire for her—and somehow in her mind this would level the playing field. Having survived his previous cruelty, Rhi simply needed to know that this time he also had something to lose.


  Liam, on the other hand, was playing by antiquated nineteen fifties rules with his idea of what dating should be like. Respectful. Well mannered. Polite. He was showing her that he was a civilized man and by insisting on a hands-off approach, he was demonstrating that this time they’d have more than just sex.

  But more and more the line wavered and just like now, she found herself in a situation where she couldn’t read what was going on in his mind.

  Focusing on his reflection, she found him watching her from behind and though he appeared relaxed on the sofa with one arm along the back, she saw the look of hunger in his face. He wanted her.

  Keeping her gaze fixed on his reflection, Rhi straightened and spoke softly. “It’s hard, isn’t it? This no-man’s land between friend and lover—but I understand why you do it.”

  “Without your trust, I have no right to any part of you.”

  Wow. His evocative words sent tingles shooting through her. “We are friends now, right?” she asked.

  “I should fucking hope so,” he answered.

  Everything up until that moment had been nothing short of perfect, from Liam’s attempt at casual to the fantastic peanut butter and jelly feast. Gifting her the panties, a reminder that he owed her a pair, had been a nice touch that added just a hint of risqué to their evening together.

  And then the universe sent a bolt of lightning crashing right into the middle of things when his phone rang.

  Rhi knew the drill. He wasn’t a librarian, after all. The man ran a global business and that meant things like time and being off the clock weren’t pertinent. When he made an apologetic face and waved the phone to let her know he had to take the call, she did the understanding girlfriend smile and half nod and walked to the other side of the room to give him privacy. And her, a chance to breathe and gather her wits.

  The breathing and wit gathering had lasted about half a minute before she saw him leap to his feet, an angrier than usual scowl on his face as he barked into the phone.

  “What did I tell you? Leave this alone. It’s none of your damn business!”