Sinclair noted the obvious closeness between the two, for future reference.
And completely forced herself to ignore the ugly stab of jealousy she felt. Along with the immediate desire to swipe the grin from the woman’s face.
The woman grabbed the pink beat-up Stetson that sat on Nick’s oversize desk and jammed it onto her head, grabbing the thick ponytail and negligently tossing the thick rope of hair in front of her shoulder, so that the ends dangled beneath her breasts.
The movement was so quick and casual, Sinclair knew that it was one the woman did a lot, without thought.
“Yes, please come on in. Ms. Adams, I presume?” Nick asked casually, one thick eyebrow raised in question, as though unsure who she was. At the same time his eyes roamed over her as though she was dessert on the dinner menu.
Sinclair clenched her lower jaw so tightly she feared she’d need an emergency visit to the dentist if she wasn’t careful.
She inhaled a deep, fortifying breath.
Control, Sinclair... Control, she reminded herself. She was here for her Wilde Boys, and that was it. As soon as this was over she was out.
She simply had to remind herself of that fact.
“Ms. Adams?” he asked again, and Sinclair’s eyes met his. He stood and began to walk toward her, his stride long, purposeful.
As though against her will, she backed up a fraction. When her back hit the door she stopped, embarrassed.
Even from across the room, it was as though his piercing blue eyes were drilling a hole into her.
He came closer, his long legs eating up the short distance in mere seconds. He stopped less than a foot away from where she stood in the doorway, his gaze leisurely traveling over her face and down the length of her exposed neck...to the deep V juncture of her silky blouse.
His eyes lingered on the swell of her breasts.
As though he had every right.
Sinclair cleared her throat.
“Please...come in,” he murmured, voice low. Sexy.
She felt a shiver run over her body.
His eyes finally moved back up to lock with hers.
Sinclair fought with everything she had to keep her eyes open. It was as though an odd lethargy had invaded her body and the strange pull he had on her increased.
They had spoken on the phone many times, and his voice had captured her attention from the beginning. They’d even had that unforgettable Skype experience, one that still made her blush because of what she’d done that night, alone in bed, thinking of him and his deep, rumbling voice and handsome face. But seeing and hearing him live?
Dear God. The fascination she’d had...the pull he’d had on her.... The one that had been increasing over the past six months of their association was set to detonate. She could feel it.
It was a low, rich rumble that resonated through her body, catching her completely off guard.
It surrounded her.
Sinclair’s eyes briefly closed, no longer able to fight it...
As though touching her, his voice reached out and...caressed her. Did things to her. She felt a trickle of moisture dampen her panties.
A shiver of awareness slithered down her body and she struck out her tongue to dampen lips that had gone completely dry.
“Sinclair.” His deep, rich voice made her heart catch. She forced her eyes open and realized he was close. Too close.
Back up! she silently yelled—begged—him.
She felt claustrophobic.
Her gaze met the level of his throat. His neck, thickly corded with muscle, worked as he seemed to swallow.
Immediately her breasts reacted. Heavy, they felt engorged, her nipples pressing urgently against the thin silk of her brassiere. One she should have thought twice about wearing, as it had about as much protection against the heat of his stare as a thong in a snowstorm.
It was as though she knew this man...really knew him. On a level that made no sense to her.
It makes no damn sense, Sinclair! she silently screamed at herself.
Come on...his throat is sexy, a mocking voice piped in, laughing at her.
As soon as the thought entered her mind, Sinclair rejected it. She dragged her eyes away from his throat. Since when did she find a man’s throat sexy?
Frick!
Okay. Control. Bring back the control, girl, she admonished herself.
But, God... The combination of his voice and those hypnotic blue eyes, along with his impossibly handsome face...not to mention his body—big, hovering, masculine body. It all summed up to making her feel like a house cat in heat. Trapped, with no outlet.
She hadn’t been in the least bit afraid to bring the battle to their camp. She was just that type of woman. Bold. Without conceit she knew she could handle hers when it came to any sort of...battle. So when it had come time to battle the Kealohas, Nick in particular, she’d not thought twice about it. She had, in fact, relished the idea after months of dealing with the stubborn man.
Yet for a moment she wished to God she could reverse time. Rethink her “you don’t know with whom you’re messing” decision to fly to Hawaii and confront the Kealohas.
But she had no time for a redo.
She had to deal with the situation. And deal she would. She’d never been the type of woman who was afraid of a man, fine or not.
She placed a faux smile on her face and pushed away from the door. Allowing him to usher her inside, she walked in front of him, trying for a nonchalance she was far, far from feeling.
She was glad she’d decided against throwing on her flats. The five-inch pumps she was wearing were just what she needed to help give her a bit of an edge.
She knew his eyes were glued on her butt as she walked ahead of him.
She put just a hint of something extra in her walk and shrugged on her confidence as she would her favorite sweater.
“I think you and I have some unfinished business, Mr. Kealoha,” she said, firmly tamping down the ridiculous pull he had on her.
She was proud of the way her voice came off. Strong, confident...and not in the least bit showing the crazy nervousness that quivered within her belly.... A nervousness she’d never, ever felt when dealing with any other legal situation.
“Indeed we do, Ms. Sinclair,” he rumbled in his “hot sex on the platter” voice. She felt...something slide over her as he spoke.
She turned to face him. Oh, yes... She was in trouble.
“Looks like you’re going to be busy for a while, Nick... I’ll catch up with you later,” the pink-hatted woman said as she made her way to the door.
Sinclair barely registered her presence.
The woman laughed softly as she left, saying something that Sinclair didn’t even catch, she was so caught up in...him. It was as though no one else was in the room.
“I’ll work on the new figures and we can go over them later, Lani,” she heard Nick murmur to the woman, yet his hot blue-eyed gaze remained fixed on her.
Neither one of them noticed when the woman left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.
Sinclair licked her bottom lip, her gaze still fixed on Nick.
His scrutiny was sharp, focused, the intensity making her feel off-kilter. Uneasy.
Suddenly, intuitively, she knew what a gazelle felt like caught in the stare of a lion.... A hungry, beautiful lion.
Dinnertime. And he looked like the type that would... Eat. Her. Whole.
She swallowed.
Chapter 5
The first thought that came to Nick’s mind was that her pictures didn’t do her justice.
The woman was mouthwateringly fine.
And she had swagger. She wore it around her like a familiar, favorite sweater. He felt his mouth fight not to smile. He liked that.
Before Sinclair had allowed him to usher her inside his office, as she’d stood framed in the doorway for a moment, he’d caught her fear. Despite the confidence, there was an undercurrent of...fear, riding her.
Hard.
His gaze swept over her, head to toe.
She nearly vibrated with energy; bravado, swag...and fear. A heady combination.
No damn way she could hide it from him. He was the type of man that could smell it on a woman. That uncontrollable sensuality...fear. He prided himself on it being his gift.
He’d nearly pounced on her then and there. But he’d tamped his own need to conquer. Down, boy, he’d admonished himself. Time for that later.
She was in his camp, now.
The grin, unknown to him, broke free, tilting the corner of his mouth upward.
Nick stared. She was...tinier in real life than she appeared in photos. If he had to venture a guess, he would say she was just a few inches over five feet, which placed her more than a foot shorter than he.
His glance slid to the flashy stilettos on her small feet. Well, without those she wouldn’t even make it to his chest level, he thought, frowning. Small, despite the taller-than-life heels she wore, the top of her head would barely reach him midchest without the stilettos.
As he walked behind the woman, his gaze centered on the sexy-as-hell sway of her round-but-tight butt.
So, this was Sinclair Adams. Sinclair. Sin... Yeah, that was a more apt name, he thought. She was the epitome of walking sin.
She wore a loose-fitting blouse tucked into a knee-length skirt.
Nothing overtly sexual about the outfit.
But on the woman who walked in front of him, her small hips swaying as if she owned the place...it was hot as hell. The skirt was a “business navy” color, as he liked to think of that particular shade of blue, yet the way it molded her hips, nipped in at the waist and curved over her rounded butt had Nick sweating as though he’d run a marathon.
She turned and he bumped into her. He reached out to steady her and realized she had come to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Realized he was holding on to her shoulders longer than what was really necessary.
But damn if he could stop himself, or remove his hands from the softness of her shoulders. Unconsciously his fingers rubbed the soft skin.
“Are you okay?” he asked. Although he knew she was, it was the best excuse he could come up with to keep his hold on her.
“Um, yeah,” she said, seeming in no more of a hurry than he was to move away.
His gaze traveled over her face.
Her eyes were large and were the focal points of her heart-shaped face.
Almost too large. His gaze was stuck, as though he couldn’t look away as he stared into the dark brown depths.
As he stood in front of her, so close to her, her scent drifted across his nose. Without benefit of the cracked windows or overhead swirling fan, he could smell her.
Damn. His nostrils flared. She had a scent unlike any he’d encountered before. Spicy and floral. A heady combination.
He forced his gaze away to take in her small nose. The small diamond chip in the crease surprised him. He cataloged that small rebellion for later contemplation. His gaze moved on to her lips which, like her eyes, were a shade larger than would seem to work for her small face. Yet...it worked on her.
Full. Luscious.
The bottom lip of her perfect mouth stuck out a fraction more than the top, giving her an earthy, pouty look that had his cock pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans.
Nick had an urgent desire to grab that luscious lip and suckle it deeply into his mouth.
To see if it...she, tasted as good as both appeared to promise.
He reluctantly dragged his gaze away from her mouth to glance at her hair. Although it appeared thick, he couldn’t determine the length. She had it pulled into a high bun, with soft curling tendrils hanging down her face on either side of her temples.
Something told Nick it wasn’t by design that the tendrils had escaped capture. It was likely more that the strands were too damn stubborn to do as she’d instructed them to and stay confined.
Stubborn, just like the woman who had captured his attention.
The dark, soft-looking curl begged for him to reach out and touch it.
Nick felt his shaft harden. Felt the low thrum of arousal that he’d felt for her, even before he’d met the woman, sharpening, throbbing, his cock painfully erect and pressing against his zipper.
“What...what do you think you’re doing?”
Her huskily asked question brought him out of his own musings. Nick’s gaze caught hers and he dropped his hand.
What the hell was wrong with him? he thought. He’d been so caught up in whatever the hell was going on between them, what had been brewing between them for six months, he’d forgotten who she was.
Who he was.
He cleared his throat, motioning for her to precede him and offering her a chair that was a safe enough distance away from his desk that he could get his thoughts...and randy cock, firmly back in control.
What the hell had he been doing—thinking? He schooled his mind and wayward cock back into submission.
It was all about control.
Nick’s control was legendary.
She was in his camp, now.
Yet the mocking voice inside his head whispered, reminding him how he’d felt about her, the growing feelings... After six months of foreplay—cyber foreplay—he was set to explode.
Chapter 6
Sinclair opened her briefcase, trying to still her shaky hands.
“The boys and I believe we can come to a mutually acceptable agreement, Mr. Kealoha. One I’m sure—”
“Nick.”
“What?” she asked, a small frown on her face as her eyes met his, realizing he’d spoken. Damn, the man was a distraction.
“Call me Nick. I think we’re past the ‘Mr. Kealoha’ stage, don’t you?” he asked, and she found herself staring at his strong fingers as he poured coffee into a mug, then handed the mug to her.
Immediately after the odd yet sexually disturbing first introduction, she wasn’t sure what she expected to happen.
Would he come on to her now? Was it all part of some weird game to undermine what she’d come here to do? To set her up so that she’d forget the purpose of the visit?
If so, he had another think coming. She was back in control and nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to make her lose it. It was not going to happen.
“And I’m assuming you mean you and the Wildes?”
She glanced at him, her gaze sharp. She frowned. “Of course the Wildes. Who else?”
He leaned back in the oversize desk chair. Despite the largeness of the leather chair, he still dominated it, as she would imagine he dominated any room, any place he was.
He was just that kind of man.
His lips were curled into a ghost of a smile.
She felt a shudder run through her body and suppressed it.
Business at hand.
If she continued to have to remind herself of that simple little fact...she was in a world of trouble.
A look passed across his handsome face. One which she couldn’t determine the exact meaning of.
“Well...as you referred to them collectively as ‘the boys,’ I assumed you meant the Wildes. Or do you represent another group of lost boys?” he asked sardonically, one dark eyebrow raised in question.
Sinclair sat straighter in her chair, frowning, keeping his gaze.
She opened her mouth to snap out a retort before closing it, her mind going back over her words. She looked away from
him.
She bit back a sigh of embarrassment and barely refrained from slumping back against the soft leather seat. He was right. Damn it.
She had referred to them as the boys. She silenced a groan of embarrassment.
Having grown up around the brothers, men who were like older brothers to Sinclair when she was a child, she had always referred to them in that manner as had some others in the small community in Wyoming. Although most people now just called them the Wildes, she, and a select few others, had the liberty of long association with the men and continued to refer to them collectively in that manner.
But Sinclair had never used the nickname for the men while conducting business. Particularly when the business she was conducting was on the Wildes’ behalf.
Nicholas Kealoha had her so rattled that she’d slipped up and done something she never had before.
Control. She fought hard to bring it back.
She plastered a smile on her face and observed him. Just as he’d made the comment, she’d caught the look on his face. She hadn’t missed his “Neverland” reference.
Sinclair decided to keep the peace and not call him out on his attempted slam. Calling three men who were the antithesis to Peter Pan’s Lost Boys was a ridiculous insult and one she refused to even acknowledge...while praying to heaven that somehow the men hadn’t developed ESP. Her Wildes were true alpha men, the kind of men one did not mess with, as her father had once put it, just not in such mild language.
Yet for as rugged and alpha as the Wildes were, Sinclair would hate to see any of them go toe-to-toe with this man.
Her glance stole over him.
He smiled slightly at her, one corner of his sensual mouth hitching up ever so slightly.
In that way he had....
The way that made her wish some resourceful designer had invented air-conditioned panties.
Damn, he was hot.
He took up way too much...space. She was hot. Damn, it was hot. She resisted the urge to retrieve a slip of loose paper from her briefcase to fan herself. Besides, the place she really needed to fan, she couldn’t. She felt a blush steal across her face.
To Tame a Wilde (Wilde in Wyoming) Page 4