For a moment she could not say one dang word had her life depended on it.
It then dawned on her after all of his sentence sank in that maybe he didn’t remember their one night all those years ago. Maybe he remembered her from her folks!
Dear God, please let that be it, she silently prayed.
“What are you doing here? I thought I had time, I, uh, I mean—” She stopped speaking, realizing that she was both blabbering and talking herself into a hole.
The same hole she wanted to bury herself in and throw away the shovel.
She clamped her mouth shut. Although she knew the chance of seeing Canton was there, she’d thought time would be on her side and it wouldn’t be anytime soon.
Apparently time and fate were most definitely not on her side.
“What I meant was, I thought I would be speaking with your brother Tiber. He assured me that I would be dealing with him. We had an appointment today, to discuss my family’s, um, situation,” she continued, trying to get it together. “I’m here to discuss a possible resolution on behalf of my parents.”
“Yes, I’m aware of the situation. However, Tiber isn’t available. Had me pinch-hit for him,” he replied, the tone of his voice inscrutable, making it hard for Naomi to discern his thoughts. “But as I said he filled me in on the situation. I just didn’t make the connection on which family it was. Not until now.” His odd wording made her wonder, again, if he remembered their intimate encounter, or if he simply remembered her from years ago, when she’d lived in the area.
Did he remember that night? The question ran through her mind like a never-ending merry-go-round. One part of her was secretly embarrassed if he didn’t.
Because she had never, in seven years, forgotten one thing about their encounter. Not one thing.
Not the way he had looked, tall and commanding as he stood staring down at her as she lay before him, exposed, with nothing more than the thin silk sheet of his bed covering her body.
She could still see the look in his vivid blue eyes as he stood there, cock hard against his thighs, taking in every part of her body, making her wet before they’d even begun...
She drew in a swift breath. Even though she had tried to bury it, pretend it hadn’t happened, her subconscious was always there to remind her. Like clockwork. For seven years. It would wake her up occasionally with very vivid dreams reminding her...that she’d wanted so much more.
Her breath caught in her throat; unconsciously, she held it for a fraction longer than normal.
He just stood there, staring at her, his look completely unreadable, and again she wondered...had she not even made an impression on him?
“I can wait. I mean, I can wait until he gets back. It’s no biggie,” she began, rambling, just trying to get it out without making a complete ass of herself as she began to walk backward. “I mean it is a biggie, it’s my family. I just meant—”
“I know what you meant.”
She exhaled the breath and slowly dragged in another; his unique scent, familiar after seven years, rushed over her. It hadn’t changed. Just as he hadn’t.
Her eyes fluttered, partially closing, and she stumbled slightly, unsteady and shaky.
Canton moved as though to steady her, his fingers barely making contact with her elbow.
With just that one touch, a barely there touch really, a thousand memories washed over her.
Her hand reached out to touch the slight stubble on his lean cheek, unknowingly making the contact, and his hand covered hers. His jaw was rough with a few days’ worth of growth.
She remembered the feel of his jaw against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh...
His nostrils flared as she held his glance. His face lowered as though to kiss her, and it snapped her out of her odd trance.
Embarrassed, Naomi recoiled as though he had struck her, her hand falling away from the shocking contact.
A flood of heat flushed her cheeks and she glanced up to see his face had lost the temporary softening and again the unreadable expression was stamped across his handsome features.
“Well, you’re stuck with me. And if I were you, someone needing a favor, I would be a lot more...amiable.” The words mild, but the delivery, his expression and tone, were hard, impossibly so. And they hit hard, just the way he intended them to, she knew.
It felt as though he’d doused her with cold water. Naomi nearly recoiled again, feeling his rejection as though it were a physical thing. She barely stopped herself in time.
The look in his eyes wasn’t dislike. It wasn’t pleasant, either.
It was neutral. As though he didn’t care one way or the other what her decision was.
Amiable? What did he mean by that?
Naomi composed herself and placed a calm expression upon her own face, striving for some level of professionalism. Fine. If he could do it, so could she. Besides, she’d only come here for her family.
She’d make a deal with the devil if she had to, to help her parents out.
She made eye contact with Canton again.
He’d shoved the cowboy hat he’d been wearing just the tiniest fraction farther down, as though purposely trying to hide his face from her.
His eyes peered at her, and though his face was shadowed, the hard lines of his squared jaw tightened and for a moment she felt his anger.
She shuddered.
She had to be imagining things. He probably didn’t even remember her, much less be angry about something that happened so long ago. It had been seven years ago, and the encounter fleeting.
Wasn’t nothing to trip about, she affirmed within her own mind. He wasn’t anyone to trip over.
A voice in the back of her mind laughed, mocking her. She brushed it aside. Forcefully. As had become her custom whenever it reared its ugly head.
Either way, the way things were turning out, that might just be what she’d be doing: making a deal with the devil.
* * *
Canton opened the door to his home, and as casually as he could, walked inside. He left the door ajar for her to follow. Or not.
The decision was hers.
Before the door closed, he felt her hesitancy before her small hand moved and grabbed the doorknob. She pushed it farther open as she followed him inside.
Irritated with himself for being so hyperaware of her, he forced himself to keep walking.
Seeing her after all these years had jolted him, memories slamming into him like a tsunami.
Or a sledgehammer.
He’d never forgotten her. Every moment of their encounter had been permanently etched in his brain.
He didn’t know how much it had, until seeing her for the first time in seven years.
For a moment he thought she remembered him; hell, she had to. The look in her light brown eyes when her hand had risen to touch him. Right then and there, he’d wanted to kiss those luscious lips, attack and devour them...before he devoured the rest of her.
Damn it all to hell!
Ruthlessly, he shut down the flood of memories along with the feelings they wrought. Nothing but irritation was what he felt as he strode inside the house, his booted feet hitting the tile adorning the entry floor with angry precision.
He didn’t have time to deal with this. It had taken several minutes, but his mind made the connection on who she was and what she was doing here. What she wanted from the Wildes.
And it wasn’t to take a trip down memory lane with him. To explain why she left, without a word.
She was here begging for help for her family, not to see him. His brow furrowed.
“You can go in the library,” he finally spoke, his tone curt. “Second door to your right. I’ll be there shortly. I need to take care of something first,” he threw out over his shoulder, indicating with a brusque jerk of his head where she could go.
He barely refrained from telling her where the hell she really could go, his jaw clenching tight as he strode away from her.
“Um, well, okay. Thank you,” she repl
ied, her soft, hesitant voice echoing in the empty house.
Canton felt her hesitancy. Again, hyperaware of her. Briefly, against his will, he hesitated before forcing himself to continue to walk away.
Fuck! He mentally bit out the expletive, beyond pissed at himself. He did not want to care about her or her goddamn fear.
The fear and uncertainty she felt was palpable and he knew it was for her family. But right now, all he could do was get the hell away from her, if only for a few minutes, and get it together before he faced her again.
Maybe that wasn’t such a good thing, he thought, as he heard the high heels of her leather boots as they tapped behind him on the tile. Maybe he should just hear her out, and as soon as possible get her the hell out.
From his side vision he saw her go inside the door that led to the library as he’d told her to, and felt a level of irritated satisfaction. At least he’d have a moment to get himself in check without her liquid brown eyes staring a hole into him.
Canton flipped on lights as he strode farther inside his family’s home, thankful it was a Friday. For the most part, besides Trudy, their housekeeper, more than likely he’d have the house to himself.
Tiber was still out of the country, and neither one of his younger siblings, Brick or Riley, would be back home until Labor Day to spend a few days, Brick currently overseas, working with one of their customers, and Riley at the university, where she was preparing to defend her dissertation.
He mentally went over the information his brother had given him about the woman he was to meet. At the time, he had no idea it was Naomi; even as he’d glanced over the forwarded email, her name hadn’t registered in his mind. He hadn’t made the mental connection until she’d shown up.
He whipped out his phone and stabbed a finger at the email application. Scrolling through an assortment of junk and personal messages, he found the forwarded one from Tiber.
Rereading the email from his new perspective was a hell of a lot different than before. He and his brother had discussed how to handle the situation. Canton was to hear her out, see where her family stood financially, and offer aid if they needed, with no promises.
The Wildes had been active members of their community since their father had bought the land nearly forty years ago. As one of the leading families in the community, they’d also helped their neighbors, no matter how small, if they could. Their father had instilled in the men the need to not only help family, but their neighbors as well, and the men had carried out the tradition after his death.
Which was one of the reasons Canton had not completely come on board with having business dealings with Rolling Hills. They’d been aware of how it’d been slowly buying up many of the small ranches around the area, leaving fewer and fewer family-owned farms and ranches.
Neither had Tiber been on board, he knew, judging from the scattering of small ranches his brother had been quietly collecting the tax lien for, in an effort to save various families from those who could and would buy the liens and force payment immediately.
The McBrides were one of those families Tiber had instructed Ruby, their accountant, to purchase the lien for, once the family had been in default on it the previous year.
He’d keep that particular bit of information to himself for the moment.
He scanned her email to his brother, paying closer attention than he had before. Reading it again, slower, knowing the author of the email was Naomi.
Before, it had just been some anonymous woman asking for help for her family; he’d had a completely different vision of this woman in mind.
Deep in thought, he pocketed his phone, a frown creasing his brow. She was asking for the Wildes to hold off, and asking if they had any clout when it came to Rolling Hills. If so, could they petition on her family’s behalf? She said it was only for a time. Give her family enough time to come up with the money to pay the back taxes on their ranch.
It was then that Tiber had responded. Tiber, his stern, iron-and-steel, hard-core CEO brother, had agreed to listen to Naomi McBride and had given Canton permission and instruction to help her in any way they could; it was a family in their community, and as most knew, a Wilde helped a neighbor in need.
Although she hadn’t given a dollar amount that her family owed, Tiber had easily found out, as the Wildes owned the tax lien, and the amount was negligible. At least to the Wildes it was. Hell, Canton could write a check for the amount from his own “piss in the wind” account as he called one of his personal accounts.
He could give her family the loan from any source—his own personal money, or from one of the family accounts—and not miss a beat and they’d be out of hock.
But this was personal. She was personal. And he’d be the one she would need to appease, the one she’d have to ask...to beg.
He yanked open the fridge, but hesitated, his hand automatically reaching for a beer, hovering. He grabbed a Coke instead, knowing he needed a clear head dealing with her.
Canton withdrew a second one and got down two glasses and placed them on the counter.
His glance went toward the covered dish where their housekeeper had made a lemon pound cake.
Hell no! A drink was all he’d offer her. She wasn’t going to have him playing the nice host, Canton thought in irritation as he grabbed the drinks.
A purely masculine grin stretched his lips as he strode with a new purpose in mind toward the library.
If anything, by the time he was done with her, playing nice would be the tip of the iceberg of what he had in mind to do with her.
Chapter 6
While Naomi waited for Canton to return, she became a mass of nervous energy.
As soon as she’d opened the opulent, partially stained glass doors, she’d slipped inside and briefly leaned against them.
Then, realizing the expensive, intricate stained glass probably cost as much as she owed in student loans, she’d hastily moved from her leaning position.
It had taken a few minutes for her gut to stop churning enough to take in her surroundings.
He’d directed her to go inside the library, and she hadn’t known what to expect; she equated a home library as being the same as a den, truth be told. But this was taking the family den to the nth degree.
The Wilde family library was stunningly gorgeous, a curious mixture of opulence, comfort and contemporary design, its built-in shelves filled top to bottom with what looked like thousands of books.
It had the bookworm in Naomi eager to investigate.
Her fascinated gaze danced across the room. For a minute she felt like a child in a playroom filled with all of her favorite toys.
A beautiful wrought-iron masterpiece of a chandelier hung from the high ceiling, filling the room with an amber-like soft glow. Illuminating enough to read in, but not harsh enough to interfere with the natural ambience the room seem to generate.
Thick crown molding along the baseboard of the room matched the molding along the ceiling. Three of the four walls held a massive load of books within their shelves, but one of the dark wood-paneled walls was more ornate with its molding, arched and recessed, with a set of stairs that led to a second tier of books for the reader to explore.
Completely beautiful and absolutely mind-blowing, the room’s lavishness kept her mind busy for a moment, taking it off the issue of her current predicament, and one Wilde man named Canton.
She sighed deeply, running a reverent hand over the spine of a few of the books before one particular tome caught her attention. It appeared to be an antique Bible, from the gold embossed cross on the spine.
Gingerly she removed the leather-bound book. Her mouth formed a perfect O as she glanced over the cover.
Just like the spine, the cover of the antique book was embossed with gold lettering, simply designed yet beautifully crafted. Carefully she opened the thin vellum pages, leisurely examining the contents of its mounted illustrations and plates.
After delicately turning the pages, she noted the early
1900 copyright date and the illustrator’s signature.
The same fear she’d had with the stained glass doors to the library, she also felt with the cost of the antique book she held. It alone could wipe out her student loan debt from medical school. Of this she had no doubt.
“My family has long held an affinity for collecting rare tomes, as well as contemporary types of books.”
Startled when she heard Canton’s sexy, deep voice, Naomi spun around on her heel, Bible in hand.
She warily watched him as he walked inside the room, closing the double doors behind him.
Before he’d entered the large, opulent room, Naomi marveled at the sheer amount of space. Suddenly, the walls seemed too close, the air too thin to accommodate his presence.
“That one in your hand was bought at a silent auction. For a considerable amount,” he continued, nodding toward the Bible she still held, seemingly unaware of how his presence unnerved her.
“It—it’s beautiful.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she cleared her throat. She gave a small shaky smile and turned around to face the shelf. With a steady hand she replaced the Bible where she’d found it.
“Please, have a seat,” he said, motioning for her to sit after she turned back to face him, with a much steadier smile in place.
Besides the wall-to-wall shelves filled to capacity with books, the large room had several seating options, including a large dark leather sofa, the deep mahogany color matching the stain of the wood lining the walls and crown molding.
There were three other seating choices. One was two beautiful overstuffed brocade chairs, which appeared to be classic pieces, nothing one could find in any modern contemporary furnishing store.
The chairs flanked a low, elaborately carved octagonal table that just like the rest of the lovely furnishings was unique, and no doubt ridiculously expensive.
In the far corner nestled near the fireplace, was a decadently gorgeous, oversize chaise longue that could easily hold two people with a throw blanket casually tossed over the foot.
The library was as warmly inviting as it was classically beautiful. Her eyes stole back to the fireplace, and for a moment, she pictured herself in front of the fire, stretched out on the chaise longue with a glass of wine.
To Claim a Wilde (Wilde In Wyoming Book 6) Page 5