“If you like, I can start a fire,” he said drily, dark humor in his voice, and she blushed, feeling as though he’d read her mind.
“No, no. That isn’t necessary. But thank you,” she said, infusing a brusque tone into her voice to stamp out the crazy momentarily longing.
“I brought you something to drink. It’s just a Coke. Hope this is okay, but if you’d like something stronger let me know.” He held out the tumbler of iced Coke and she stared at his big hand wrapped around the glass, the sprinkling of hair on his knuckles sexy as hell to her.
God, she had it bad, she thought in disgust.
“No, that will be fine. I don’t drink,” she replied and blushed at the look he gave her. “Well. Not much, anyway,” she qualified her statement, feeling her face grow warm. That night seven years ago she had drunk. And drunk well.
Again, she wondered if he remembered. Naomi smiled stiffly and accepted the drink.
“Well, let’s get down to it, shall we?” she said, taking matters into her own hands.
“By all means,” he replied, his voice only slightly dry. “Let me pull up the documents I have on file and we can talk about your family’s situation. Please, have a seat,” he said, motioning for her to take the only seat near the desk. It was very close, and if she had her druthers, well, she’d stay where she was. But...she didn’t.
He had home-court advantage, and she had to play ball the way he wanted.
She observed him, carefully, not wanting to miss a thing, not a nuance in expression or body language.
He placed his drink down on the desk once he’d reached it and sat down in the massive, gorgeous chair, propping his big feet up on the top as though it were a discount piece of furniture, and not the ridiculously priced piece she knew it had to be.
Naomi sat down in the seat he’d indicated, crossed her legs and then overlapped her hands over her bag she had placed in her lap.
She knew what he was reading; the carefully worded plea she’d written to Tiber Wilde, outlining the need to buy the lien back, and a carefully detailed payback schedule. She nervously rubbed her fingers together.
“I think you know what I came here for, and what I...my family is requesting. I need to know if you are willing to help us or not. If not then I understand,” she began, only to see him haughtily hold up a hand as though to shush her.
No. No he did not... Naomi refrained from jumping up and slapping his arrogant, handsome face. No one shushed her. She was an educated, well-respected pediatrician. She was used to people giving her a little more deference than what he was showing her right now. How dare he shush her!
But for her parents...
The mental reminder was all she had. And the only thing that stopped her from telling his behind off, no matter how well defined and muscled it was, or how good it had felt as she’d held on as he’d plunged into her all those years ago... Stop, girl. Just stop, she mentally chastised herself.
If not for her parents she’d tell him where to take his damn help.
She held her tongue. Her momma didn’t raise a fool. There was a time and place for everything.
For several minutes he perused the file, whatever file it was, and she remained silent, nerves taut, waiting for his verdict. Would the Wildes...would Canton Wilde help her family? She knew the fate of her family rested in this one particular Wilde’s hands.
Or was he just allowing her to wait, squirm, only to dash her dreams, callously?
Longer moments went by, longer than necessary. He had to have already read the file, but was making her wait. She knew what he was doing...just as well as she knew what the faint scar looked liked that ran down the center of his well-cut abs. She’d never forgotten one thing about his decadently hot body.
She remained still, refusing to show him just how on edge she was.
“Okay, so here’s the deal,” he began, his deep voice ringing out in the quiet library making her jump. She sat up, spine straight, hands in her lap, and waited.
She focused her attention on him, her eyes locked with his. For all of her nervousness, fear and stress she felt for her family, she wouldn’t allow him to see any of that. She was made of stronger stuff than that. The Wildes weren’t the only family with steel running through their veins.
The McBrides were as determined and just as strong-willed as the Wildes.
A bit of her confidence returned. She knew in that moment that no matter what this man said, she and her family would be okay. He did not hold their destiny in his hands. Only God had that distinction.
As badass as he thought he was, he was no deity, she thought, feeling a tiniest bit of a smile lift her lips.
It was there that she saw it. The tiniest flicker in his eyes. He reacted to something, just now, and she saw it.
She was under no delusions. She was a smart woman. She realized he had to remember who she was. It was all there in his eyes. Eyes that promised retribution.
Slowly, he rose. Kicked back his chair, moved around the desk and sauntered over to where she sat. And stood less than a foot from her.
Naomi refused to move...
* * *
When she smiled it was over.
Canton had sat there, behind the oversize desk, pretending a nonchalance he was far from feeling, looking at the blank screen of his computer while mentally going through his plan once more, looking for objections she may have, thinking it through to make sure he knew how and what to do, to slyly counter any said objections.
Ultimately he knew he had her over a barrel. His ace in the hole was her love for her family.
Something Canton grudgingly admired about her. One of many things.
His plan was to get her out of his system one way or another. He admitted to himself that she’d played peekaboo in his thoughts way too often over the past seven years, and now it was time to exorcise the ghost of Naomi McBride once and for all.
And that was all she was. Nothing more substantial than a ghost. Someone of little significance beyond a whisper of something that once was.
Their affair had been fleeting at best, and one he shouldn’t even remember, much less in vivid detail, but he recalled everything about that night. The way she felt, her soft skin against his, her legs wrapped around his as they’d made love for hours and hours...the memories were something that made no sense to him. Not the fact that he’d indulged in a bout of marathon lovemaking with her, but that he remembered it and her, and every detail about both.
He’d bedded women, had more than his share of protected casual sex. But there hadn’t been one damn thing casual about the way she’d set his blood on fire from the moment they’d first met.
His plan had been to approach her situation with casual disregard. Outline her options. Tell her that in order for his family to try to help her family, she was going to have to earn it.
The way she would earn it would be to be at his beck and call, 24/7.
He sat on the edge of the desk and folded his hands, giving her his full attention.
“Here’s the deal. The only reason I’m here and not Tiber is because my brother is overseas currently, handling one of our investments. In my brother’s absence I am now the one who has to attend all the bulls—um, social events Tiber normally attends,” he began, curbing his language but speaking as succinctly as he could, without giving her too much detail. “Events I don’t normally go to.”
Read as “social gatherings he normally avoided like the plague,” he mentally corrected. He continued. “And I need someone to go with me. I’m...in between...escorts at the moment, and don’t feel like dealing with what happens if I attend one of these events alone. You are the answer.”
Although she sat still and never flinched or moved a muscle, he could feel her surprise and questions.
“I need an escort for these events. And that’s where you come in,” he said, trying to sew it all together as concisely as possible. “For the next two weeks, you are going to be, if only to the outside world,
my current...escort,” he finished, taking joy in the way her pretty chocolate-brown cheeks washed with a subtle hint of color, alerting him that she was blushing.
“And...and that’s all? Me just escorting you to these social events?” she asked, frowning, biting the center of her bottom lip.
His gaze halted on her lips, watching as she worried that plump, succulent piece of flesh until he felt like groaning, his cock thumping against the too-tight confines of his jeans, the desire that had lain simmering for her rising to life.
Canton forced his gaze back to meet hers.
“Yes. That’s it.” The lie slid nice and smooth off his tongue. He didn’t want to scare her. He felt her panic like a rabbit in a den of wolves, with him being the alpha wolf readying his prey.
He carefully watched her.
“And after the two weeks of me accompanying you on these...events, you and your family will do what exactly? And can we get that in writing...whatever it is, you’re purposing? Just to make sure we are on the same page.”
Another thing he liked about her—she was as intelligent as she was beautiful. The fact that she didn’t bat an eye at what he was asking told him that she was under no delusions and knew that she was at his mercy. She either took the deal he offered, or she walked out of his home unable to help her family.
He inclined his head. “Of course. After we have reached an agreement, we can put in writing what we both agree upon.” He actually liked her thinking.
It helped him. It was just a business deal. And when the business was concluded, their time would be over. And she would be exorcised from his thoughts.
“However, if all the conditions of the deal are not met, the deal is null and void.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What other conditions are there?”
“When I need you...you come. No questions asked, no hesitating. If you want to save your family.”
And like that, he made sure that she understood who was in control.
Chapter 7
“Well, do we have a deal?” he asked in a voice hoarse with suppressed emotion, an emotion that had no name, a mixture of anger, resentment, even as he tried to deny the underlying lust that still lingered.
He didn’t know whom his anger was more directed at, Naomi for being the object of his feelings and lust, or himself, for feeling anything for her?
She bit at her lip again, hesitating, weighing the odds in her mind, he knew. He waited.
All he knew was that no matter what, he still wanted her. After seven years, and a fleeting time together...with no real fulfillment, not enough for him, he still lusted for her.
Through the years, as he’d been with other women, he’d think of her. Not every time, and not with every woman.
But enough that he had never been able to forget her, an echo of her memory in the small corner of his brain.
He’d think of her at the most inopportune moments, usually when he’d least want to think of her. Thoughts, images of her beneath him, accepting him, all of him, bogarted their way into his brain, implanting the image of her face, one that he’d never forgotten, onto his current bed partner.
Only recently had her image began to fade the smallest bit.
And here she was, showing up in his life again.
But he had no illusions this time. For whatever reason, seven years ago he’d felt she was different, their connection different, special somehow. And when she’d left the next day, with nothing more than a note on the pillow saying thank you, he’d known what it felt to be used.
For whatever reason, she’d “chosen” him that night to bed. Not because she’d felt the same crazy connection that he had. Not because of anything other than plain old-fashioned lust. Nothing more or less. Something that shouldn’t have affected him the way it did, but damned if it didn’t.
Now he was determined to prove to himself that it wasn’t anything to him, and neither was she.
He’d come to realize what it was: nothing but pure lust. After a six-month hiatus from relationships and the breakup with his ex-fiancée, he needed good old sex. His libido had finally taken over, making his mind think there had been some cosmic otherworldly connection with her that hadn’t been.
He knew now would be the opportunity to exorcise the seven-year demon of lust he’d had pent up until he’d had his fill and could forget her.
It made no sense. None of it made any sense. The only sense he could make of it was that he felt robbed. That night hadn’t ended the way he’d wanted...or rather, the next day hadn’t.
He walked nearer to her and reached out a hand. She hesitated, but eventually placed hers within his.
She rose, and as she stood there, staring up at him, fear but determination in her pretty light brown eyes, he felt something stir in his heart, something that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
Damn it.
It was her. She was doing something to him.
He drew her nearer until he had her close enough that he could count each of the handful of darker freckles on her chocolate-brown skin. The fact that he knew she had them, that he had first discovered she had them when he made love to her long ago and she blushed, making them stand out, starkly, filled him with longing.
Canton had tried to get over the feeling of incompleteness, but could no more do so than he could stop the sun from breaking free and replacing the moon at dawn.
“You don’t have to worry about your family. It’s going to be okay. Everything will be okay,” he said, gruffly, not even realizing he’d sought to assure her, to do anything to get that look of fear from her eyes, knowing she was deathly concerned about her family.
Tears filled her pretty brown eyes and he suppressed a groan.
And now, well damn, now she had him waxing poetic.
“Come on now, it’ll be okay. But it’s your decision.”
“I...” She stopped and drew in a ragged breath to compose herself. “I’m just so upset about my folks...this lien on the farm is frightening, Canton.”
Although his gut clenched, he forced himself to stay silent. To wait.
Then she bobbed her head up and down in agreement, a tentative smile on her face. He reached out a hand, brushed away at an errant spiral curl that escaped her topknot and placed it behind the curve of her small ear. Instead of moving his hand away, he kept it there, his gaze unwavering.
He expected her to recoil from him, as she’d done before when he had reached out to try to steady her. Instead, she held his gaze, and they both grew still, unnaturally so.
Canton couldn’t have looked away, no matter how damn badly he wanted to. On her face was the reflection of what was in his mind; mutual memories of a time seven years ago danced in the glow of her beautiful, unique light brown eyes.
The moment stretched taut.
As he waited to hear what she’d decided, it seemed hours but was in actuality little more than a few seconds.
“I, uh, I—” She stopped speaking and tore her gaze away from Canton’s. His jaw tightened and eyes narrowed, but he carefully maintained a neutral facade.
No way in hell would he let her know how much it meant to him, her answer. It was purely a business proposition. He’d help her family, give them the time they needed, keep Rolling Hills off their backs, and in exchange, she’d give him...herself.
Whenever. However.
And there was no need for her to ever know that it was his family who held the tax lien against hers. That was information she’d never find out if he had anything to do with it, not until his time with her was over.
She eased away from his light hold, and his hands fell away. He watched her from hooded eyes as she walked over to one of the built-in bookshelves, her hand trailing over the binding of several volumes.
Her shoulders held a slight hunch, as though she felt defeated. The idea disturbed him for unknown reasons.
But within moments she straightened her back. Her head tilted to the side, and Canton knew she was having one of those
one-way conversations again.
He felt an answering tug of one side of his mouth, a smile trying to break free, before he glanced away from her, irritated once again with himself for being so damn fascinated with her. Still, so turned on by her.
“And if I say no?” she asked, her voice small, uncertain, echoing in the large room. She partially turned to him, her head slightly over her shoulder, glancing back at him, yet not making eye contact.
Again, Canton felt a stirring of sympathy for her. Although in profile, her beautiful face, like her body, grew still, like a small bird afraid to take flight; her liquid brown eyes made his heart seem to stutter. He tightened his jaw and she turned back away from him.
He observed her as her small fingers traced over the spine of one of the books on the shelf, her body stiff and her back ramrod straight.
He made his way over to her like a magnet, without conscious thought, and now stood so close behind her he could again smell the essence of her wash over him like floral-scented rain.
“I... I don’t know. I mean... I know what an escort is, I mean, exactly what all do you want from me?” she asked, her words barely above a hoarse whisper. “I mean, you could have anyone go with you to those functions as an...uh.” She stopped, completely and obviously flustered and again flushed, something utterly beautiful to see against the deep color of her skin.
Canton moved his body boldly closer to hers, placed his hands on top of her shoulders and brought her body back against his so that her back was flush with his chest, her perfect ass nudging his thighs. He leaned in, closer, and rubbed the side of her face with his own.
The stiffness of his erection was a vibrant thing and there was no way in hell she couldn’t feel it against her back. He was hard as granite.
But Canton had no desire to hide the proof of the fact that he wanted her, needed her.
He grasped her by the hips and pulled her flush against him, pressing her ass into his erection, grinding against her.
“Canton,” she whispered his name, making him that much harder.
To Claim a Wilde (Wilde In Wyoming Book 6) Page 6