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But that was before he found out that Yasmine was returning. Now the image of the young girl he’d known long ago filled his mind.
“Payback can be a bitch, bro.”
“Asshat,” he’d bitten out as Nate’s booming laugh echoed into the phone, stabbing the end button on his cell and staring down at the phone, a deep frown on his face.
Nate was his oldest brother and had recently become engaged. The fact that Holt, along with their middle brother, Shilah, had hired Althea knowing Nate’s mandate of no women allowed had been an issue. Even though it had turned out well—better than that, the two of them had fallen head over heels in love, despite Nate’s avowals of never wanting to get married—both Holt and Shilah had known that he’d get them back for their interference.
Everyone knew, Holt included, that as a young girl Yasmine had had a major crush on him. Although he’d not allowed himself to think of her in romantic terms back then, he easily recalled her big brown eyes and riotous mane of curls and her laugh … The sound of her laugh had always made him pause.
“Round one goes to you, big brother, but the game ain’t over,” he’d said to the empty phone.
Holt had tossed the phone on the side table. The woman—hell, what was her name?—had sleepily turned to him at that moment, reaching out for him. He’d given her a distracted smile and kissed her on the forehead, promising to see her later in the week, that something had come up at the ranch, and within a matter of minutes he’d dressed and had headed out.
He’d planned to park and go inside to help Yasmine with her bags, but a last-minute change in the airport she was scheduled to fly into had made it so that he had barely got there in time for her plane to land. His glance fell to the dashboard. According to the flight itinerary she’d texted to Miss Lilly, she would have made it in thirty minutes ago.
There had always been something about Yasmine that made him want to go the other way whenever he was around her.
He remembered when she first came to the ranch; she couldn’t have been any older than nine or ten to his twelve years of age. He remembered that she rarely spoke; in fact, he’d wondered if she could until finally he had heard her laugh while in the kitchen with her aunt.
Her laughter, even back then, had drawn him to her, and briefly mesmerized, he’d stood in the doorway, staring across at her. But the minute she saw him, her light brown face flushed with color and she literally flew from the kitchen.
It hadn’t taken long for Holt to realize, as they grew older, that she had a crush on him.
That crush came to an awkward head when, the day before Holt left for college, the young Yasmine grabbed him and pulled him close and kissed him. Surprised, he’d pulled away. But not before he’d returned the kiss for a short time. The memory of her soft lips, the feel of her soft young curves against him, had intermittently whispered into his mind throughout the years.
That was the last time he’d seen her.
When he’d returned home, Yasmine had always been away, and within two years she had left for culinary school. The few times she’d come to visit her aunt, she’d always managed to come when he wasn’t home, whether by accident or design, Holt never knew.
Finally, the van moved and he scanned the crowded throng, looking for her.
He drew in a breath and froze, his hands gripping the steering wheel like a vise, his eyes widening, then narrowing. He felt as if he’d been sucker punched right in the gut.
Although it had been years since he’d seen her last, he knew the minute he saw the woman standing near the curb that it was her.
Yasmine Taylor. All grown up.
Damn.
The traffic and noise from the bustling travelers, the irritating shrill whistle from the cop, all faded to background noise as he sat behind the wheel, transfixed, staring at her.
The sun’s rays gleamed against her upswept dark brown hair.
His gaze swept over her, head to toe.
She was small; he remembered that she’d barely reached him at chest level as a young girl. She’d been slightly overweight when she was younger. However, as an adult, the curves had settled in all the right places, he thought, subtly adjusting his jeans, the fit becoming uncomfortable as he watched her bend over and unzip a compartment in her luggage.
Her jeans hugged her firm, round bottom to a T, and as she bent forward, the ends of the shirt she wore, which hugged her generous breasts, slipped out of her waistband, exposing the slim expanse of unblemished brown skin.
When she straightened she looked directly at him, her large, doelike eyes widening. Even from his ten yards’ distance away from her, he could see the flush that blazed across her face.
Again, he felt his gut clench and his mouth go dry as she stood staring at him, across the walkway.
The shrilling whistle broke him out of his absorption and he broke his gaze, turning to see the cop maniacally waving his baton, urging him forward.
“Sorry about that.” Yasmine glanced behind her, mumbling the apology when her suitcase banged against the guy standing so close behind her she could almost feel his warm breath singe the back of her neck.
But really, did he have to jump into the same sliding door as she had, at the same time? Plastering a fake smile on her face while pushing as close as humanly possible against the glass-paned door, she heaved a big sigh of relief when she finally tumbled out, nearly falling when the man pushed past her.
It was an unseasonably warm day, particularly for Wyoming, and she felt a trickle of sweat travel past her forehead and down the side of her face as she emerged from the revolving doorway. She righted herself and brushed her hands over her hips, down her jeans, a scowl on her face, as she scanned the curbside, looking for the ranch’s foreman, Jake Stone.
As soon as she’d deboarded the plan she’d turned on her cell and checked her messages. Earlier she’d made a hasty call to her aunt when she’d learned the plane she was scheduled to fly on was having mechanical issues.
Because of that, instead of flying into the nearby airport, she’d had to travel into this one, nearly four hours away from the ranch.
She’d been disappointed when she’d heard the message from her aunt, telling her she wouldn’t be able to pick her up from the airport, that her knee had been bothering her and she was instead sending the foreman from the ranch.
She’d been looking forward to the alone time with her aunt, to catch up on life on the ranch since the last time she visited. Although it had been a few years since she’d seen Jake, she found herself smiling, her mood lightened. Jake had always had a way of putting her at ease. Even when she was a younger woman, when she was so painfully shy, he could drag a smile out of her.
He was as much a part of Wilde Ranch as the men who owned it, as his father was Jed Wilde’s first foreman. Jake had grown up at the ranch from boyhood and eventually he’d taken over the position as foreman when his father retired.
And besides, the man knew how to make a great lemon Bundt cake. Any guy who could make a lemon Bundt, much less from scratch, was a winner in her book.
Yasmine shook her head, a ghost of a smile on her face as she thought of the ranch. It had been a long time since she’d visited, and she’d found herself eager to come home the closer the time came for her departure. Everyone who worked at the Wilde Ranch was treated like family. From the first moment she’d come, she’d been welcomed. Jed Wilde had been that type of man. Despite his gruff outer demeanor, he had a heart of gold and did his best to make her feel at home.
And as she inhaled a deep breath, releasing it slowly, Yasmine realized that she’d missed home.
The last time she’d been to the ranch had been after graduating from culinary school in Chicago, before she’d moved to Paris to study. Many times her aunt had requested she come and visit, but nine times out of ten, Yasmine found an excuse not to, and without questioning her reasons, her aunt would come to visit her instead.
They both knew the reason for her reluctance: Holt Wilde. But she was no longer that pudgy, shy adolescent who pined for the young rancher. She’d traveled the world, she’d already accomplished much of what she’d dreamed of and her future was only looking better.
She was a woman who was self-assured, confident and one who most definitely did not have any residual feelings for Holt Wilde.
She ignored the mocking inner laugh and put a determined smile on her face when she saw the red pickup with the ranch’s logo emblazoned on the side parked curbside. She waved, hoping Jake would see her, and quickly leaned down to unzip her bag and deposit her jacket before rising She’d made it to within a few feet of him when she came to a sudden and complete halt, her eyes widening, her mouth opened.
She frowned, her heart racing as she squinted her eyes, thinking they were fooling her, that the man behind the wheel couldn’t be …
No, she wasn’t ready, she thought, her heart kicking viciously as she watched him pull smoothly to the curb and jump out.
Oh God, yes, it was. She swallowed deep, her glance running over him, from his large feet wearing scuffed cowboy boots, up thick, muscled thighs that bulged beneath the jeans he wore, over the denim jacket until she reached the bright blue gaze that haunted her dreams.
“It’s been a while, Yas … Good to see you come home again,” he said, his deep baritone voice brushing over her, sending hot shivers throughout her body. When he reached a hand out for her to take, she stared down at it, her mind scrambled, unable to gather her wits enough to figure out what in the world to do.
Chapter 3
“Traffic doesn’t seem too bad. The ride should take us less than four hours,” Holt murmured, sliding a glance toward Yasmine as he took the exit that would lead to the ranch.
Her creamy, light brown skin had a natural, healthy glow, one that required no makeup to enhance.
Her round cheeks of adolescence had narrowed, making her large brown eyes, slightly tilted at the corners, dominate her face. He didn’t remember them being so beautiful. Her nose was small, and her lips … damn, her lips could keep a man up late at night, his mind conjuring up all kinds of sinfully delightful things he could do with them.
He subtly adjusted his body in the seat, his jeans becoming painfully tight as the images slammed into his mind, ones he ruthlessly forced away.
And the way she smelled … Damn, did she have to smell so good? he thought with an inward groan. Her scent was pure intoxication; a mixture of a light floral, along with her own natural scent, had created a tantalizing smell that no perfume manufacturer could create on their best day.
But it wasn’t just her scent that was driving him crazy. Added to that was the quiet yet sexy confidence she exuded, one that both puzzled him and drew him in at the same time, both feelings making him feel like a gauche schoolboy out on his first date.
Yasmine kept her gaze firmly out of the side window, afraid that if she looked back at Holt, she’d do something crazy like grab him, pull him toward her and kiss him directly on his sexy mouth.
She drew in a deep breath and expelled it slowly, his light aftershave and natural scent blowing across her senses like the air from a fan on a warm summer day.
She snuck a peek at him from beneath lowered lashes.
When he’d picked her up from the airport it had taken all she had inside her not to do just that, grab the man and kiss him.
As a woman this time and not a girl, Yasmine thought, remembering their first and only kiss.
It had been right before he was leaving for college. When she’d first come to the ranch after her parents died, she’d immediately clung to her aunt, who’d been her father’s sister. Too shy to speak to anyone besides Lilly, it hadn’t been long before she’d felt welcomed into the Wilde family. Some of her shyness had begun to wear off and she felt comfortable around the family, as well as those who worked the ranch.
All except for Holt. From the moment she first met him, she’d been mesmerized by him. Their age difference had been only three years, yet he seemed so much more … older, more sure of himself. Of all the Wilde men, Holt was the most outgoing. She shook her head in memory. He was the most outrageous.
As they grew older, she remembered her aunt laughing at some of his antics, claiming Holt could charm the honey from a queen bee.
Not that he’d ever flirted with her, she thought, stealing a glance at him as he drove, his strong hands lightly resting on the steering wheel. At best he treated her as little more than a younger sister, and even then he barely spoke to her.
She glanced away, turning her attention back to the window, blindly watching the landscape as they sped down the two-lane highway.
No, with her he was always polite, yet she’d always felt as though he’d held her at a distance. That feeling only grew as they got older. Whenever she was around, Holt always seemed to find a reason to leave the room. Often, it left her feeling confused, embarrassed and hurt all at once.
But that didn’t stop the crush she had on him the size of the Teton Mountains from growing.
Once she’d followed him to one of the barns after seeing him come home late at night. It had been the week before he was leaving for college. She’d snuck inside and although she knew what she was doing was wrong, she peeked through a hole in the stable where he’d taken the girl he’d come home with.
She’d drawn in a deep breath when she saw Holt and the girl locked in an embrace, her blouse off and skirt hiked up as he was moments away from making love to her. He must have heard the sound, because he pulled away from the girl and glanced around, his features pinched.
Embarrassed and afraid she’d get caught, she’d quietly fled the stable, but not before she heard the girl’s entreaty that he return and the soft giggles that turned to moans as he quickly picked up where he’d left off before being interrupted.
That same night Yasmine stayed up, images of Holt and the half-naked girl plaguing her mind, until finally she’d sat up in bed, determined to tell him how she felt, unable to keep her feelings to herself.
She’d opened the door, not exactly sure what she was going to do, when he was walking down the hallway, a towel wrapped around his lean hips.
Yasmine gulped, her eyes rolling over the length of his hard naked chest that even then showed the promise of the man he’d become.
He’d smiled at her, subtly adjusting the towel, and asked what she was doing up so late.
She’d stuttered, making idle chat, before shyly telling him she was going to miss him when he left for school. She’d smiled, stuck out her chest in her best imitation of Amanda, the girl he’d taken to the barn, and leaned against the door, trying her best to appear sexy but knowing she was failing miserably.
His smile had slipped and Yasmine knew she should just stop, go back inside her room and abandon her plan. But she didn’t.
This was the last time she’d probably have alone with him before he left. If she didn’t tell him how she felt now, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to summon the courage to do it.
It was now or never, she’d thought.
“I’ll miss you, too, Yas,” he’d said, drawing nearer. He placed his hand on top of her head as though to ruffle her hair. For some reason that was the impetus she needed to show him she wasn’t a kid anymore.
At that moment, she’d grabbed him, pulled him inside her bedroom and kissed him with all the passion and longing she’d had building up for him for six years.
At first he’d been still as a statue, but a moment before he broke free, she felt his lips soften and a hint of a response. He’d wrapped his arm around her waist and dug deeply into the skin, the thin, flimsy nightshirt she wore riding up enough that the heat from his palm scorched the skin on her back. The kiss lasted little longer than a few seconds before he’d broken free, a deep frown settling over his handsome, chiseled features.
Yasmine had been so embarrassed she’d wanted to crawl up into a hole somewhere and die. She didn’t need him to say a word—the look on his face, a mixture of anger and pity, said it all.
She stumbled away and spun around, hoping to God he’d just leave and not say anything to her. Just leave. She felt a hand on her shoulder and swallowed down the melon-ball lump that had gathered in her gut and turned to face him.
“Yasmine, I—”
She held up a hand, stopping him before he could continue, and forced a trembling smile on her face. “I’m sorry, Holt, I don’t know what came over me … Can we just forget that I did that? Please?” The last word was barely above a whisper. She was so choked up with embarrassment she simply wanted him to go away.
His eyes searched hers, concern darkening his blue eyes to a smoky gray. With a nod he patted her awkwardly on the shoulder and left her room.
As soon as he did, Yasmine, in true teenage-girl form, full-on angst, cried herself to sleep.
The next day, Jed packed up the truck and he and Holt headed off to get him settled into the dorms.
That was the last time Yasmine was ever alone with Holt.
Since then, on the occasions she came to visit her aunt, she made sure that Holt was nowhere around. Anything else would have been too mortifying.
Yasmine settled back in the seat, and unable to resist, again cast Holt a sideways glance.
When he’d taken her bags at the airport, she’d caught the way his glance had stolen over her and had barely refrained from patting her hair and checking her makeup. Tall, he stood at least a foot taller than she. Thankfully she’d opted to wear heels traveling, giving her the added inches so she at least didn’t have to crane her neck to see his face.
He hadn’t removed his Stetson when he greeted her, and glancing up at him, her breath had caught at the back of her throat, as he was a living, breathing poster boy for raw, masculine cowboy if she ever saw one.
Lord, the man was fine, she thought, expelling a long breath while mentally reciting over and over that she was an adult and no longer an adolescent with a schoolgirl’s crush.
When he’d turned toward her after placing her luggage in the back, her self-affirming mantra reminding her of her sophistication flew right on out the window, and she felt like the shy, adolescent she had once been all over again.
The fact that he had been checking her out just as much as she had him hadn’t escaped her attention. That had been just enough to boost her confidence and make her realize that she was the one in control.
But in no way was she going to delude herself into thinking anything more of his casual appraisal than what it was. She was well aware of her attributes, without conceit. Although not as beautiful as the women he dated, she felt confident in the way she looked. She knew she’d changed some in both looks and attitude, grown up a lot, since the last time he had seen her, and the change no doubt was one he noticed. But that’s all it was.
She inched closer to the door.
And he was in for a big surprise if he thought she still held on to that silly schoolgirl crush.
Chapter 4
“Do you like what you see?” Holt asked Yasmine, as she’d been staring out of the truck’s passenger window for several moments.
Immediately he felt like an idiot, trying to come up with some lame attempt at conversation. In his desire to find something clever to say, to keep their conversation going, his mind had gone blank, the only thing surfacing being about the weather.
If his brothers could see him now, the self-proclaimed love doctor fumbling trying to come up with conversation, they’d break their necks falling out laughing at him.
“The weather, I mean,” he clarified, clearing his throat when she lifted one brow in question.
A small smile tilted the corners of her generous mouth upward before she nodded. His eyes trained on the small dimple that flashed when she smiled. “I do. It’s beautiful out. Nothing like the weather-channel prediction I got before I headed out this morning.”
“Yeah, I think I saw that. Uh, on the weather channel, that is. About the forecast and it being a cold day,” he said and promptly clamped his mouth shut when he saw the humor lighting her dark brown eyes.
Real smooth, Wilde, he thought, inwardly kicking him self in the ass. He didn’t know the last time, if ever, a woman had reduced him to a stumbling boy. He quickly turned his attention back to the road.
“Has it been nice like this for long? I remember how cold it can get sometimes this time of year.”
“We’ve had a good winter. Nothing like New York, though, I bet,” he’d said and when she lifted another brow, he hastily turned his attention back to the road. “That is where you’re living these days, right? I, uh, think I remember Lilly mentioning that you had moved from Chicago to New York a few months ago.”
In fact, he’d known exactly where Yasmine had been living, from the time she graduated from culinary school in Chicago and moved to study in Paris before settling back in Chicago. He’d followed her rise in the culinary world, read everything Lilly would so proudly show off to him and his brothers about Yasmine. He’d always chosen to ignore the fact that he’d always been aware of what she was doing, where she was living and the reason for it.
Holt knew it was a bad idea when his brother had asked—scratch that—told him he had to pick Yasmine up from the airport. He also knew it was a bad idea the minute he saw her standing on the sidewalk waiting to be picked up.
But he had no idea how much he’d underestimated what a bad idea it was until he had her in his pickup, her luggage stored in the back and the two of them in his cab, her unique scent reaching out and grabbing him, pulling him up short.
He didn’t remember her skin looking so soft, so clear and beautiful. Nor had he remembered the tendency she had to pull the full, lush bottom rim of her lips into her mouth, her thick brows coming together in a frown as she contemplated whatever it was she was thinking of.
There was something … different about her. To say she was pretty was too mild a description.
She’d lost the baby fat she’d carried as a younger woman, her face and body now slimmer, yet she’d held on to the curves. As he’d opened the door and helped her inside the cab of the truck, Holt’s gaze had zeroed in like a torpedo to her backside. And damn, what a backside she had.
Although she was small in stature, the top of her head barely reaching him at chest level, she wore high heels that drew even more attention to her long legs. Her faded, ripped-up jeans cupped her firm buttocks with deadly, sexy precision, making his mouth go dry.
She’d removed her jacket and beneath it wore a simple button-up blouse, but there was nothing simple about the way the soft fabric molded and hugged her generous breasts. As she turned to thank him, he’d caught an upclose and personal view of them as the pretty brown skin swelled well above the V neckline of her shirt and pressed against the fabric. He caught a glimpse of the bow on the front of her bra when one of the straining buttons broke free.
She’d turned around and caught his gaze on her. Following his line of vision he saw her cheeks again blossom with color when she saw that her button had come undone. Fumbling, she’d hastily rebuttoned her blouse.
The fact that she’d blushed again made a part of him want to believe that blush was because of him, before he immediately dismissed the idea. She’d just been embarrassed that her blouse had come undone.
He’d been aware of her crush on him as a young woman, but there was no way the sexy, sophisticated woman she appeared to be now still held that same schoolgirl crush.