“I finished my chores…sir.” She finally spoke, her voice husky. She cleared her throat. “What… what else do you want from me?” she finished, a hint of defiance lighting her almond-shaped eyes.

With her question, both his body and mind went into full-on battle. His mind told him that what he felt whenever he was around her didn’t make any sense. Or the fact that she was on his mind twenty-four seven was something he needed to walk away from while he still could.

But his body told him it was time to show her, in detail, exactly what he wanted from her.

His gaze stole over her cheeks, which were stained with a hint of a flush; to her eyes, which were focused on his mouth.

His body won.

He placed one hand at the base of her waist and tunneled the other through the soft, wet tendrils of hair at the base of her neck and tugged her body until she was pressed against his.

Before she could catalog in her mind the clarity of his intent, he’d brought his mouth down and covered hers.

Books by Kimberly Kaye Terry

Kimani Romance

Hot to Touch To Tempt a Wilde

About the Author

KIMBERLY KAYE TERRY’S

love for reading romances began at an early age. Long into the night she would stay up until she reached “The End” with her Mickey Mouse night-light on, praying she wouldn’t be caught reading what her mother called “those” types of books. Often, she would acquire her stash of “those” books from beneath her mother’s bed. Ahem. To date, she’s an award-winning author of fourteen novels in romance and erotic romance, has garnered acclaim for her work and happily calls writing her full-time job.

Kimberly has a bachelor’s in social work and a master’s in human relations and has held licenses in social work and mental-health therapy throughout the United States and abroad. She volunteers weekly at various social service agencies and is a long-standing member of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc, a community-conscious organization. Kimberly is a naturalist and practices aromatherapy. She believes in embracing the powerful woman within each of us and meditates on a regular basis. Kimberly would love to hear from you. Visit her at www.kimberlykayeterry.com.

TO TEMPT A WILDE

Kimberly Kaye Terry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To my amazing daughter,

who inspires me to be the best that I can be.

Dear Reader,

I’m very pleased to introduce to you Nate Wilde and Althea Hudson, the hero and heroine from To Tempt a Wilde, the first couple in my new family miniseries, Wyoming Wilde. Writing their story was an exciting learning experience for me, as I had the opportunity to see through the eyes of my heroine what it was like to find, rope and rein in her very own cowboy!

Learning of her father’s death, Althea has been on the run for two years from the man responsible for it, afraid for her life. Her running sends her straight into the arms of sexy cowboy Nate Wilde, the eldest of three brothers who own and run one of the largest cattle ranches in the West.

Nate is determined to keep his mind—and his heart—firmly guarded against the woman with a hidden past. But this becomes harder and harder with each scalding-hot encounter. It’s not long before they both succumb to a love worth fighting for.

As always, I appreciate your support and will do my best to continue writing deliciously hot and sexy stories featuring alpha men and the women they love! Look for Holt and Yasmine’s story in To Desire a Wilde, coming April 2011!

Keep it sexy!;)

Kimberly

Chapter 1

The sliver of light peeking between the cracked window blinds drew him like a magnet.

He’d had no intention of doing anything besides sitting in the car this time. Knowing that she was nearby and that if he’d wanted to go to her he could had been good enough.

But the minute he saw the light flicker on inside her room, he had been helpless to resist. It was as though she knew he was there.

That she was inviting him to come closer.

He cut the engine on the car.

Pulling his leather coat over his slim body, he then tugged on the matching kid-leather gloves and grabbed the dark knit hat on the passenger side and pulled it over his head, both for protection against the frigid cold and as a means of disguise.

But he doubted anyone could identify him. Or even knew who he was for that matter. But he was always careful.

Always.

Lifting the binoculars from around his neck, he pocketed them and left the car. Inching his way toward her window, he stealthily made for the light beckoning him.

As he moved closer, he cast furtive glances over his shoulder just to make sure no one was watching.

As if anyone cared what the hell happened in this godforsaken place, he thought in disgust, wrinkling his nose, the ends of his fine nostrils flaring.

He stopped when he reached a large Dumpster several feet away from her window and withdrew the binoculars from his pocket.

He wouldn’t get too close. Not yet. He didn’t want to chance her seeing him, not before he was ready. Once he had her, she would be his. This time forever.

His full lips split into a wide grin in anticipation of the time to come when he and his baby would be reunited.

The excitement he felt at the thought of their reunion made him so excited he had to take deep, calming, measured breaths. His hand snaked down to the front of his slacks, unconsciously running it over the slight bulge pressing insistently against his zipper.

The sound of a child wailing startled him, making him drop the binoculars he held, his hand quickly moving away from his groin. With a curse he quickly retrieved the binoculars, grinding his teeth in anger.

It had been a long time since he’d been this close to her. In his excitement he could get careless. He needed to get it together.

He waited a bit longer before bringing the binoculars to his eyes. He barely held back a groan of delight when the new angle gave him an even better view of her.

Oh, God, she was beautiful. Even in silhouette she was beautiful.

He crouched down when he heard footsteps behind him. A swift glance over his shoulder revealed a young man and woman strolling his way. He slid behind the funky trash bin, again not taking the chance that anyone would see him.

He bit back a curse when the two lovers stopped less than a foot away from him and decided that was the spot to play grab-ass.

He held his breath as long as he could, trying not to gag on the offensive smell from the Dumpster, until the couple finally broke from their embrace and ambled away.

Bringing the binoculars to his eyes again, he brought her room back into view, cursing when she was no longer standing in front of the window. The room was once again bathed in darkness.

Not only had she turned off the light, but she’d also drawn the curtains. Damn it.

He waited a few minutes more in the hopes she’d get up again when he heard more footsteps coming his way.

What the hell…didn’t these people have to get up in the morning? Didn’t they have jobs to go to? His mental tirade came to a halt as he glanced around.

With a sneer he remembered what type of neighborhood he was in. Ninety percent of the residents were on welfare and the other ten percent held a job just long enough to draw unemployment.

The sneer turned to righteous anger when he thought of Althea choosing to live among people like these, instead of with him.

But all of that would change soon.

Soon he’d have his baby back where she belonged, by his side, living the way she was used to. Soon everything would be back to normal.

And he’d make sure she would never leave him again.

Althea sat straight up in bed, her heart thumping hard against her chest.

She cast a glance around the tiny hotel room and moistened her dry lips with her tongue.

The shadows in the room seemed to be mocking her, laughing at her. Her hand lingered over her heart as though that would calm its frantic hammering.

Turning to the small lamp set atop the scarred table, she flipped it on. It flickered a few times before dying.

“Damn, not again,” she muttered, before grabbing the baseball bat that lay beside her, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and rising.

She breathed a short sigh of relief when she turned on the wall switch and the room was instantly washed in light.

Pulling her sweat jacket from the foot of the bed she drew it over her body and pulled up the zipper, then stuffed her feet inside her sneakers.

She checked the tiny living/bedroom area first before walking to the kitchen. Although she felt foolish, she opened each of the cabinets and peered inside. She’d once made the mistake of not checking a small area.

She fingered the scar near her temple, just above her hairline. She’d never make that mistake again.

Briskly she walked the short distance to the bathroom and turned on the light, cautiously walking into the bathroom. With the bat clenched tightly in her hands, she pushed the paper-thin, cracked shower curtain out of the way and peered inside.

All clear. She blew out a breath of relief she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Slowly she made her way back to the main living area, her routine completed. The routine was as familiar as it was depressing. She relaxed the death grip she held on the bat, glancing around the room once more. There was nothing else to check.

Everything was the same way it had looked when she’d finally gone to sleep. When she’d checked in a few weeks back, the motel had boasted of a spacious living room and dining area, as well as a kitchenette.

She eyed the room, one brow arching.

The “spacious” living room was actually one room, featuring a bed, a ratty, stained corner chair and round table next to it, which separated the dual room from the even smaller kitchenette. The kitchenette consisted of two overhead cabinets stationed above a minuscule oven, on which only one of the burners worked. The refrigerator was a small cube with barely enough room to store the bare essentials.

She’d had more room in her bedroom closet at one time than in her entire current living space.

She glanced over at the radio clock near the narrow bed…it was two-thirty-two in the morning. This time she’d managed to get a whole four hours of straight sleep.

That hadn’t happened in over a month.

She hesitated, looking over at the small window in the room. With a sigh she walked over and slipped her fingers through the cracked venetian blinds before peering through them, her gaze sweeping over the outside view.

What a view, she thought, shaking her head. A Dumpster was less than five feet away, the smell it emitted was one she tried to combat with scented plug-ins and incense. None of which had made a bit of difference as the faint scent of eau de funk flavored the room no matter what she did. She glanced over at the parking lot, with its odd assortment of beat-up cars and those that looked so out of place it hadn’t taken too much of a guess to figure out what the owners did to afford such vehicles in the poor neighborhood.

Despite the feeling that someone was out there, watching her, the only thing Althea saw was a young couple strolling along the sidewalk. She reclosed the blinds, walked over to the bed and sat down, holding the bat loosely in her hands, tapping the end against her palm.

She leaned over, opened the drawer and withdrew her wallet, pulling out the money inside. She began recounting it, although she already knew how much she had, down to the penny: five hundred twenty-one dollars and thirteen cents.

There was a time when she had never given a thought to how much money she had on hand, hadn’t worried where she would lay her head next, or where she’d live.

Those times seemed as though they’d happened in another lifetime, to another woman.

She glanced down at her hands as she held the money, felt the calluses that were now permanent fixtures on them, before placing the money back inside the drawer. At least she had some money on hand, for when the time came to move on.

She liked the sleepy, small town of Billings, Montana. She’d been there for three weeks, and had been waitressing at a local café/truck stop for two of those weeks, twelve-hour shifts straight, in order to save as much money as she could in as short a time as possible.

Althea never knew when she’d have to go back on the run. One week, two weeks or a month.

She’d learned to do whatever it took, take whatever job, no matter how menial, in order to survive.

Although the hours were usually long, and her muscles ached so badly all she could do when she got off work was lie down with a heating pad on her back to ease the pain, she enjoyed the odd jobs. Enjoyed the freedom, the anonymity.

Althea laughed softly, thinking how she would never have imagined she would actually enjoy doing physical labor. Doing work she would have previously thought beneath her. Or that she would enjoy being alone and not on the social scene.

Life changes. Dreams change.

Dream as if you’ll live forever, live as if you’ll die today.

The ghost of a smile died from her lips as one of her father’s favorite sayings came to her mind.

With a sigh, Althea lay back against the thin headboard. So much for her long-ago dreams.

She was tired of running. But she never ignored her instincts. And her instincts were telling her it was time to go.

But where do I go now?

She unzipped her jacket, and as she tossed it to the foot of the bed, a business card fell from the pocket. As Althea reached over and picked up the card, her brows knitted. Beneath an engraved crest were two Ws linked and the name Wyoming Wilde Ranch in bold script centered on the card.

Thinking of the two brothers who had come into the café a few days ago, she frowned. The two men hadn’t looked like brothers to her; one was white and the other Native American. Yet when they’d told her who they were and that they owned a ranch outside of Landers, Wyoming, she’d not asked any questions. That too was something she’d learned not to do. Ask as few questions as possible and stick to herself…keep her head low.

The men had been to the café twice in the last week. If it had been a different time in her life…well, she would have had a different reaction to the casual offer both of the good-looking brothers had made to take her out. Although different as day and night, the one thing the brothers had in common had been that they both seemed to take up all the testosterone in the room. A ghost of a smile lifted the corner of her mouth in appreciation.

She’d been reading the local paper when they’d come inside the café the last time, checking out the want ads when one of them—she scrunched her brows—Shilah, the Native American brother, asked her if she was looking for work.

She’d smiled and made an offhand comment that she was always looking for work. An odd expression had crossed his handsome face before he’d told her they were in need of help around the ranch.

He’d told her the ranch was located in Wyoming and the work was only seasonal, but if she were interested…

Although always on the lookout for opportunities, in case she had to leave suddenly, Althea had shied away from answering him. The intensity in his eyes was unnerving; it was as though he were seeing straight to the heart of her, as though he’d read things she didn’t want anyone to know.

She’d thanked him but told him she wasn’t ready to relocate.

He’d opened his mouth as though to speak when she caught the subtle nudge from his brother and a shake of his head. Instead of speaking, he’d handed her his card, telling her the offer would be open if she ever wanted it.

She’d glanced up an hour later and had noted the men leaving, a part of her regretting her decision not to hear more about the job.

Glancing down at the card now, Althea ran her fingers over the raised crest, the looped Ws that resembled a rope, lost in thought.

Welcome to the Wilde side of ranching.

She rose from the bed and turned off the light. Before she did, she glanced back toward the window, a shiver running through her.

Again she raised a hand and ran trembling fingers over the small scar that spanned no more than an inch near her hairline. She’d learned one thing over the last two years: trust her instincts.

Her instincts were telling her—no, screaming at her—that it was time to go. And go now.

Chapter 2

Nathan Wilde wanted nothing more than to put his feet up, pop open a can of beer and relax, exhausted and sweaty from moving cattle to the spring pasture for the better part of the day with his brothers.

“No beer for you, but I’m sure oats and water will work just the same, right, girl? ” he asked, affectionately patting the rear end of the horse he’d just dismounted.

After walking, watering and patting down Gerry, his favorite workhorse, Nate strapped the canvas feeding bag over her neck and led her to the stables.

Running a weary hand over the back of his neck, he rolled his shoulders forward, trying to work out the knots settled deep. As soon as their workday ended, his brothers had decided to go into town to their favorite sports bar to unwind, inviting Nate to go with them.

According to them, a woman was all a man needed to work out his “knots.” Although they’d issued the invitation, they’d done so more out of habit rather than any real belief that Nate would actually accept. They, like Nate, knew what his automatic response would be; not only no, but hell, no.

A woman was the last thing he wanted to work out his knots. He could do without the hassle of what came after a woman worked out his knots.

Nate led the horse toward the stable, thinking of his brothers’ invitation. There was a time when all three of them had been called the Wilde boys for a reason, besides it being their last name. They worked hard and played just as hard, and any woman knew when dealing with the men that that was all it was—play. It had been that way for Nate until two years ago…

He shook his head. A lot had changed since then.

When he’d gone too long without a woman and his need was rising high—that was the only time he ventured into town and went on the hunt. Those times he made sure the woman he chose knew the score from jump.

He was looking for a one-time thing. Just a hard, hot ride to release his pent-up energy. And nothing more. No expectations or demands on either side.

As he was pushing open the double-sided stable door to lead Gerry inside, he paused with one foot inside the barn. The low hum of a woman’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks and pulled him out of his mental musings.

With a frown on his face, Nate cautiously moved forward, Gerry docilely trailing behind him.

“Yes, baby, you are a beauty aren’t you?” the unknown woman crooned, her voice low, soothing.

Frown still in place, Nate led the horse to her stall and opened the gate, ushering her inside. He gave her one more absentminded pat on the rear before locking the gate and moving toward the voice.

The woman’s soft voice echoed in the quiet stable, tugging at Nate, and his feet moved as though of their own volition, drawing him closer to the source. When he came to the open stalled area he stopped, his eyes narrowing.

Standing before the Arabian palomino he’d recently purchased was a woman, the top of her head barely reaching the horse at mane level.

Her face was turned slightly away from him as she ran a small hand over the horse’s neck, down her side. As she whispered soothing words, the horse’s willingness to allow her to touch him fascinated Nate.

He’d recently purchased the horse from a rancher who’d put up his livestock for sale after selling his spread to a major conglomeration for a hefty fee. Although he’d owned mostly cattle, he’d also sold several horses. However, the palomino remained.

The old rancher had rescued it from a shelter that recovered abused horses and sought to rehabilitate them. Eventually the man had given up trying to tame the beast, unable to get anywhere near the animal besides to feed him.

Nate had gone to the ranch for the sole purpose of purchasing the Braunvieh bulls, paying a hefty price for several of the bulls to breed with their Angus. Yet when the rancher had shown him the stables and the last remaining horse for sale, he’d bought the horse, too.

It was beautiful and wild.

Beyond the fear, there was a keen intelligence in the horse’s watchful gaze, and Nate knew he had to buy it, convinced he could get to the animal, earn its trust. Nate had been sure that with the right touch, the beautiful horse would eventually come around.

In the week since the horse had been delivered, Nate hadn’t been able to get within two feet of the damn thing without it neighing, kicking its feet up and pitching a damn fit.

Last time he’d tried, he’d come in serious danger of losing his ability to father children…

And now, to witness this small, unknown woman uttering soothing nonsense at the horse, and it not only allowing, but encouraging her, nuzzling against her hand, was nothing short of amazing to Nate.

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his broad chest, and watched the interaction between the semiwild horse and the woman, listening as she spoke, a deep frown pulling his brows together.

Althea hadn’t been so…at ease, in a long time.

She inhaled a deep breath, a smile tilting one corner of her mouth up slightly. Even the air smelled better. Cleaner, new. Alive.

That was it. That’s what was different.

She hadn’t felt so alive as she did here at Wyoming Wilde. Hadn’t felt so protected as she did now in longer than she wanted to remember.

Although the ranch was accessible, no one set foot on the property who wasn’t invited. And no one came without at least ten men knowing of their arrival.

Continuing to smooth her hands over the beautiful horse’s mane, she thought of her short time at Wyoming Wilde Ranch.

The morning she’d awakened from the night when she’d felt someone watching her, she’d known it was time for her to move on.

Not that she’d gotten any sleep after she’d turned off the light.

Instead she’d alternated between staring up at the ceiling, watching the blades on the old ceiling fan swirl round and round, the loud hum fading into the background, and fingering the business card she held clutched in her hand.

Finally she’d given up on sleep, just as the early-morning sunrise was peeking through the cracked blinds. She’d risen and brewed a cup of coffee before sitting down at the beat-up kitchen table. Thoughtfully, she’d sipped the strong brew while contemplating what her next move would be.

Glancing down at the card she’d laid on the table, Althea had made up her mind. Wyoming Wilde…she was going to the ranch. Why not? She’d gone on flimsier leads than that in her two years of moving from place to place.

She’d packed her scanty belongings before going by the diner to inform her boss that she was quitting.

That had been the hardest part of her decision.

The harried cook/owner had begged Althea to stay longer, at least for a few more nights, so he could find another waitress to help them out. Business was booming, as many ranchers and farmers from the surrounding areas were moving cattle and purchasing new stock, which meant traveling and stopping by the café.

Althea had been close to agreeing, mainly because the owner had been good to her, paying her weekly wages in cash versus a check without deeply questioning her reasons. That and the desire to get another few more days of tips had made her debate her decision to leave that day.

Piggybacking that thought, Althea had again gotten that eerie feeling of being watched.

She’d glanced nervously around the busy café, surveying the late-morning crowd. She’d seen no signs of anyone paying her any particular attention, yet remembering the previous night’s unease had been enough to strengthen her resolve to go.

When he’d realized Althea wasn’t going to waver, he’d asked her where she was headed, a concerned look crossing his deeply lined face. Althea had plastered a wide smile on her face, hoping the strain of what she really felt wasn’t showing, and told him she was headed east, that a friend had opened up a new restaurant and she had agreed to help.

The lie tripped smoothly from her lips, and she squelched down the guilt she felt. Mason was one of the few people she’d worked for who she’d actually begun to get close to.

Although she hadn’t dared share her history with him, or even tell him her full name, after the diner closed she and the older man had fallen into an easy, unexpected camaraderie.

He’d given her a look, one that had spoken volumes, and she’d squirmed a bit beneath his scrutinizing stare, but he hadn’t asked any more questions and had walked to the back to retrieve her pay, handing it to her and giving her an awkward hug goodbye.

It wasn’t until she was in her car that she opened the envelope, a small smile of gratitude crossing her full lips. Besides her wages, Mason had added several more crisp one-hundred-dollar bills, along with a note telling her to be safe.

Althea stifled the tears that threatened to fall.

She’d then gassed up at the Gas ’n Go next to the diner, bought a few necessities and hopped inside her car, preparing to leave.

That eerie feeling had crept over her again. She’d glanced into her rearview mirror, a shiver running over her spine, her heartbeat speeding up and thumping hard against her chest when she caught site of a dark green Mercedes coupe pulling into the diner as she left the gas station. The same make and color as the car he drove.

Keeping the car in sight as it came to a smooth halt, she’d watched a woman come from within, her high heels sinking into the unpaved parking lot as she walked inside the diner. Even though it wasn’t him, Althea’s instincts told her that he wasn’t far away.

He never was.

Without hesitating, she’d peeled out of the gravel parking lot and quickly headed east on I-90, once again on the move.

Now, as Althea heard the deep voice speak behind her, she spun around, her heart racing. She automatically stepped back several steps, warily glancing around looking for the can of mace she always carried and had placed near her feet when she’d entered the horse’s stall.

She eased her body down as subtly as possible and grabbed the can, palming it within her hand.

The man’s head swiveled, looked down at her hand before looking back at her. Although his eyes were shadowed beneath the Stetson he wore low on his head, leaving only a pair of well-defined, sensual lips visible, she felt his stare. She swallowed nervously.

She stood and glanced up, way up, as he pushed away from the wall and ambled toward her.

“What the hell are you doing with my horse…and who the hell let you in here?”

The question was spoken in a low, deep rumble. Yet the smooth tone did nothing to disguise the distinct…menacing undertone.

Althea’s heart leaped wildly against her chest as she stepped back, stopping only when her back brushed against the end of the stall.

Caught, unable to move away any farther, her tongue came out to moisten her bottom lip.

Waiting for the fear to come, Althea wondered why instead she felt a feminine rush of awareness sliver along her spine as he advanced into the stall.

Chapter 3

Nate advanced farther into the stall.

His glance raked over the woman in one all-encompassing glance, from her long dark brown hair, pulled up into a messy ponytail, down over a snug-fitting T-shirt that molded her small, high breasts.

His gaze then rolled over her long, jeans-clad legs and back up again, sliding over her face, cataloging each of her features slowly.

To say she was beautiful was too…weak a description.

Her features were perfectly spaced in her oval face; eyes so dark they appeared black, wide-set and faintly tilted in the corners. Her nose was narrow, with a slight flare at the ends of her nostrils.

But it was her mouth that caught his attention, pulled him up short and made his cock thump against his zipper.

Both lips were full, wide and sensual. And made his mind wander, for a split second, thinking of how they’d feel against his mouth, on his body…

Her skin was the color of rich, dark honey, smooth and flawless. Decadent.

His hands itched to run down the side of her face, down her throat. His tongue tingled, irrationally, with a need to trace it down the smooth column of her neck. To find out if it tasted as good as it looked.

The thoughts came out of nowhere, bringing him up short.

Damn. Maybe his brothers were right. Maybe it had been too long since he’d been with a woman.

His eyes met hers.

Something tangible yet elusive passed between them as they made their silent observations of each other. Although her expression remained neutral, he caught the flicker of awareness in the dark depths of her eyes.

The horse whinnied in the background, breaking the intense, sudden connection, dragging Nate’s attention away from the woman in front of him.

A glance toward the horse showed it pawing at the ground before tossing its head back in a jerky movement. The ends of its nostrils flared as it kept its gaze on Nate. The animal had picked up on the sudden tension in the stable. Nate took a cautious step toward the near-wild beast.

When he brought his hand up to reassure the animal its neighing became louder as it pawed the ground, growing more agitated.

The woman turned toward the horse and laid a hand over its hind end, her lips pursing, making a calming, shushing sound. Immediately the horse quieted, but still it kept its amber-colored eyes on Nate, backing away from him until it stood between the two of them. The animal didn’t stop until it had positioned itself directly in front of her, as though it was protecting her from him.

He saw the ghost of a smile break across the woman’s full mouth, tilting one side up, a glint of what looked like humor sparking in her dark eyes, surprising him. Again, he felt his body’s response, but ignored it.

He brought his hand to the brim of his Stetson, tilting it in her direction.

“My name is Nathan. Nathan Wilde. What the hell are you doing in my stables, with my horse?” he asked.

When the tall cowboy tilted his hat toward her, the gesture oddly old-fashioned yet appealing to Althea, she slowly eased away from the wall, her hand remaining on the horse, soothing it.

“My name is Althea. Althea…Dayton.”

She hoped he didn’t catch the hesitation. She’d used her mother’s maiden name, which was her middle name, for the last two years, as a means of helping to keep under the radar. The fact that she hesitated even that small bit was unnerving to her, something she’d never done before. The fact that he could rattle her enough to cause the small slip-up was even more disturbing to Althea.

When he removed his hat his face was fully revealed. Althea drew in a swift breath, slowly expelling it.

To say he was handsome was too mild…too tame a description for the man standing in front of her.

He exuded raw, male earthiness in scalding waves. His skin, the color of molten chocolate, made her want to reach out and run her fingers over his face…she barely resisted the urge. She continued to keep her hand on the horse, thankful for its presence.

So this was Nathan Wilde, the oldest of the Wilde brothers, the one she’d heard about but had yet to meet.

When she’d arrived a few days before she’d been introduced to the men who worked the ranch, hiding her surprise when there’d only been one female who worked for Wilde Ranch, the housekeeper, Lilly. Lilly had been the one to take her to the guest cottage she’d live in during her stay. The older black woman had been open and friendly as she showed Althea around, her love for the ranch obvious in the pride in her expression.

After that, she’d been given the full tour of the ranch by Holt and Shilah, which had taken the majority of the day, as their land and livestock spread over two hundred acres.

The brothers had mentioned their oldest brother, Nathan, only briefly, simply telling her he was away buying cattle and wouldn’t return until the end of the week.

“Too late for him to do anything about it then,” Holt had said, turning to his brother. Althea’s radar had gone on full alert at the comment, knowing it had something to do with her, but she hadn’t asked. She’d simply filed it in the back of her mind for later thought.

They’d given her three weeks pay upfront, no strings attached, something that surprised Althea but at the same time made her instantly at ease, just in case she had to move on unexpectedly.

Later that evening, after the men had shown her around, she’d gone to the main house where Lilly had invited her to eat. Not having had the opportunity to go into Landers and pick up supplies, she’d been thankful for the invitation.

Remembering Holt’s earlier comment, she’d casually mentioned it to the older woman, watching her as she bustled around the kitchen, removing a storage bowl from the refrigerator to heat up leftover food from the afternoon meal for Althea.

The older woman had paused, one hand on the chrome handle of the microwave, and glanced at Althea. She’d held her gaze for such a long time that Althea had immediately regretted her impulse in bringing up the question.

“Baby, did you notice there weren’t any women working on the ranch?” She finally spoke, closing the door and setting the cook time.

Althea nodded her head, slowly.

“There’s a good reason for that,” she’d said, her expression, although light, serious as she turned and fully faced Althea.

“And that would be?”

The older woman turned away, moving toward the stove to pour the boiling water into two mugs she’d set out before tossing tea bags into both.

“Besides me, you’re the first woman in over two years who’s been on the ranch. Let’s just say women living at the Wilde Ranch has never been an…easy thing.”

Before Althea could digest that comment, the older woman had continued. “And if you want to stay for any amount of time, my suggestion would be to lay low, do your job and everything will be fine. Particularly around Nate.”

Something in the woman’s expression warned her not to ask questions, so she simply nodded her head and sipped the tea Lilly placed in front of her, feeling a kernel of apprehension knot in her belly for the first time in the week she’d been on the ranch.

Now she straightened, dusted her hand down the side of her jeans and cautiously extended it toward him.

He glanced down at her hand and hesitated for a fraction of a second before he engulfed it within his large one. Althea did everything she could not to squirm, the electric heat of his hand touching hers, warming her on contact, sparking off a fizzle of awareness down her spine.

“Yes, Mr. Wilde, I’ve heard about you, from your brothers. What I meant was, your brothers told me you were away when they hired me. Not that that was the reason they hired me or anything. I just…” She stopped, took a breath, trying like hell to curb her nervous chatter. “I look forward to working here at the ranch.” She rushed out the rest of the sentence, expelling the breath of air she’d taken as she did.

He held her hand, held it a fraction longer than was necessary before slowly releasing it.

“It’s beautiful here, I’ve already started falling in love with—”

“No offense, Ms…. Dayton,” he broke in, eyes narrowing, cutting Althea off, making her want to bite her tongue for the words she blurted and her crazy inability to stop with the nervous chatter.

She didn’t miss the emphasis he’d placed on her last name. As though he suspected she hadn’t given him her true name.

But his voice, smooth and liquid, distracted her momentarily. He had the type of voice that inexplicably brought out everything feminine in her. Things she thought long buried deep down inside, things she thought she’d never feel, tucked deep.

Her imagination took over as she eyed him. She imaged him roping cattle on a lazy summer day, beads of sweat glistening against his naked, muscled chest, wearing snug low-riding jeans, his Stetson on, the rim low, shading his eyes…

“But as my brothers should have consulted with me before hiring you, I’m not so sure your stay here will be that long. I wouldn’t want you to fall too deeply in love. With the ranch, that is,” he said, breaking into her little fantasy and bringing a flush to her face, dragging her mind away from the unexpected flight it had taken.

Althea withdrew her hand from his and fully faced him, swallowing down her embarrassment.

The noticeable coolness in his tone was in direct competition with the heated way he was looking at her, the way he’d been since the moment he entered the stall. His words said one thing, his eyes something totally different.

Althea focused on what had just flown out of his mouth.

“Well, Mr. Wilde, as your brothers were so kind as to give me three weeks’ pay—” she began, and ignored the look of surprise on his face “—for the next three weeks at least, you don’t have one damn thing to say about that,” she finished, and smoothly turned away from him, giving the horse her full attention.

Before she turned away she saw the flash of irritation on his face and squelched the need to laugh. She had enough sense to know when to walk away from a fight. No sense in pulling the lion’s tail any more than she had today.

“We’ll see about that,” he nearly growled, advancing on her.

Hot and heavy, the tension instantly grew thick; heady and palpable.

Althea, despite the way the last years had shaken out, forcing her into hiding, had never been one to run from a challenge.

“Either I can work off the advance, or I can leave. Either way I’m fine with it. I’m still getting paid. It’s your call.”

So much for not pulling the lion’s tail, she thought with a mental shrug.

With her heartbeat racing out of control, Althea felt his glare on her the entire time as she turned and gave the horse a final pat, pretending a nonchalance she didn’t feel.

As quickly as humanly possible she was out of the stable, not waiting around to see his reaction to her challenge…wondering what in the name of God she’d just signed on for.

Chapter 4

“Either I can work off the advance or leave. Either way I’m fine with it…”

A deep frown settled between Nate’s brows as he drove past the south pasture heading into town, thinking of the words slung at him by the woman.

He hadn’t wanted to go to town. He had enough to do around the ranch to keep him busy from sunup to sundown. But thoughts of the woman—Althea—had plagued him the entire morning.

Hell, thoughts of her and their exchange had kept him up most of the night as well.

Although she’d said it in an “I don’t give a damn” kind of way, he’d seen a look akin to desperation in her eyes. The look, coupled with his reaction to her, had plagued him throughout the night and into the next day.

One time too many while helping the hands mend some critical fence, he’d had to redo a piece he’d fixed. Once he’d nearly hammered off his own finger as he pounded away at the fencing before he decided he needed to get away.

Immediately images assaulted his mind in vivid, erotic detail of just how Ms. Althea Dayton, or whatever her real name was, could work out the debt.

Vivid, mind-blowing images.

The type that even now had his cock rock-hard and ready. Ready to show the smug woman just how she could service him.

His mood had gone from hell to hell-in-a-handbasket when he’d stalked inside the house and caught his brothers before they could make a quick getaway.

Nate stopped just inside the doorway and surveyed the scene in front of him. Both of his brothers were eating the jumbo cookies Lilly had made. Praising her for them as though they’d never tasted a damn cookie before. Relaxed as though they hadn’t a care in the world.

To say he was pissed off was putting it mildly.

“Okay, who the hell’s bright idea was it to hire that woman and not let me know about it?”

The conversation came to a grinding halt in the warm, airy kitchen as soon as he spoke.

His brothers looked up at him, cookies halfway to their mouths, both looking as guilty as two boys with their hands caught in the cookie jar.

One look at Nate’s angry, tight features and they knew, instantly, they were in deep-shit trouble.

A side glance in Lilly’s direction and Nate had seen the humor lurking in her dark eyes but had chosen to ignore it. Miss Lilly could find humor in the situation. She had that right. He couldn’t go off half-cocked with the woman who’d helped raise him, one who was like a surrogate mother.

He turned back to his brothers.

They, on the other hand, didn’t get a get-out-of-jail-free card. Not even close.

“Don’t even try getting away,” he said, pinning them with a look when they both, at the same time, made as though to leave the room.

Both Shilah and Holt paused midflight. Slowly, they spun around on the scuffed-up heels of their well-worn boots, both warily watching him as he advanced farther into the large kitchen.

He stopped less than a foot from them, crossed his arms over his wide chest and stared them down.

Although technically there wasn’t much in the way of staring down. The men were all of similar height, Holt being the tallest at six foot five, Nate and Shilah just a few inches shy of that.

“Okay, now look here, brother—” Holt was the first to speak in his slow, crawling drawl, the one he used when he was either trying to get a piece of tail from a woman or when he knew he’d screwed up and was buying time.

“Cut the brother crap,” Nate interrupted. That was another thing he did. Whenever he wanted to maneuver his way out of a situation, Holt was quick to pull out the brother card.

“Besides, it wasn’t me who invited her to come. It was Shilah—”

“Way to throw me under the bus,” Shilah broke in, his expression neutral, yet the look he gave Holt promised retribution was coming his way. Soon.

“I may have issued the initial invitation, but you were the one who actually hired her when she came.”

“Yeah, well—”

Nate held up a hand, forestalling any more arguing on exactly whose fault it was.

“Whichever one of you—or both of you—is to blame, I don’t give a damn. Just take care of the problem. Now.”

“And how do you want us to do that? We’ve already paid her in advance.”

“So I heard,” Nate replied tightly.

“Besides, we need the help, you know that, Holt,” Shilah said, always the one to use logic in any situation. “Lilly’s surgery is in a few weeks and we can’t spare any of the hands to help out. It’s just temporary. She can do the odd jobs. Can help Lilly out in the kitchen—”

“Hell, no, she’s not working in the kitchen. That’s out,” Nate bit out, the thought of the woman actually in his home, in his domain, something he wasn’t about to allow. “No matter how you reason this out, you both know how I feel about women on the ranch. I should have been consulted.”

There was a short pause, none of the men giving an inch, all staring each other down.

“How’d you find out, anyway?” Holt finally asked, running a hand over the back of his head.

“How long did you plan to hide it from me?” he asked, raising a brow. When Holt shrugged, his expression sheepish, Nate continued. “Walked into the stable where I’ve been keeping the new horse, and she was there, feeding it.” “Thought that horse didn’t let anyone near her.”

“She doesn’t. Didn’t,” Nate corrected himself.

Thinking of how gentle the horse had been with the woman, the lines of his face wrinkled, momentarily making him forget his irritation with his brothers. “Damnedest thing, too. She was feeding it by hand. It was all but cuddling in her lap, like some kinda lap dog.”

“Your problem is you don’t know how to deal with a stubborn female. Horses are no different. You have to be gentle, say all the right things to her. Make her feel special.”

“Oh, yeah, and I suppose you know how?”

“Damn right I do,” Holt said, barking out a laugh. “You have to whisper in her ear, tell her how sweet her…tail is,” he said, staring at his brother, laughter lurking in his eyes. “You do remember how to do that, right, Nate? Or do you need a crash course, brother? ’Cause if you do, I’m here for you, man…I’m here for you,” he said, his voice lowering to a whisper, stringing out the last words.

“Yeah, I got your crash course right here,” Nate replied, flipping his brother the bird. This time Holt openly laughed at him.

“You know what your problem is, Holt? You think everything is a damn joke,” Nate bit out, and caught the gleam of humor in Shilah’s eyes as well. This time he included him in his middle-finger salute as well.

“Since when do we need your permission to hire help around here?”

“Since the help you hired was a woman,” he replied, not giving an inch. “I damn sure don’t need another woman around here. Especially who, after realizing living on a ranch is not some bullshit Hollywood glamorized version, cuts out with the first man that comes her way.”

“Man…what the hell?” Holt asked, frowning.

As soon as Nathan made the retort, he wanted to snatch the words back, feeling like a fool. He didn’t need or want the pity he saw lurking in either one of his knuckle-headed brothers’ eyes once it dawned on them what he’d said and why.

Holt grabbed the back of his neck again, rubbing it, his face reddening. “Yeah, well, sorry, bro. I guess I wasn’t thinking. With Lilly about to have surgery in a few weeks and all, I figured she could use the help around the house. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, you know that…” His voice trailed off into an awkward silence.

“You won’t see much of her, anyway, Nate,” Shilah said, pulling away from the wall he’d been leaning against. “You don’t want her in the kitchen, that’s cool. There’s plenty of other things for her to do. And she’s not staying in the main house. She’s using the guest cottage. No worries. She’ll only be here for a short time, just until Lilly has the surgery and is back on her feet. She’ll be gone before you know it.” Shilah finished.

Nate eyed him suspiciously, wondering at the swift change in attitude. Although he didn’t like her using the guest cottage, the place he had built and planned to live in before Angela left, it was a better alternative to her living in his house. Under his roof.

Where he’d have easy access to her, night and day.

The errant thought blew across his mind before he could stop it, irritating him further.

“When you boys are done, dinner’s in the oven. I’m going out to take the men their food, then I’m going to lie down before supper,” Lilly interrupted before Nathan could speak.

All three men turned to look at her, completely forgetting her presence in the room as they argued, they were so used to her being around.

The emphasis she placed on calling them boys hadn’t been lost on any of them.

“Let me help you with that, Ms. Lilly,” Shilah said first, and she nodded her head toward the large covered dishes set on the counter. “Grab those.”

“Truth be told, I could use a little help around here. That previous boy didn’t last longer than a frog in heat; didn’t know his butt from a hole in the ground and I ended up doing most of the work myself.” She lifted the last dish from the oven and turned to place it on the stove. “I told you that boy was more trouble then he was worth. Don’t know why you didn’t hire that nice young woman from town like I told you to in the first place,” she finished, staring a hole in Nate.

He felt all of ten years old, fighting the urge to duck his head in shame at the silent reprimand.

Lilly was going to have knee surgery in a few months, and with the date soon to arrive and lots of work to do, Nate had hired the young man to help with household chores, refusing to entertain the idea of hiring one of the local women from town at Lilly’s suggestion.

He’d made no apologies for his “no woman hired” policy on the ranch, something everyone, including Lilly, had simply accepted as fact.

But now, with Lilly’s silent reprimand, and the fact that he’d probably made an ass of himself not only to the woman, but to his brothers about her being there, he knew he’d overreacted.

“You’d do well to give this one a chance, Nate. She actually looks like she understands the value of hard work. And sacrifice,” she said, and after one more considering look added, “something you and your brothers know too well. Think about it before you throw her away.” With that she turned and gathered the food, Shilah and Holt helping her, leaving Nate feeling like an idiot.

Now, as he drove into town, the entire situation was giving him a migraine he could damn well do without.

He floored the accelerator on his truck just as he was passing a cop, cursing when, after a glance in his rearview mirror, he caught sight of the cop peeling out from the side of the road and the accompanying flash of red lights.

Chapter 5

When Althea’s radio alarm blared to life she woke up with a start, her heart thumping against her rib cage as the lyrics to the old Clash song “Should I Stay or Should I Go” blared loudly from the small speakers.

With a groan she slapped a hand over the knob, beating the alarm into silent submission.

“Should I stay or should I go?” She asked the question out loud, thinking how appropriate the lyrics to the song were in her current situation.

The light peeking through the wide slatted blinds cast a beautiful amber glow over the room.

Although she’d awakened to the sun rising often over the last two years, this one was different. It was as though it was embracing her, filling her with a “newness” that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She shook her head at her flight of fancy, but the smile on her face lingered as she stretched her back. For once it didn’t scream at her in pain. The muscles weren’t tensed up as they usually were from a night spent on a bed that was either thin as paper or so lumpy it felt as though she’d slept on a bed of rocks all night.

Raising her arms above her head, she released a long, satisfying breath.

The bed she’d been sleeping on for the past week was queen-size with a thick, plush mattress, pulling a deep sigh of bliss from her lips.

She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to live decently.

No loud neighbors wakened her, either from cries of passion heard through the thin walls or screams and fighting, either. Nothing stopped her from getting a full eight hours of sleep. Not even her own mind.

After a week of this type of living, she knew she could get used to it.

The thought brought her eyes wide open and caused the smile to slip from her face. That kind of thinking was what she had to avoid.

Getting too comfortable in one place was something she couldn’t afford to do. With a sigh, she placed her hands on the side of her and pushed herself into an upright position.

She’d used the alarm to wake her, realizing after the first three nights the ease with which she’d slept, surprised when her personal inner alarm allowed her to sleep past dawn, was both surprising and disturbing.

Her glance slid over the room.

She spied her baseball bat across the room, propped up against the wall. She’d even forgotten to place it near her as she’d gone to sleep last night.

She flipped her feet over the side of the bed and rose. “Girl, you’re getting soft,” she murmured aloud to herself.

Althea headed toward the small, brightly lit kitchen to make tea, her bare feet sinking into the thick carpet, her mind on the changes in her life over the short time she’d lived at the ranch.

She’d been relieved when, after hiring her, the brothers had informed her she’d be staying in the guest cottage. It was close enough that the walk to the main house was only ten minutes but far enough way that she had a semblance of privacy.

It was an eclectic yet beautiful blending of rustic and contemporary design. Although no larger than fifteen hundred square feet, the open floor plan maximized the space, making full use of the living area and giving the cottage a larger feel.

The bedroom was sectioned off by five large floor-to-ceiling wood posts, and in the center of the room the queen sleigh-style bed was the focal point, its rich deep mahogany wood and scrolled etching unlike anything Althea had seen before.

In one corner was a stone-covered fireplace, similar to the one in the living area although slightly smaller, flanked by an antique-looking cheval mirror and Victorian-era chair that completed the furnishings.

There was a distinctly feminine touch to the room, making Althea wonder if a woman had had something to do with the decorating. Immediately she discounted the thought. With the way Nate Wilde had reacted to her, she doubted any woman, save Lilly, ever set foot in the cottage. At least not if he had anything to say about it.

The man obviously had issues.

As she walked through the cottage on her way to the kitchen, she glanced around the main living area. Although more rustic…masculine, in design, it too had a hint of softness, with its oversize furniture and ornately carved tables. As in the bedroom, there was a stone-covered fireplace, with a large, plush chocolate-brown rug set in front of it.

Althea paused, then walked over to the fireplace. Hunching down, she ran her hand over the soft pile, her fingers sinking deep into the fibers.

Out of nowhere came the image of her and Nathan Wilde sitting in front of the fireplace, drinking a glass of wine together, their bodies pressed close, their attention only on one another.

As soon as it did, she ridiculed herself for the fanciful image.

Nate Wilde had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he wanted nothing to do with her and if he had his way she’d be packed up and off the ranch, the sooner the better.

Not that she wanted him, even if he were so inclined.

She didn’t know one thing about the man. Had only met him once.

What she did know was that he was arrogant and condescending. She also knew he had a chip on his shoulder about women that even a blind man could see.

And he was so different from the type of man she normally was attracted to it was ludicrous to even think of the two of them sharing a glass of wine, or anything else for that matter.

With an almost cruel clarity her body mocked her, her nipples tensing as thoughts of him barged their way into her mind. Forcing her to remember the way his aftershave, mixed with his body’s natural scent, had blown across her senses, making her catch her breath when he’d stepped close to her inside the stall.

Or the look in his eyes when she’d issued the challenge to him. A look that said more than his words, one he probably wasn’t aware of himself. One every woman knew the meaning of when it crossed a man’s face.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath.

Rising, she walked toward the kitchen, poured water in the kettle and set it on the stove while she stood staring out of the small window. She didn’t know how long she stared outside, but the sound of the kettle whistling jarred her out of her thoughts. She poured the water into a mug, sunk a tea bag inside and sat down in one of the chairs at the dinette table.

Should she stay or should she go.

The lyrics of the song played around in her mind.

From the corner of her eye, she spied a penny lying on the carpet and rose slowly, walking over to it, a thoughtful frown on her face.

She lifted the coin from the carpet, fingering it.

“Heads I stay, tails I go. Seems a good enough way to decide as any,” she said, laughing humorlessly.

Closing her eyes, she flipped the coin in the air, willing to allow fate to make the decision for her.

In what seemed to be slow motion she watched it spin in the air before it landed, soundlessly, on the thick carpet at her feet. She waited a full minute before glancing at it.

Heads.

She lifted the coin, palmed it in the center of her hand.

“Two out of three,” she murmured.

Two more times the coin came up heads.

She sat back on her haunches, this time her laughter more relaxed. She shook her head. Not only because she was allowing a coin toss to decide her fate, but the fact that fate was seriously conspiring against her.

She took a deep breath, blew it out slowly and pulled herself together.

Despite everything that had happened to her over the past two years, she wasn’t a quitter. She was tired of running. Damn tired. And this seemed to be the perfect place, if only for a short while, to take a break from running. Do some thinking about her life, figure out how to untangle the mess it had become.

And if Nate Wilde had a problem with that…well, she had tackled bigger obstacles in her life. He wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

After breakfast, Althea took a leisurely shower, smiling in bliss when she squirted the foamy, deeply scented bath gel onto her sponge, the rich, decadent lather smooth and silky against her skin.

Much like the rest of the cottage, the bathroom was fully stocked with everything from designer shampoos to the shower gel that felt like silk against her skin.

After indulging for longer than she should have in the shower, she quickly dried off, hurrying through the rest of her morning routine. When it came time to get dressed, she paused as she rifled through her meager possessions.

“Jeans, or jeans…or then again, there’s jeans. Hmmm…what’ll it be?” She tilted her head as though seriously considering her options. “Jeans it is,” she said aloud, a reluctant laugh tumbling from her lips.

After lifting out the jeans, her hand brushed against her rare concession to feminine sensibility, one of only a few things she’d brought with her, nestled at the back of her drawer.

The proverbial little black dress.

She remembered the last time she’d worn it, at a black tie event with her father, the last one they’d been to together before he died. The smile drifted away from her face as she spied the small, framed photo of them she kept in the drawer. She lifted it and ran her thumb over his face.

“You look so handsome, Daddy,” she whispered.

It was the last photo she had of herself and her father together. That night had been the last night she’d seen her father alive.

She closed her eyes briefly and placed the photograph back where she kept it.

Thinking of the man who’d stolen her life, her world made her clench her jaw tight and battle against tears that were never too far away, threatening to consume her if she allowed them to.

But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

Angrily Althea swiped the back of her hand across her eyes.

Tears weren’t going to help her current situation, no more so than they could bring back her father. It was what it was, as that cliché saying went. But damn if it wasn’t a hard, bitter pill to swallow.

She carefully refolded the dress and placed it at the back of the drawer, along with the photograph.

She quickly dressed, choosing her standard jeans, thermal undershirt and sweater, stuffed her feet inside her worn tennis shoes before grabbing her parka and heading out the door, putting her emotional armor in place, ready to face whatever the day…or Nate Wilde…dealt her.

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