The first touch of his lips against hers ignited a flame that blew Holt’s earlier conviction—that his fascination with her was a passing thing—wide apart, like a pallet of dynamite

He slanted his mouth over hers, taking nibbling bites from her plush lower rim, pulling it inside his mouth and lavishing it with his tongue. She whimpered when he released it, only to glide his tongue across the seam of her lips in a sensual seesawing motion until she parted her lips for him, silently inviting him inside.

When he felt her tentatively reach out and wrap her arms loosely around his neck, Holt brought her closer, flush against him, her soft curves molding against his hard body. Her big, beautiful breasts pressed tightly against his chest.

He was on fire for her. What had started out as a simple need to taste her, to find out if her lips were as soft as they looked, had escalated into a blazing need that was beginning to consume him.

And damned if he didn’t want to get devoured in the blaze.

Dear Reader,

Writing Jasmine and Holt’s story, the second book in the Wyoming Wilde family miniseries, was rewarding, but often challenging! As I wrote their story and saw them coming to vivid life, these two characters were, at times, fun, sexy and completely irreverent. Other times they were stubborn and obstinate. They are two people who are bound and determined not to succumb to what everyone around them can see is inevitable—that they are falling in love. Hard.

What started off as a simple story of a woman who fell in love with a man, became one that was boundary-pushing and unpredictable, but always a hot, wild and amazing love story.

I hope you enjoy reading Jasmine and Holt’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

As always, keep it sexy;)

Kimberly Kaye Terry

About the Author

KIMBERLY KAYE TERRY

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 degree in social work and a master’s in human relations and has held licenses in social work and mental health therapy in 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.

Books by Kimberly Kaye Terry

Kimani Romance

Hot to Touch To Tempt a Wilde To Love a Wilde

To Love a
WILDE

Kimberly Kaye Terry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Chapter 1

“Are you okay, baby? Is the rope too tight?”

Hot liquid eased down her inner thighs in response to the words whispered coarsely against her neck.

“No.” She paused and drew in a breath. “They’re … they’re not too tight, I mean. I … I’m okay.” She stammered out the response.

“Good.”

One word and he had her going crazy.

Yasmine’s head tossed on the pillow, her lids tightly closed and her breath coming out in hitched puffs of air as she eagerly waited to feel his mouth against hers and his big body blanket her, forcing her farther down on the mattress.

“But you have to tell me, baby.”

She shivered as the whispered words feathered along her neck. Her body bowed, arching toward him, desperate to meet his scalding-hot touch.

“Tell you … tell you what?” she panted, groaning when he captured the lobe of her ear with his teeth and tugged.

“You know what I want to hear.” He licked the side of her neck with his tongue.

She felt his hand skim up her thigh, past her hip, over her waist and up the midline of her body before he cupped one of her breasts in his big hand, strumming his thumb over her nipple until it tightened against his palm.

“Tell me, Yas.” He drawled the words against her ear in a voice so deep it sent shivers dancing along her spine. The breath that fanned the hair at her temple made her draw in a ragged breath.

Even as she arched into his embrace, ready to tell him whatever it was he wanted to hear, to end the sensual storm that raced in her body, the same one that had been burning for ten years, a nagging buzz in the distance distracted her, refusing to go away.

In frustration she raised a hand, surprised at the ease with which she removed it from the ropes binding her wrists together, and batted away at thin air, as though to make the noise go away.

It grew louder, more insistent. She opened her mouth, ready to tell him whatever he needed to hear, to tell him how she really felt about him, the way she’d felt about him since the first time she’d met him, when she was no more than a child. Ready to tell him that as much as she’d tried to let go and move on with her life, thoughts of him were always there, in the back of her mind, hovering … but the buzz grew so loud and strident Yasmine knew she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Her eyes flew open.

With a cry of disappointment and pent-up frustration, she glared up at the ceiling, her heart pounding and sweat trickling down the valley between her breasts.

She didn’t have to look around to see if she was alone. She already knew.

She’d had yet another wake-me-up-before-I-go-go dream, featuring none other than Holt Wilde. Another scalding-hot dream where yet again she’d awakened horny, frustrated. And all alone.

“Don’t forget that part,” she mumbled aloud in self-disgust. “Seems like I’ve been alone my entire life.”

She shook her head in a feeble attempt to dispel the lingering images of the two of them locked in an embrace so hot she felt her cheeks burn. She swallowed deeply, placing her palms over her burning face.

She’d traveled the world, studied with some of the world’s best chefs, and now, after her stunning win of a televised major culinary competition, she was able to see her lifelong dream of owning her own upscale restaurant come to life.

Her life now was exactly as she dreamed it would be and more.

She had no time in her life for adolescent dreams. Now wasn’t the time to allow ghosts from her past to enter her life. Even if the ghost was six-feet-plus of raw masculinity that had filled enough dreams to last her a lifetime.

At any rate, it wasn’t as though she had now or ever occupied his thoughts the way he had hers. The man didn’t even know she was alive.

“Time to face the world … seize the moment, and all that jazz,” she mumbled, purposely infusing energy and optimism into her voice, reciting her favorite mantra. Even to her own ears, her voice was flat.

Yasmine rose from bed and stuffed her feet inside her slippers before making her way to the bathroom.

Just as she was turning on the showerhead, the phone rang. After glancing at the clock, seeing the early hour, she was seconds away from ignoring it, thinking it was just some telemarketer. Saturday mornings seemed to be their M.O. for calling her, nine times out of ten. But with everything going on in her life over the past few months, she didn’t want to chance missing an important call.

Grabbing the bath towel from the hook near the shower door she hastily wrapped it around her body, walked over and snatched up the phone.

“How’s my baby girl doing this morning?” A familiar voice spoke into the phone, and with a small smile, Yasmine plopped back down on the sofa that also served as her bed. “I called you earlier, but you weren’t home. Did you get my message?”

“I’m doing great, Aunt Lilly, definitely can’t complain! And, no, I haven’t had a chance to check my voice messages, I’m sorry. How are you?” she answered, a smile on her face.

“I’m fine, baby. And so proud of you I could just about pop! I got the magazine in the mail yesterday and almost hurt myself running around showing everyone my baby!” she enthused, and Yasmine laughed outright.

She’d sent her aunt a copy of a top culinary magazine and the one that sponsored the Top Young Chef competition she’d recently won. That month’s issue featured Yasmine on the cover, trophy in hand, along with a two-page spread inside highlighting Yasmine’s win of the competition.

“I went to town yesterday, and, baby, I must have bought out every copy of the magazine they had at the local Walmart! I even had one of the articles with your picture framed and mounted!” she said, and Yasmine could hear the pride oozing from her voice.

Yasmine sat back on the bed, her smile growing as she listened to her aunt’s glowing praise. She herself was still reeling from it all and was having a hard time believing how her life had changed so dramatically, particularly over the last month.

“Aunt Lilly, half the time I feel like pinching myself to make sure this isn’t all some dream,” she said, laughing. “I still can’t believe it all.”

“Well, believe it, baby. You worked hard for it, and deserve every bit of happiness life can give you. I’m happy that I had a small bit to do with that.”

“You had more than a little to do with it, Aunt Lilly. I don’t know what I would have done without you, during the competition as well as my entire life,” she said softly, and both women were silent for a moment.

“Enough about me, how are you doing? Everything going well on the ranch? Anything new and exciting happening?” Yasmine said, injecting a cheerful note into her voice.

“Yes, it’s all going well, baby. Same ole, same ole, as they say,” Lilly said, lightly laughing before pausing and clearing her throat. “Well, with the exception of planning the wedding.”

At that, Yasmine’s hand gripped the receiver tighter. “Wedding? What wedding? Who’s getting married?” Her stomach fell when her aunt didn’t immediately respond, and she sat up straight in the bed, her hand tightening on the phone.

“Who’s getting married, Mama Lilly?” she asked, reverting to the name she unconsciously called her aunt whenever she grew upset.

“Nathan is, baby girl,” Lily answered softly, knowing what caused Yasmine’s reaction.

“Nate?” she asked, surprised.

“I’m as shocked as you are.” Lily laughed and continued, “We all are.” She went on to fill Yasmine in on the story. As she listened, Yasmine unconsciously blew out a breath of air, closing her eyes, the knot of anxiety in her stomach easing away.

“I hope I’m invited to the wedding,” she said hesitantly.

“Of course, Yasmine, you’re family!”

There was another short pause. This time she distinctly heard her aunt expel a long breath, making her frown.

“What is it, Aunt Lilly? Spill. What’s going on that you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing’s going on, baby, what are you talking about? I just was thinking, that’s all.”

“About?”

Although Yasmine loved her aunt like a mother, there were times when she wanted to scream in frustration when trying to pry something out of her, particularly if it would make her aunt worry. This was one of those times. The fact that her aunt had called her twice in the same day should have alerted Yasmine that something was going on.

“Well, I didn’t want to worry you. But it seems as though I’m going to have to have surgery,” Lilly finally said, and Yasmine sat straight up, the knot of dread returning, this time for her aunt.

“Surgery? What type of surgery? What do you mean surgery? When? What are you talking about, Aunt Lilly? Why are you just now telling me?” She asked the questions in back-to-back succession.

“Baby, calm down! Listen … it’s nothing major, I—”

“No big deal? How can you say that? Wha—”

“If you would let me finish,” Lilly broke in, and Yasmine stopped and drew in a breath.

“Like I said, it’s not major. You know how bad my knees are. This time it’s my right knee. It’s going out on me again. Docs want to give me another knee-joint replacement.”

“Another one? You just had that one—”

“Fifteen years ago, Yas.” Lilly again broke in. “Just a few years before you came to live with me, baby,” she said, chuckling softly.

“Oh,” Yasmine replied, sitting back on the sofa, her body slumping.

Time had flown by. It seemed like yesterday she’d come to live with her aunt after her parents had dropped her off, unable … or unwilling … to take her with them as they went off on one of their “grand adventures.” Although she missed her parents when she was sent to her aunt’s, she’d later be thankful, as Lily had become a second mother to her after her parents died in a plane crash.

Yasmine expelled a long, relieved breath. Although she preferred her aunt didn’t have to have any type of surgery, this was one she could handle. “Who’s going to take care of your ‘boys’ while you’re recuperating?” she said, and heard Lilly’s husky, soft laugh again.

Lilly never made it a secret how much she loved the Wildes … or her boys, as most, including Yasmine, referred to them.

After Jed Wilde had adopted the boys formally, he had hired Lilly on as the housekeeper to do light cleaning and to cook for his new family and the ranch hands he employed, as well. Eventually she’d moved in with the family, living in the home with them, and had become much more than an employee. She’d become family.

When Yasmine had shown up on her doorstep after the death of her parents, not only had Lilly welcomed her, so had Jed and his adopted sons.

Lilly had always treated her as though she was the daughter she’d never had, loved and cared for her, fussed at her when she needed it. She was the mother Yasmine had always wanted, and she couldn’t have asked for a better parent.

But for her to ask her to come back to the ranch, face Holt again, was something she didn’t think she could do, not even for her aunt.

“Baby … I need you,” Lilly said.

And just like that, she had her.

With a barely suppressed groan, Yasmine agreed.

Chapter 2

Yasmine brushed away the hair that had escaped the tight chignon she’d so meticulously created that morning with one hand as she dragged her wheeled suitcase behind her with the other, avoiding passengers as she hurried along the airport terminal.

Her stomach rolled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since early that morning, and that had been nothing more than a bran muffin and a cup of coffee before she headed out to the airport.

But she knew it wasn’t the lack of food that was making her stomach grumble or giving her the overall queasy feeling in her gut. No, lack of food had nothing to do with her current state. To say she was on edge was putting it mildly.

Soon after assuring her aunt that she’d come home, she’d gotten in touch with the producer from the popular food and cooking network. After winning the reality-show competition, she’d been approached to host her own show, and like everything else, it was a dream come true for Yasmine.

But her aunt needed her and there was no way she could turn away from helping. Relieved, she was told that the show was still in the development stage and they needed to iron out details, such as the location and theme of the show. Although she hadn’t signed a formal contract, she was assured they were still very much interested in her and that her six-week absence would be acceptable. By that time, they would have everything ready, and she could do the first taping.

Relieved, she’d scratched one thing off of her to-do list and made the second call, this one to Clayton Moore, the owner of some of the most upscale restaurants in New York, who’d also approached her for the position as executive chef at one of his restaurants.

“Of course! Absolutely that’s no problem, Yas!” he’d assured her to her relief, when she’d asked if she could have more time to think about his offer and told him of her aunt’s need for her.

Although she’d felt the slightest bit uncomfortable with him using the shortened version of her name, she brushed it off, listening intently as he continued. “I told you, I’m very much interested in you … working for me, that is,” he’d said, quickly clarifying, making her unease escalate.

After her win of the show and the subsequent media attention, to Yasmine’s astonishment the offers had come pouring in from all directions. From requests to pitch a “miracle” dicer and slicer on one of the shopping networks to pitchwoman for a local down-home fast-food joint, the offers had been coming regularly.

“You take care of what you need to, and I’ll see you in a few weeks. And remember, I’m just a phone call away. In fact, before you head out, if you have time, I’d love to bring you by the restaurant, maybe have dinner. And discuss anything you might have questions about?” he’d asked, and Yasmine could feel his big smile come through the phone.

Something about his smile reminded her of the wolf in “Little Red Riding Hood.” And she definitely was beginning to feel like Little Red herself when, after the first meeting, his assessing glance brushed over her, subtly but with enough attention that she grew uncomfortable.

She’d shaken off the feeling when the rest of the meeting had gone smoothly and he hadn’t been in the least bit unprofessional.

Clayton Moore was definitely a mover and shaker in the restaurant business, and for him to offer Yasmine such a coveted position, as executive chef with two souschefs of her own, along with a full kitchen crew, was beyond remarkable.

Although she’d planned to use her earnings and newfound notoriety to open her own restaurant, the offer was more than appealing. If she accepted it, she’d be one of the youngest chefs to attain such a lauded position.

As for Clayton … Yasmine was more than aware that he was interested in offering her something more than a job. From the moment they’d met, the handsome entrepreneur had made his interest known.

Tall, dark, handsome and sophisticated. Clayton Moore was everything she should want in a man.

The minute Clayton’s face came to her mind, another man’s image superimposed its way over his. Forced its way in. Arrogantly shoved the other man’s image away as though he had every right to, Yasmine thought in irrational irritation.

Holt Wilde, the youngest of the Wilde men.

And each time it did, she ruthlessly shoved away the image of his big, hard body, along with the Stetson he always wore low, shadowing his bright blue eyes and hiding that half smile he seemed to favor … the one that always gave her shivers even when it wasn’t directed at her.

It wasn’t as though he was forcing her to think of him. In fact, she doubted she herself ever came to his mind.

Maybe that was what was more irritating than anything else, Yasmine thought glumly. The fact that she alone had this obsession with a man who probably didn’t even remember her, much less think of her on a regular basis, like clockwork, as she had him, all these years.

“I need serious intervention,” she mumbled aloud. “One-on-one, put me in the prayer circle and douse me with holy water type of intervention.”

Out of her peripheral vision Yasmine saw a young mother tug her toddler closer toward her, eyeing Yasmine with a frown on her face.

There she went again, talking out loud. Ugly habit she had, whenever anything plagued her.

“And Holt Wilde is just one big old plague,” she said out loud, again.

This time the woman grabbed her child’s hand and hurried in the opposite direction from Yasmine.

She ignored the woman and straightened her shoulders as she continued to stride through the airport. But no more.

No, she was determined that by the end of her stay at the ranch, things would change, she’d make sure of it. While helping her aunt, she had another agenda in mind. She would, once and for all, exorcise all thoughts and fantasies of the one man who had invaded her mind for nearly twenty years, rid herself of the feelings, feelings she knew were simply a residue of her girlhood crush, once and for all.

This time she would be the one to walk away …

Holt bit back a curse as he waited impatiently for the van packed full of tourists to move along. The uniformed police officer who whistled and waved his baton in front of the double-parked van in front of the airport was about as effective as an ass on a gnat, Holt thought, his irritation escalating.

Apprehension had his damn guts tied in knots, which didn’t help his current situation.

When his brother had asked him to pick up Lilly’s niece, Yasmine, from the airport, to say it was the last thing he wanted to do was putting it mildly. It was Sunday, the day he and his brothers, as well as the rest of the ranch hands, took it easy, the day they all attended to their own interests.

He thought back on his interest. That would be the blonde beauty he’d left in bed curled up around his pillow earlier that morning after he’d received the call from his brother Nate.

All thoughts of going another round with the woman came to a screeching halt when Nate had informed him that their housekeeper, Lilly, a woman they viewed more as a mother than an employee, needed a favor.

With her surgery coming up, the doctor had ordered as much rest for Lilly as possible, and the hour-and-a-half drive to pick her niece up from the airport wasn’t something she could manage.

He’d sat straight up in bed, impatiently shoving the hair from his eyes as he’d listened while his brother blithely went on to tell him that Holt needed to pick Yasmine up from the airport, as no one else was available.

Holt’s thick brows came together in a deep frown as he inched along the congested traffic at the airport, remembering the conversation.

“No one else can get her?” He’d questioned his oldest brother while glancing down at the woman who lay cuddled close to him, sound asleep in bed. “What about Jake? Last I knew he was staying at the ranch more than he was in town. Can’t he pick her up?”

Momentarily distracted, he saw her move … He frowned, trying to think of the woman’s name … Amy. Amy inched closer to him, the sheet covering her slim body slipping down to reveal one of her small, plump breasts. Before the call, that would have been more than enough enticement for Holt to awaken the sleepy woman and go at it another round.

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.

Beauty aside, Yasmine now exuded a sexy confidence, one that didn’t jibe with his memories of the shy, clumsy girl he’d known long ago. One that made him even more aware of her than he ever had been back then, reminding him how as even a young girl there had always been something about her that had both attracted him to her and made him want to run the complete and opposite direction away from her.

Not that she had ever done anything to him to make him feel that way.

He turned to glance her way. She was staring out of the passenger window, deep in thought. Nerves assaulted him, which made not one bit of damn sense. He’d known Yasmine since she was a young girl, when she’d moved to the ranch after her parents died. He remembered the day she first came and Jed had allowed Lilly to introduce her to the family.

She’d barely spoken a word, simply bobbed her head up and down as Lilly introduced her to the family. She’d solemnly shaken hands with his father and his brothers. When he struck out his hand to shake it, she’d only placed her hand in his for a brief moment before snatching it back as though she’d burned it. He’d caught the way her eyes had widened when they met his and the subtle way she’d wiped her palms down the side of the red-and-white gingham dress she wore.

A smile of remembrance split his face for a fraction of a moment before he frowned. The fact that he remembered what she wore, from the top of her plaited hair down to the old but polished Mary Jane shoes she wore surprised him.

“Lord, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen that,” she said, dragging him out of his thoughts. He turned and glanced out of the window. The stretch of the two-laned highway bordered a ranch, where in the distance cows were contently grazing.

“Don’t see much of that where you live, I suppose,” he said, and turned back to the road.

She laughed softly. “No, not really. Nothing but glass and buildings, bustling people and everybody is always busy … There’s never a dull moment.”

There was a short pause before he continued.

“Do you ever miss it? Ranch life, I mean,” he asked. “Does all that … busyness get too much?”

He felt her gaze on him before she sighed softly. “I do sometimes. Miss the ranch. Mostly I miss the quiet,” she replied, her voice soft. Although Holt kept his focus on the road as she continued, he listened attentively to her. There was something different about her, something indefinable. He wondered if and how much she’d changed from the sweet, shy girl she was the last time he’d spoken with her, nearly ten years ago.

“But I love the life I’m living. I enjoy what I do … the traveling, meeting new people, new adventures. My life is now what I always wanted it to be.” She paused, then continued. “What I always dreamed it would be, anyway. Sometimes I have to pinch myself just to make sure it isn’t just a dream,” she said, laughing softly.

“I’m not surprised at all that you’re successful, Yasmine. I remember even as a young girl you were always in the kitchen with your aunt, helping to cook. You always seemed at home there. And damn if some of the creations you came up with weren’t some of the best cooking I’ve ever had,” he complimented her, lightening the moment.

Yasmine laughed outright. “I guess you don’t remember some of those hot-mess creations of mine, then?”

He chose that moment to glance her way and nearly hit the car in front of him. One side of her sensual, generous mouth hitched in a smile, and a deep dimple flashed in her cheek. He hastily turned his attention back to the road in front of him.

Ahead the two-lane road they were traveling had stilled due to construction. The road sign indicated it would be one lane for the next two miles, causing a small cluster of congestion. He turned back around to face her.

“Well, all I remember is what a fantastic chef you were. And I’m proud of you, Yas. We all are,” he added, clearing his throat before continuing. “So tell me all about it. What was it like to win the competition?”

Her smile grew and her face became even more animated. “I swear I’ve never seen so many drama queens as I did during the taping of the show!” She laughed, and proceeded to fill him in on the behind-the-scenes action, which was much more drama-filled than what the camera crew had been able to capture. Not that they hadn’t tried.

By the time she finished they were both laughing, and the earlier awkwardness evaporated. Yasmine went on to tell him how she felt the moment the competition heated, and she, along with the last two competitors, were the only ones left from the original twelve contestants.

As he inched along in traffic, Holt became caught up in simply watching her as she spoke, the way she used her hands to speak, the deep sparkle in her dark eyes, the way she nearly bounced in her seat, she was so animated. So much so that one of the buttons on her blouse threatened to slip free if she kept moving like that.

Holt firmly kept his eyes away from watching her chest and admiring the way her silk blouse clung and molded her generous breasts.

Damn, she most definitely had grown up, he thought.

“And now I hear you’re going to be an executive chef at a famous restaurant? Starring in your own show, as well? That’s got to be exciting. But like I said, I’m not surprised.” He encouraged her to continue the conversation, enjoying listening to her, watching her animated face as the traffic all but stilled.

“That came out of the blue,” she said, shaking her head, the smile still on her face. “The offer for my own show, that is. As far as the restaurant, it’s something I’ve dreamed of. I just never thought it would happen this soon.”

“Yeah, it seems like all of your dreams are coming true, Yas. And it’s everything you deserve.”

There was a slight lull as Yasmine sat back, the smile slipping from her face as she turned to him.

“God, I’ve spent the last hour talking about myself. I’m sorry!” she said, her cheeks flushing with color.

“No, I’ve enjoyed hearing about what you’ve been up to. It’s been a long time since we’ve actually spoken. I like hearing about what’s been going on in your world, Yas,” he said.

It hit him that he hadn’t realized how much he’d actually missed her, not really seeing her over the past ten years, and only hearing about her adventures through her aunt.

“I’m looking forward to getting reacquainted,” he finished.

“Thank you,” she murmured. Holt caught a hint of a blush steal across her cheeks when he risked a glance her way, capturing his attention before he forced himself to look away.

He hid a grin. So, he could still make her blush.

It was a start.

“So, Holt Magnum Wilde … what have you been up to?” she asked, and he heard the humor in her voice.

Holt had studiously avoided letting anyone know his middle name, only using his middle initial whenever he signed a document. It had always been a source of embarrassment. From what he’d gathered, his mother, at the time of his birth, had been enamored of an old television show featuring a character of the same name. Outside of his brothers, no one else knew what the middle initial stood for.

Well, with the exception of Miss Lilly and obviously Yasmine.

She laughed as he groaned, and Holt immediately felt an answering grin tug at the corners of his mouth at the sound of her tinkling laughter.

Once it died down he answered her question, infusing as much of a casual note into it as he could. “After Dad died my senior year in college, I came home for the summer and helped my brothers with the ranch. Things were hectic around the place for a while, but we pulled together, got everything back on target.”

“I was sorry to hear about his death. He was a good man,” she said softly, placing her hand on his arm. Immediately she drew back.

He knew the gesture had been instinctive to her, she’d always been a warm person and didn’t mean it as anything but a way to show comfort. But he felt the heat of her soft hand through his jacket as though she had made direct skin-to-skin contact, sending a jolt of electricity from his arm directly to his groin.

“Yeah, he was. He’s still missed. The place isn’t the same without him,” he said, remembering the man he’d called father for nearly ten years. The only man he’d ever been able to call that name.

“I’m sure he would be proud of you … you and your brothers,” she murmured, sympathy in her voice. “Proud of what you all have done with the ranch.” She paused and lightly massaged his arm. It was all Holt could do to keep it together, keep his mind on the conversation.

He turned to her, his glance falling first to her hand and then to her blouse. The button that had been threatening to come loose had finally slipped free of the fastening, and he caught a peek of the lace that covered the crests of her breasts.

Taking his hand off the wheel briefly, he covered her hand, squeezed it, before casually removing it.

He wanted to curse when he saw the crestfallen look on her face, the way her cheeks again bloomed with color, this time, he knew, from embarrassment. He realized instantly she perceived his action as some kind of rejection. But damn if he could allow her to continue her innocent, yet stimulating, massage. Not without slamming into the car in front of them and causing an accident.

As it was, he was having a hard enough time keeping his erection in check around her, and had been since the moment he saw her bending over, her round little butt filling her jeans to perfection, and the peek he’d gotten of her slim waist as her shirt lifted away from the waistband of her jeans … He drew in a deep breath.

“Anyway, after that I returned to school, got drafted into the NFL and played professional football for a few years.

“Yes, I knew that … I mean, Mama Lilly mentioned you playing pro when you got drafted,” she said, correcting herself.

Yasmine swallowed an embarrassed groan after he gently, yet firmly, removed her hand from his arm.

God, what had possessed her to touch him like that?

In all actuality she hadn’t thought much about her actions, simply reached out to him … it had come so naturally. But, as soon as she had, she’d felt an electric heat sear her hand when she’d touched him.

And it didn’t help matters in the least that her stupid blouse refused to stay closed. At that moment the button popped open, and the look in his eyes when he glanced down at her had made her treacherous nipples respond in kind. It was as though someone had kicked up the air-conditioning fifty degrees colder.

She’d ordered the shirt online, and hadn’t tried it on before donning it that morning, along with the just-as-useless new bra. Not that he’d believe her if she told him—he probably thought she’d worn the shirt on purpose, knowing it was a size too small.

And besides, even if she said anything, she’d feel even more foolish drawing more attention to the fact, she thought glumly.

As far as knowing what he’d been up to, well, she’d been well aware of Holt and his activities, at least the ones that seemed to make the news with the regularity that would make any one of the celebrity male sex sym bols green with envy. He’d had his pick of women, beautiful women, from actresses and models to heiresses and famous female athletes.

His … exploits had been fodder for many a news outlet, particularly during his time playing pro ball.

Much as he’d been during the time she’d lived at the ranch, Holt Magnum Wilde was still a magnet to women. Beautiful, rich … sophisticated women.

Although he’d only played pro ball for three years before retiring, it seemed he was just as busy off the field as he was on the field.

In every photo she’d seen, he’d had a woman draped on his arm.

More often than not, two. Sometimes three.

Every time she’d glance and see his name mentioned in regards to a woman, Yasmine had subconsciously held her breath, waiting for the time when one of them proved to be more than a passing fling, yet they never had.

Even retired, although his exploits weren’t as well advertised, the man still managed to make news. Nothing had changed.

As usual, with some woman on his arm, from the heiress he’d dated last year to the daughter of one of the most lucrative cattle farmers in Wyoming, he still had his pick from a bevy of women to choose from.

And although they’d seemed to click on the ride, and his interest in her life seemed real, he still saw her as nothing more than that little girl who’d had a crush on him.

Obviously nothing had changed about him in that regard, either.

She suppressed a sigh, planting the largest, fakest smile on her face that she could when he glanced her way, hoping he couldn’t read her thoughts.

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