To Claim a Wilde (Wilde In Wyoming Book 6) (3 page)

She inhaled a swift breath.

Naomi couldn’t have looked away had her friend told her the club was on fire.

Chapter 2

“B
ut then again, would it be
sooo
bad meeting Mr. Right? How romantic would that be... I mean sure, you’d have to stay in Wyoming, but then again— Uh, Naomi?”

Naomi was oblivious to the small fingers being snapped in front of her face. “Girl...are you even
listening
to me? Naomi?” Now frustration flavored her friend’s tone.

Alyssa stopped her monologue and stared at Naomi, still snapping her fingers in front of Naomi’s face in an attempt to get her friend’s attention.

Naomi tore her gaze away from Canton and turned her focus to her friend.

“Huh?” she asked, feeling completely unglued.

Naomi had no idea how long she and Canton Wilde had exchanged that long, intense moment.

For Naomi, it felt as though time had stood still. Unconsciously, she brought her fingers to her forehead to wipe away the sweat she knew just
had
to be there.

Dear God, the man had brought her to a heated mess with just a look. But it was more than a look. It was a sensual exchange, the likes of which she’d never experienced.

“Girl, ummm, are you okay?” Alyssa asked, a look of concern etched on her pretty face.

“Yeah, I’m good... I, just, uh, was checking out everything,” Naomi murmured, trying to gather her wits about her enough to form a coherent reply. “That’s all,” she replied, forcing a casual smile. “So this is game night, huh? Looks like fun!” she went on, completely flustered from her exchange with Canton Wilde, but trying desperately to adopt a cheerful facade for her friend. “I should have let you bring me here before! Of course, as I’m just now legally able to, I guess that couldn’t have happened, huh?”

Naomi clamped her mouth shut, feeling as though she were blabbering. Nerves. That’s all it was.

Rattled nerves had her blabbering incoherently, sweating and acting crazy.

She offered Alyssa another shaky smile, hooked her jacket over the back of her bar stool and climbed back onto the high-backed chair.

She hastily lifted her drink from the table and brought the cool glass tumbler to her lips.

Alyssa was watching her carefully, a concerned look on her face.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Naomi waved her concern away with a flip of her hand as she took a healthy swallow of the drink Alyssa had ordered them.

The alcohol smoothly went down, the taste a curious blend of sweet and sour; oddly mellow, and
very
good.

Moments later, the liquid began to burn her throat slightly. But it was too late; Naomi had drunk half the glass before she realized its potency.

She scowled and placed the drink on the table, and gave her friend a
look.
“Girl, what in the world did you order for me?” she asked with a squeaky voice, the strength of the alcohol compromising her vocal cords temporarily.

“Oh, it’s not that bad! It’s just an apple martini. They’re delicious!” Alyssa replied, and to prove her point took a healthy swallow of her own.

With a lifted brow Naomi watched her friend try to fake the funk and pretend the drink wasn’t strong.

She gave her friend kudos when she held her own, only giving a slight grimace, but still had to tease her. “Uh-huh, right!”

“Well, I thought it was innocent!” Alyssa said, holding back a laugh. “But, look, it came with a little umbrella. How could anything be bad that comes with its own little parasol?” Ever the comedian, she lifted the tiny drink accessory in her hand and twirled it around. “Awwww...see, isn’t it cute?”

“Yeah, sure, Lyssa. It’s about as cute and innocent as a baby rattlesnake,” Naomi replied drily.

“You know, the drinks they serve here on game night are known to sprout hairs on your chest. If you’re not used to strong drinks, you might wanna stick with a Shirley Temple.”

Naomi swiveled in her chair and nearly fell out of her seat when she glanced up, way up, into the eyes of Canton Wilde.

When she toppled forward, but before she could actually fall, he was there, big hand cupping her elbow, steadying her.

“You okay?” he asked in his deep, sexy-as-hell voice.

Large, sculpted, beautifully defined muscles were revealed in the short-sleeved checked shirt he wore as he held on to her arm. In reflex, she grabbed his forearm to steady herself, feeling the ripple of coiled masculine strength beneath her fingertips.

Naomi barely repressed the desire to hold on and never,
ever
let go. She bobbed her head up and down, robbed of speech when he asked her again if she were okay.

Girl, get yourself together,
she mentally chastised herself.

“Yeah, um, I’m fine,” she said, not speaking much above a whisper, and she didn’t think he heard her in the loud club.

“Yeah, you are,” he replied.

Startled, not thinking she heard right, Naomi’s eyes flew to his, and she flushed at the look in his stare.

The clarity of his meaning shone brightly in his gaze, and Naomi knew he was the one.

Standing so close to her, Naomi could
smell
him. Her eyes nearly feathered shut at his appeal. His cologne was lightly woodsy, blending with his own natural scent, which made for an intoxicating aroma.

She inhaled deeply, taking in all of him, everything feminine in her coming alive as she reveled in his unique masculine scent.

Naomi made a bold decision.

One she probably wouldn’t have made had she been (1) completely sober, and (2) not goaded into a rash act by her friend’s meddling.

Actually, in her heart Naomi knew that Alyssa had nothing, absolutely
nothing
to do with the decision she was making. The decision to claim Canton Wilde for the night.

Just one night.

“May I?” he asked, interrupting her scandalous musings.

“Yes, um, of course,” she said, without looking or asking Alyssa if it was okay for him to sit with them.

In all honesty, Alyssa had all but vanished from her mind and thoughts.

Which was why she didn’t notice the “shit-eating grin,” as her daddy would call the look on Alyssa’s face. Or her mumbled excuse to leave the table, to go say hi to a “friend” she saw across the bar.

For Canton and Naomi, there was no one else but the two of them. He sat across from her and placed his hand over hers and she shivered.

“Before I ask to buy you a drink, will you share your name?” he asked, a deep dimple creased just one cheek, and Naomi nearly groaned aloud at the sexy characteristic. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

She shook her head and offered a slight grin.

“No, you won’t tell me your name, or no, I can’t buy you a drink?” he asked, and her grin widened.

“No, no! I mean, yes, you can ask my name, but no, I have had enough. I, um, think I need to keep a clear head around you, Canton Wilde,” she said and nearly bit her tongue out when he widened his eyes.

“I’m at a disadvantage, apparently. You know mine, but I don’t know yours,” he said, the small smile still in place, and she relaxed.

“It’s Naomi. Naomi McBride. And I, um, I know about you and your brothers. Your sister, too. I mean, who doesn’t know about you? I mean, the Wildes. I mean—”

She stopped, and clamped her mouth shut. If she said “I mean” one more time, she’d find a way to kick her
own
ass...

He laughed outright.

Hmm. Naomi barely held back a moan. The sound of his full laughter caused several people around them to turn and look. The closest table was a group of women, who all gave Canton a head-to-toe, in-depth once-over. Something Naomi was sure he got a lot. The man was fine with a capital
F
.

The fact that he was looking only at her, and not giving the table of ogling women any notice, made her smile brighten just that much more and her confidence kick up another notch.

“Well, if I can’t buy you a drink, how about a dance?” he asked, grin still in place on his
fine
face.

The thought of being that close to Canton, his unique scent washing over her, brought a fresh rash of goose bumps slithering over her entire body.

Naomi was hopeful yet nervous of what
might
be...

She made a promise to herself right then that before the night was over, if she had her way, they’d be doing a lot more than dancing.

Naomi nodded and smiled, meeting his hot blue stare, his eyes searching hers for what, she had no clue. She drew in a ragged breath as she held his gaze before she placed her small hand within his much larger one.

As he led her to the dance floor, she gave no protest when he drew her body close, so
tight
...she felt the length of his hardness, his girth against her stomach. She swallowed. Oh, my...

As he wrapped his strong, muscled arms around her slim waist, without thought or hesitation Naomi brought her hands up to rest on his hips, her fingers casually twisting around the loops of his belt while her head rested against his rock-hard chest.

The beat of his heart strummed strongly, deeply, against her ear. Even his heartbeat was purely masculine.

Hypnotic.

She allowed her eyes to drift close.

Chapter 3

Seven years later

C
anton Wilde leaned back against the antique brass railing surrounding the wraparound porch, crossed his big booted feet one over the over, and observed the woman he’d been watching for over fifteen minutes.

His attention was fixed, unwavering on the woman. With little thought to the brisk air besides lifting the collar of his worn plaid shirt, Canton continued his observation of her. She appeared to be in the midst of fighting a losing battle with the seat belt inside her old Jeep. Even though he was a distance away, Canton could clearly
feel
her irritability.

A chuckle erupted from his mouth.

He shoved away from the railing.

Canton wasn’t sure if it was the surprise of his own chuckle, one he admitted, if only to himself, was a rare thing to hear. Or if it was the sight of the woman as she finally emerged from the Jeep that made him catch his breath and push away. Once he got a good look, his Wilde instinct kicked in...it was more of the latter than the first.

He narrowed his eyes and leaned back again, at an angle that placed him away from her line of vision should she glance his way.

Damn if he even knew what in hell had made him stop in the first place. He’d intended to grab something to eat and a beer at the end of the day, tired as hell and pissed off at the latest load of crap he’d had to deal with from Cyrus White, the representative from the Rolling Hills Corporation, a task he detested.

His older brother, Tiber, who like him and his siblings was part owner of Wilde Oil Enterprises, was also the family lawyer. Tiber was the Wilde who dealt with the other bigwigs, execs and lawyers alike.
Tiber
was the sophisticated Wilde. The Wilde who dealt with the likes of snakes such as Cyrus without wanting to wring his narrow-ass neck. Something Canton wished like hell to do. But he promised Tiber he’d refrain.

Tiber was all the things Canton was not. Refined, tactful when need be, when dealing with other corporate types. A fact Canton was immensely happy about.

Until he’d had to take over for his brother.

He bit out a curse.

Tiber was out of country at the moment, so the job of acting CEO fell to Canton. He’d much rather be out on one of their oil rig sites with the men, overseeing the drill or working on one of the rigs right alongside them as he was known to do on occasion. Somewhere he’d be right now had he not had to fill in for his brother.

Being in the field with the men was much better than behind some damn desk dealing with corporate America.

If Canton had his way, he’d have nothing to do with either Cyrus or Rolling Hills. Neither the man nor the company he represented had sat well with Canton. Something was
off
about both. He always left feeling apprehensive and annoyed after any dealings with either. And he never felt that way when he was on the rig.

But at the last family meeting, he, along with his brothers, Tiber and Brick, and their younger sister, Riley, had decided that they’d hear the company out, after the board had given Tiber a report containing the preliminary offer. Canton, as CFO, had already gone over the numbers several times with their head of accounting.

After the family made a favorable decision, Tiber, who was at the time acting CEO of Wilde Oil Enterprises, was to be the contact for the Wildes with Rolling Hills.

That was before there was trouble with one of the Wildes’ international accounts and Tiber had been forced to go overseas and handle the issue personally. Which left Canton in the position of temporary CEO until his return.

He uttered a disgusted grunt and mentally shrugged off the memory of his latest bout with Cyrus.

He returned his attention to the woman.

But...something about her had caught his attention, just as he’d been about to enter his family home.

He didn’t really know how long she’d been there; could have been five minutes or an hour. He knew she hadn’t seen him. Hell, he doubted she was aware of much going on around her from what he’d observed.

She’d been staring out her driver’s window, away from the mansion, as she’d been parked at the very edge of the road. Slowly, she turned the ignition on. After a few sputters, hisses and coughs, the old Jeep crackled to life.

She drove so slowly up the winding driveway he wondered if she was someone who’d lost her way and was trying to figure out her next move.

But no one gained access past the gate guard and this close to the Wilde family mansion without getting vetted.

So it was someone they knew.

Canton waited. He’d eased his large frame into a strategic position, one where he knew she couldn’t see him until he was ready for her to see him.

Something about this intrigued him.

For the moment he forgot all about Rolling Hills and the disturbing little man who rubbed him the wrong way. His focus was all on the woman approaching his family’s home.

There was something familiar about her.

The woman faced the front of the mansion. From Canton’s distance he saw the determination and set of her shoulders as she hoisted her bag closer to her side, squared her shoulders even more, if that was humanly possible, and closed the door to the Jeep.

Damn, she was beautiful...

Fully emerged from the truck, she made her way toward the house, and finally, finally he could see her full body.

He dragged in a swift breath as the woman drew closer.

The soft sway of her walk and smooth curves gave new meaning to the word
stacked
.

It was cool outside, and she wore a classic hip-length white leather jacket with the belt cinched tightly. The ends were tied in a big bow, like a present, highlighting her small waist, nicely rounded hips and full, plump breasts. All clearly visible beneath her layers.

Hell, Canton thought as he watched the woman approach, a figure like hers couldn’t be hidden or camouflaged behind anything so inconsequential as a jacket.

From his vantage point, he watched her approach. There was even something familiar about the way she walked.

Although the autumn air was chilly, the sun shone brightly and caressed her toasted brown skin, which seemed to glow even more against the stark whiteness of her leather jacket. The way the light bounced and flickered against her smooth skin brought more awareness to Canton.

At that moment the wind chose to blow, whispering air against her body, molding the soft leather jacket she wore even closer to her sinful curves, making Canton’s body harden, tightening with every step she took closer.

His attention was riveted on the woman.

The wind again blew a gust of air over her. She wore her hair in a high bun, but tendrils of curls escaped and whisked across her face. The woman raised her face toward the sun, a half smile tilting the corners of her full mouth upward.

It was as though she and the sun were old friends, communicating. She remained in that pose for what seemed like an eternity. And Canton wouldn’t have been able to look away had his life depended on it.

When she lowered her head, she continued her pace toward the door.

He knew he should walk away. Something was telling him to
move
his ass now, before she caught him.

Something told him if he didn’t his life would never been the same again. That instinct he had, the same instinct he’d inherited from his rough and rugged father, the same instinct that he and his brothers and as their baby sister all shared, the kind of instinct that told a man in business when it was time to move, in poker when to fold.

The same instinct that was now telling him to turn and move away before it was too late. But damned if he could.

So he just stood there, watching her stroll closer to the house, to him. He frowned when he caught her lips working, as though she were talking to herself. She stopped, closed her eyes and performed the sign of the cross. He felt one side of his mouth quirk in a half smile.

She had no clue she wasn’t alone, that she was being watched. Something told that if she did, she would be mortified.

She was stylishly dressed; he ran his gaze over her as she came closer. From the soft-looking leather jacket cinched tightly at her waist, over her curved hips in the calf-length leather skirt, down shapely legs, housed in knee-high boots, she was the epitome of sophistication. He wondered if she were from around Cheyenne.

Canton’s frown deepened. She was so lost in her own thoughts, he knew that she believed she was alone.

But Canton observed her as she walked with determination in her stride, up the winding path that led to the house.

She was a woman on a mission.

Everything about her told him that.

He again felt that curious shift in his awareness. Whatever her mission was, that same instinct that told him if he wanted his life to remain unchanged he should run the hell in the complete and opposite direction, also told him that part of that mission she was clearly on would involve him.

She reached the front of the house and lifted her face, and it was then that Canton nearly gave himself away.

He had never forgotten that face.

He’d never forgotten the feel of those curves on that body...

His hungry gaze roved over her, head to toe.

She had one of the prettiest complexions he’d ever seen. Her heart-shaped face was the color of deep milk chocolate with a hint of cream. He had never forgotten the color or feel of her...

Large, light brown almond-shaped eyes stood out against the richness of her complexion.

But it was her lips that captured him now, as they had before. Neither had he forgotten how they tasted. Full, plump and delicious, they called out to him, beckoning him, daring him to taste their ripe lushness.

Just as they had seven years ago.

His body hardened, alert; like a hunter watching his prey, his gaze was unwavering.

And in that moment Canton knew his life had,
again
, changed forever.

He also knew in that moment that running was the furthest thing from his mind. And neither would he allow her to run this time.

Hell no. Not this time. Not ever again. His face, body and everything else about him tightened up.

A purely masculine gleam shone from his eyes as he pulled his hat down further on his head, shielding his eyes.

Hell no. She wouldn’t get away from him this time.