Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2) (15 page)

Rhi started to speak until the icicle masquerading as a woman across from her raised her hand to cut her off.

“This isn’t a discussion, Miss Wilde.”

Rhiann’s eyes widened in shock.
Oh, no she didn’t!

“Effective immediately, I’m assigning a liaison from BPG to
assist
you in bringing this project in—on time and within budget.”

A burning tightness gripped Rhi’s chest. The bitch had made the word
assist
sound like NSA surveillance.

“Does Mr. Ashforth know about this?” Rhiann wheezed as the implications of this thunderbolt hit home. The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them.
Shit.
This was why she didn’t play poker.

The nut cracking ice queen stood and glared down her perfectly sculpted nose at Rhiann, who was frozen with disbelief.

“I don’t know what you’re up to—but you won’t win, little girl.”

Everything became a blur after that and she may or may not have told Kim Walsh to go fuck herself; she wasn’t actually sure if she spoke the words aloud. She certainly thought them.

Frosty’s main bitch tossed one more on her way out the door.

“I eat wannabes like you for breakfast. If you have a shred of sense, you will not fuck with me.”

Shit. Where’s the Pepcid?

L
IAM PULLED UP OUTSIDE RHIANN’S apartment in the village, flipped on the blinkers, and quickly texted her so she’d know he’d arrived.

Since he was driving and it was just the two of them, he’d foregone the big sedan and decided to use one of his personal cars instead. After a half hour of deliberation, he settled on a BMW he’d bought for no other reason than because he found it comfortable.

Flipping the visor down, he opened the lighted mirror and did a quick visual.
Nothing in his teeth?
Check.
Hair perfectly styled?
Check.
Tie straightened?
Check. Maybe he should have shaved.
Shit.

Returning the visor to its place, he bounced in his seat like an anxious kid on Christmas morning.

“Bollocks!” he bellowed as a way to release some tension. A technique Liam relied on when he got nervous. And who had introduced him to the unique British slang? Professor Wilde.
Jeez.
He hadn’t thought about that in a long time. It was a great example of the very reason why he’d wanted to assist the man—he even swore with class, and at the time, those were things Liam needed to learn.

Be down in 5,
she texted.

Okay.
So, she was actually going to come down and get in his car.
Holy Shit!
Two hours of uninterrupted Rhiann time. He carefully reviewed the catalog of recent events and topics for safe discussion he had at the ready and bounced some more in his seat unable to believe this stroke of amazing timing and good luck the universe had handed him.

Don’t fucking blow this, Ashforth.

It took her more like fifteen minutes to come flying like the whirlwind he knew her to be—out of the door of the building and across the tiny courtyard. She was lugging a tremendous shopping bag and had a harried expression as she scurried toward him.

As soon as Liam spied her navigating the door, he’d leaped from the car and waved.

“Need help?” he yelled.

“No. Thanks, though. I’ve got it,” she answered. “Oh. Um . . . where’s the Town Car?” she asked, eyeing the BMW as if it had horns.

“Too much car for a simple roundtrip to Philly,” he told her. “This will be more comfortable. Here, you can stash the bag in the backseat,” he said, opening the door with a flourish.

“Ugh,
” she grunted with a mock grimace, hefting the heavy bag into the car.

Liam smiled at her lighthearted ‘tude. “What do you have in there? Rocks?”

Rhi stepped back while he swung the door shut and grinned. “I’ve got two sisters and an overflowing closet. You do the math.” She chuckled.

“Nice.” He nodded.

“Hell, half that stuff still has tags. Perks of the job.”

He was delighted that she was in such a good mood and wasn’t growling at him. Clearing his throat to stave off more nerves, Liam wrapped a hand around her upper arm and surprised them both by leaning in for a swift hello kiss.

Once they were settled and safely strapped in, he searched the satellite stations till he found one that could play softly in the background, smiled at her, and said, “Next stop . . . Rittenhouse Square.”

Oh, my dear sweet Lord.
Two whole hours alone in this swish car with the impeccably dressed man sitting next to her who was deftly navigating them out of the city.

Wait a minute. Impeccably dressed? Swinging her eyes at Liam, Rhiann really looked at him this time and just shook her head. It was Thanksgiving and while Nana had insisted on a ridiculous dress-up, sit-down feast—if she’d been going home to just her parents, they’d be rolling around in jeans or maybe even sweat pants.

But this guy!
He was in his usual attire. Same shit—different day. Three-piece suit—the vest thing was sexy as hell, she’d decided—crisp, white shirt and a tie that probably cost more than her entire outfit.

“Do you always wear a tie?” she asked innocently.

“Uh . . . yeah. Pretty much. Why?” he anxiously questioned. “You don’t like my clothes?”

Rhi had to chuckle. What wasn’t to like?

“Oh, god, no! I think you have fantastic taste. For a man. And a man who doesn’t know diddly squat about the fashion biz,” she teased.

Shrugging, she self-consciously pushed her skirt down across her knees and not wanting to hurt his feelings, tried to play down the comment.

“I just meant that it’s a day off. Perfect opportunity to go casual. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear anything that didn’t scream
businessman.
”

He looked over at her and she saw his eyes drop into her lap where her hands twisted nervously.

“Well, you don’t look all that casual at the moment,” he drawled. “Nice dress, by the way. What color is that?”

Rhi glanced down at the outfit that was one of her all-time favorites. A Gucci design with short sleeves, a soft ruffled collar, and a black velvet bow detail that made it classy as hell.

“Black cherry. I love that description, don’t you?”

“What? That a burgundy dress is labeled black cherry?”

They both laughed at the truth in his comment.

“Like I said,” he teased gently, “beautiful—but a far cry from casual.”

He was right. But the reason why she was dressed up had little to do with personal preference and everything to do with her grandmother.

“A Bryanna Charles special,” she mumbled with an exaggerated eye roll.

The way Liam chuckled told her he remembered the flamboyant matriarch of the Baron-Wilde clan. She was hard to forget—after all, not every family comes with an honest-to-god Broadway legend. Nana had always meddled in the lives of her and her sisters—causing one kerfuffle after another.

“I’m guessing by your tone that she’s still up to her antics.”

“Yes, well. . . . Nana’s been behaving badly lately. Pulled a diva move and tossed a grenade into Brynn’s life then waltzed away smirking. Today’s family get-together is her way of making amends and welcoming Jax into our circle of crazy. In a way,” she giggled, “Nan’s interference probably helped Brynn and Jax along, so she’s not totally in the time-out chair.”

“Is it crass to ask how far along the mom-to-be is? I remember you said there’s a baby on the way, too.”

“Fuck crass,” she hooted. “Feel free to zoom straight for WTF!
We
all did. I mean, Brynn’s the serious, straight-laced goody-goody of the three of us. It’s epic that she’s the one rocking a pregnant belly in a wedding dress!”

Overcome with the giggles at just how funny the situation really was, she struggled momentarily with her smart little jacket. Once she dragged it off, Rhi tossed it into the backseat.
There, that was better.

Liam glanced over at her—his eyes skimming her outfit—and returned to her face with a definite glint of male appreciation in his expression.
Oh, Lord. Had the temperature boosted in the car or something?
Rhiann wanted to fan herself from the surge of heat that blasted her.

Seemingly, out of nowhere, his attitude changed. “How well do you know this . . . Jax?” he snarled.

Whoa.
Rhi’s eyebrows took a leap and froze. That growl. What was that all about? One second he’d been looking at her like a five-pound lobster he was set to devour and the next he was all badass and possessive sounding about a strange man
.

Ohhhh . . . right.
Now she got it. Made sense, really. The ridiculous hovering at work, the fireworks that either exploded or popped incessantly in the background whenever they came near each other. The insistence on providing her transportation today and then showing up looking like ten tons of sexy and driving this swank car. Mr. Leo was in king-of-the-jungle mode, and she was in his line of vision. Rhi’s hand gripped the seat leather, and her heart rate picked up.

Seriously. Was the heat on high?
What she was feeling took
hot and bothered
to an eleven. Flipping her hair behind her shoulders in hopes to catch relief from a bit of airflow, she consciously dialed back the whirl of inner excitement that Cirque de Soleil’d in her stomach every time she let him near her.

She must have been silent for too long after the demanding question so Liam grumbled testily, “Rhiann?”

Yeah, yeah.
She was gonna answer. Just needed a few seconds to locate her damn dignity. When she heard the hint of jealousy in his voice, she had an unexpected Anastasia Steele moment that involved a front aerial with a triple tuck and a high difficulty dismount. Luckily, she stuck the landing.

“I suppose it depends on what you mean by that.
How well?
I know what my sister feels and since I’ve just recently met him . . .”

“Excuse me?” he barked. “You’ve only recently met him?”

Rhi shrugged. “Yeah. I mean he’s only been on the scene, like . . . I don’t know. Maybe four, five months.”

All of a sudden, Liam laughed and lightened up. “Are you telling me that the girl voted most likely to check off all the boxes got pregnant by a man she’d . . . what? Just met?”

He sounded incredulous.
Yeah—get in line, dude!

“I know! Right?” Rhi giggled with delight and slapped her leg for emphasis. “Brynn! Of all people. She fell hard and she fell fast. They have a . . . um, unusual relationship.”

“Define . . .
unusual.
”

She grinned mischievously. How could she explain? Swiveling slightly in her seat so she had a view of his face when she told him just how
unusual,
Rhi lowered her voice for dramatic effect and told him, “I believe there’s
spanking
involved.”

The choke of laughter and seeing his shocked and amused profile was
sooooo
worth the telling.

She sat there as the highway sped by and watched Liam’s reaction, no longer dreading being alone in a car with him for two hours. This was actually kind of fun. And watching him process her words was quite interesting, too.

The possessive growl was gone—replaced by a lightheartedness that was rare where he was concerned. She rather liked this side of him. Not quite playful but definitely loosened up. Now if only he hadn’t worn a tie . . .

“You
believe
there to be spanking involved or you
know
this to be true? Makes a difference,” he teased.

“Actually,” she snorted in amusement, “I sort of had some in-your-face proof.”

“Can’t wait to hear this.” Liam chuckled.

Rhiann thought back to the weekend she and Brynn had spent in the city and their sisters-on-the-town outing. The night had been an authentic shit ton of fun—even with the morning-after hangover.

“A couple of weeks after Jax met my sister—which is a long story and involves some rather legendary parental unit meddling—she came to New York and we had a chance to have a night out. Let’s just say that, um . . . while we were dressing, er . . . uh . . . well, I saw what looked like a handprint on her bum!”

She watched Liam nod and bite back a grin. Or maybe it was a leer. Hard to tell from the side.