To Tempt a Wilde (6 page)

B
oth Nate and Althea were wrapped up in their own thoughts, and the drive back was made in silence, the tension in the cab of his truck thick, heady.

After he'd reached his hand out for her to take, his hot glance sliding over her, Althea's body had reacted as though he'd touched her.

When he'd taken the decision away from her and taken her hand in his big warm one, wrapping
it around her suddenly cold fingers, a part of her had been relieved.

She knew what it meant, taking his hand. As simple as it was, she knew.

A glance into his eyes and she'd seen them darken, his hot gaze trailing over her face, down the line of her throat, back up to her mouth. Yes, she knew. He wanted her.

And God help her, she wanted him just as bad.

Piggybacking her self-admission, fear
kicked in
immediately. Fear of what it meant if she agreed, through silent admission, to what his eyes promised he wanted from her.

The need to flee came quickly, nearly overwhelming in its intensity.

This fear wasn't the same as those of the past, the ones that told her danger was coming her way, that Reggie had found her again.

No. This feeling, this
need
to run had nothing to do with fear
that she would be harmed in a physical way.

This fear was that she wanted…
yearned,
for him to do what his eyes promised he wanted to do to her.

Every decadent carnal thing…and more.

Her fear had everything to do with the fact that she would gladly turn her body over to him and allow him to do those things to her.

In every way.

She adjusted her body, turned slightly so that she could sneak
a glance at him from beneath lowered lids.

His hair, closely cropped in the back, was longer on top, long enough to form a slight curl, the strands so dark and silky-looking her fingers itched to reach out and touch them.

His nose was strongly chiseled and dominated his angular face. A slight stubble covered his lean cheeks and strong squared chin, not enough to hurt…just enough to provide a
pleasurable sensation if he were to…kiss her.

She forced her mind away from the thought of where she wanted to feel that scratchy kiss on her body.

Although there was no smile on his face, strong lines
scored either side of his sensual mouth, as though at one time he'd smiled, and smiled often.

Althea wondered what…or who, had taken the smile away.

With a sigh, she looked away.

 

Nate felt
an odd apprehension settle in his gut as he walked Althea to the cottage, one that was foreign to him.

The drive had taken only fifteen minutes, yet it felt as though it had been hours. He'd felt her gaze on him several times but had resisted the urge to return her look. It was hard enough for him driving with her so close to him, without pulling over and finishing what they'd started from the
first moment they'd met.

He'd had to rethink his opinion of her over the course of the evening. Truth told, he'd had a subtle shift in thinking regarding her over the last week.

His reaction to her from the beginning should have clued him in. But he'd fought against it, fought like hell against the chemistry between them, fought to keep her at a distance both physically and mentally.

For all
the good it had done. He'd never felt the pull he felt toward her with any other woman. No woman had ever taken him from red-hot anger and irritation to rock-hard excitement, all within minutes, like Althea did.

Not even Angela, the woman he'd been engaged to.

Yet there was something else about her that troubled him. Aspects of her didn't jibe with who she presented herself to be; a nomad, a
woman who called any place she hung up her hat home.

He glanced down at her, the top of her head barely reaching him at chest level, again reaching out to take her hand, this time leaving the decision to her. He wanted her to be a willing participant this time, wanted her acceptance of what the day had been leading to. This time, Nate waited.

When she placed her hand in his, his heart thumped
hard against his chest. There was a measure of trust in her placing her hand in his, he felt it. One that told him it wasn't something she did easily.

Together they walked the remaining distance, her small hand nestled within his much larger one. When they reached the front door, she fidgeted in one of the pockets and withdrew the house key.

Before turning to unlock the door, she turned to him.

This time her face was in full view, the light from the porch casting an amber glow across her beautiful, somber features.

 

“Thank you for today,” she said, after her fumbling fingers managed to unlock the door. “I mean, for letting me help. That was one of the most amazing—”

Althea turned to face Nate, her heart banging around so loudly in her chest she knew he had to hear it.

She stopped
speaking midsentence, her breath catching at the back of her throat.

As she glanced up into his face, the lighting on the porch created an odd intimacy, one that seemed to shroud them in a world of their own.

Shadowing his handsome face, the light fell at an angle that highlighted the piercing way he was looking
at her, the glint in his eyes one of raw masculine lust that was so palpable that
Althea swallowed past the lump in her throat.

The look in his eyes made her heart pound and caused a rush of liquid heat to trickle into her panties.

“I…I think I'd better go. Than-thank you, uh, again,” she stammered, backing into the cottage.

Before she could think to try and close the door, he had placed one big foot inside, pushing the door farther open.

Advancing into the cottage, he
didn't bother to turn and close it, simply kicked it closed with the heel of his booted foot.

“I think we need to talk,” he finally said. Although his voice was a low rumble and it was in direct contrast to the blazing look in his eyes. It was a look that said he wanted to do much, much more than talk.

Biting at the bottom rim of her lip, Althea couldn't force a word out of her mouth to save
her life. Clearing her throat several times, she gave up and simply nodded her head in agreement.

Moving aside, she allowed him to enter the cottage.

T
here was no way in hell he was leaving her, not at least without tasting her lips, feeling her sweet curves against his.

The entire day, thoughts of what lay hidden beneath the bulky parka she wore had played hell with his libido. The fact that he'd been able to wait this long had proved nothing short of a miracle.

He glanced around, surprised that he didn't feel the surge of
anger he normally experienced when entering the cottage.

He'd built the house for Angela, thinking they'd make it their home, where they'd raise their children. When she'd turned her back on it…on him, he hadn't set foot back inside since. He would have torn the damn thing down if his brothers hadn't stopped him, reminding him of the hard work they'd all done to have it built.

Now, as he followed
Althea farther inside, his mind
wasn't anywhere on the woman from his past, instead fully concentrating on the one in front of him, his gaze fixated on the sexy sway of her hips as she turned on lights.

She came to a stop inside the kitchen area, turned around to face him. Her nervousness was obvious. She couldn't even make eye contact with him, looking at everything and everywhere except him.

He leaned against the tall column that separated the kitchen from the living area and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Can I…can I get you something?”

“If you have tea that would be great. Of the sweet variety. Unsweetened tea is for wimps.”

His answer surprised a laugh out of her, making her relax. Good. He wanted to put her at ease. Wanted her to give in to him. Wanted her to want him as
much as he wanted her.

And just like the horses he tamed, ones that had been hurt and didn't give their trust easily, all it took was the right touch. He was ready to touch her in all the right places, but first he had to gain her trust.

He was up for the challenge.

She removed her jacket and placed it over a chair before kicking off her sneakers. Without glancing at him, she swiftly removed
her socks at well, tucking them inside her shoes. He hid his surprise when he saw her toes, the nails painted bright pink, emerge from the thick white socks.

She caught him looking at her and smiled slightly. “I like being comfortable whenever I'm home. It's been a while since I've felt this way,” she said, and lifted one
shoulder in an offhand shrug that was so casually sexy, Nate felt his cock
thump against his jeans in reaction.

She took him from zero to one twenty in three seconds flat. Without even trying, he thought.

Damn.

He pushed away from the wall and walked into the kitchen toward her. Pulling out one of the high-backed bar stools, he folded his long frame into it. Bustling around the small kitchen, she removed a tin and withdrew two tea bags, and when the timer chimed on
the microwave took out the mugs and dumped the bags inside.

“I hope cookies are okay? I made them myself,” she said, pulling out several large, thick cookies from a can and placing them on a plate in front of him.

He eyed them, gingerly picking up one of the oddly shaped cookies.

“What? You're afraid to taste my cookies?”

Nate glanced up at her and caught the gleam of humor in her eyes. His
eyes on hers, he lifted one from the plate. “No, I'm not afraid of tasting your…cookies,” he replied, taking a bite, his eyes on hers as he chewed.

Her eyes widened, the humor evaporating from them, a molten awareness taking its place.

 

Althea felt her mouth go completely dry as she watched his full, sensual lips open, his white teeth flash as he bit down into the cookie. When his tongue came
out and caught a crumb, she thought she'd melt right on the spot.

The man was lethal to her senses.

Her eyes were fixated on the line of his strong jaw
as he methodically chewed the cookie, the muscles in his neck standing out in stark relief as he swallowed, working the bite down his throat.

No man should be able to eat cookies and turn a woman on at the same time.

After he finished chewing
the cookie he nodded his head. “You were right, they are good,” he said, surprise in his voice.

Relaxing as the sensual tension eased a bit, she lifted a cookie, bit into it and chewed. “You sound surprised.”

“I am, a bit.”

“Why?”

He looked her over, his eyes narrowing. “Somehow I didn't see you as the type.”

“The type?”

“To be able to bake cookies like this. But maybe that's the end of
your cooking abilities?” he asked more than stated, leaving the question open.

“Actually I know my way around the kitchen.” She volunteered the information. “Over the last two years, I've learned to cook and have served more meals than I had in my lifetime.”

“You didn't know how before?” he probed, and Althea stopped short, realizing how revealing her response had been.

She shrugged. “Let's
just say I've added a bit of knowledge to my core base and leave it at that.”

“Why don't we take this over to the sofa and sit down,” he said, indicating the tea.

With a nod she agreed, and followed him over to the sitting area.

Instead of choosing to sit on the smaller, more inti
mate love seat, she chose instead the roomier sofa, seeking even on a subconscious level to put some space between
them.

As she sat down, she placed the tea on the small table placed in front of the couch. Although he gave her space, his big body seemed to take up
way
too much room on the sofa. Althea subtly shifted her body, moving farther down. From her peripheral vision, she caught the knowing look cross his handsome face.

As though he was more than aware of how he affected her.

“What brought you to
the ranch, Althea?” he asked after several moments of companionable silence.

Althea placed the mug down on the table in front of her and turned toward him, tugging at her upper lip in indecision.

She didn't want the ease of the moment to end. Didn't want to think about her past, or what brought her here, or to any of the many places she'd lived over the last couple of years.

Although she'd
come to have a measure of trust with the men who ran the Wyoming Wilde, she was nowhere near ready…or willing…to talk about her past in its entirety to Nate.

Yet as she looked at him, there was a part of her that wanted to tell him. Wanted to unload at least some of the burden she'd carried for two years.

She inhaled a slow, steady breath and began.

“I grew up with my father, just the two of
us, from the time I was only five. I don't really remember my mother too much. Just small bits of memory scattered here and there, times when she would read me a story or
she and Dad would tuck me in at night. She had cancer and was always sickly. She died when I was young.”

As she spoke, he placed his mug on the table next to hers and sat back, his attention solely on her.

“It was me and my
dad for as long as I remember,” she began, an unknowing smile tugging the corner of her mouth upward as she thought of her father. “We did everything and tried everything together,” she said and laughed. “Including horses. Dad had always wanted a horse when he was a kid. He grew up in what he called ‘the country,'” she said and laughed lightly. “But his family didn't have a lot, and definitely didn't
have enough money to feed a horse. Even so, Daddy always wanted one, and every day after school when he was younger, he'd go to one of their neighbor's houses and in exchange for feeding the animals, he was allowed to ride the horses.”

Althea went on to tell him how she and her father had been inseparable, and how her father had been the one to teach her to ride a horse and on her twelfth birthday
he'd surprised her with a small palomino of her own.

“No wonder you seemed so natural riding with Holt,” he commented, and paused. “Why did you act as though you hadn't ridden before?” Although the question was asked casually, Althea felt on the spot, it sobered her, reminded her that she couldn't become too relaxed around him.

She had evaded the truth, disguised who she was for a long time.
Every small thing she considered, and although she had done it out of self-preservation, she wondered, briefly, what he would think if he knew the
entire truth about who she was, where she came from…why she could never go back.

“I never said I couldn't,” she hedged. “It's just been a while. Thought I could use a refresher course and when your brother offered, I agreed. That's all.”

His piercing
stare made her uncomfortable and she dropped her eyes, a finger reaching out to toy with the rim of her mug before bringing it to her mouth.

 

“And your father…” He allowed the question to dangle.

He saw the hesitation, as though she were carefully weighing her words, trying to determine how much to tell him. How much she trusted him.

“Before I was born, he traveled a bit. He said he always
wanted to travel more, but when I came along he settled down and raised me. Like I said, it was only the two of us for most of my life.”

Nate nodded his head, encouraging her to continue.

“My father was…an entrepreneur of sorts. He dabbled in a few different areas; he created patents for a few products that did well. The money he made he invested in the stock market. Another one of his other
interests. With the growth of his business he took on a partner.” Althea stopped, drew in a breath.

“Actually Reg—he—was more like a mentee, to Daddy.”

Nate caught the correction, knew that for whatever reason, she didn't want to tell him the man's name. He filed the knowledge in his mind to think about later.

“Although he'd worked for a well-known brokerage firm for a few years, he wanted
to work with my father.
A lot of people saw my father as a pioneer in the investment field.”

Nate remained silent, not wanting to interrupt her.

In the short amount of time he'd been around her, he'd come to the conclusion that whatever secrets she held close were ones she wouldn't give up easily.

Over the course of the day, he'd also come to realize that he wanted to get past the wall she
had erected, past the mask she showed to the world. He wanted to be the one she trusted.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, he was brought up short.

Damn.

He didn't know when it had begun to mean so much to him, that she trust him, open up and share herself with him. Didn't know when she had come to mean so much to him.

It was a line he'd crossed, but now that he had, he knew there was
no turning back.

She mattered more to him in the weeks since she'd come to the ranch than Angela, the woman he was engaged to and knew for over a year, ever had.

The thought was sobering.

“My…my father died a few years ago in an accident,” she said, bringing him out of his own startling discovery. Her tone was matter-of-fact, as though she were telling him the weather forecast instead of about
her father's death.

Until he looked down at her hands.

She held them clenched, tight, in her lap, rubbing the thumb of one hand over and over against the palm of the other.

He casually reached over and placed his hand over hers, soothing the nervous gesture, silently giving her the support she obviously needed.

“When he died, I…left.” She opened her mouth to speak and closed it, inhaling
a deep breath, glancing away from him she finished in a voice so low he had to strain to hear the words. “There was nothing for me in D.C. anymore.”

“I'm sorry,” he replied, although he knew the words were inadequate. He also knew there was more to her father's death.

She glanced up at him. In the depth of her dark eyes was such raw emotion, Nate felt his heart slam hard against his chest in
reaction to her obvious pain and chose not to probe further.

She looked away, but not before he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

Nate had lost his own father at an early age, yet the memory of how he'd felt when the sheriff had come knocking on their front door, letting him and his aunt know his father was killed in an accident, was one he never forgot.

His hand tightened on hers, tugging
at her until she faced him.

Without a word he pulled her close, brought her head to nestle on his chest.

Her soft cries tore at his heart, but he continued to stroke her hair, allowing her to cry softly, without interruption from him.

He lifted one of her clenched fists that rested on his chest, opened it and brought it to his mouth, and softly kissed the center.

She pulled away, softly sniffing,
and sat back against the cushion, yet kept her body close to his.

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and offered him a trembling smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

“And here I am. Traveling like Daddy always said he'd wanted to do, exploring…doing the things Daddy and I would have done, together. One day. At least that was our plan.”

He wanted like hell for her to continue,
but knew the moment had passed. There was so much more, he knew, than she had told him. Gaps that he desperately wanted filled in.

But it was enough. For now.

He still held on to her hand. When she tugged away from his grasp, he allowed her the distance, looking her over. She seemed so small sitting there.

Fragile, delicate.

And the day had taken its toll on her. The T-shirt she wore clung
to body, molding the sensual curve of her small yet firmly round breasts. Despite her overall disheveled look, her fragile beauty was palpable, and drew him to her.

Her vulnerability made Nate want to wrap her in his arms and promise her that whatever secrets she held, whatever caused the emotion to darken her eyes, would be safe with him.

She was safe with him.

Whatever reason she had for
leading the life she did, wandering from place to place, with no roots to tie her in one place for long, he longed for her to feel safe with him.