Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2) (23 page)

When Roman answered with a quizzical, “I see,” Liam knew damn well the man was bowled over with questions he couldn’t ask. With less than fifteen words, he’d given him plenty to think about. Admitting that he wasn’t alone was a very big deal.

“We need to talk before you come back to town.”

There was an air of urgency about Roman’s tone. Liam wasn’t surprised that even on Thanksgiving, his security chief had immediately jumped on getting the information he’d been instructed to pin down earlier. Bishop knew his boss’s inquiry into what BPG’s finance director was up to wasn’t just idle curiosity.

“Understood,” he grunted. “We’re about to pull into a rest stop. I’ll call you then.”

Roman muttered, “Perfect,” and then the line went dead. Liam glanced toward Rhiann and found her head against the rest at her neck and her eyes closed. She might appear relaxed, but even so, he could feel the tension radiating off her.

Talking about work had caused a sudden shift in her demeanor and now Roman had apparently uncovered information about Kim that was urgent enough to require an immediate conversation. The nagging feeling that the two things were somehow connected made him uneasy.

Knowing Kim had a hard-on for Rhiann, a menacing one, didn’t sit well with him. The woman better not have been fucking with her. And asking straight out wasn’t going to get a real answer—not since he already knew that Rhiann had some suspicions about his relationship with the cut-throat older woman.

Rhiann’s head swiveled, and she peered at him through the darkness.

“Is everything all right?”

Liam flipped the turning blinker on and drifted into the lane leading to the off ramp as the huge brightly lit rest area came into view.

“Oh, I’m sure everything is fine. Just business, sweetness. I’ll roll up to the entrance and you can jump out, okay?”

She was unbuckling her safety belt as the powerful car drew up to the curb. “Take your time,” he assured her as she opened the door and swung her legs onto the pavement. “I’ll be right here.”

He was momentarily put off when she didn’t answer, just nodded her understanding, and swiftly exited the car. Damn. She either had to pee badly or was running away from the conversation. Maybe both.

Fifteen minutes later, his phone call with Roman still churning in his thoughts, she came ambling out of the building carrying two Starbucks cups.

Reacting like a rocket launcher shot him out of the car, he practically ran to her side so he could open the door and assist with what she had in her hands.

“I hope you still like your coffee on the light side,” she muttered while handing him both hot beverages. “Hold those while I get in and then you can hand them to me and I’ll put them in the cup holders.”

Standing by the open door of the car as he played attentive valet while she seated herself, Liam was weirdly captivated watching her maneuver into the low seat without even the slightest hint of a panty flash. Her movements were precise, ladylike, and quite the opposite of the antics he so often saw reported on in the press. She was going to make him a wonderful wife.

Whoa. What? Wife?
Where in the hell had that thought come from?

Getting back in the driver’s seat, Liam buckled in then accepted the cup she held for him.

“Venti double shot espresso with extra whole milk. Did I do good?” she asked as he gingerly sipped the steaming beverage.

“Perfect. Surprised you remember how I took my coffee.”

She half-shrugged but didn’t meet his eyes. “My folks always took their coffee seriously—so it made sense to me that you would, too. I remember watching you lighten a cup of crappy diner coffee one time, going back to the creamer four times until it was just right. It’s hard to forget stuff like that. You like coffee with your cream.”

Liam smiled. Something still wasn’t right but she was talking to him and that was what mattered.

“What are you drinking?” he asked. “Doesn’t smell much like coffee.”

“Grande chai latte, also with whole milk and a glob of whipped cream. Wanna taste?”

She was holding the cup out so he placed his back in the holder and told her, “Sure,” as he put his hand atop hers and guided the drink to his lips for a hearty swallow.

A thousand flavors and sensations burst upon his senses, surprising him. He had no fucking idea that a chai latte was
that
good.

“Oh, my god,” he groaned. “That’s amazing! How come nobody’s told me about this drink?” he laughed teasingly.

“It’s a chick drink,” she answered sounding completely serious.

“A what?”

He heard the mockery in her voice when she laughed out her answer. “Really, Liam? You don’t know what a chick drink is?” Snorting derisively, the little witch added, “You are
so
hanging out with the wrong women, dude.”

Grinning at her audacity, he happily gave her what she was fishing for.

“Oh, darlin’—we’ve already established that sorry fact. So enlighten me, oh wise one, on the matter of this chick drink thing.”

The sound of her husky laughter sank deep into his senses. Was it possible to freeze a moment in time because he wanted to keep the feelings he was having for as long as was possible.

“Are we driving or parking here all night?” she asked—a tiny smirk just barely visible as she raised the cup to her lips.

Reaching for his coffee, he took another long pull as he eyed her from head to toe. In the lamplight of the parking lot, she looked positively angelic with a halo of light cutting through the darkness that illuminated her head and shoulders. She’d pinned her mass of brown curls up into one of those sloppy knots of hair she was so good at, giving him a perfect, unobstructed view of her profile.

The woman was beautiful. There was no other way to put it. And when she smiled, well . . .

“We’re driving but not until you answer the question.”

She blew out a long-suffering breath and quirked a sly grin, adding a dramatic eye roll at the end of a bravura performance that was the icing on the cake of his day.

“A chick drink, Mr. Ashforth,
sir,
” she sneered with a naughty wink, “is one of the things you men have to put up with from a girlfriend. No manly man in his right mind would stroll into a coffee shop and proudly order a spicy tea latte with whole milk and extra whipped cream plus a dash of cinnamon.”

“Oh, I get it,” he chuckled.

“Do you?” she asked sweetly? “’Cause I think I just called you a pussy.”

“Actually,” Liam joked, “it wasn’t me you were calling a pussy. It was men, in general. Men with girlfriends, I believe was how you put it, and since I’ve never had a girlfriend . . .”

“What? Never? What do you mean
never?
” she yelped in disbelief.

He looked straight into her startled green eyes. “Never—as in at no time and on no occasion. A girlfriend, I mean.”

The startled eyes softened. “Oh,” she murmured. “Then I’m your first. Your first chick drink.”

He was enjoying the cute smirk she was trying so hard to contain.

“Yep. A first. A virgin no more,” Liam chuckled.

“Well,” Rhiann cooed. “It’s only fair . . .”

Their laughter rang out into the night while the car slid back onto the highway as they sped toward the city and the end of what had been an epic day.

D
ESPITE THE FACT THAT SHE’D almost lost it when Liam had asked about work, Rhiann was calmer now and less anxious thanks to a pee break, a little good-natured laughter, and a warm beverage.

Asking about the New Year’s project reminded her of the ugly one-on-one she’d had with Mrs. Frosty. The lady was black ice—unseen, but dangerous, and Rhi didn’t suppose for a second that the glacial animosity coming from the person who controlled
Passion’s
money was anything but calculated.

Liam didn’t know. If he did, he’d say something, she was sure of it. He was trying too hard to worm his way back into her good graces for him to simply say nothing while BPG’s financial despot picked her apart like yesterday’s lunch.

She had to give him the benefit of the doubt where Mrs. Walsh was concerned—but dammit, it wasn’t easy. He said they weren’t involved. Hadn’t been and never would be. Did she trust him on this? Something about the woman gave her the creeps.
And
she gave off disturbing waves of psycho that Rhi knew damn well were because of Liam. How could he not see that?

Oh, balls,
she thought miserably as an uncomfortable surge of anxiety washed over her. There it was again—the cold pit in her stomach that morphed into butterflies frantically battering her nervous system.

One of her sister’s legendary lists appeared in Rhi’s mind’s eye.

1. Hate my job

2. But love the people I work with and want to help them succeed

3. Weirded out by family stuff

a. The wedding

b. The baby

c. Charlie coming home

d. The fact that she'd been keeping her relationship with Liam a secret from the people she loved

4. No two ways about it-she was leading a double life

5. Have a book about to publish
and

6. There's a new story trying to get out . . . if only she had the time

7. Liam

8. Liam and BPG and
Passion

9. Liam and BPG and
Passion
and
why's he gotta be so friggin' hot?

What a shit storm.
Rhi knew she couldn’t take much more but really, what could she do? She’d made such a mess of things that to start, she’d have to quit her job to write full time and hope she wasn’t blowing sunshine up her own skirt about being an author.

Then there’d need to be some sort of staged confession—like an intervention when Rhi would emotionally break down and come clean to everyone about the mask she’d been wearing and the secret life she’d kept from all of them.

And somewhere in the telling of that little mind-blowing life change she’d also have to admit that her father’s former university assistant and she had indulged in a brief affair that ended with Rhi taking a vow of abstinence where future matters of the heart were concerned.

Yeah.
That was going to go over about as well as a fart in church.

Of course, the moment she confessed to a past with the hunky, scowling tycoon, everyone would want to know where things stood with them now. After all, it’s not like it was possible to keep secret the fact that Liam’s huge company had acquired the magazine she happened to work for. Her family and friends weren’t brain dead. They’d see that move for exactly what it was—a chance for Liam Ashforth to slide back into Rhiann’s life.

There was also the nagging fact that, in a way, while she was reminding Liam of how cruelly he shut her out before, she was in fact lying to him as well. It was not like she’d admitted anything to him, either, about the turmoil in her world.

Thing was, though, she wanted to tell him. Wanted to share all of that with the Liam she remembered. The man she’d had a glimpse of today. But before something like that could happen, Rhiann knew she better get her shit together and figure out just exactly what was truly going on with them and whether she trusted him enough to let down all her protective barriers.

“Liam?” she murmured softly.

“Hmmm?”

“Where are we going?” she asked. “I mean . . .
oh, you know.
”

“Well, in about ten minutes we’ll be at the tunnel, and then we’ll head to the village. Not long now.”

Really? He thought she was asking about the drive?
Ugh.
It had been too long a day and she wasn’t up for more word games. Exhaustion was taking over and the idea of leaving her clothes in a pile on the floor and face planting on her bed was looking better and better.

“Earth to Planet Gazillionaire . . . come in, please,” she mumbled. “I was referring to us. You and me, to be exact. Where is this going?” she snapped while her hand made an arc back and forth between them.

Oh
hhhh.
She wanted to know his intentions. Liam exhaled sharply and sat up a bit straighter to clear his head. A dozen so-called intentions lit up his thoughts from fucking her into next week to waiting for her at the altar. His answers had to land somewhere between those two while not scaring her off with his intensity.