Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2) (8 page)

Within days of the tawdry encounter, he’d had the pool table removed hoping that by eliminating the reminder he’d be able to pretend none of it had happened. Fuck, man. He was still hoping that.

“Everything that affects your focus concerns me,” she answered crossly.

Balls.
He didn’t need this shit.

Thinking he was changing the subject, he informed her briskly, “I’m going to spend a few days in midtown—at the
Passion
offices.”

“Why?” she snapped. “Some fashion rag that barely pays the bills isn’t worth your attention.”

He raised an eyebrow as his scowl deepened. What he did with his money was none of her fucking business. He paid her, or rather BPG did, to count the beans and keep an eye on the company’s finances—not comment on decisions that were well above her pay grade.

“I have my reasons, Mrs. Walsh.” Using her formal name seemed like a good idea. A little reminder for the high-class cougar so she’d remember who exactly had the power. Not her.

Not unsurprisingly, she’d scurried on her way not long after that. And good riddance, too. He wasn’t in the mood for anyone to look over his shoulder, no matter who the fuck it was.

Tapping out a hurried text message, he alerted his bodyguard and BPG’s head of security, Roman Bishop, to ready his car and meet him in the parking garage in fifteen minutes.

He needed a drink and a quiet room. Where he could bemoan the shit show he’d made of his attempted reunion with Rhiann—the one that gave new meaning to the expression
crash and burn.

Rhi was making haste, trying to clear the building before the sun set when she’d be forced to take public transportation in the dark. Most of the time she didn’t let the city hustle and bustle get to her, but ever since the encounter she’d had with Liam, her nerves had been so raw she over-reacted to every little thing.

“Bye, Mac,” she called out to the security guard in the front lobby.

“You want me to call you a cab, Miss Wilde?” he asked.

She smiled and shook her head. “Nah. I’m good. Might be November, but the weather is still nice. I like being outside even if it is just to take the train home.”

“Well, you be careful and stay alert.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.” She waved while dashing from the building out onto the crowded sidewalk.

It had been a hellish week, one Rhi was eager to leave behind. Liam Ashforth tied up so much of her thoughts that her brain was exhausted. Her spirit, too. She just wanted to go the fuck home, put on her jammies, and hunker down with her iPad.

Being in charge of Brynn’s Christmas wedding, Rhi was determined the event was going to be the most epic, romantic, tea room chic affair imaginable. There were at least a dozen websites and Pinterest pages she wanted to look at and another couple of emails she should deal with from caterers clamoring for the booking.

Striding along lost in her own little world of wedding planning, Rhi didn’t immediately notice the drops of rain starting to plunk downward from the dark, cloudy sky until one exploded on her eyelashes, making her sputter and clumsily duck beneath a store awning.

Shiiiit.
“Why’s it gotta rain?” she grumbled to no one. Huffing an exasperated grunt, Rhi started fishing in the big carryall she lugged about on the outside chance she had an umbrella handy.

Nothing.
Well, isn’t that just great?
Looking around, Rhi noted her location and figured she had a good couple of blocks to cover before she got to the train. She would just have to put a bit of a run into her steps and hope the rain held off long enough for her to board.

Luckily, she’d changed into a pair of sneakers instead of trying to walk on high heels through the congested streets of the city. Making sure she had a firm grip on her carryall and purse, she yanked her coat closed against the cold, damp November night and readied to make a dash for it.

Almost the second she stepped from under the awning and began to walk in the intensifying rain, she heard her name called out.

“Rhiann!”

Liam? Where in the hell had he come from?

Next thing she knew, his arm came about her shoulders as he took the bags from her hands and pushed her with his body to the curb. Finally, she noticed that a car door stood open and that he was trying to guide her into the backseat.

Flabbergasted, she flopped like a rag doll into the big luxury sedan, followed immediately by Liam’s rather large presence sliding in beside her as she frantically scrambled to move her legs in time for him to sit.

“What the hell are you doing, Ashforth?” she yelped. “Shit! You can’t just grab a person off the street, y’know.”

“Zip it,” he growled.

She felt both eyebrows shoot into her hairline and her mouth actually formed a startled O at his gruff tone. As usual, his face was a jigsaw puzzle of shadows and angles as he sat there scowling at her.

Not for the first time, she was struck by how devastating the boy she knew had become as a man. He took
intense
to a new level and had this in-your-face masculinity that she was having a hard time getting used to. He’d always been rather conservative and formal in his dress and manners—only now, once you add in unimaginable power and boatloads of dollars, the effect was intimidating and daunting. And he knew it,
damn him.

She worked in the fashion industry, so she recognized a Saville Row suit when she saw one. Of course, he had his suits custom made—I mean, why in the hell not? He was so big there was no way he could just waltz into a store and grab a few suits off the rack. Only something tailored specifically to his unique measurements could have made him look so sleek and elegant.

Compared to him, Rhiann felt like a dork with her pink and grey sneakers and her long drab, all-weather coat. What she wore underneath wasn’t much better. Today she had on a plain grey skirt and a slouchy black shirt made of a shiny, slinky material. And her hair? A mess, as usual, and tied haphazardly into a casual, sloppy tail at her nape. In short—he looked like a million dollars, and she felt like she’d just come from the dollar store.

“You have
not
been snatched off the street,” he grumbled. “And for the record—with that mouth, no one in their right mind would voluntarily jump in its way.”

“So what does that make you?” she snapped. “Prince Charming?”

“Shut the fuck up, Rhiann,” he snarled as a choked cough of laughter came from the front seat.

He had a driver. Why,
of course,
he had a driver!

“I’m rescuing you from the rain. Your thanks is underwhelming,” he complained.

On cue, a tremendous boom of thunder followed lightning streaking across the sky as a torrent of rain pelted the car.
Jeez.
It felt like the whole world was conspiring against her.

Mumbling darkly, she told him, “I just want to go home.”

Unbuttoning his jacket, Liam sat back, shoved her bags away from his legs, and frowned.

“Are you wet? Would you like my jacket?”

Rhiann bit back a groan. He was being nice, but she couldn’t stop the reaction to his asking if she was wet. This was a joke, right?

“I’m not wet and fuck your jacket. I just want to go home!”

Maybe he got how suggestive his words were when she yelled them back in his face or maybe the shock she saw was simply because she raised her voice and was being a bitch.

Dropping her face into her hands, she shook her head and sighed. Why did this man’s presence shake her up so much?

He touched her leg slightly and murmured, “Rhiann.”

When she finally got up the courage to respond, she slumped back onto the headrest and turned her face toward him. That was all she had.

Liam gentled his tone and asked for her address so he could tell the driver where to take them.

“Really? You don’t have a whole file on me? I’d have thought my address would be right at your fingertips. And how is it you just happened to be lurking outside my building at this exact moment?”

She must have hit a nerve because his mouth grew grimmer, if that was even possible.

“Is that what you think? That I’d step all over your privacy and stalk you just because I could?”

He sounded wounded, and she paused. Maybe there
were
limits to what he was capable of—at least where she was concerned.

Rhi shrugged and made a face. “You drop back into my life out of nowhere, try to put me in my place with a shitty power play then jam your tongue down my throat when I refuse to play nice. What am I supposed to think?”

This time there was no noise from the front seat, but she did notice that Liam briefly looked in that direction. He probably didn’t like one of his underlings hearing the sordid details of his private life.
Serves the fucker right,
she thought.

“Well, for the record,” he informed her testily, “there’s probably a file with your name on it somewhere, but frankly, there’s no reason for me to see it.”

“What the hell does that mean?” she yelped. “I’m an afterthought? You played me that day in your office? What the fuck is wrong with you? How many more times do you have to be mean to me before it’s enough?”

From her peripheral view, Rhiann saw two eyes find her in the rearview mirror. Damn. This was turning into a scene.

The cool, controlled tycoon next to her in the backseat of that sedan suddenly exploded. Smacking his fist against the headrest of the front passenger seat, he roared, “Fuck!” and turned toward her in the tight confines of the car.

“What do I have to do to shut that smart mouth of yours up?”

She snorted in disbelief. “Oh,
now
you need suggestions? The great and powerful CEO of BPG had no trouble shutting me up the other day!”

“Are you actually baiting me, woman?” he growled. “Do you
want
me to kiss you again? Is that what this is all about?”

“What?” she squeaked. “No!”

Was that a flash of uncertainty she saw in his eyes?

“I’m not trying to be mean to you, and all I meant about the damn personnel file was that it didn’t seem right to use my position to stick my nose in your life.”

“Oh,” she muttered.

“And if you want to be kissed, just ask. Don’t pick a fight with me to get what you want.”

There were at least a dozen snappy, cutting remarks sitting on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them all. They had an audience, and she wasn’t eager to give someone she didn’t know a front row seat to whatever the hell it was that was going on.

Taking the obvious low road, she informed him, “121 Bleecker Street.”

When the car glided slowly away from the curb and out into traffic, Liam appeared to relax—almost as if giving up her address had been important. She just didn’t understand him at all and didn’t have a clue what was going on in his mind.

They traveled in silence for a few minutes and then she saw him grip his thighs with his hands. Stealing herself against another verbal barrage, Rhiann was taken off guard when he quietly asked if she’d be going home for Thanksgiving.

“I recall the holidays were a big deal for your family.”

Well, he was certainly right about that though she was surprised he remembered. Believing he hadn’t given a damn about her after their break-up was easier than hoping he thought about her at all. Now, with such a simple question, she felt flustered and unsure.

“Um, actually,” she stammered, “this year we’re all headed to Philly. Command performance with Nana.”

He nodded. “And your sisters? How are they?”

Rhi couldn’t help the wide grin that leaped onto her face. “I’m going to be an aunt!” she proclaimed.

“Seriously?”

She nodded and smiled some more. “Uh-huh. Totally.”

“Brynn or Charlize?”

Laughter rumbled up from her chest. “Why, Brynn, of course! Charlie’s roaming around Italy oohing and aaahing over bits of broken pottery. She’s too young for mommyhood.”

“I thought Brynn was divorced?” he said.

Oh.
So maybe he didn’t access her file, but he had at least checked out the family news if he knew about her sister’s divorce. Hm
mmm.

“That she is,” Rhi confirmed. “Been in upstate PA running a bakery and tea room for the last couple of years.”

She saw his face register surprise. During their time together, her older sister was already making a name for herself as a serious financial genius. That she would probably end up on Wall Street was a given, even back then. Learning that Brynn had moved to the country and baked cookies and cupcakes for a living probably seemed a tad odd.

“She met this fabulous guy—his name is Jax, and she fell big time. They both did. Next thing anyone knows, she’s planning a winter wedding, and there’s a baby on the way.”

She laughed and shook her head earning a quizzical glance from the man at her side. “Actually, I’m the one doing the wedding plans. Brynn is uh . . . pre-occupied.”