Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2) (25 page)

He jumped at the suggestion. “What’s your favorite pizza?”

“Surprise me.”

He groaned and gave her a little swat on the behind. “Can’t you just tell me your favorite? That way I can buy the damn business if I have to and you can have all the pizza your wicked mouth can handle.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” She giggled—so he did.

Watching her walk away from him was like agony, but at least he’d wrangled a sort of promise from her that they could hang out tomorrow. He’d have to be satisfied with that for now.

She was halfway along the walk when she turned around and gave him a wicked smirk. “Pink, Ashforth,” she called out. “Got it?”

He nodded, patted his jacket where her panties were stuffed in the pocket, and offered a jaunty salute that made her laugh.

Now this was a happy Thanksgiving!

A
WEEK LATER, RHIANN WAS stressing big time. The fucktard assigned to shadow her every move and thought was a nothing less than an icicle in training to the bitch who was making Rhi’s life a nightmare.

Kim had followed through on her threat to put a BPG liaison in Rhi’s face—finding the perfect mini-me to drive everyone batshit crazy. Apparently, Katherine-don’t call me Kate-Martin had majored in Bite My Ass and went out of her way to act more like a damn diva than some of the models. In short, she was a major headache.

Between this nonsense at work and Brynn’s looming wedding, Rhi was exhausted. Maybe juggling two major happenings at the same time wasn’t such a smart move.

The wedding was going to be lovely. Whatever she hadn’t handled firsthand, Amy had. . . . so no worries on that front. The
Passion
campaign, however?
Ugh.
One worry after another. All made more complicated by having every decision picked over by a kettle of vultures flown in from BPG.

Luckily, Liam had done as she asked and kept his distance from her at work. She’d run across him in the building just once, as he was leaving the executive suite surrounded by a gaggle of suits all desperate to score points with the imposing man in charge.

They’d nodded politely at each other and gone about their business, but Rhiann felt like she was on fire when she caught him checking out her ass as she waited for the elevator.

So far, he’d shown a surprising willingness to let her call all the shots and only grumbled a little when, at the end of their evening dates, she’d send him on his way. Always with a raging case of wood that frankly, she’d be more than happy to take care of. If only he’d let her get that close.

There hadn’t been a repeat of the hand in panties scenario—much to her profound disappointment. Mostly, Liam treated her like a dream he was afraid would vanish with a single ray of daylight. He was taking this gentleman thing too far.

But, even so, something good was coming out of their interactions. He was much more willing to talk about the past and had even shared more with her about the relationship he had as a kid with his mother. That he adored his mom and felt responsible for the woman’s well-being was quite telling.

So was his absolute refusal to speak about his father. That subject had caution tape surrounding it that was impervious to any of her attempts to at the very least get inside the perimeter.

And now, here she was, doing a last-minute mirror check before he sent a car to pick her up. Such was the rhythm of her days. Work, work, work followed by a mad dash home to change before her ride appeared. Sometimes they ate dinner at some out-of-the-way restaurant but tonight, he was cooking for them at his apartment.

It had been a particularly hellish day—one in which a last-minute change demanded by the photographer doing the photo shoot had thrown everyone into a tizzy. She’d be relieved when the project was over. Frankly, she was already over the whole thing.

Wanting her team to succeed and have their moment of glory was all that was keeping her going and was why she kept her mouth shut at the insane interference going on behind the scenes—all of it emanating from the office of a certain BPG executive who wasn’t making any effort to pretend that she didn’t violently dislike Rhiann.

Satisfied that her outfit looked okay, she picked up her bag and pirouetted one more time in front of the mirror. It was bitter cold outside with snow threatening in the forecast but that didn’t stop her from wearing a dress that was a tad on the skimpy side along with a pair of black lace Ferragamo peep-toe pumps that made her feel all kinds of sexy.

She knew damn well that dressing like a vamp was going to stir things up, but Rhi didn’t care. Some part of her got off on pushing Liam’s buttons and she wanted to see where he was drawing the line in the sand.

The buzzer letting her know a car was waiting got her ass in gear quickly. Practically skipping, she dashed from her tiny apartment and ran along the walkway with her coat slung over her arm. When a winter chill blasted up her skirt, she gritted her teeth and ran faster.

Let’s see just how far I can push,
Rhiann thought as she slid into the back of the Town Car and smiled broadly at the driver sent to fetch her.

“Good evening, Miss Wilde,” he said. “There’s not a lot of traffic tonight, ma’am, so we should make good time.”

Game on!

Everything was ready—or as ready as it could be. Now all he needed was for Rhiann to show up and things would be perfect.

Offering to make them a romantic dinner at home had been a stroke of genius as far as Liam was concerned. Having her all to himself across a dinner table had him all fired up and anxious for her arrival. He hoped she liked what he had planned for their evening.

When the driver texted to inform him they were five minutes out, he jumped half a foot when his phone chirped. To say he was nervous was an understatement. Things had been going pretty well with Rhiann the past week, and he was anxious not to screw things up.

Making a mad dash down to the garage, he paced back and forth in front of the wide glass doors waiting impatiently for her car to arrive.

Like a kid full of excitement on Christmas morning, he had his hand on the handle of the passenger door before the car came to a complete stop.

“
Milaya moya,
” he drawled when he saw her smiling face. After that, his brain cells short-circuited and he went completely daft when she swung her long legs from the car and stood up wearing a dress she surely intended to render him speechless.

“Hi.”

Saying some words would probably be a good idea, but he couldn’t find any. Not when she was standing there looking like an orgasm waiting to happen.

Now that he owned a fashion magazine, Liam had a sudden grasp of the language. She was dressed in what designers referred to as a little black dress—with
little
being the operative word. Stopping well short of her knees, the form-fitting outfit hugged her curves in all the right places and had an illusion bodice with a sweetheart profile that drew his eyes to her tits.

Little sparklers that should be diamonds but probably weren’t dangled from ears made clearly visible by her upswept hairdo. Never one to disappoint, she was also sporting a pair of lacy heels that made his dick throb.

How the fuck do women stand in those things,
he wondered. And in Rhiann’s case, not only stand but navigate with such ease and assurance that he had to stop and marvel.

Shit.
Seeing her decked out for his enjoyment had him instantly regretting his studied attempt to
go casual
this evening. What for some guys would mean a chance to throw on some old, worn jeans and a concert t-shirt for him meant removing his jacket and vest, loosening the tie, and rolling back his sleeves. Unless he was sleeping, naked in the shower, or playing racquetball at the gym—this was how he dressed.

His self-doubt and double thinking decisions already made were completely forgotten when he saw her brazenly check him out from top to bottom. The dazzling smile lighting up her face and the beam of approval for what she knew was an effort on his part, shut all that other noise down.

They stood there in the parking garage, staring and grinning at each other until the driver cleared his throat uncomfortably to gain Liam’s attention.

Right.
The driver.

“Are we good here, sir?” the man asked.

“Yes. Thank you,” he replied, shutting the car door and putting a solicitous hand on his companion’s arm. “We’ll call in a few hours to arrange Miss Wilde’s return.”

“No problem, Mr. Ashforth,” he replied with a deferential nod. “Good evening, ma’am,” he added in Rhiann’s direction. She smiled and tilted her head in that cute way she had that struck Liam as so very proper and ladylike.

As the car drove away, he urged, “Let’s get you inside,” while giving her a little shove toward the doors. “It’s too cold down here without a coat and since I’m without my jacket at the moment . . .”

“Oh shoot!” she exclaimed. “I left my coat in the car.”

“Well, you don’t need it, and I’m sure the driver will realize you left something in the backseat. Come on, then,” he commanded as he held the door open. “In you go.”

As she passed by, he felt her fingers drift across his stomach. “I like this
without the jacket
look.”

Breathe, dude,
he reminded himself.

“You did that for me. Thanks.”

She walked into the foyer and waited for him to escort her to the elevator and it was all he could do not to stumble over his feet and fall flat on his face as he reached for her. He needed to get them somewhere private in a hurry before he embarrassed himself.

The second the doors of the elevator closed and their small stainless steel and wood cocoon shot them up toward his two-floor penthouse, she turned and flattened Liam against the wall with her sweet body.

Deftly separating the top button below the collar of his shirt, she dipped her fingers beneath the crisp fabric and ran them lightly against his skin.

“There. That’s better,” she purred, stepping back and patting him on the chest like a good boy.

Liam looked down where her small hand rested near his stomach and gritted his teeth for directly below he also saw the way his dark grey trousers tented from his fearsome erection. What he wouldn’t give for her to trail those fingers lower and explore his manhood.

It was probably good that she didn’t, though, because he’d surely vapor-lock and drop like a stone if she touched him right now.

“You look stunning, Miss Wilde,” he told her.

She did an adorable little curtsy in those tantalizing heels then grabbed onto his exposed forearms.

“And you, Mr. Ashforth,
sir
. . .” He loved it when she batted her eyelashes in mockery every time she used the term. “Look relaxed and almost laid back!”

Dramatically clutching her hands to her chest, she snicker-drawled, “Be still my wild heart!”

“We aim to please,
milaya moya.
”

She blushed. She actually goddamn blushed!

“And please me, you have.”

Oh, man. This was going to be a great night!

“So, what’s for dinner? Takeout?”

She smiled at the faux outrage on his usually scowling face as her Jungle Lord grasped her hand in his and pulled her from the elevator toward his door. There were two penthouse homes evidenced by another set of imposing doors at the other end of the huge marble space that was the entrance to the exclusive suites.