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Just as he had with his brother, he feigned a nonchalance he was far from feeling and tried to play it off.
“Comparing last month’s feed budget projection with the actual cost, cross-comparing it with the upcoming fiscal year’s budget to determine if we need to reevaluate the project. And if so, do we need to make cuts in other areas to make up the difference.”
His response was quick and sounded knowledgeable.
He hoped she actually bought his bullshit.
There was silence for longer than Nick liked, yet he kept his eyes glued to the screen.
Ailani leaned forward and brought her body closer to his. A hint of patchouli and hibiscus wafted across his nose; a scent she’d been wearing for as long as he could remember.
She jabbed a short but manicured nail at the screen, pointing to one of the columns.
“Who came up with this projection? No way is this budget anywhere near what we’re looking at for the upcoming quarter, nor does it make any sense for the new fiscal year!” she huffed, her eyes scanning the document on the screen. “Between the hike in prices in grain and feed, as well as the new shipment of steers we purchased last year, we’re looking at a number substantially higher than this,” she proclaimed.
Nick breathed a sigh of relief.
An irritated Ailani was much more preferable to a discerning one.
Of everyone he was acquainted with, besides his twin, Ailani was one of the most astute individuals he knew. If she caught even a sniff, a whiff, that something wasn’t quite right, she’d hunt it down. The woman could teach his father’s best hounds the true art of the hunt.
Lucky for him, her hound-dog nose was holstered for the present.
She wasn’t paying much attention to him; her attention was purely on the ranch’s budget.
Despite himself, he bit back a grin. Good thing he now thought of Ailani like a sister, or her lack of attention would have been insulting.
She leaned even closer, the right side of her breast brushing against his shoulder.
“What are you thinking with these projections? Geesh, what would you do without me, Pika? Knucklehead...” she grumbled, pushing even closer, the side of her breast nearly colliding with his nose.
“I know you want me and all, but really, Ailani, could you get your damn boob outta my face?” he complained roughly. He barked out a laugh when she distractedly batted a hand at him, ignoring him as she continued to peruse the document.
“If I didn’t know any better, I would think I didn’t do anything for you, Ailani...but we both know that isn’t true. What with you practically nursing me and all,” he continued, knowing she wasn’t paying much attention to what he said.
“Pika,” she mumbled, her voice completely distracted. “Whatever,” she finished, dragging out the word, the frown on her face growing.
Without looking behind her, she blindly reached for the chair she’d dragged to his desk earlier. Moving it closer, she plopped down in the seat.
As she examined the document, Nick continued to make completely inappropriate, off-color comments to Ailani, chuckling when she continued to ignore his baiting.
If she even heard it. Which he doubted she did.
When it came to her job as ranch foreman, all else became background noise to her. Which made it even more fun for Nick to tease her.
Just as he grinned and opened his mouth to make yet another inappropriate comment about her boob pressing into his face, a cough at the door caught his attention.
“One of your men told me you were alone. But if I’m interrupting, I can...you know, come back later.”
His eyes flew to the door and the grin slowly slipped from his face.
He jumped from his chair like a soldier would when his commanding officer entered. So fast that his chair shot out from under him and probably would have toppled over had Ailani not caught it.
Not that he was giving his foreman any attention.
That honor went solely to the woman who had claimed more of his attention than she had any right to.
The woman who had him waking up in the morning, rock-hard shaft in his hand, finishing off the job she’d started. If only in his dreams.
Her voice alone brought his cock to full-on “salute” status. Just like the good soldier that it was.
Husky and low...it poured over him like scalding rain. Even as it held a chastising note, it was turning him on in ways he’d never experienced from simply listening to a woman’s voice.
Hell, maybe that whole chastising tone she had going on added to the overall effect.
Whatever it was, it—she—had him hooked.
Her voice was velvety smooth and sexy, the type that reminded him of rainy days and sleeping in with a lover. But then his glance ran over her, head to toe. As hot as her voice was, it was nothing compared to her body.
Damn.
Live and in living color. On his turf... With no more provocation than that, his cock stirred.
Although he’d only seen pictures of her from the internet, those pictures were scorched permanently into his mind.
One of those images came to mind. The one he’d found of her at the Wildes’ ranch and had printed out on the spur of the moment. The same one he’d glanced at just last night before he’d succumbed to sleep.
The dream spurred from that image had been one that had haunted him as he’d wakened. His cock hardened even more as his gaze raked over her now.
There was no denying who stood in his doorway, one arched brow raised, small bow-shaped lips pursed, stiletto-heeled foot tapping.
Sinclair Adams.
Chapter 4
Confrontation time.
Sinclair kept her expression tight.
Closed.
Control... She had to keep it around her like a security blanket.
She was afraid if she didn’t, she would lose it.
Control was her best friend. Especially now. Thoughts of what her last few hours had been like, from the time she’d arrived in Hawaii and the fiasco surrounding all of that...to now, as she observed the scene in front of her. In one all-encompassing swoop, from the large office with its floor-to-ceiling windows that faced a gorgeous picturesque scene straight out of a movie, to the desk in the center of the room...and the commanding man who sat behind it.
There was also a beautiful woman with massive breasts standing close by... Sinclair took it all in. Okay, so maybe she was being catty. The woman’s breasts weren’t all that massive.
No matter, she thought, tightly reining in her envy.
She was squarely in the middle of the enemy’s camp. She felt her back stiffen as she lifted her chin, automatically “preparing.” For what? She would wait and see.
Her gaze made a swift survey of the office, taking special note of the custom-built book cabinets and the obviously expensive furnishings.
The walls were painted a muted deep red. One wall was nothing but an assortment of mirrors in various sizes and shapes.
Bold decorating choice, just like the red. The color choice and the mirrors were oddly erotic to her.
She shook her head, negating the thought before it had a chance to bloom any further in her mind. She continued her quick assessment.
There was an array of beautiful oversize rugs covering the polished hardwood floor, and a variety of artfully arranged statues that she would love to get a closer look at, had she been here for any other reason than the reason she was.
She brought herself up short.
She hadn’t come to the Kealoha ranch to admire the beautiful furnishings, the amazing scenery...or the exotic-looking woman who was now staring at her as though she knew her.
She was here for business. She turned her attention to the man she’d come to do battle with.
And that is exactly what it was in her mind: a battle. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the woman standing so close to him.
And it definitely wasn’t any of her business who the woman was. The same woman whose breasts—breasts that Sinclair doubted were her own—had been pressed against the side of Nick Kealoha’s face as if she were about to breast-feed the man, when Sinclair had approached the door.
Sinclair knew she was being unfair; she didn’t know the woman. For all she knew the massive boobs could actually belong to the woman. She mentally shrugged, pretending not to feel the least bit of anything about the woman, her breasts, or where they had been pressed....
Nor the man they had been pressed against. Not really. None of that mattered.
She was just feeling a tad bit...irked. She took in a physical and figurative breath and silently recited one of her favorite quick-but-calming mantras. It took a few seconds longer than normal, but she got it together.
She turned her gaze to Nickolas Kealoha, after nodding to the woman next to him. His gaze was already locked and loaded on hers.
This time, the breath she took was anything but figurative. Nickolas Kealoha was breath-stealingly fine.
Bright blue eyes kept her regard from beneath thick lashes, lashes that from the distance she was from him seemed impossible...ridiculous for a man to possess.
Even though he was sitting behind the desk, the sheer...massiveness of the man was enough to make her breath catch at the back of her throat. She had to remind herself to breathe. In. Out. In...
Big arms, thick with bulging muscle, were pressed against the desk. His chest seemed carved from granite. She bit back the moan when she caught sight of the small tuft of hair that splayed from beneath the fitted black T-shirt he wore under his chambray shirt.
Her gaze cataloged the long, muscular, thick thighs that even the simple work jeans he wore couldn’t disguise. At his lean waist he wore a belt and large buckle with some type of crest. From her vantage point she couldn’t tell what exactly was depicted on the belt buckle.
Because, yes...she was only interested in his belt buckle and most definitely not the thick...outline...that lay just south of the buckle.
“Like I said... If I’m interrupting anything...” she repeated. She cleared her throat and allowed the sentence to dangle.
“Of course not,” the woman cut in, before Nick could say a word. “I was just leaving.”
Sinclair saw him cut the woman a quick glance, no doubt cataloguing the shit-eating grin on her face, just as Sinclair had seen the sly look on the other woman’s face, as well. It hinted at a long association, a certain familiarity.
Sinclair noted the obvious closeness between the two, for future reference.
And completely forced herself to ignore the ugly stab of jealousy she felt. Along with the immediate desire to swipe the grin from the woman’s face.
The woman grabbed the pink beat-up Stetson that sat on Nick’s oversize desk and jammed it onto her head, grabbing the thick ponytail and negligently tossing the thick rope of hair in front of her shoulder, so that the ends dangled beneath her breasts.
The movement was so quick and casual, Sinclair knew that it was one the woman did a lot, without thought.
“Yes, please come on in. Ms. Adams, I presume?” Nick asked casually, one thick eyebrow raised in question, as though unsure who she was. At the same time his eyes roamed over her as though she was dessert on the dinner menu.
Sinclair clenched her lower jaw so tightly she feared she’d need an emergency visit to the dentist if she wasn’t careful.
She inhaled a deep, fortifying breath.
Control, Sinclair... Control, she reminded herself. She was here for her Wilde Boys, and that was it. As soon as this was over she was out.
She simply had to remind herself of that fact.
“Ms. Adams?” he asked again, and Sinclair’s eyes met his. He stood and began to walk toward her, his stride long, purposeful.
As though against her will, she backed up a fraction. When her back hit the door she stopped, embarrassed.
Even from across the room, it was as though his piercing blue eyes were drilling a hole into her.
He came closer, his long legs eating up the short distance in mere seconds. He stopped less than a foot away from where she stood in the doorway, his gaze leisurely traveling over her face and down the length of her exposed neck...to the deep V juncture of her silky blouse.
His eyes lingered on the swell of her breasts.
As though he had every right.
Sinclair cleared her throat.
“Please...come in,” he murmured, voice low. Sexy.
She felt a shiver run over her body.
His eyes finally moved back up to lock with hers.
Sinclair fought with everything she had to keep her eyes open. It was as though an odd lethargy had invaded her body and the strange pull he had on her increased.
They had spoken on the phone many times, and his voice had captured her attention from the beginning. They’d even had that unforgettable Skype experience, one that still made her blush because of what she’d done that night, alone in bed, thinking of him and his deep, rumbling voice and handsome face. But seeing and hearing him live?
Dear God. The fascination she’d had...the pull he’d had on her.... The one that had been increasing over the past six months of their association was set to detonate. She could feel it.
It was a low, rich rumble that resonated through her body, catching her completely off guard.
It surrounded her.
Sinclair’s eyes briefly closed, no longer able to fight it...
