it’s not major. You know how bad my knees are. This time it’s my right knee. It’s going out on me again. Docs want to give me another knee-joint replacement.”
“Another one? You just had that one—”
“Fifteen years ago, Yas.” Lilly again broke in. “Just a few years before you came to live with me, baby,” she said, chuckling softly.
“Oh,” Yasmine replied, sitting back on the sofa, her body slumping.
Time had flown by. It seemed like yesterday she’d come to live with her aunt after her parents had dropped her off, unable … or unwilling … to take her with them as they went off on one of their “grand adventures.” Although she missed her parents when she was sent to her aunt’s, she’d later be thankful, as Lily had become a second mother to her after her parents died in a plane crash.
Yasmine expelled a long, relieved breath. Although she preferred her aunt didn’t have to have any type of surgery, this was one she could handle. “Who’s going to take care of your ‘boys’ while you’re recuperating?” she said, and heard Lilly’s husky, soft laugh again.
Lilly never made it a secret how much she loved the Wildes … or her boys, as most, including Yasmine, referred to them.
After Jed Wilde had adopted the boys formally, he had hired Lilly on as the housekeeper to do light cleaning and to cook for his new family and the ranch hands he employed, as well. Eventually she’d moved in with the family, living in the home with them, and had become much more than an employee. She’d become family.
When Yasmine had shown up on her doorstep after the death of her parents, not only had Lilly welcomed her, so had Jed and his adopted sons.
Lilly had always treated her as though she was the daughter she’d never had, loved and cared for her, fussed at her when she needed it. She was the mother Yasmine had always wanted, and she couldn’t have asked for a better parent.
But for her to ask her to come back to the ranch, face Holt again, was something she didn’t think she could do, not even for her aunt.
“Baby … I need you,” Lilly said.
And just like that, she had her.
With a barely suppressed groan, Yasmine agreed.
Chapter 2
Yasmine brushed away the hair that had escaped the tight chignon she’d so meticulously created that morning with one hand as she dragged her wheeled suitcase behind her with the other, avoiding passengers as she hurried along the airport terminal.
Her stomach rolled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since early that morning, and that had been nothing more than a bran muffin and a cup of coffee before she headed out to the airport.
But she knew it wasn’t the lack of food that was making her stomach grumble or giving her the overall queasy feeling in her gut. No, lack of food had nothing to do with her current state. To say she was on edge was putting it mildly.
Soon after assuring her aunt that she’d come home, she’d gotten in touch with the producer from the popular food and cooking network. After winning the reality-show competition, she’d been approached to host her own show, and like everything else, it was a dream come true for Yasmine.
But her aunt needed her and there was no way she could turn away from helping. Relieved, she was told that the show was still in the development stage and they needed to iron out details, such as the location and theme of the show. Although she hadn’t signed a formal contract, she was assured they were still very much interested in her and that her six-week absence would be acceptable. By that time, they would have everything ready, and she could do the first taping.
Relieved, she’d scratched one thing off of her to-do list and made the second call, this one to Clayton Moore, the owner of some of the most upscale restaurants in New York, who’d also approached her for the position as executive chef at one of his restaurants.
“Of course! Absolutely that’s no problem, Yas!” he’d assured her to her relief, when she’d asked if she could have more time to think about his offer and told him of her aunt’s need for her.
Although she’d felt the slightest bit uncomfortable with him using the shortened version of her name, she brushed it off, listening intently as he continued. “I told you, I’m very much interested in you … working for me, that is,” he’d said, quickly clarifying, making her unease escalate.
After her win of the show and the subsequent media attention, to Yasmine’s astonishment the offers had come pouring in from all directions. From requests to pitch a “miracle” dicer and slicer on one of the shopping networks to pitchwoman for a local down-home fast-food joint, the offers had been coming regularly.
“You take care of what you need to, and I’ll see you in a few weeks. And remember, I’m just a phone call away. In fact, before you head out, if you have time, I’d love to bring you by the restaurant, maybe have dinner. And discuss anything you might have questions about?” he’d asked, and Yasmine could feel his big smile come through the phone.
Something about his smile reminded her of the wolf in “Little Red Riding Hood.” And she definitely was beginning to feel like Little Red herself when, after the first meeting, his assessing glance brushed over her, subtly but with enough attention that she grew uncomfortable.
She’d shaken off the feeling when the rest of the meeting had gone smoothly and he hadn’t been in the least bit unprofessional.
Clayton Moore was definitely a mover and shaker in the restaurant business, and for him to offer Yasmine such a coveted position, as executive chef with two souschefs of her own, along with a full kitchen crew, was beyond remarkable.
Although she’d planned to use her earnings and newfound notoriety to open her own restaurant, the offer was more than appealing. If she accepted it, she’d be one of the youngest chefs to attain such a lauded position.
As for Clayton … Yasmine was more than aware that he was interested in offering her something more than a job. From the moment they’d met, the handsome entrepreneur had made his interest known.
Tall, dark, handsome and sophisticated. Clayton Moore was everything she should want in a man.
The minute Clayton’s face came to her mind, another man’s image superimposed its way over his. Forced its way in. Arrogantly shoved the other man’s image away as though he had every right to, Yasmine thought in irrational irritation.
Holt Wilde, the youngest of the Wilde men.
And each time it did, she ruthlessly shoved away the image of his big, hard body, along with the Stetson he always wore low, shadowing his bright blue eyes and hiding that half smile he seemed to favor … the one that always gave her shivers even when it wasn’t directed at her.
It wasn’t as though he was forcing her to think of him. In fact, she doubted she herself ever came to his mind.
Maybe that was what was more irritating than anything else, Yasmine thought glumly. The fact that she alone had this obsession with a man who probably didn’t even remember her, much less think of her on a regular basis, like clockwork, as she had him, all these years.
“I
