gleamed against her upswept dark brown hair.
His gaze swept over her, head to toe.
She was small; he remembered that she’d barely reached him at chest level as a young girl. She’d been slightly overweight when she was younger. However, as an adult, the curves had settled in all the right places, he thought, subtly adjusting his jeans, the fit becoming uncomfortable as he watched her bend over and unzip a compartment in her luggage.
Her jeans hugged her firm, round bottom to a T, and as she bent forward, the ends of the shirt she wore, which hugged her generous breasts, slipped out of her waistband, exposing the slim expanse of unblemished brown skin.
When she straightened she looked directly at him, her large, doelike eyes widening. Even from his ten yards’ distance away from her, he could see the flush that blazed across her face.
Again, he felt his gut clench and his mouth go dry as she stood staring at him, across the walkway.
The shrilling whistle broke him out of his absorption and he broke his gaze, turning to see the cop maniacally waving his baton, urging him forward.
“Sorry about that.” Yasmine glanced behind her, mumbling the apology when her suitcase banged against the guy standing so close behind her she could almost feel his warm breath singe the back of her neck.
But really, did he have to jump into the same sliding door as she had, at the same time? Plastering a fake smile on her face while pushing as close as humanly possible against the glass-paned door, she heaved a big sigh of relief when she finally tumbled out, nearly falling when the man pushed past her.
It was an unseasonably warm day, particularly for Wyoming, and she felt a trickle of sweat travel past her forehead and down the side of her face as she emerged from the revolving doorway. She righted herself and brushed her hands over her hips, down her jeans, a scowl on her face, as she scanned the curbside, looking for the ranch’s foreman, Jake Stone.
As soon as she’d deboarded the plan she’d turned on her cell and checked her messages. Earlier she’d made a hasty call to her aunt when she’d learned the plane she was scheduled to fly on was having mechanical issues.
Because of that, instead of flying into the nearby airport, she’d had to travel into this one, nearly four hours away from the ranch.
She’d been disappointed when she’d heard the message from her aunt, telling her she wouldn’t be able to pick her up from the airport, that her knee had been bothering her and she was instead sending the foreman from the ranch.
She’d been looking forward to the alone time with her aunt, to catch up on life on the ranch since the last time she visited. Although it had been a few years since she’d seen Jake, she found herself smiling, her mood lightened. Jake had always had a way of putting her at ease. Even when she was a younger woman, when she was so painfully shy, he could drag a smile out of her.
He was as much a part of Wilde Ranch as the men who owned it, as his father was Jed Wilde’s first foreman. Jake had grown up at the ranch from boyhood and eventually he’d taken over the position as foreman when his father retired.
And besides, the man knew how to make a great lemon Bundt cake. Any guy who could make a lemon Bundt, much less from scratch, was a winner in her book.
Yasmine shook her head, a ghost of a smile on her face as she thought of the ranch. It had been a long time since she’d visited, and she’d found herself eager to come home the closer the time came for her departure. Everyone who worked at the Wilde Ranch was treated like family. From the first moment she’d come, she’d been welcomed. Jed Wilde had been that type of man. Despite his gruff outer demeanor, he had a heart of gold and did his best to make her feel at home.
And as she inhaled a deep breath, releasing it slowly, Yasmine realized that she’d missed home.
The last time she’d been to the ranch had been after graduating from culinary school in Chicago, before she’d moved to Paris to study. Many times her aunt had requested she come and visit, but nine times out of ten, Yasmine found an excuse not to, and without questioning her reasons, her aunt would come to visit her instead.
They both knew the reason for her reluctance: Holt Wilde. But she was no longer that pudgy, shy adolescent who pined for the young rancher. She’d traveled the world, she’d already accomplished much of what she’d dreamed of and her future was only looking better.
She was a woman who was self-assured, confident and one who most definitely did not have any residual feelings for Holt Wilde.
She ignored the mocking inner laugh and put a determined smile on her face when she saw the red pickup with the ranch’s logo emblazoned on the side parked curbside. She waved, hoping Jake would see her, and quickly leaned down to unzip her bag and deposit her jacket before rising She’d made it to within a few feet of him when she came to a sudden and complete halt, her eyes widening, her mouth opened.
She frowned, her heart racing as she squinted her eyes, thinking they were fooling her, that the man behind the wheel couldn’t be …
No, she wasn’t ready, she thought, her heart kicking viciously as she watched him pull smoothly to the curb and jump out.
Oh God, yes, it was. She swallowed deep, her glance running over him, from his large feet wearing scuffed cowboy boots, up thick, muscled thighs that bulged beneath the jeans he wore, over the denim jacket until she reached the bright blue gaze that haunted her dreams.
“It’s been a while, Yas … Good to see you come home again,” he said, his deep baritone voice brushing over her, sending hot shivers throughout her body. When he reached a hand out for her to take, she stared down at it, her mind scrambled, unable to gather her wits enough to figure out what in the world to do.
Chapter 3
“Traffic doesn’t seem too bad. The ride should take us less than four hours,” Holt murmured, sliding a glance toward Yasmine as he took the exit that would lead to the ranch.
Her creamy, light brown skin had a natural, healthy glow, one that required no makeup to enhance.
Her round cheeks of adolescence had narrowed, making her large brown eyes, slightly tilted at the corners, dominate her face. He didn’t remember them being so beautiful. Her nose was small, and her lips … damn, her lips could keep a man up late at night, his mind conjuring up all kinds of sinfully delightful things he could do with them.
He subtly adjusted his body in the seat, his jeans becoming painfully tight as the images slammed into his mind, ones he ruthlessly forced away.
And the way she smelled … Damn, did she have to smell so good? he thought with an inward groan. Her scent was pure intoxication; a mixture of a light floral, along with her own natural scent, had created a tantalizing smell that no perfume manufacturer could create on their best day.
But it wasn’t just her scent that was driving him crazy. Added to that was the quiet yet sexy confidence she exuded, one that both puzzled him and drew him in at the same time, both feelings making him feel like a gauche schoolboy out on his first date.
Yasmine kept her gaze firmly out of the side window, afraid that if she looked back at Holt, she’d do something crazy like grab him, pull him toward her and kiss him directly on his sexy mouth.
She drew in a
