he asked. “Does all that … busyness get too much?”
He felt her gaze on him before she sighed softly. “I do sometimes. Miss the ranch. Mostly I miss the quiet,” she replied, her voice soft. Although Holt kept his focus on the road as she continued, he listened attentively to her. There was something different about her, something indefinable. He wondered if and how much she’d changed from the sweet, shy girl she was the last time he’d spoken with her, nearly ten years ago.
“But I love the life I’m living. I enjoy what I do … the traveling, meeting new people, new adventures. My life is now what I always wanted it to be.” She paused, then continued. “What I always dreamed it would be, anyway. Sometimes I have to pinch myself just to make sure it isn’t just a dream,” she said, laughing softly.
“I’m not surprised at all that you’re successful, Yasmine. I remember even as a young girl you were always in the kitchen with your aunt, helping to cook. You always seemed at home there. And damn if some of the creations you came up with weren’t some of the best cooking I’ve ever had,” he complimented her, lightening the moment.
Yasmine laughed outright. “I guess you don’t remember some of those hot-mess creations of mine, then?”
He chose that moment to glance her way and nearly hit the car in front of him. One side of her sensual, generous mouth hitched in a smile, and a deep dimple flashed in her cheek. He hastily turned his attention back to the road in front of him.
Ahead the two-lane road they were traveling had stilled due to construction. The road sign indicated it would be one lane for the next two miles, causing a small cluster of congestion. He turned back around to face her.
“Well, all I remember is what a fantastic chef you were. And I’m proud of you, Yas. We all are,” he added, clearing his throat before continuing. “So tell me all about it. What was it like to win the competition?”
Her smile grew and her face became even more animated. “I swear I’ve never seen so many drama queens as I did during the taping of the show!” She laughed, and proceeded to fill him in on the behind-the-scenes action, which was much more drama-filled than what the camera crew had been able to capture. Not that they hadn’t tried.
By the time she finished they were both laughing, and the earlier awkwardness evaporated. Yasmine went on to tell him how she felt the moment the competition heated, and she, along with the last two competitors, were the only ones left from the original twelve contestants.
As he inched along in traffic, Holt became caught up in simply watching her as she spoke, the way she used her hands to speak, the deep sparkle in her dark eyes, the way she nearly bounced in her seat, she was so animated. So much so that one of the buttons on her blouse threatened to slip free if she kept moving like that.
Holt firmly kept his eyes away from watching her chest and admiring the way her silk blouse clung and molded her generous breasts.
Damn, she most definitely had grown up, he thought.
“And now I hear you’re going to be an executive chef at a famous restaurant? Starring in your own show, as well? That’s got to be exciting. But like I said, I’m not surprised.” He encouraged her to continue the conversation, enjoying listening to her, watching her animated face as the traffic all but stilled.
“That came out of the blue,” she said, shaking her head, the smile still on her face. “The offer for my own show, that is. As far as the restaurant, it’s something I’ve dreamed of. I just never thought it would happen this soon.”
“Yeah, it seems like all of your dreams are coming true, Yas. And it’s everything you deserve.”
There was a slight lull as Yasmine sat back, the smile slipping from her face as she turned to him.
“God, I’ve spent the last hour talking about myself. I’m sorry!” she said, her cheeks flushing with color.
“No, I’ve enjoyed hearing about what you’ve been up to. It’s been a long time since we’ve actually spoken. I like hearing about what’s been going on in your world, Yas,” he said.
It hit him that he hadn’t realized how much he’d actually missed her, not really seeing her over the past ten years, and only hearing about her adventures through her aunt.
“I’m looking forward to getting reacquainted,” he finished.
“Thank you,” she murmured. Holt caught a hint of a blush steal across her cheeks when he risked a glance her way, capturing his attention before he forced himself to look away.
He hid a grin. So, he could still make her blush.
It was a start.
“So, Holt Magnum Wilde … what have you been up to?” she asked, and he heard the humor in her voice.
Holt had studiously avoided letting anyone know his middle name, only using his middle initial whenever he signed a document. It had always been a source of embarrassment. From what he’d gathered, his mother, at the time of his birth, had been enamored of an old television show featuring a character of the same name. Outside of his brothers, no one else knew what the middle initial stood for.
Well, with the exception of Miss Lilly and obviously Yasmine.
She laughed as he groaned, and Holt immediately felt an answering grin tug at the corners of his mouth at the sound of her tinkling laughter.
Once it died down he answered her question, infusing as much of a casual note into it as he could. “After Dad died my senior year in college, I came home for the summer and helped my brothers with the ranch. Things were hectic around the place for a while, but we pulled together, got everything back on target.”
“I was sorry to hear about his death. He was a good man,” she said softly, placing her hand on his arm. Immediately she drew back.
He knew the gesture had been instinctive to her, she’d always been a warm person and didn’t mean it as anything but a way to show comfort. But he felt the heat of her soft hand through his jacket as though she had made direct skin-to-skin contact, sending a jolt of electricity from his arm directly to his groin.
“Yeah, he was. He’s still missed. The place isn’t the same without him,” he said, remembering the man he’d called father for nearly ten years. The only man he’d ever been able to call that name.
“I’m sure he would be proud of you … you and your brothers,” she murmured, sympathy in her voice. “Proud of what you all have done with the ranch.” She paused and lightly massaged his arm. It was all Holt could do to keep it together, keep his mind on the conversation.
He turned to her, his glance falling first to her hand and then to her blouse. The button that had been threatening to come loose had finally slipped free of the fastening, and he caught a peek of the lace that covered the crests of her breasts.
Taking his hand off the wheel briefly, he covered her hand, squeezed it, before casually removing it.
He wanted to curse when he saw the crestfallen look on her face, the way her cheeks again bloomed with color, this time, he knew, from embarrassment. He realized instantly she perceived his action as some kind of rejection. But damn if he could allow her to continue her innocent, yet stimulating, massage. Not without slamming into the car in front of them and causing
