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 need serious intervention,” she mumbled aloud. “One-on-one, put me in the prayer circle and douse me with holy water type of intervention.”
Out of her peripheral vision Yasmine saw a young mother tug her toddler closer toward her, eyeing Yasmine with a frown on her face.
There she went again, talking out loud. Ugly habit she had, whenever anything plagued her.
“And Holt Wilde is just one big old plague,” she said out loud, again.
This time the woman grabbed her child’s hand and hurried in the opposite direction from Yasmine.
She ignored the woman and straightened her shoulders as she continued to stride through the airport. But no more.
No, she was determined that by the end of her stay at the ranch, things would change, she’d make sure of it. While helping her aunt, she had another agenda in mind. She would, once and for all, exorcise all thoughts and fantasies of the one man who had invaded her mind for nearly twenty years, rid herself of the feelings, feelings she knew were simply a residue of her girlhood crush, once and for all.
This time she would be the one to walk away …
Holt bit back a curse as he waited impatiently for the van packed full of tourists to move along. The uniformed police officer who whistled and waved his baton in front of the double-parked van in front of the airport was about as effective as an ass on a gnat, Holt thought, his irritation escalating.
Apprehension had his damn guts tied in knots, which didn’t help his current situation.
When his brother had asked him to pick up Lilly’s niece, Yasmine, from the airport, to say it was the last thing he wanted to do was putting it mildly. It was Sunday, the day he and his brothers, as well as the rest of the ranch hands, took it easy, the day they all attended to their own interests.
He thought back on his interest. That would be the blonde beauty he’d left in bed curled up around his pillow earlier that morning after he’d received the call from his brother Nate.
All thoughts of going another round with the woman came to a screeching halt when Nate had informed him that their housekeeper, Lilly, a woman they viewed more as a mother than an employee, needed a favor.
With her surgery coming up, the doctor had ordered as much rest for Lilly as possible, and the hour-and-a-half drive to pick her niece up from the airport wasn’t something she could manage.
He’d sat straight up in bed, impatiently shoving the hair from his eyes as he’d listened while his brother blithely went on to tell him that Holt needed to pick Yasmine up from the airport, as no one else was available.
Holt’s thick brows came together in a deep frown as he inched along the congested traffic at the airport, remembering the conversation.
“No one else can get her?” He’d questioned his oldest brother while glancing down at the woman who lay cuddled close to him, sound asleep in bed. “What about Jake? Last I knew he was staying at the ranch more than he was in town. Can’t he pick her up?”
Momentarily distracted, he saw her move … He frowned, trying to think of the woman’s name … Amy. Amy inched closer to him, the sheet covering her slim body slipping down to reveal