For the third time.
A sneer kicked the corner of his mouth upward into parody of a smile. The fools hadn’t wanted to deal with him, so they’d sicced their lawyer on him.
“Damn woman,” he grumbled as he strummed the fingers of one large, long-fingered hand absently against his desk. The other hand was poised over the keyboard as he thought about what he should have said instead of what he had said in response to the email.
As he reread the lawyer’s message, despite his self-avowals to the contrary, the woman was getting to him.
That self-admission alone ticked him off.
His eyes studied the email from Sinclair Adams, the attorney for the Wilde Ranch of Wyoming.
Greetings Mr. Kealoha,
After consulting with the Wildes, I am informing you of the family’s wish for a more personal approach in dealing with our...situation. Unfortunately, over the course of the past week you have ignored my certified mail as well as ignored my phone calls, and I feel as though the situation is degenerating versus improving. To prevent a complete breakdown in communication, and to continue with the path we’ve been on—resolution—we, the Wildes and I, feel it is best for a one-on-one approach. To this end, please expect a visit from me to the A’kela Ranch. It is our sincere hope that you and your family will be able to meet with me so that we may resolve this matter to the satisfaction of all parties. I will arrive Tuesday of next week in the hope that you and your family will work with me to resolve this matter.
Best,
Sinclair Adams, PLLC
He’d received the correspondence, spoken to his brother about it and promptly dismissed the woman from his mind.
Or tried to.
“Lot of damn good that did,” he muttered.
He’d known she was on her way to the island. Known about it and hadn’t told his family about it until it was too late for either his brother or father to call the Wildes or their lawyer to settle the matter.
He’d even told her he would send a driver for her.
He wanted her here, on his territory.
A feral grin split his mouth into a smile.
From the beginning of his...interaction with Ms. Sinclair Adams, Nick had found himself in a state of semi-arousal.
Didn’t much matter when it happened. Whenever he either thought of the irritating woman or had any type of contact—written, emailed or verbal—his body reacted.
Hell, he could just listen to his voice mail and his cock was hard as granite.
The one time they’d had the Skype conversation...
Damn.
Even as he thought about it now, his cock hardened and his balls tightened in memory.
He’d seen pictures of her plenty. He’d known what she looked like, and had been intrigued. She had a different kind of beauty. Not traditional, but no less hot to him.
Then they’d spoken on the phone. They’d had conversations that had left him wanting...more. But the video interaction had taken it to another level.
Their conversation had been heated and he’d alternated between wanting her and wanting to strangle her pretty little neck. As soon as he’d gone to bed that night, he’d relived their exchange and the whole “wanting her” part had taken over.
And he’d promptly had one of the hottest dreams he’d had as an adult male. He had woken up with his shaft, again, in his hand, his seed spilled over his stomach.
With a mild curse he’d reached over, pulled open the side table drawer and withdrawn a napkin, which he now kept at the ready for that very reason.
He’d had more wet dreams over the past few months because of her than he’d had, collectively, as a randy teenage boy.
It had gotten to the point he was beginning to think she’d cast some kind of spell on him. He’d never been so worked up over a woman he’d never met in person, much less one who was in the enemy camp, so to speak.
As soon as she’d begun to communicate with him, he’d researched who she was.
His initial thought had simply been to go by the creed of “know thine enemy.” But it had turned into something...more.
Although calling the Wildes his enemy was a bit of a stretch. His anger had actually cooled toward the deception his mother had kept hidden for all those years: that he and his brother were the product of an illicit affair.
He cursed, low, his voice barely audible.
And no matter what his feelings toward Jed Wilde, whether he’d known about his and Key’s existence or not, it wasn’t his true father’s—Alek Kealoha’s—fault.
In fact, he’d been ready to call it off, and just let it all go. It wasn’t as though he really wanted anything Jed Wilde had, or anything he’d left to his adoptive sons. Nick and his family had a ranch that was just as impressive and in no way needed anything the Wildes had. They were doing damn fine on their own.
He’d even told both his father and brother the same thing, much to the relief of both. They, too, didn’t want anything the Wildes had, nor were they interested in dredging up old family dirt. They’d come to a resolution about it all, and now that both Clint Jedediah Wilde and their mother, A’kela Kealoha, had passed away, there was no need to protect anyone.
Even though there was still a small part of Nick that wanted to know what kind of man Jed had been, in the end, neither he nor Key wanted to hurt the man they’d called Father for their entire lives.
Yet, after the first encounter with Sinclair Adams, what he had found out about her through his amateur sleuthing had left him wanting to know more. So much so that he’d continued his threats.
Just because of her.
He wouldn’t call himself a research nut by any means, but he damn well knew how to find out about a person if need be. He had taken to the internet in the hope that he’d learn more about her, assuming she was some high-powered attorney.
What he’d learned had left him even more intrigued.
The Wildes were easy to research. He’d simply entered the name of the ranch and, presto, a virtual flood of information was at his fingertips. It had taken a while, but he’d eventually uncovered information about Sinclair.
Pictures of her on the Wilde Ranch had shown a young woman he didn’t believe could possibly be the sophisticated woman portrayed in both the smooth-toned voice mails she’d left on his phone and the succinct emails she’d sent.
Further stealth-mode investigation had showed that it was indeed the same woman. Not only was she on the Wildes’ website, there had been a hyperlink that directed him to her own website. Her bio had been impressive.
She appeared young, too young for the accomplishments listed in her biography. He’d frowned. Although young, she’d built quite a name for herself in her area of expertise in law.
Now working primarily as the lawyer for the Wildes, from what Nick had been able to learn from his internet search, she’d also had dealings in corporate law. She had interned with a prestigious law firm in Cheyenne, Wyoming, before returning home. She’d listed the Wyoming Wilde Ranch as home and he’d frowned, wondering if she had grown up on the ranch.
Just as on the A’Kela Ranch, Nick knew that many of the larger, successful ranches had generations of family members that worked and lived on the ranch. He’d guessed she was a family member.
He’d reached out and called her. In a voice low and sexy, feminine yet husky, she’d had