Wilde Magic (Wilde Women Book 3) (5 page)

Giving her unexpected companion a lascivious smirk—well, she hoped that’s what it was. She didn’t have a lot of experience in that area. Charlie pulled the long braid of her hair over a shoulder and twirled the end. Her playful response made Tyler’s eyes sparkle with shared mischief.

“Mmm, I don’t know about that. Creamy gets boring. Sometimes I like the crunchy stuff. You know…something hard to grab on to with my teeth.”

Yeah. That might have been a step too far ‘cause in a heartbeat, the humor in his expression turned to a smolder. Did it help matters that she suddenly acquired a desperate need to bite her lip? Judging by his focus on her mouth, probably not.

“Mr. Tyler,” Dan complained in a whiny voice as they made for the kitchen. “Mr. Tyler,” the moron begged.

Cal Tyler didn’t so much as flinch. He just dragged her by the hand and walked away from the pantry scene. Charlie had to give it to him. He was impressive when he was being an arrogant ass. Maybe he knew the power of invoking the Goddess Ignora because holy cow, talk about a mental door slamming. Her sisters would nod their heads approvingly. Nothing like a bit of Ignora to drive home the point that he didn’t give a shit. And a man who didn’t give a shit? Oh. My. God, she shivered.

Sweeping them through the kitchen with haste, he didn’t lessen his grip until directing her to grab a loaf of bread and a plate after dropping her shoes at her feet. While he tucked a spreading knife in his back pocket and picked up a honey pot, she hurriedly grabbed a banana from a bowl of fruit, slid the footwear on and scurried back to him.

“Let’s take this someplace where my adoring fans can’t interrupt.”

Charlie didn’t miss the hard edge in his voice. So, maybe this Cal Tyler wasn’t just another narcissistic celebrity. What a relief that would be. For the last couple of weeks, she’d been traveling around Europe with a professional rugby exhibition. Race drivers and athletes. Second only to movie stars and singers and my God, the amount of hand-holding and ego-stroking she did was exhausting. And pathetic.

With a saucy wink and a smirking chuckle, she gave him a little bow. “Your house, your call.”

“I know just the place,” he announced with a jerk of his head. “Ladies first, Baroness,” he teased. “Down the hallway and second door on the left.”

Sidling past where he all but blocked her path, she warned, “Better not be your dungeon. That’d be an immediate no.”

A bevy of twinkling fireflies lit up her soul when he released a deep chuckle and playfully swatted her butt as she passed. “You say that now, but then again … you haven’t experienced my personal dungeon. Not yet anyway.”

Her laughter echoed off the walls as she went ahead of him. “I swear to God Tyler, if the second door on the left opens to a red room, you’re in for a bit of a surprise.”

The door was closed and with the bread and plate keeping her hands busy she stopped and looked back. Expecting to find him still steps behind her, Charlie inhaled sharply when she realized he was right on top of her. When he reached for the doorknob, his hand briefly slid along her waist. Unintentional? Absolutely not.

“Red,” he murmured close to her ear. “Lacks imagination.” She didn’t miss the snickering dismissal in his voice. “With your coloring?” The way he looked at her melted Charlie’s bones. Seriously. Like plastic held too close to a flame. “Sapphire blue. Dark. Luxurious.” He continued. “Something opulent and erotic.” She hissed at his words. “Befitting a Baroness…”

The door opened, but her feet didn’t move. They couldn’t. She was trapped in his mesmerizing gaze.

K
NOW WHAT THIS SITUATION CALLED
for? Cal’s overactive mind was already working up quite the imaginative scene. Oxygen masks. That’s what they needed. Oxygen masks to drop from the ceiling so each of them could catch their breath.

Who was this girl and why was he so fiercely drawn to her? She wasn’t like any of the women cluttering his world. Most of the females flitting in and out of his bed tended to be pampered, selfish, professional pussy. The women who slept with whatever wallet paid the bills and supplied the gifts. Women who shopped at exclusive boutiques and spent incomprehensible time and money on spray tans, lip injections and spa treatments. Women who had purse pets and a closet just for shoes.

And not a book anywhere in sight.

But this one? Holy fuckballz. What he stumbled upon this evening was one hundred percent, grade A prime, All-American girl. And his dick had never been harder.

When he’d heard sounds coming from the pantry and went to investigate, the last thing he expected was to find a fresh-faced beauty with a body so lush that it couldn’t possibly be natural, but was. Something he discovered when she’d been crushed along the length of him.

Dressed in a casual summery style that reminded him of home, she wore a long gauzy dress with a muted floral print that did more to showcase her unbelievable curves than a thong bikini. Sometimes, less isn’t always better. A row of tiny pearlescent buttons ran from neck to hemline with the ones at the neckline undone to the top of her boobs. Boobs that even the gentleman inside him was having a hard time ignoring.

Hard. Get it? Cal mentally rolled his eyes. Jesus, he was losing it.

He counted five necklaces. A loosely woven collar of pale ribbons hung with a tiny star was around her neck. A delicate silver chain, holding a small charm he couldn’t make out was beneath. Hanging lower still was another chain and a half-moon pendant which dangled perfectly in the valley between the tits, making Cal’s mouth tingle. Two more necklaces hung down the front of her dress. One was a quartz crystal and the longest, a beautiful slice of turquoise with a knot of gold and silver chains hanging from the bottom.

She smelled like vanilla and coconut. And sunshine and a spring meadow. Her long blonde hair gathered into a thick braid and hung over her shoulder drawing attention to the breast it covered.

And her ass? Well, he knew how spectacular it was underneath the long dress because he’d mapped most of it with his hand.

It was her face that made everything else just minor details. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

And made no effort to hide that she was also full of mischief.

His dick surged at the thought.

“In you go,” he urged as his hand pushed the door behind her open. She didn’t move. The tiresome details he tried to ignore when he wasn’t on the track? Pfft. Good luck with that. He was hooked.

Her eyes were huge and staring a hole through his head. Nibbling on her bottom lip, he noted the slight flare to her nostrils as she inhaled. The impulse to lick her neck scattered his thoughts.

This girl was dangerous.

“In you go,” she murmured. “So says the big bad wolf to the trembling innocent.”

Now … innocent wasn’t a word he would have applied to this mystery woman, so it intrigued him that she used it.

“I don’t bite,” he drawled. “Unless of course …”

He didn’t get a chance to finish because she laughed right in his face and shoved him aside. “And here I was sure you were a vegetarian,” she teased.

Amazed by how quickly she doused the fire building between them with a throaty laugh and cute comeback, Cal chuckled as she swept by.

Quickly glancing up and down the hallway, satisfied that no curious eyes were watching and taking notes, he followed her in and shut the door to his private study. On impulse, he pushed the lock on the knob.

When he turned around, she was standing in the center of the room with her back to him. Remembering the first time he walked into the enormous study, he wished he could see her reaction.

He watched in silence as her arms hung at her sides. Her head angled upward and a slight gasp hung in the air.

The room was a stunner. Dark, polished wood covered the floor and every wall. A plush handmade silk Persian defined the area between his huge desk and the marble fireplace. But the best part of the room? The part she was taking in as she looked upward. Something a designer’s mind went nuts for.

In the back left corner near the fireplace, a beautiful wrought iron and wood spiral staircase led to a walkway that extended along three walls with windows and bookcases lining the unusual architectural embellishment. The two-story design left room for a dramatic chandelier hanging over her head.

Cal laid the knife, peanut butter and honey pot on his desk and went to remove the bread, banana and plate from her hands.

When he tugged on the plate, and she released it, her head turned, and a pair of eyes blazing with delight bored into him.

“Can I live here? Please?” she giggled. “I swear you won’t even notice me! I’ll camp up there,” she pointed. “On that window seat.”

The words were teasing, but that didn’t stop his dick from throbbing with approval. And interest. Interest that went way beyond getting into her panties.

His mouth twitched and a corner lifted in a goofy smile. “Said the fly to the spider.”

She threw back her head and let loose with a growling laugh. The sound instantly imprinted in his mind.

Smacking her hand on his chest, she pushed him away like he was an over eager puppy and gave him a lopsided grin.

“Who the hell are you, sir? And why the practiced charm? Really?” She shook her head and tut-tutted. “C’mon! American girl in Italy? Do I seem that easy?”

Where the hell had this girl been all his life? Who the fucking fuck was she?

As that thought swirled in his head, she shut him down completely with her charming drawl. “Besides, you had me at Skippy…”

He had her at Skippy. Holy shit. Suddenly, nothing else in the whole wide world mattered except getting to know this enchanting female. Better. A whole lot better.

Cal’s bellowing laugh filled the big room. Joy like he’d never felt before overwhelmed his senses.

“All right, you cheeky wench. I know a peanut butter jones when I see one so enough with the hints. Over to the desk Contessa and I’ll whip you up a Tyler Special.”

“Ooh, Contessa? I like that.”

“Yeah, well,” he quipped. “This is Italy.” He looked at her a moment and added, “I’ll call you ‘tessa for short. That way it’ll be our private wink-wink.”

He liked the way her eyes sparkled with humor. She got how comical all this was and also understood the unspoken subtext. He could see it in how often she nibbled her lip. It occurred to him that playing along wasn’t the same thing as knowing what the hell you were doing. Her almost invisible hesitation let him know she was right on the edge of her comfort zone. Intriguing.

Placing a couple of bread slices on the platter, she rearranged them like paintings in a gallery. “What am I the Contessa of?” she blurted out.

“What?”

She shrugged. “A girl’s got the right to choose. Right? Maybe I prefer Baroness. So, Contessa of what?”

She was good. No way this girl wouldn’t hold her own at the dinner table along with his family.

Laughing, he drawled, “Well, I don’t fucking know! What are you the Baroness of?”

Twisting the stem at the top of the banana, she met his expression with dry humor. Without looking away, she began slowly peeling the banana by sections. He was the first to drop his eyes as he studied the way she handled the phallic fruit. No man should ever have to endure the sight of a sexy woman enjoying a banana—unless he could fuck her after. It just wasn’t fair.

With a husky, knowing chuckle she politely informed him, “I am the Baroness of Wild, of course.”

The Baroness of Wild. Who the fuck was she trying to kid?

“You don’t seem all that wild to me.”

The enigmatic look on her face piqued his curiosity. “You’d be surprised,” she murmured.

Trying not to get peanut butter all over the place, Cal swirled big globs of the stuff on the bread while he contemplated their flirty banter. And then it hit him. Like, full-on, square between the eyes.

“You would be the Contessa of Skippy. An old, exalted title reserved for those special ladies who appreciate and crave something thick and gooey on their tongue.”

Her expression of absolute shock was fucking priceless. When she blushed beet red and ducked her head, he got quite a thrill.