Wild Revenge: The Dangerous Jacob Wilde / The Ruthless Caleb Wilde / The Merciless Travis Wilde. Sandra Marton
Читать онлайн книгу.
brothers had exchanged a long look. Then Caleb sighed.
“Jake’s been in the army.”
“So?”
“So, he was, ah, he was wounded. And he, ah, he’s not sure if he wants to stay at El Sueño or maybe move on. And—”
“And he needs a solid reason to stay,” Travis had said bluntly, no charm, no drawl, nothing but the cool voice of the financial advisor Addison had come to know and respect. “He knows your land almost as well as he knows ours. He’s smart, he’s pragmatic, and he was born knowing horses and ranching.”
“We promise you,” Caleb had said in that same no-nonsense way, “you won’t regret working with him.” And then, before she could say anything, he’d added, “Have you had any regrets, dealing with us?”
Thinking back to that conversation, Addison sighed, brought her glass to her lips and drank some more wine.
No. She most definitely had no regrets. She’d learned not just to like the Wildes, but to trust them.
Travis had been her financial advisor pretty much since she’d arrived in Wilde’s Crossing. Caleb had been her attorney close to the same length of time. Using a New York lawyer and a New York financial guru just hadn’t made much sense.
The point was, she took legal advice from one Wilde and financial advice from the other.
It might make sense to take ranching advice from the other.
Which was why she was here, tonight.
Travis had greeted her; he’d taken her on the obligatory rounds, introduced her to his three sisters.
Apparently, no one had told them that her relationship with their brothers was strictly professional.
Not that they hadn’t been pleasant, even gracious, but a woman could always tell when other women were sizing her up.
Listen, she’d almost said, you can stop worrying. I do not, repeat, do not intend to sleep with either of your brothers. They’re hunks, all right, and I like them, but I have no interest in getting involved with any man, no matter how handsome or sexy or rich or charming, not even if hell should freeze over.
She wasn’t interested in waiting another minute for the Hero to show up, either. The Wounded Hero, she reminded herself, but the wound could not have been much.
Jacob Wilde was a famous man’s son. He would have grown up rich and spoiled—girls from trailer parks knew the type. So, why on earth was she still standing around, waiting for a man she would undoubtedly dislike on—
“Jake?”
“Oh, my God, Jake!”
Someone had opened the front door ten or fifteen minutes ago. Now the entire Wilde crew was trying to fit through it at once.
The sisters were shrieking and bouncing like yo-yo’s. Caleb and Travis were laughing. The bunch of them exploded onto the porch, and the crowd moved in behind them for the show.
Addison sighed with resignation. Too late. She was stuck here, at least until she shook the hero’s hand, or maybe he’d be so engulfed by the crowd that she’d be able to slip out without anybody noticing….
And then Jacob Wilde stepped into the room.
The breath caught in her throat.
She had expected him to be good-looking.
He wasn’t.
He was—there was no other word for it—beautiful.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. A long, tautly muscled body, strong and straight in a uniform that bristled with ribbons. His hair was the color of midnight.
Corny, all of it, but true.
He had a face a sculptor might have chiseled.
A sculptor with a cruel sense of irony.
Because Jacob Wilde’s face was perfect….
Except for the black patch over one eye, and the angry, ridged flesh that stretched across the arch of his cheek beneath it.
JAKE STOOD frozen in the open doorway.
The momentary rush of euphoria at seeing his sisters and brothers drained away as fast as the water from Coyote Creek in a dry Texas summer.
No party, he’d said. No crowd. And, yes, he’d figured there’d be people there anyway….
His belly knotted.
From where he stood, it looked as if the entire county had showed up.
He took a quick step back, or tried to, but his sisters threw themselves at him.
“You’re here,” Em said happily.
“Really here,” Jaimie said.
“You’re home,” Lissa added, and what could he finally do but close his arms around them all?
Caleb pounded him on the back.
Travis squeezed his shoulder.
Despite everything, Jake began to grin.
“Is this a welcoming committee?” he said, “or a plot to do me in?”
They laughed with him, his sisters weeping, his brothers grinning from ear to ear.
For a few seconds, it was as if nothing had changed, as if they were all still kids and the world was a wonderland of endless possibilities….
Then Caleb cleared his throat.
“The General sends his best.”
Jake checked the room. “He’s not here?”
“No,” Travis said uncomfortably. “He said to tell you he’s sorry but he got hung up at a NATO meeting in London.”
Reality returned in a cold, hard rush.
“Of course,” Jake said politely. “I understand.”
There was a moment of silence. Then Jaimie touched his arm.
“Everyone’s waiting to say hello,” she said softly.
Jake forced a smile. “So I see.”
Caleb leaned in closer. “Sorry about the crowd,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” Travis said. “Trust me, bro. We didn’t plan any of this.”
“It’s just that word got around,” Lissa said. “And people were so eager to welcome you home….”
“You don’t mind, Jake,” Em said, “do you?”
“No,” he said, “of course not.”
His brothers saw right through the polite response. They exchanged a look.
“You ladies can have him later,” Caleb said. “What he needs right now is a cold brew. Right, my man?”
What he needed was to get the hell out of here, especially because he knew what would happen once he stepped fully inside the room, where the lights were brighter and the crowd could get its first good look at him, but why add cowardice to his other sins?
“Unless,” Travis said quickly, “baby brother wants champagne. Or wine.”
Jake looked at his brothers. They were throwing him a lifeline, a way to grab hold of the past by segueing into an old routine.
“Champagne’s for chicks,” he said, the line coming to him as readily as his next breath. “Wine’s for wusses.”
“But