Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2) by Suzanne Halliday Page B

he could pretty much go shit in his hat.
    Thinking she was putting his arrogant ass in its place, she sneered, “You and Mrs. Walsh. I believe in this scenario—you are the tycoon and she would be the benefit.”
    “What?” he barked. “Who told you that?”
    H mmph. Just as she suspected. Not an outright denial. More interested in who spilled the beans. Tycoon problems. She sighed. Now Rhi wanted to smack him ‘cause dammit, she’d wanted him to say it wasn’t so. Defeated and tired of this game—whatever it was—she slumped ever so slightly and asked again, “What do you want, Liam? Just spit it out. I’m a little busy here earning a paycheck.”
    He was standing so close that backing her into a corner took no effort at all. When he searched her face, she desperately tried to show no emotion.
    “There’s nothing between me and Kim Walsh. She’s a business associate. Nothing more. If someone has implied otherwise . . . well, they’d be incorrect.”
    When she didn’t respond or meet his gaze, he touched her arm lightly. “Rhiann?”
    “It’s none of my business,” she choked out.
    Putting his big hands on her arms, he ran them up and down a few times, from shoulder to elbow. Aw, goddammit. Not fair. His touch scattered her emotions.
    “Oh, hell yeah, it’s your business, milaya, ” he husked.
    It was too much. Him calling her by that name. His closeness. The way her arms tingled where he stroked her. Why wouldn’t he stay away?
    They stared at each other until her bottom lip started to tremble. She hated him. She wanted him. She was afraid of him. She was drawn to him. Why? Why?
    He must have known that she was close to breaking when he stepped back and put his arm around her waist, guiding her bottom until she was perched on the edge of the desk with him quite literally wedged between her knees.
    Putting his fingers beneath her chin, he forced her to look at him.
    “Rhiann,” he drawled. “It’s more your business than you could possibly imagine.”
    She didn’t understand his cryptic answers.
    “I can’t do this,” she whispered.
    He put his hands on either side of her face and offered a quirky half grin. “I know you can’t, and I’m sorry you think there’s anything for you to do. I came at this all wrong, but I’m going to change that, okay?”
    She didn’t have a damn clue what he was talking about, but she was enjoying the way his strong, masculine fingers were touching her face. She nodded so he wouldn’t stop.
    “Are you still traveling to Philadelphia for Thanksgiving?”
    Thanksgiving? Where did that come from?
    “Um . . . yeah,” she answered. “Nana and the family.”
    He nodded as his thumbs gently stroked along her jaw and she swallowed heavily.
    “I don’t want you hassling with the train so I’ve made my car and driver available to you.”
    “What for?”
    Liam sighed and his head shook fractionally. “To take you to your gathering, of course. I want you to use my car.”
    Rhiann studied his handsome, scowling face for a minute and frowned in confusion. He wanted her to use his car, but why?
    “No, no, no, no, no!” she chanted. “That’s silly. The train is a direct shot.”
    “I don’t care,” he told her. “You shouldn’t have to manage the train. Wouldn’t you rather sit back and relax for the drive?”
    “Well, sure,” she admitted. “But can you imagine my folks when I show up in a chauffeured car? Your chauffeured car.”
    He let go of her face and lightly tapped her on the nose. “Hadn’t thought of that. You could tell them it’s from the magazine.”
    Without his hands on her, Rhi’s sense returned in a hurry.
    “Liam, no. I can’t. I can’t make up stories to tell my family.”
    As soon as she said the words, the hypocrisy washed back onto her. They’d made a study of making up stories and lying to her family.
    “Then, I’ll drive you myself.”
    She startled and began to object when he told her sharply, “And no —I’m not