Kimberly Kaye Terry - To Have a Wilde

The Queen Borg...his inner voice mocked him. The name didn’t come close to fitting the woman. She was fine, from head to damn toe, Key thought, frustration warring with his libido. He knew he’d given her the nickname, even if only in thought, in an effort to minimize the attraction he felt for the sexy, long-legged producer.

She strode toward the group, a small tablet in her hand, her assistant close by. Key’s attention went front and center on the woman who had occupied more space in his mind than he’d allowed a woman in a long, long time.

More than he had allowed any woman. The truth struck, deep and swift. He had never permitted any woman beyond family to get close to him.

As he watched her walk confidently toward the group of mostly men, he checked his rise of anger when several of them stood straighter, wide grins on their faces.

Although her assistant walked beside her, all eyes were on Sonia.

Not that he could blame them.

As soon as she approached the group, one of the men, the lighting technician he believed, clamped a hand on her shoulder. At this distance from the group Key couldn’t see her clearly; however, there was something in her posture that made him wonder if she liked the familiar touch.

He felt the irrational anger rise again, and he swiftly took a step toward the group before he checked himself, his immediate response being the overwhelming need to remove the man’s hand from her shoulder.

He frowned. What the hell was with him? It wasn’t his business who she wanted to touch her, or not.

He ignored the mocking inner voice that called him a damn liar.

His hungry gaze traveled over her, from the top of her shiny brown hair to the tips of her cowboy boots, a frown pulling his brows together.

She wore a white, sheer gauzy type of shirt that was opened to the waist, revealing a plain tank top underneath and soft jeans that, although they had several ripped spots scattered over them, appeared to be from actual wear and not manufactured. Even the cowboy boots she wore appeared to be authentic, not like the fashionable ones he’d noticed several of her crew wearing. Nine times out of ten he and his men laughed as, one by one, most of them stopped wearing them, as by the end of the day they were limping from pinched toes.

Even in her shoe choices, she was authentic and one of a kind, and admiration strummed through him despite his determination not to find anything more attractive about the woman.

He continued his perusal of her.

Nothing she wore screamed sexy. Nothing that should make him want to walk over, haul her up into his arms, throw her over his shoulder, take her to the nearest stall and see if she could make good on the promise of that hot little body of hers.

It wasn’t the clothes getting him hot and bothered.

It was what her body did to the clothes that had his cock hardening to granite.

With breasts that made him think of two deliciously plump mounds of sweet, sinful chocolate ice cream, complete with succulent hard cherries on top, they were large but firm...with just enough jiggle to reduce a grown man to a teenage boy with one look.

Not to mention what the image of him lying between her legs as he sucked and tugged on those glorious breasts of hers did to him late at night when she tended to show up, nightly, in every dream he had.

Damn...Key drew in a breath. From experience he knew that within close proximity of each other, one look from him sent her nipples into hard peaks beneath his gaze. She was just as aware of him as he was of her.

He continued his long-distance appraisal. From his vantage point he caught the way her washed-out jeans molded and cupped her firm buttocks, appreciating the soft sway of her hips as she walked toward the group.

It made his palms itch, his imagination going into hyperdrive wondering if her ass would fit into both palms of his hands with the type of perfection he’d imagined in dreams he’d had of her, more erotic than any during his entire adolescence.

It didn’t take much imagination on his part to imagine just how perfectly her cheeks would fit into his hands. No way around it. The woman had a glorious backside. Neither did it take a leap of imagination to envision how she would look naked, spread-eagle beneath him...or what he’d do to that soft, sweet ass of hers once he had both cheeks cupped in the palms of his hands as he stroked into her warmth.

And no one woman had ever accused Key of having a lack of imagination.

“Damn,” he muttered, his cock painful in its hardness.

“Sir?”

One of his stable hands wrung his attention away from the sexy producer. He turned slowly, reluctantly away and glanced at the young man feeding one of his prize Thoroughbreds in the next stable.

Key shook his head as to clear it, yet found his attention torn between the stable boy and Sonia, whom he kept in his peripheral view.

When the lighting technician placed his beefy hand again on Sonia’s shoulder and squeezed, Key gritted his teeth together, tightly, his short nails scoring grooves in his work-roughened palms as he gripped the horse’s leather reins in both hands.

Before striding over to her, he turned back to the young stable boy. “Think you can take care of her for me, Hutch?” he asked, referring to his horse. His glance fell over the tall, gangly adolescent, this time giving the boy his full attention.

“Yes, sir!” The boy gave a swift pat on the rump of the horse he was currently attending and sprinted to Key’s side, taking the leather reins from his hands.

Key felt a slow grin lift the corner of his mouth at the young man’s reaction. Entrusting the boy with removing the horse’s tack was no small thing as the horse in question was Key’s prize Thoroughbred which he’d recently acquired in auction at an astronomical price.

“Take care of my girl, Hutch. She’s special,” he murmured, running a hand over the horse’s back, yet his attention had already left both the horse and Hutch and was centered on Sonia again.

Key turned around, eyes narrowing, and he strode over to the small gathering, keeping his gaze locked and loaded on Sonia Brandon.

Chapter 2

Sonia didn’t need to turn around to know who watched her.

She felt Keanu’s intense, bright, blue-eyed gaze on her, searing her skin through the white gauzy blouse she wore over her tank top.

On cue, she felt her ridiculous nipples respond. She nonchalantly crossed her arms, hoping to hide her body’s telling reaction.

As though it was the noonday sun, the heat from his stare scorched her skin, blazing hot and heavy against her neck. And the intensity brought the same reaction as the noonday sun; she was instantly hot and bothered.

Sonia reached a hand up and massaged her fingers over the back of her neck, hoping to relieve the suddenly bunched muscles. She forced herself to concentrate on her crew.

“I need a small group, including one of your assistants,” she began, speaking to her film editor before turning to the others, “to follow the men heading out to the south pastures. The foreman has already okayed it, and recommended the crew get there by no later than 5:00 a.m.” She held up a hand and waved it back and forth to negate the volley of protest she knew was coming her way. “I know they’re just repairing fence, but it’s all a part of ranch life. I don’t want to miss out on an opportunity for some good promo like we did yesterday, Sheldon.” She turned and pinned one of the location manager’s assistants with a stare.

Although they’d been on site, filming for over two months steady, and would soon wrap up filming, Sonia knew from experience that there was no such thing as too much film.

Her location manager had recently gone on maternity leave and left her assistant in charge, believing, as everyone did, that the six-episode series was wrapping up and the crew disbanding. Although she was competent, as were all of the crew, the assistant manager was not as experienced as her boss and Sonia had been forced to do some quick training to get the young woman up to speed.