Yasmine glanced at the clock, checking to see how much time she had before Holt would be home for dinner. After helping Jackie load the warming plates to send to the mess hall for the others, she’d gone back to preparing their meal.
Tonight they were going to eat together, just the two of them, and later go dancing.
The thought of getting away from the ranch for some alone time with Holt and going dancing with him had kept her excited all day. With breeding season upon them, the past couple of weeks they’d barely managed to see each other during the day.
That, as well as the time she’d spent with Lilly, planning the final menu for Althea and Nate’s wedding, and her own duties, and the two of them had managed to spend time together only at night.
Occasionally she wondered if he longed for her in the way she longed for him. Even when they were apart, thoughts of Holt were never far from her mind. She also wondered if he’d ever trust her enough to allow her to get past that last barrier, the invisible one he kept between himself and the rest of the world.
Whenever doubts surfaced she brushed them away for the time being, and forced herself to enjoy the moment, and the time they had left together.
Not that it all had been idyllic. It was getting harder and harder for Yasmine to keep her love for him quiet, especially during lovemaking. She wondered what his feelings were for her.
Behind the jokes and sometimes irreverent sense of humor he showed, at times Yasmine saw the cracks behind the mask he presented to the world.
When he took her out to the cottage where he and his brothers, along with their foster father, had once lived, she’d gotten a view, although only briefly, of the part of himself, his personality, he kept firmly locked away.
When he thought she wasn’t looking, she’d catch a strange expression crossing his handsome face. She felt at those times like a specimen under his own private microscope.
Maybe he was trying to figure her out, just as she was him. She didn’t know. There was still so much about him she hadn’t figured out, she thought as she absently stirred the pot.
Enjoy the moment. Which she was doing with fervor. Although both of them were busy, too busy during the day to spend any real time together, Holt more than made up for their time spent apart at night, she thought, a feminine smile tugging at her mouth as she remembered last night.
He’d come home earlier than usual, and after a hasty dinner where he’d barely allowed her to say good-night to her aunt, he’d hustled her to his room, where he promptly showed her just how much he missed her.
And throwing herself completely into their lovemaking, she returned the favor.
Yasmine paused in her thinking, her hand coming to a stop.
She was in love with Holt.
Not a young girl’s crush, but the love only a woman could have for her man.
“You look so at home in the kitchen, Yasmine.”
Yasmine whirled around, completely surprised to see Clayton Moore standing in the kitchen hallway. She dropped the spoon she’d been stirring inside the large pot.
“Clayton, what … what are you doing here?”
“Well, if Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, I guess the mountain has to come to Mohammed.” He quipped the clichéd saying, walking toward her.
He smiled widely, his bleached teeth standing out sharply against his sienna-colored skin.
“You’re keeping busy, I see,” he said, stopping when he came within arm’s distance.
“Oh, uh, yes, I have!” she said, mentally scrambling, trying to figure out why he’d come.
She frowned. “Did I miss something? Did you tell me you were coming?”
“Well, I thought I would surprise you.”
“Yes, you have. But why?”
Her oven timer went off before he could answer and she turned away, lifting the heavy, large dish from the oven and placing it on the stove.
She turned back around to face him, the slightest bit irritated that he hadn’t bothered trying to help her. At least an offer.
“You look quite at home here,” he said, not bothering to answer her question.
Yasmine drew the oven mitts from her hands, slowly placing them on the counter.
“I came because I want you.”
“What?” So stunned, Yasmine was nearly speechless with the bald statement.
He laughed, coming closer. “Don’t act surprised, Yasmine. I haven’t exactly tried to hide that fact.”
She backed away from him. “But I thought you wanted me as your executive chef. Not as—”
“My lover?” he asked, raising an arched brow.
As Yasmine listened to him speak, she ran her gaze over him, wondering what she’d ever found attractive about him.
His eyebrows, nails and hair were more manicured than her own, and he exuded an oily charm that suddenly sent shivers over her body.
“Of course I want you for the executive chef … the notoriety you’ll bring will make my new restaurant even more successful. But can’t I have both?” he asked, his blazing-white teeth flashing as he smiled. Before she could discern his next move, he had her, his arms wrapping around her body and pulling her close.
Surprised, Yasmine didn’t move as his warm, moist lips moved over hers.
When his clammy fingers dug into her arms, Yasmine snapped out of her daze and renewed her struggle. Finally she pried his arms away from hers, and shoved at his chest until he stumbled away.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she kept her gaze on Clayton, eyeing him warily.
From the look on his face, Yasmine knew that he was aware that he’d overstepped his boundaries.
“Yasmine, I’m sorry. I—”
“I think you need to go. Now,” she said, anger making her voice tremble.
Before she could finish the thought a voice interrupted.
“Seems like I’m interrupting something.”
Holt was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his big chest. To the casual observer he was relaxed, poised even, as his glance went from Yasmine to Clayton. But, Yasmine saw the muscle twitch in the corner of his mouth, a sure sign that he was barely holding on to his anger.
“Holt, it wasn’t—” A hard look crossed his face, stopped her from speaking. He turned cold eyes her way.
“This is Clayton Moore,” she said, desperately trying to get a good gauge on him, wondering how much he’d heard … how much he’d seen. Dread pooled in her gut at the cold look on his face.
“I told you about him … he’s just here about the offer.”
“I’m sure he is,” he said, his lips curling. “I don’t want to keep you from your … plans. I’ve got plans of my own.”
Yasmine frowned. “What plans? I thought you and I—?”
He cut in on her. “About that. I have to take a rain check. I was coming to find you to tell you that I got a call from my own … business associate and I won’t be able to keep our plans. Maybe next time.”
“What the hell? Maybe next time?” Yasmine frowned. “Who is this business associate?” Although she asked, anger began to boil up inside Yasmine after his insinuation sunk in.
Not only did he think she was kissing another man, he had come to tell her he was breaking their date for what she could only gather was another woman.
Before she could say another word, he turned and strode from the room.
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I can go to him, explain.” Clayton stopped when she held out a hand to him. She’d almost forgotten he was there. Turning to him she shook her head.
“Just go. Please.” She couldn’t look at Clayton, couldn’t deal with him, not right now.
“I’m sorry, Yasmine. I really am,” he said to her back. She heard his footsteps as he walked down the hall and left the house.