The Dangerous Jacob Wilde

By now, heads were turning. People were staring. That was the last thing she needed.

A public scene over who-knew-what when she’d spent the past weeks doing everything she could to avoid public anythings!

Okay.

She took a step back.

Forget facing the lion. Forget refusing to be intimidated. The man was crazy, and she was absolutely not going to permit him to—

Too late.

His hand, hard as steel, wrapped around her wrist.

“Going somewhere?” he said in a low voice.

Addison’s heart was racing. It was difficult to speak calmly, but she did.

“Let go of me.”

“Why? My brothers said you were eager to meet me.”

“Hardly eager.” Her gaze went from his face to her wrist, then back again. “Are you deaf? I said—”

“Deaf as well as blind?” He smiled thinly. “No, Miss McDowell. One disability at a time is my limit.”

She winced. The guy was a nut-job but she had no intention of insulting him.

“I can assure you, I didn’t mean—”

“No. And you can also assure me you didn’t tell my brothers how much you wanted to meet me.”

“Jake,” Travis said in a warning tone.

Addison looked past Jacob Wilde. His brothers had positioned themselves slightly behind him, one on either side. They seemed ready to grab him and march him away.

The idea should have been comforting. It wasn’t. All three Wildes were big and strong and hard-bodied, but she had no doubt that this one’s icy rage would surely give him an edge.

Maybe a calm approach would work.

“I told them I’d agree to meet you,” Addison said. “It seemed to mean a lot to them.”

“You wanted to meet me,” he said coldly. “And when they told you they knew damned well I wasn’t going to be interested in taking you on as a client—”

“A client?” Her eyes narrowed. “What they wanted was for me to give you a job.”

“The hell they did.”

Addison felt her resolve to stay calm slipping.

“They close to begged me to give you a reason to hang around.”

“Right,” Jake snapped. “That’s why you went into that—that routine.”

What was he talking about?

“Look,” she said carefully, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”

“The look. The smile. That last little touch, the sip of wine and that sexy lick of your lips.”