Trouble in the tropics…

When high-powered attorney Sinclair Adams jets to Hawaii on behalf of the Wilde family, failure is not an option. She will do anything to defend the Wilde men and their Wyoming ranch, even go up against the vindictive Nick Kealoha. He claims that the Wyoming Wilde is his birthright, but what he really wants is payback. She is sure her legal acumen and feminine charm will easily change his mind.

Once in the islands, however, Sinclair immediately realizes her miscalculation, for Mr. Kealoha is no ordinary man. His piercing blue eyes and dark expression announce that the Hawaiian rancher is a force of nature, a force that dares to be reckoned with. In this lush, exotic paradise, passion will soon be unleashed, long-seated loyalties forgotten. After one night in Nick’s powerful arms, will Sinclair question everything she’s ever believed to be true?

“I think you and I have some unfinished business, Mr. Kealoha,” she said firmly, attempting to temper the ridiculous pull he had on her.

She was proud of the way her voice came off—strong and confident, not in the least bit revealing the crazy nervousness that quivered within her belly. It was a nervousness she had never, ever felt when dealing with any other legal situation.

“Indeed we do, Ms. Sinclair,” he rumbled in his hot-sex-on-a-platter voice. “Please…come in.”

She felt something slide over her as he spoke. Oh, yes, she was in trouble.

“Looks like you’re going to be busy for a while, Nick. I’ll catch up with you later,” Lani said.

Sinclair barely registered the woman’s presence. Her soft laugh went unheard as Sinclair was engrossed with Nick.

“I’ll work on the new figures and we can go over them, later, Lani,” Nick murmured, while his hot blue-eyed gaze remained fixed on Sinclair.

Neither one of them noticed when Lani left the room.

Sinclair licked the fuller rim of her bottom lip, her gaze still fixed on Nick.

His eyes were sharply focused on Sinclair. The intensity made her feel off-kilter. Uneasy.

Suddenly, intuitively, she knew what a gazelle felt like when caught in the stare of a hungry, beautiful lion. Dinnertime. And Nick looked like the type that would eat. Her. Whole.

KIMBERLY KAYE TERRY’s

love for reading romances began at an early age. Long into the night she would stay up with her night-light on until she reached “the end,” praying she wouldn’t be caught reading what her mother called “those” types of books. Often she would acquire her stash from beneath her mother’s bed. Ahem. To date she’s an award-winning author of seventeen novels in romance, paranormal romance and erotic romance, and has garnered acclaim for her work. She happily calls writing her full-time job…after chauffeuring around her teenage fashionista daughter, that is.

Kimberly has a bachelor’s degree in social work and a master’s degree in human relations and has held licenses in social work and mental health therapy in the United States and abroad. She and her daughter volunteer weekly at various social service agencies and she is a long-standing member of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc., a community-conscious organization. Kimberly is a naturalist and practices aromatherapy. She believes in embracing the powerful woman within each of us and meditates on a regular basis. Kimberly would love to hear from you. Visit her at www.kimberlykayeterry.com.

To Tame a Wilde

Kimberly Kaye Terry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Dear Reader,

Once again, I would like to thank you for your enthusiasm and love for my Wilde boys and introduce to you the latest Wilde, Nikolaus “Pika” Kealoha, identical twin brother of the very sexy Keanu “Key” Kealoha.

Nick is just as sexy as his twin...and maybe just a little bit more. At least that’s what his heroine, the beautiful and savvy corporate attorney Sinclair Adams seems to think. One hot, calculated glance at her from beneath his hooded blue eyes sends her heart beating out control, and her body damp with sexual heat. Heart-pounding tension explodes with their every encounter, starting with the first meeting between Nick and Sinclair, until neither one can take the heat, the pressure...the sexual fire anymore. And when they finally come together, neither will walk away unsinged from the flames.

Kick off your shoes, grab a glass of wine, come on in and enjoy the ride... It’s time to saddle up to a Wilde! And as always, be good my wonderful readers. If not...be delicious in your naughty. ;)

~KKT

To my beautiful daughter, Hannah, who

always inspires me to be the best that I can be;

I love you, Poohma...now go make up your bed! ;)

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 1

Sinclair Adams was tired. No, scratch that. She was damn tired.

“And why am I so blasted tired?” she grumbled.

She briefly closed her eyes and inhaled a fortifying breath before allowing it to softly blow out of her full lips.

She had been expecting a car and driver, supplied by the Kealohas, to meet her at the airport. At least, that is what she had been told would happen.

And yes, a car had been sent—if you could call it a car. The one that had arrived for her shuddered and rattled so badly, she hadn’t been the least bit surprised when it just...stopped.

A heartfelt groan slipped from behind her closed lips.

She closed her eyes again, knowing even as the driver, an older man named Kanoa whose hands had shaken just as badly as the car, turned to her with a resigned look on his aged, weathered face.

“Guess I’d better go check under the hood.” His voice registered hopelessness.

He hopped out of the car, spry for his obviously advanced age, and popped the hood. After a lot of noise, tinkering and mild curses, most of which Sinclair didn’t understand, he walked to her side of the car and looked at her through the open rear window.

“Miss, I’m sorry, but old Mou Mou here...” Kanoa began, scratching his nearly bald head. “Well, she ain’t gonna make it to the hotel. I gotta call a tow.”

The look he cast toward the car was so sympathetic as he lovingly patted the rusted roof of...Mou Mou, that had Sinclair been in a better frame of mind, she would have felt sorry for the old man. And his obviously beloved car.

As it was, she barely checked her irritation. After all, it wasn’t the old man’s fault. She laid the blame squarely on one person: Nick Kealoha.

She groaned, but her choices were limited. She could either wait for another ride to take her to the hotel—which God only knew how long that would take—or climb out of the jalopy and wait alongside the road with Kanoa as the car was towed. She chose the latter, believing it the lesser of two evils and the quickest means to get to the hotel.

* * *

By the time she made it to the hotel where Althea Wilde had reserved a room for her, she was tired. And grumpy as all get-out, as her daddy used to say.

“Don’t forget that part. I’m tired and I’m mad, and...” She paused in her verbal rant and lifted an arm, daintily taking a sniff as the elevator swiftly ascended. “Lord, I’m sweaty!”

After the elevator made it to her floor, she briskly exited, her high heels sinking into the lush carpeting as she strode down the hall. She slowed her gait, glancing at the slim credit-card-like key in her hand and up at the doors she passed, wanting to locate her room as quickly as possible.

“But at least I’m here,” she murmured. Just as she located her suite, she heard a small ding. She glanced down at the Cartier watch, the last gift she’d received from her beloved father before his passing, and muttered a mild curse.

“Could this day get any worse?” she mumbled at the alarm notification. She was supposed to be at the A’kela Ranch in less than an hour.

Thank God she’d allowed Althea to make the reservation. Althea was married to Nathan Wilde—the oldest of her “Wilde Boys,” as she collectively called the three men she considered brothers—and the woman was organized to a tee.

“No telling what the Kealohas would have had in store for me otherwise,” Sinclair huffed as she dragged her suitcase inside the suite.

“Whose fault is all of this?” she continued her ranting monologue. To no one in particular.

“Him.”

It was all...his...fault.

With a disgusted harrumph, her lip curled. She wasn’t about to extend him the courtesy of saying his name out loud.

Name, image and everything about him had taken up too much of her energy, occupied way too much of her brain time than it should have, she thought, as she hauled her oversize bag inside the room and allowed the door to close softly behind her.

And there was no way she was taking the blame, even if only to herself, for the current state she found herself in.

“The ride-or-die girl herself, Sinclair,” she said, releasing another disgusted puff of air from teeth clenched tight. “But...I have to take care of my Wilde Boys,” Sinclair said, sighing heavily. “They’re family.”

She absently glanced around the room, taking it in quickly before dumping bags and her purse on the large king-size bed.

She slumped down on the bed, closing her eyes and arching her sore back.

But it wasn’t the Wildes with whom she had issue.

One name, one face, came to mind and claimed that number-one spot: Nickolas Kealoha... Nick, as he went by.

Nick, along with his twin brother, Keanu, and father, Alek, owned and operated the A’kela Ranch in Hawaii.

Nickolas Kealoha...Wilde.

And there was the rub—along with the reasons she was far away from home and the Wyoming Wilde Ranch, and now in Hawaii.

Sinclair clenched her eyes tightly closed. And as usual, what had become irritatingly familiar, the image of Nick Kealoha came to mind. She bit the corner of her lip. She knew what he looked like, every feature down to the lopsided grin he tended to have on his sensual mouth. The way one dimple would appear near his lower lip whenever he would smile, even the slightest bit. In that way he had—

Sinclair quickly opened her eyes, batting them several times as though that would scrub the image of Mr. Tall, Golden and Fine from her mind.

“Lord...help me,” she muttered and reached down to slip the ridiculously high heels from her feet to massage her arches.

Okay. She was definitely tired. She’d become accustomed to blocking his image from her mind the minute it bombarded its way inside, as though he had every right to take up residence.

Increasingly, his image was the first that came to her mind in the morning as soon as she woke. And it was the last one she visualized at night, right before bed.

Right before dreaming.

“Arggg!” The groan rolled out from between her tightened lips.

She refused to admit how it was affecting her, how his image had been flirting inside her mind for the past several months, relentlessly. Without ceasing.

It had started even before she’d seen his family’s show.

* * *

As soon as the Wildes had come to her for help with the situation, Sinclair had gone online to check out the Kealohas in an effort to get an idea of what she would be dealing with. It hadn’t been a hard task. As soon as she’d put their name into the search engine on her laptop, pages had filled the screen and she’d clicked through the various links and images. They were, in fact, quite...Google-able. Curious, she’d then decided to check out the show.

“Know thine enemy” had been a saying she had long learned to adhere to, even before completing her law degree. She’d settled down on her sofa and scrolled the various sites before finding the reality show.

That one show had done it....

Oh, Lord. She swallowed deep, the memories making her face burn. Her self-massage came to an abrupt halt, her fingers pausing midrub.

She’d promised herself not to watch another episode. There was absolutely no reason for her to continue, after all. She had watched simply to see the men of the A’kela Ranch—to watch and observe for anything she could use against the Kealohas. Strictly research fodder for her Wilde Boys, no more, no less.

For reasons she refused to analyze, although she’d promised herself not to watch another episode, she’d been spellbound. Like a deer caught in headlights, she’d sat on her loveseat watching episode after episode....

And what had started out as a mission simply to “know her enemy,” had turned into a marathon TV session that had her viewing both seasons one and two of the popular cable network show. Episodes where Nick seemed to be most present, she’d watched twice. Sometimes three times.

The man was drop-dead fine as hell, no two ways about it.

After that, his image had been scored into her brain, from his golden-boy good looks to the bright blue eyes that seemed to show mischief even if the camera wasn’t aimed in his direction. Even if he wasn’t the one the scene was focused on, he seemed to attract all the attention to his broad shoulders, narrow waist and muscled thighs that even behind the signature rugged jeans he wore couldn’t disguise the masculine appeal.

All of him had captured Sinclair’s attention. And although she should have been irritated at the way he seemed to know it, the way he carried himself as though he was the only man on the planet, alpha to the nth degree...she’d found herself getting wet. Just from looking at him.

Sinclair had noticed that although the show featured the Kealoha ranch, the actual Kealohas, both brothers as well as father, were rarely on camera. However, when Nick glanced into the camera and spoke, it was as though he was speaking directly to her.

She felt a tangible...warmth invade her body. Sexual.

Predatory heat...

Ingrained into her mind was the way his low-hooded, intense blue eyes would glance into the camera...his sculpted cheeks... And the hint of a dimple that would appear near his lower lip when he gave that ghost of a smile that Sinclair now associated with pure, raw, masculine...sex.

She sucked in a deep breath of air.

It all screamed that he was a man who knew his way around a woman’s body.

Her face flushed. Her panties grew wet.

Hot mess? Nah...she was way past that.

“Uhhhh!” The growl of frustration slipped from her lips and Sinclair quickly snapped her eyes open and batted them profusely.

She needed help.

Nick Kealoha was a player. Straight. Up. Player.

No two ways around it. It was all in his image. The way he carried himself. She’d read his bio...and she was not going to be played. Never had, never would.

Sinclair straightened her spine and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. She ignored the way her thick, wavy curls refused to behave, and how the once-straight strands were a memory of the past.

She ran a hand over her hair and circled the bunch in one hand. After opening a pocket of her messenger bag she’d tossed on the bed, she withdrew a covered band and deftly secured the thick, dense mass of curls.

No. She did not see him as one part of the “dynamic duo” that he and his twin had so cheesily been dubbed by the media.

She only saw the irritating man she had come to truly...have issue with.

Their communication had begun when Sinclair had taken over all dealings with the Kealohas immediately after Nick’s initial terse letter to the family, demanding retribution.

Although the Wildes, as well as Sinclair, had been surprised to find out that their adoptive father, Clint Jedediah Wilde, had fathered a set of twins more than thirty years ago, they had been happy, ready to meet their “brothers” and to hear their story.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long after that that they realized the Kealohas, in particular Nick Kealoha, was not exactly in the “family reunion” sort of mood. His demand was concise, to the point. He and his brother were demanding they get what was theirs legally: interest in the Wyoming Wilde Ranch.

“Not even gonna happen,” had been the collective response from her Wilde Boys, big arms crossed over their large chests, faces set.

Although she didn’t feel like smiling, the image of the big men, hard looks across their handsome faces, brought a smile to her face.

Although the Wildes were adoptive brothers, sharing no blood link, the men were just about as close as three brothers could be. And when they felt threatened it was quite an impressive sight to see them rally together.

Ready to kick ass first and take names later, if necessary, as Holt Wilde had once so eloquently put it.

Not that it would come to that, Sinclair had assured them, confident in her abilities as a mediator and the speed with which she’d contacted the Kealohas. In particular, Nick Kealoha.

Soon, her confidence had taken a radical turn.

With their first correspondence via email she’d known she was in trouble. She’d immediately sought out verbal communication after his rude response to what she’d viewed as a perfectly reasonable request for a meeting.

He’d ignored her, as well as her request for a meeting, to the point she’d felt every one of her back teeth would grind down to dust in her frustration from dealing with the irritating man.

Finally she’d gotten him on the phone and sparks had flown swiftly, strongly. After hanging up, Sinclair had felt as though she’d been skinned alive.

She’d felt...unnerved by the man. His voice had been the first thing to cause the dichotomy of feelings.

Low, sexy...rough.

She’d felt her heart slam against her rib cage, but had forced the crazy reaction to the side.

This was war. And from the get-go, he’d identified himself as the enemy.

Shelving the odd feelings, she’d at first wanted to walk away, but had known she couldn’t, that she wouldn’t.

She was not only the Wildes’ lawyer, she was...family. There was nothing she would not do for her Wilde Boys. With resignation she’d gone to work, seeking to find out what she could about the Kealohas.

It hadn’t been hard. As soon as she’d discovered they’d had their own reality show, the information had been relatively easy to acquire.

Not that she’d had to go that far for info. As soon as she’d plugged their name into her search engine, there had been pages and pages of information. And images...

For as much information as she’d uncovered about the men and their ranch, there had been just as many images, if not more. Identical twins who not only ran the most successful family-owned-and-operated ranch in Hawaii, but were also drop-dead fine? Yeah...there’d not been a shortage of images.

From the moment she’d laid eyes on him, she’d known Nick Kealoha was going to be impossible to deal with.

“And I was right,” she murmured. “And now...time to face the devil,” she whispered as she got up off the bed. And heard the excitement...fear in her voice.

That was the sum total of what she would allow herself to think about: the fact that he was nothing but an irritant. A sexy-as-hell irritant, but nonetheless an irritant. One she would deal with swiftly and be done with.

A mocking little laugh echoed in her ear. She swatted it away with her hand as though that would make it, and the reason for it, disappear. Nothing more than a nuisance.

Sinclair swiftly opened her suitcase and withdrew clothes to change into. Time was of the essence. She’d do a quick refresh and be out.

She ruthlessly tamped down the annoying fissure of delight she felt curling through her spine.

This was just a meeting. A meeting where she would do the best she could to make sure her Wilde Boys were not milked and taken for what was theirs, if not by true birthright, then by sweat, blood and tears.

Sinclair ignored the excited sliver of...something... that rushed over her at the thought. Something she refused to name. Yet, try as she might, that also refused to go away.

She hadn’t met the man.... The thought occurred to her that by coming to the Kealoha ranch in Hawaii, she just might have bitten off more than she was willing to chew.

Even that thought excited her.

No one was taking anything from her boys, not if Sinclair had anything to say about it. And if that meant taking on the devil himself, she was just the woman for the job.

Chapter 2

Nick Kealoha frowned, his eyes scanning the computer screen, rereading the latest correspondence via email from the Wildes’ attorney.

For the third time.

A sneer kicked the corner of his mouth upward into parody of a smile. The fools hadn’t wanted to deal with him, so they’d sicced their lawyer on him.

“Damn woman,” he grumbled as he strummed the fingers of one large, long-fingered hand absently against his desk. The other hand was poised over the keyboard as he thought about what he should have said instead of what he had said in response to the email.

As he reread the lawyer’s message, despite his self-avowals to the contrary, the woman was getting to him.

That self-admission alone ticked him off.

His eyes studied the email from Sinclair Adams, the attorney for the Wilde Ranch of Wyoming.

Greetings Mr. Kealoha,

After consulting with the Wildes, I am informing you of the family’s wish for a more personal approach in dealing with our...situation. Unfortunately, over the course of the past week you have ignored my certified mail as well as ignored my phone calls, and I feel as though the situation is degenerating versus improving. To prevent a complete breakdown in communication, and to continue with the path we’ve been on—resolution—we, the Wildes and I, feel it is best for a one-on-one approach. To this end, please expect a visit from me to the A’kela Ranch. It is our sincere hope that you and your family will be able to meet with me so that we may resolve this matter to the satisfaction of all parties. I will arrive Tuesday of next week in the hope that you and your family will work with me to resolve this matter.

Best,

Sinclair Adams, PLLC

He’d received the correspondence, spoken to his brother about it and promptly dismissed the woman from his mind.

Or tried to.

“Lot of damn good that did,” he muttered.

He’d known she was on her way to the island. Known about it and hadn’t told his family about it until it was too late for either his brother or father to call the Wildes or their lawyer to settle the matter.

He’d even told her he would send a driver for her.

He wanted her here, on his territory.

A feral grin split his mouth into a smile.

From the beginning of his...interaction with Ms. Sinclair Adams, Nick had found himself in a state of semi-arousal.

Didn’t much matter when it happened. Whenever he either thought of the irritating woman or had any type of contact—written, emailed or verbal—his body reacted.

Hell, he could just listen to his voice mail and his cock was hard as granite.

The one time they’d had the Skype conversation...

Damn.

Even as he thought about it now, his cock hardened and his balls tightened in memory.

He’d seen pictures of her plenty. He’d known what she looked like, and had been intrigued. She had a different kind of beauty. Not traditional, but no less hot to him.

Then they’d spoken on the phone. They’d had conversations that had left him wanting...more. But the video interaction had taken it to another level.

Their conversation had been heated and he’d alternated between wanting her and wanting to strangle her pretty little neck. As soon as he’d gone to bed that night, he’d relived their exchange and the whole “wanting her” part had taken over.

And he’d promptly had one of the hottest dreams he’d had as an adult male. He had woken up with his shaft, again, in his hand, his seed spilled over his stomach.

With a mild curse he’d reached over, pulled open the side table drawer and withdrawn a napkin, which he now kept at the ready for that very reason.

He’d had more wet dreams over the past few months because of her than he’d had, collectively, as a randy teenage boy.

It had gotten to the point he was beginning to think she’d cast some kind of spell on him. He’d never been so worked up over a woman he’d never met in person, much less one who was in the enemy camp, so to speak.

As soon as she’d begun to communicate with him, he’d researched who she was.

His initial thought had simply been to go by the creed of “know thine enemy.” But it had turned into something...more.

Although calling the Wildes his enemy was a bit of a stretch. His anger had actually cooled toward the deception his mother had kept hidden for all those years: that he and his brother were the product of an illicit affair.

He cursed, low, his voice barely audible.

And no matter what his feelings toward Jed Wilde, whether he’d known about his and Key’s existence or not, it wasn’t his true father’s—Alek Kealoha’s—fault.

In fact, he’d been ready to call it off, and just let it all go. It wasn’t as though he really wanted anything Jed Wilde had, or anything he’d left to his adoptive sons. Nick and his family had a ranch that was just as impressive and in no way needed anything the Wildes had. They were doing damn fine on their own.

He’d even told both his father and brother the same thing, much to the relief of both. They, too, didn’t want anything the Wildes had, nor were they interested in dredging up old family dirt. They’d come to a resolution about it all, and now that both Clint Jedediah Wilde and their mother, A’kela Kealoha, had passed away, there was no need to protect anyone.

Even though there was still a small part of Nick that wanted to know what kind of man Jed had been, in the end, neither he nor Key wanted to hurt the man they’d called Father for their entire lives.

Yet, after the first encounter with Sinclair Adams, what he had found out about her through his amateur sleuthing had left him wanting to know more. So much so that he’d continued his threats.

Just because of her.

He wouldn’t call himself a research nut by any means, but he damn well knew how to find out about a person if need be. He had taken to the internet in the hope that he’d learn more about her, assuming she was some high-powered attorney.

What he’d learned had left him even more intrigued.

The Wildes were easy to research. He’d simply entered the name of the ranch and, presto, a virtual flood of information was at his fingertips. It had taken a while, but he’d eventually uncovered information about Sinclair.

Pictures of her on the Wilde Ranch had shown a young woman he didn’t believe could possibly be the sophisticated woman portrayed in both the smooth-toned voice mails she’d left on his phone and the succinct emails she’d sent.

Further stealth-mode investigation had showed that it was indeed the same woman. Not only was she on the Wildes’ website, there had been a hyperlink that directed him to her own website. Her bio had been impressive.

She appeared young, too young for the accomplishments listed in her biography. He’d frowned. Although young, she’d built quite a name for herself in her area of expertise in law.

Now working primarily as the lawyer for the Wildes, from what Nick had been able to learn from his internet search, she’d also had dealings in corporate law. She had interned with a prestigious law firm in Cheyenne, Wyoming, before returning home. She’d listed the Wyoming Wilde Ranch as home and he’d frowned, wondering if she had grown up on the ranch.

Just as on the A’Kela Ranch, Nick knew that many of the larger, successful ranches had generations of family members that worked and lived on the ranch. He’d guessed she was a family member.

He’d reached out and called her. In a voice low and sexy, feminine yet husky, she’d had him hard as hell, sitting up in his seat and listening intently to the low-toned voice smoothly inform him of her clients’ wish to settle this unfortunate incident with as little “fanfare” as possible.

It had taken a minute for the insult to register.

And now, after four months of cyber interacting, she was on her way to the ranch. All that cyber interacting had him on edge.

He felt his cock stir at the thought. Unconsciously he adjusted himself within his jeans. If she made him feel in person even the slightest bit as she had during their previous interactions—verbal heated conversations, sharply worded yet oddly arousing emails and voice mails... He shook his head.

Hell, yeah. Things were about to get really interesting around the Kealoha ranch.

* * *

As he told his brother about his dealings with Sinclair Adams, Key remained silent throughout the conversation, down to Nick’s informing his twin of the woman’s upcoming arrival.

After he finished speaking, he waited.

It hadn’t taken long.

“What?” Nick asked, mildly irritated and somewhat unnerved by his twin’s silence and sharp regard—two things he didn’t necessarily like linked when it came to his brother and his uncanny ability to know what was on Nick’s mind.

Key simply raised a thick brow and shrugged, coffee mug in hand, his gaze steady and intense.

“What what? I didn’t say anything,” Key replied. He brought the rim of his coffee mug to his mouth and took a casual sip, his eyes still focused on Nick.

Nick’s brows bunched.

“Nothing to say, bro?”

“What do you want me to say?” Key threw back the question, shrugging. “I have better things to do. Besides, you know my stance on that situation.”

Nick pushed away from the counter where he’d been lounging, feigning a nonchalance he was far from feeling, and just as casually as his brother, refilled his coffee mug.

“Better things to do? Like you and Sonia producing the next generation of Kealohas?”

Two could play the game. Just as Key had an eerie ability to know what was going on with him, Nick could do the same with his twin.

One of the many perks of being an identical twin and for that same twin to be his best friend.

If he wasn’t in such a mood, he’d laugh at the expression on Key’s face.

“How did you...” Key began, only to stop. He shook his head and barked out a laugh instead. “Never mind.”

Nick laughed along with his brother, breaking the tension. He then went on to tell him the details of Sinclair’s impending arrival.

* * *

After listening to Key cuss a blue streak, telling Nick what he thought of his lack of brains, to put it mildly, for not letting the family know “what the hell was going on,” the two men sat at the kitchen table.

Although he really wasn’t up for a “Dr Phil” moment, Nick had haltingly opened up, slightly, to his brother. He was glad when his brother finally reacted.

He’d spared Key the more embarrassing details. Hell, there was no sense in telling his brother what was going on with him. He wasn’t sure what was going on in his own psyche, anyway. And to go into confusing feelings for a woman he hardly knew...? No. That wasn’t going to happen.

He laughed even thinking about it. He could only imagine how Key would look at him. Nick had never really been the type of guy to share his thoughts that easily. Even with his brother, the closest person in the world to him, Nick was still, at times, the clam.

But there had been times in his life, like now, where he’d felt a real need to break the mold. So he opened up a little, at least enough to tell Key that he wasn’t sure how to handle the situation with Sinclair. He’d known he’d have to come clean, if nothing else, to get a feel for his brother’s take on the situation.

As he spoke, Key listened, not saying a word. When Nick finished his succinct tale, Key stood from the table and slapped his brother on the back...hard.

“I’m sure you can handle it, bro. In fact, I know you will,” he stated, his voice emphatic, a tinge of humor laced in.

Nick sat back, puzzled.

His brother continued. “I’m so confident in your abilities that on behalf of the family I’m giving this to you.” The evil gleam in his brother’s eyes, blue eyes that matched his own, should have given Nick fair warning. “Consider this...‘situation’ solely your deal. Dad and I are out of it. I’m sure you’ll figure it all out.”

Again, his brother smacked him on the back.

“What the fu—” Nick bit off the curse, jumping up after his brother’s hearty smack on the back, toppling his chair as he rose. Swiftly he righted the chair and turned to face his brother.

“What the hell, man...that’s it?” he asked, staring at his twin as he calmly walked to the sink, coffee mug in hand.

“Yep. That’s it, Pika,” Key replied, snorting.

Whenever his brother used his nickname, it always set Nick’s teeth on edge. Not because he didn’t like his nickname... He’d been called Pika, which meant “strong” in the Polynesian language, since he was a boy.

Nicknames were nothing new. Key’s legal name was Keanu, but he’d been called Key for most of his life. It irritated Nick because he knew there were times when Key used the nickname simply to screw with him. Something both men considered their God-given right to do: give his twin a hard time.

Nick had always thought of it as good old-fashioned fun. Until he was on the receiving end.

Just as Key placed the coffee mug in the sink to rinse—no one wanted to deal with their housekeeper, Mahi, the longest resident of the ranch outside of the family, and his rants if the kitchen was left a mess—Sonia, his wife, entered.

She quickly spied her husband. A wide grin split her pretty face as she made a beeline for her new husband and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Hmm, last night was amazing, baby,” Sonia purred, her voice low, throaty and intimate, once Key released the death grip he had on his wife’s lips.

“It’s been way too long, baby,” she murmured as Key reached down and captured her lips again. Finally he released her, enough to glance down at her, keeping her within the circle of his arms.

“Yeah, it felt like forever,” Key agreed, his voice barely recognizable it was so low.

Key had been away on an overnight trip, so really it hadn’t been that long, Nick thought, shaking his head.

“Little Alek isn’t going to magically appear, you know. It’s going to take dedication and hard...” He paused and unashamedly pressed his wife close to his body, allowing her to feel which part of hard he was referring to. “Work,” Key murmured, stopping to give Sonia kisses down the line of her throat. “And work...” He paused again to capture an earlobe.

Nick wanted to throw something at the pair...maybe cold water. They were like two dogs in heat.

“And work,” his brother finally finished. His voice was so low Nick suddenly felt uncomfortable.

He felt like a damn voyeur and desperately wanted to get the hell away from the pair. Yet... Against his will, he was fascinated with their play. He watched as his brother bent to kiss away the frown that appeared on his wife’s brow before slanting his mouth over her lips.

“Oh, yeah?” she asked huskily when he released her mouth. Although she was obviously trying hard to keep the smile from her mouth, the dimple in her cheek flashed against her will.

“And who says she is going to be a he?” she asked with a shrug. “We could have a little A’kela in the cards for us,” she said. But the look in her eyes told the real story. Just like his brother, Nick knew his sister-in-law didn’t care either way, boy or girl.

Nick had to glance away; the intense look of love in his brother’s eyes was too much for him to see and not react. And right now he wanted to be pissed at his twin. Not want to hug him.

It was no secret that the couple was trying to have a baby. Neither was it a secret that if the baby was a girl, it would be named after their mother, and if it was a boy, it would be named after their father.

He turned back to the couple and caught the soft look in Key’s eyes and the small smile that graced the corners of his mouth as he steadily regarded his wife of six months.

Had he not loved his brother so much, and truly loved Sonia like a sister, he would feel real envy for the couple. Their love was so tangible; it wasn’t unheard of for one or usually both of them to be totally oblivious of anyone else in the room when they were around each other.

Deep and real.

He turned to leave and would have made it away had he not bumped into the chair he’d just righted, sending it crashing to the floor. He bit off a curse and picked it up.

“Hey, Nick, I didn’t see you there!” Sonia said, a deep stain of color washing over her sienna-colored skin as she realized he’d caught them in an intimate moment.

He grinned widely.

“Not like I haven’t seen you two like this before...disgustingly lost in the moment,” he grumbled playfully, not sparing her. She was family. The Family That Teased Together Stayed Together was his motto.

“In fact, I don’t think I’ll be able to look at the hot tub or the pool again in the same way after last week,” he said. He hadn’t really seen anything. But he’d hazarded a guess that, knowing his brother, something illicit had taken place in the hot tub. Without a doubt. He’d bet his last dollar on the fact they’d gotten busy there.

He brought his attention back to the pair.

His sister-in-law’s eyes opened wide and her head jerked, looking up at Key. Key leaned down, allowing his mouth to hover near her ear.

She blushed even harder at whatever his brother whispered in her ear, halfheartedly slapping away the hand that rested on her butt.

“Key!” she admonished, voice low, yet Nick clearly heard the sensuality in it. “Stop it, we can’t... I have work to do,” she stammered, but when he leaned down to whisper something else in her ear, her eyes widened and she bit the lower rim of her lip.

“Really? We can try that?” She gnawed on her lip, as though considering whatever it was his brother had proposed. “Okay...I’m game if you are. I can do edits later today,” she said, the blush growing. “Or tomorrow,” she finished and, giggling, allowed his brother to lead her away.

Leaving Nick to stare after them, shaking his head.

Freaks.

The grin returned to his face, but soon thoughts of Sinclair filtered back into his brain and how he’d deal with her.

And from the look of things, he’d not be getting any help from his family in “handling” the situation.

Which was perfectly okay with him, considering how...deviant he knew he could sometimes be.

He chuckled at the thought.

Good. He was flying solo. That had always worked best for him. It was best for others, even family, who probably didn’t know just how wicked he could be.

It was time to work on his plan.

Chapter 3

Nick pinched the high bridge of his nose and pulled his glasses away from his face, frowning deeply.

“What’s the problem, old man? Sight not as good as it used to be?”

Startled, believing himself alone, his thoughts still on Sinclair, Nick glanced up and away from the computer screen to see his foreman standing in his office doorway, arms folded over her breasts, eyebrow raised.

“Hmm... Last time I checked, you weren’t that far behind me in age, Alli-oop,” he replied sardonically, a small grin threatening to break free. “What’s up? Come on in,” he said, waving Ailani Mowry inside his office.

“Don’t want to interrupt,” she drawled, yet pushed away from the doorway and ambled inside his office nonetheless.

“Hell, it’s not like I’m getting any work done, anyway,” he growled. Although he wasn’t about to disclose the true reason for his malcontent, he couldn’t keep the irritation away from his voice.

He glanced at the monitor and realized Sinclair’s picture filled the entire screen. He could only imagine Ailani’s reaction if she saw that image as his screen saver. Like he needed that.

Swiftly, casually, he minimized the screen and maximized the previous screen he’d been viewing: a PDF showing the projected budget revenues for the upcoming quarter.

No sooner had the spreadsheet appeared on the screen than Ailani was standing beside the desk, peering over his shoulder.

“Looks like we’re going to be up in revenue significantly for the upcoming quarter,” she commented and, without asking, grabbed for the small chair near the desk. She dragged it over closer to his chair, her eyes never leaving contact with the monitor.

He glanced over at her as she peered at the screen, completely ignoring him and the chair. Ailani and he shared history. No two ways about it, she was a beautiful woman, even as she “hid” her beauty.

More often than not she was seen wearing her long thick hair in a tight French braid tucked beneath the battered pink cowboy hat she’d worn since the beginning of time.

Many had thought the two of them would end up together. But despite growing up together from the time they were children, and the short stint where they’d shared a romance, the two had maintained a platonic relationship.

He continued to watch her as her eyes darted over the graph. When she turned to face him, although her eyes were hidden behind the tinted glasses she typically wore to shield her sensitive eyes, he caught the scrutiny.

“So, tell me. What were you really looking at with such intensity when I walked in, Pika?” she asked, a smirk creasing the corner of her small mouth. “And don’t tell me it was this projection. It’s not even the one from this quarter,” she noted, crossing her arms over her ample breasts and waiting.

His eyes flew to the screen. Sure enough, instead of the PDF showing the budget for the upcoming quarter, it was the one from the last quarter.

Damn. His head was most definitely not in the game.

Just as he had with his brother, he feigned a nonchalance he was far from feeling and tried to play it off.

“Comparing last month’s feed budget projection with the actual cost, cross-comparing it with the upcoming fiscal year’s budget to determine if we need to reevaluate the project. And if so, do we need to make cuts in other areas to make up the difference.”

His response was quick and sounded knowledgeable.

He hoped she actually bought his bullshit.

There was silence for longer than Nick liked, yet he kept his eyes glued to the screen.

Ailani leaned forward and brought her body closer to his. A hint of patchouli and hibiscus wafted across his nose; a scent she’d been wearing for as long as he could remember.

She jabbed a short but manicured nail at the screen, pointing to one of the columns.

“Who came up with this projection? No way is this budget anywhere near what we’re looking at for the upcoming quarter, nor does it make any sense for the new fiscal year!” she huffed, her eyes scanning the document on the screen. “Between the hike in prices in grain and feed, as well as the new shipment of steers we purchased last year, we’re looking at a number substantially higher than this,” she proclaimed.

Nick breathed a sigh of relief.

An irritated Ailani was much more preferable to a discerning one.

Of everyone he was acquainted with, besides his twin, Ailani was one of the most astute individuals he knew. If she caught even a sniff, a whiff, that something wasn’t quite right, she’d hunt it down. The woman could teach his father’s best hounds the true art of the hunt.

Lucky for him, her hound-dog nose was holstered for the present.

She wasn’t paying much attention to him; her attention was purely on the ranch’s budget.

Despite himself, he bit back a grin. Good thing he now thought of Ailani like a sister, or her lack of attention would have been insulting.

She leaned even closer, the right side of her breast brushing against his shoulder.

“What are you thinking with these projections? Geesh, what would you do without me, Pika? Knucklehead...” she grumbled, pushing even closer, the side of her breast nearly colliding with his nose.

“I know you want me and all, but really, Ailani, could you get your damn boob outta my face?” he complained roughly. He barked out a laugh when she distractedly batted a hand at him, ignoring him as she continued to peruse the document.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think I didn’t do anything for you, Ailani...but we both know that isn’t true. What with you practically nursing me and all,” he continued, knowing she wasn’t paying much attention to what he said.

“Pika,” she mumbled, her voice completely distracted. “Whatever,” she finished, dragging out the word, the frown on her face growing.

Without looking behind her, she blindly reached for the chair she’d dragged to his desk earlier. Moving it closer, she plopped down in the seat.

As she examined the document, Nick continued to make completely inappropriate, off-color comments to Ailani, chuckling when she continued to ignore his baiting.

If she even heard it. Which he doubted she did.

When it came to her job as ranch foreman, all else became background noise to her. Which made it even more fun for Nick to tease her.

Just as he grinned and opened his mouth to make yet another inappropriate comment about her boob pressing into his face, a cough at the door caught his attention.

“One of your men told me you were alone. But if I’m interrupting, I can...you know, come back later.”

His eyes flew to the door and the grin slowly slipped from his face.

He jumped from his chair like a soldier would when his commanding officer entered. So fast that his chair shot out from under him and probably would have toppled over had Ailani not caught it.

Not that he was giving his foreman any attention.

That honor went solely to the woman who had claimed more of his attention than she had any right to.

The woman who had him waking up in the morning, rock-hard shaft in his hand, finishing off the job she’d started. If only in his dreams.

Her voice alone brought his cock to full-on “salute” status. Just like the good soldier that it was.

Husky and low...it poured over him like scalding rain. Even as it held a chastising note, it was turning him on in ways he’d never experienced from simply listening to a woman’s voice.

Hell, maybe that whole chastising tone she had going on added to the overall effect.

Whatever it was, it—she—had him hooked.

Her voice was velvety smooth and sexy, the type that reminded him of rainy days and sleeping in with a lover. But then his glance ran over her, head to toe. As hot as her voice was, it was nothing compared to her body.

Damn.

Live and in living color. On his turf... With no more provocation than that, his cock stirred.

Although he’d only seen pictures of her from the internet, those pictures were scorched permanently into his mind.

One of those images came to mind. The one he’d found of her at the Wildes’ ranch and had printed out on the spur of the moment. The same one he’d glanced at just last night before he’d succumbed to sleep.

The dream spurred from that image had been one that had haunted him as he’d wakened. His cock hardened even more as his gaze raked over her now.

There was no denying who stood in his doorway, one arched brow raised, small bow-shaped lips pursed, stiletto-heeled foot tapping.

Sinclair Adams.

Chapter 4

Confrontation time.

Sinclair kept her expression tight.

Closed.

Control... She had to keep it around her like a security blanket.

She was afraid if she didn’t, she would lose it.

Control was her best friend. Especially now. Thoughts of what her last few hours had been like, from the time she’d arrived in Hawaii and the fiasco surrounding all of that...to now, as she observed the scene in front of her. In one all-encompassing swoop, from the large office with its floor-to-ceiling windows that faced a gorgeous picturesque scene straight out of a movie, to the desk in the center of the room...and the commanding man who sat behind it.

There was also a beautiful woman with massive breasts standing close by... Sinclair took it all in. Okay, so maybe she was being catty. The woman’s breasts weren’t all that massive.

No matter, she thought, tightly reining in her envy.

She was squarely in the middle of the enemy’s camp. She felt her back stiffen as she lifted her chin, automatically “preparing.” For what? She would wait and see.

Her gaze made a swift survey of the office, taking special note of the custom-built book cabinets and the obviously expensive furnishings.

The walls were painted a muted deep red. One wall was nothing but an assortment of mirrors in various sizes and shapes.

Bold decorating choice, just like the red. The color choice and the mirrors were oddly erotic to her.

She shook her head, negating the thought before it had a chance to bloom any further in her mind. She continued her quick assessment.

There was an array of beautiful oversize rugs covering the polished hardwood floor, and a variety of artfully arranged statues that she would love to get a closer look at, had she been here for any other reason than the reason she was.

She brought herself up short.

She hadn’t come to the Kealoha ranch to admire the beautiful furnishings, the amazing scenery...or the exotic-looking woman who was now staring at her as though she knew her.

She was here for business. She turned her attention to the man she’d come to do battle with.

And that is exactly what it was in her mind: a battle. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the woman standing so close to him.

And it definitely wasn’t any of her business who the woman was. The same woman whose breasts—breasts that Sinclair doubted were her own—had been pressed against the side of Nick Kealoha’s face as if she were about to breast-feed the man, when Sinclair had approached the door.

Sinclair knew she was being unfair; she didn’t know the woman. For all she knew the massive boobs could actually belong to the woman. She mentally shrugged, pretending not to feel the least bit of anything about the woman, her breasts, or where they had been pressed....

Nor the man they had been pressed against. Not really. None of that mattered.

She was just feeling a tad bit...irked. She took in a physical and figurative breath and silently recited one of her favorite quick-but-calming mantras. It took a few seconds longer than normal, but she got it together.

She turned her gaze to Nickolas Kealoha, after nodding to the woman next to him. His gaze was already locked and loaded on hers.

This time, the breath she took was anything but figurative. Nickolas Kealoha was breath-stealingly fine.

Bright blue eyes kept her regard from beneath thick lashes, lashes that from the distance she was from him seemed impossible...ridiculous for a man to possess.

Even though he was sitting behind the desk, the sheer...massiveness of the man was enough to make her breath catch at the back of her throat. She had to remind herself to breathe. In. Out. In...

Big arms, thick with bulging muscle, were pressed against the desk. His chest seemed carved from granite. She bit back the moan when she caught sight of the small tuft of hair that splayed from beneath the fitted black T-shirt he wore under his chambray shirt.

Her gaze cataloged the long, muscular, thick thighs that even the simple work jeans he wore couldn’t disguise. At his lean waist he wore a belt and large buckle with some type of crest. From her vantage point she couldn’t tell what exactly was depicted on the belt buckle.

Because, yes...she was only interested in his belt buckle and most definitely not the thick...outline...that lay just south of the buckle.

“Like I said... If I’m interrupting anything...” she repeated. She cleared her throat and allowed the sentence to dangle.

“Of course not,” the woman cut in, before Nick could say a word. “I was just leaving.”

Sinclair saw him cut the woman a quick glance, no doubt cataloguing the shit-eating grin on her face, just as Sinclair had seen the sly look on the other woman’s face, as well. It hinted at a long association, a certain familiarity.

Sinclair noted the obvious closeness between the two, for future reference.

And completely forced herself to ignore the ugly stab of jealousy she felt. Along with the immediate desire to swipe the grin from the woman’s face.

The woman grabbed the pink beat-up Stetson that sat on Nick’s oversize desk and jammed it onto her head, grabbing the thick ponytail and negligently tossing the thick rope of hair in front of her shoulder, so that the ends dangled beneath her breasts.

The movement was so quick and casual, Sinclair knew that it was one the woman did a lot, without thought.

“Yes, please come on in. Ms. Adams, I presume?” Nick asked casually, one thick eyebrow raised in question, as though unsure who she was. At the same time his eyes roamed over her as though she was dessert on the dinner menu.

Sinclair clenched her lower jaw so tightly she feared she’d need an emergency visit to the dentist if she wasn’t careful.

She inhaled a deep, fortifying breath.

Control, Sinclair... Control, she reminded herself. She was here for her Wilde Boys, and that was it. As soon as this was over she was out.

She simply had to remind herself of that fact.

“Ms. Adams?” he asked again, and Sinclair’s eyes met his. He stood and began to walk toward her, his stride long, purposeful.

As though against her will, she backed up a fraction. When her back hit the door she stopped, embarrassed.

Even from across the room, it was as though his piercing blue eyes were drilling a hole into her.

He came closer, his long legs eating up the short distance in mere seconds. He stopped less than a foot away from where she stood in the doorway, his gaze leisurely traveling over her face and down the length of her exposed neck...to the deep V juncture of her silky blouse.

His eyes lingered on the swell of her breasts.

As though he had every right.

Sinclair cleared her throat.

“Please...come in,” he murmured, voice low. Sexy.

She felt a shiver run over her body.

His eyes finally moved back up to lock with hers.

Sinclair fought with everything she had to keep her eyes open. It was as though an odd lethargy had invaded her body and the strange pull he had on her increased.

They had spoken on the phone many times, and his voice had captured her attention from the beginning. They’d even had that unforgettable Skype experience, one that still made her blush because of what she’d done that night, alone in bed, thinking of him and his deep, rumbling voice and handsome face. But seeing and hearing him live?

Dear God. The fascination she’d had...the pull he’d had on her.... The one that had been increasing over the past six months of their association was set to detonate. She could feel it.

It was a low, rich rumble that resonated through her body, catching her completely off guard.

It surrounded her.

Sinclair’s eyes briefly closed, no longer able to fight it...

As though touching her, his voice reached out and...caressed her. Did things to her. She felt a trickle of moisture dampen her panties.

A shiver of awareness slithered down her body and she struck out her tongue to dampen lips that had gone completely dry.

“Sinclair.” His deep, rich voice made her heart catch. She forced her eyes open and realized he was close. Too close.

Back up! she silently yelled—begged—him.

She felt claustrophobic.

Her gaze met the level of his throat. His neck, thickly corded with muscle, worked as he seemed to swallow.

Immediately her breasts reacted. Heavy, they felt engorged, her nipples pressing urgently against the thin silk of her brassiere. One she should have thought twice about wearing, as it had about as much protection against the heat of his stare as a thong in a snowstorm.

It was as though she knew this man...really knew him. On a level that made no sense to her.

It makes no damn sense, Sinclair! she silently screamed at herself.

Come on...his throat is sexy, a mocking voice piped in, laughing at her.

As soon as the thought entered her mind, Sinclair rejected it. She dragged her eyes away from his throat. Since when did she find a man’s throat sexy?

Frick!

Okay. Control. Bring back the control, girl, she admonished herself.

But, God... The combination of his voice and those hypnotic blue eyes, along with his impossibly handsome face...not to mention his body—big, hovering, masculine body. It all summed up to making her feel like a house cat in heat. Trapped, with no outlet.

She hadn’t been in the least bit afraid to bring the battle to their camp. She was just that type of woman. Bold. Without conceit she knew she could handle hers when it came to any sort of...battle. So when it had come time to battle the Kealohas, Nick in particular, she’d not thought twice about it. She had, in fact, relished the idea after months of dealing with the stubborn man.

Yet for a moment she wished to God she could reverse time. Rethink her “you don’t know with whom you’re messing” decision to fly to Hawaii and confront the Kealohas.

But she had no time for a redo.

She had to deal with the situation. And deal she would. She’d never been the type of woman who was afraid of a man, fine or not.

She placed a faux smile on her face and pushed away from the door. Allowing him to usher her inside, she walked in front of him, trying for a nonchalance she was far, far from feeling.

She was glad she’d decided against throwing on her flats. The five-inch pumps she was wearing were just what she needed to help give her a bit of an edge.

She knew his eyes were glued on her butt as she walked ahead of him.

She put just a hint of something extra in her walk and shrugged on her confidence as she would her favorite sweater.

“I think you and I have some unfinished business, Mr. Kealoha,” she said, firmly tamping down the ridiculous pull he had on her.

She was proud of the way her voice came off. Strong, confident...and not in the least bit showing the crazy nervousness that quivered within her belly.... A nervousness she’d never, ever felt when dealing with any other legal situation.

“Indeed we do, Ms. Sinclair,” he rumbled in his “hot sex on the platter” voice. She felt...something slide over her as he spoke.

She turned to face him. Oh, yes... She was in trouble.

“Looks like you’re going to be busy for a while, Nick... I’ll catch up with you later,” the pink-hatted woman said as she made her way to the door.

Sinclair barely registered her presence.

The woman laughed softly as she left, saying something that Sinclair didn’t even catch, she was so caught up in...him. It was as though no one else was in the room.

“I’ll work on the new figures and we can go over them later, Lani,” she heard Nick murmur to the woman, yet his hot blue-eyed gaze remained fixed on her.

Neither one of them noticed when the woman left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Sinclair licked her bottom lip, her gaze still fixed on Nick.

His scrutiny was sharp, focused, the intensity making her feel off-kilter. Uneasy.

Suddenly, intuitively, she knew what a gazelle felt like caught in the stare of a lion.... A hungry, beautiful lion.

Dinnertime. And he looked like the type that would... Eat. Her. Whole.

She swallowed.

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