His Convenient Virgin Bride / Seduction on the CEO’s Terms: His Convenient Virgin Bride

“You are still mad at me.”

“No, I’m not.”

She wasn’t thrilled to have him here. Who would be? He’d be her houseguest for the next few days, and he was under orders from her brothers to streamline the family’s corporation, Ryder International. She was a little worried, okay a lot worried, that he’d find fault with her management of the Ryder Equestrian Center.

Stephanie didn’t skimp on quality, which meant she didn’t skimp on cost, either. She was training world-class jumpers. And competing at that level demanded the best in everything; horses, feed, tack, trainers, vets and facilities. She was accustomed to defending her choices to her brothers. She wasn’t crazy about defending them to a stranger.

“Are you proud of the place?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” she answered without hesitation.

“Then show it to me,” he challenged.

She hesitated, searching her mind for a dignified out.

He waited, the barest hint of a smirk twitching his mouth.

Finally she squared her shoulders, straightened to her full five foot five and met his gaze head-on. “You, Alec Creighton,” she repeated, “are no gentleman.”

The smile broadened, and he eased away, stepping to one side and gesturing to the tack shed door. “After you.”

Stephanie waltzed past with her head held high.

It wasn’t often a man talked her into a corner. She didn’t much like it, but she might as well get this over with. She’d give him his tour, answer his questions, send him back to the ranch house office and get back to her regular routine.

She had an intermediate jumping class to teach this morning, her own training this afternoon and she needed to have the vet examine her Hanoverian mare, Rosie-Jo. Rosie had shied at a jump in practice yesterday, and Stephanie needed to make sure the horse didn’t have any hidden injuries.

They headed down the dirt road alongside a hay barn, moving in the direction of the main stable and riding arena. She was tempted to lead him, expensive loafers and all, through the mud and manure around the treadmill pool.

It would serve him right.

“So, what exactly is it that you do?” she asked, resisting temptation.

“I troubleshoot.”

She tipped her head to squint at his profile in the bright sunshine. Last night, she’d privately acknowledged that he was an incredibly good-looking man. He also carried himself well, squared shoulders, long stride, confident gait. “And what does that mean?”

“It means, that when people have trouble, they call me.” He nodded to the low, white building, off by itself at the edge of Melody Meadow. “What’s that?”

“Vet clinic. What kind of trouble?”

“Your kind of trouble. You have your own vet?”

“We do. You mean cash flow and too rapid corporate expansion?” That was the Ryder’s corporate issue in a nutshell.

“Sometimes.”

“And the other times?”

He didn’t answer.

“Are you proud of it?” she goaded.

He gave a rueful smile as he shook his head.

She tilted her head to one side, going for ingenuous and hopeful. It usually worked on her brothers.

“Fine. Mostly I identify market sector expansion opportunities then analyze the financial and political framework of specific overseas economic regions.”

She blinked.

“On behalf of privately held companies.”

“The vet’s name is Dr. Anderson,” she offered.

Alec coughed out a chuckle.

“It sounds challenging,” she admitted, turning her focus back to the road.

He shrugged. “You need to develop contacts. But once you learn the legislative framework of a given county, it applies to all sorts of situations.”

“I suppose it would.”

The breeze freshened, while horses whinnied as they passed a row of paddocks.

“Tell me about your job,” Alec prompted.

“I teach horses to jump over things,” she stated, not even attempting to dress it up.

There was a smile in his voice, but his tone was mild. “That sounds challenging.”

“Not at all. You get them galloping really fast, point them at a jump and most of the time they figure it out.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then they stop, and you keep going.”

“Headfirst?” he asked.

“Headfirst.”

“Ouch.”

She subconsciously rubbed the tender spot on the outside of her right thigh where she’d landed hard coming off Rosie-Jo yesterday. “Ouch is right.” The road tapered to a trail as they came up to the six-foot, white rail fence that surrounded the main riding arena. Alec paused to watch a group of young jumping students and their trainer on the far side.

Stephanie stopped beside him.

“I didn’t mean to sound pretentious,” he offered.