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

“I know.” She had no doubt that he was accurately describing his job. Her brothers wouldn’t have hired him if he wasn’t a skilled and experienced professional.

Alec hooked his hand over the top fence rail and pivoted to face her. “So, are you going to tell me what you really do?”

Stephanie debated another sarcastic answer, but there was a frankness in his slate eyes that stopped her.

“I train horses,” she told him. “I buy horses, sell horses, board them, breed them and train them.” She shifted her gaze to the activities of the junior class. “And I jump them.”

“I hear you’re headed for the Olympics.” His gaze was intent on her expression.

“The Olympics are a long way off. I’m focused on the Brighton competition for the moment.”

As she spoke, Wesley appeared from behind the bleachers, leading Rockfire into the arena for a round of jumps. Even from this distance, she could appreciate his fresh-faced profile, lanky body and sunshine-blond hair.

His lips had been that close to hers.

She wondered if he’d try again.

“What about management?”

Stephanie blinked her focus back to Alec. “Hmm?”

“Management. I assume you also manage the stable operations?”

She nodded, her gaze creeping sideways for another glimpse of Wesley as he mounted his horse. This was his first year on the adult jumping circuit, and he was poised to make a splash. He grinned as he spoke to Tina, the junior class instructor, raking a spread hand through his full, tousled hair before putting on his helmet.

“Your boyfriend?” There was an edge to Alec’s voice.

Stephanie turned guiltily, embarrassed that her attention had wandered.

Alec frowned at her, and the contrast between the two men was startling. One light, one dark. One carefree, one intense.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Just a crush then?”

“It’s nothing.”

Alec dropped his hand from the rail as Wesley and Rockfire sailed over the first jump. “It’s something.”

She glared at him. “It’s none of your business, is what it is.”

He stared back for a silent minute.

His eyes were dark. His lips were parted. And a fissure of awareness suddenly sizzled through her.

No.

Not Alec.

It was Wesley she wanted.

“You’re right,” Alec conceded into the long silence. “It is none of my business.”

None of his business, Alec reminded himself.

Back inside her house that evening, he found himself staring at Stephanie’s likeness in a framed cover of Equine Earth magazine that was hanging on the living room wall. The fact that her silver-blue eyes seemed to hide enchanting secrets, that her unruly, auburn hair begged for a man’s touch and that the light spray of freckles across her nose lent a sense of vulnerability to an otherwise flawless face, was none of his damn business.

The equestrian trophy in her hand, however, was his business, as was the fact that the Ryder name was sprayed across the cover of a nationally circulated magazine.

“That was at Carlton Shores,” came her voice, its resonance sending a buzz of awareness up his spine.

“Two thousand and eight,” she finished, coming up beside him.

He immediately caught the scent of fresh brewed coffee, and looked over to see two burgundy, stoneware mugs in her hands.

“You won,” he stated unnecessarily.

She handed him one of the mugs. “You seem like a ‘black’ kind of a guy.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her accurate assessment. “Straight to the heart of the matter,” he agreed.

“I take cream and sugar.” She paused. “Dress it up as much as you can, I guess.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

She was in a business that was all pomp, glitz and show. Oh, she worked hard at it. There was no way she would have made it this far if she hadn’t. But her division of Ryder International certainly wasn’t the bedrock of the company’s income stream.

He took a sip of the coffee. It was just the way he liked it, robust, without being sharp on the tongue.

She followed suit, and his gaze took a tour from her damp, freshly washed hair, pulled back in a sensible braid, to her clingy, white tank top and the pair of comfortable navy sweatpants that tapered down to incongruous lime-green socks. “Nice,” he observed.

She grinned, sticking a foot forward to show it off. “Royce brought them back for me from London. Apparently they’re all the rage.”

“You’re making a fashion statement?”

“Everything else was in the laundry,” she admitted. “I’m kind of lazy that way.”

“Right. Lazy. That was the first thing I thought when I met you.” It was nearly nine o’clock in the evening, and she’d only just stopped work to come in and shower for dinner.

“I’m going to assume that was sarcasm.”

“The outfit works,” he told her sincerely. Quite frankly, with her compact curves and toned muscles, she’d make a sackcloth work just fine.

She rolled her eyes. “Can I trust anything you say?”

Alec found himself captivated by the twinkle in her blue irises and the dark lips that contrasted with her creamy skin. She was charming and incredibly kissable, and he had to ruthlessly pull himself back to business.

“Are you aware that Ryder Equine Center has next to no income?” he asked, his blunt tone an admonishment of himself, not her.