Unbridled Billionaire

“Thank you, Jim.”

Ah, they were back to the confident, businesslike voice now. Probably for the best, though the off-guard squeaky one was Kane’s favorite so far. What would she sound like if he kissed her again? Touched her more intimately? Cutting off the interesting train of thought, he offered Presley his arm and escorted her out of the stables.

They had barely stepped into the night air when she paused. “I don’t understand. You’re just gonna hand him back over to me?” She waved toward the brightly lit house. “Don’t you want to test the goods before you make that decision?”

Kane couldn’t help smirking. “I believe I already have.”

Feeling the wave of shock shoot through her, he patted her hand in a benign gesture and continued on. As they crossed the drive back to the house, Kane found himself hyperaware of the woman at his side. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, which made her taller than the average woman. She would fit right into the crook where his chest met his arm. The faint scent of honeysuckle teased his nose, an unusual perfume and one that reminded him of some of his happiest times on a horse in the countryside near his childhood home.

Honeysuckle had also grown on the edge of the yard at the house where he’d grown up before his mother died. He could still vividly remember her first attempts to teach him the gentle force needed to get the liquid from the honeysuckle flowers—and the tiny burst of sweetness on his tongue when he succeeded.

“Besides,” he continued on, “I never go back on my word. Sun will be home tonight.” They’d reached the covered side entry, and Kane paused with his hand on the doorknob. “This situation is tricky, but I know you’ll do what’s best for your family and your business.”

Blackmail wasn’t a sexy subject, but before they stepped onto the stage, Kane wanted Presley to remember exactly what was at stake here. The stiffness of her body told him more about her state of mind than her simple nod of acquiescence.

He ushered her inside with a hand at the small of her back, and the lights from the Swarovski crystal chandeliers left her blinking. In fact, her whole demeanor changed the minute they walked through the door. If someone had told him a person could become invisible, he wouldn’t have believed them—until he saw Presley practically pull off the impossible.

They’d barely made it halfway down the back breezeway when Mason and EvaMarie stepped out of the office. “Kane,” his brother called.

Only as he stopped and registered the concern on Mason’s face did Kane remember that he hadn’t taken the time to shut down his computer before storming out the door. The knowledge sat between them like a lead brick. Mason knew exactly what that email from Vanessa Gentry would have done to Kane—he’d been there when Emily had left him behind, and watched as Kane systematically let everything disappear from his life except their shared goal.

Because life was easier that way.

Hoping to ward off any questions from his impulsive sibling, Kane preempted the conversation. “Mason, this is Presley Macarthur.”

His brother blinked, then focused on the woman on Kane’s arm. “Oh, from Macarthur Haven?”

Presley’s hand tightened on Kane’s elbow. But she relaxed a touch when EvaMarie nodded and smiled. “Hello, Presley.”

“Congratulations, EvaMarie.”

The lovely woman, who had been Mason’s first love and had been the epitome of a woman defeated by life when they’d returned to Kentucky, now practically glowed. “Thank you.”

As the women chatted for a moment about the engagement, Mason looked at Kane with a raised brow.

“There’s been a change of plans,” Kane murmured, keeping his voice low though he’d moved slightly away from Presley.

“As in?”

Kane turned to face his brother. “It appears Ms. Macarthur didn’t have the proper authority to sell Sun.”

Mason cursed. “That’s a helluva mistake to make.”

An understatement if ever there was one. But then, Kane was being generous when he labeled Marjorie Macarthur’s actions a mistake.

“What are we gonna do now? Our plan going forward hinged on having a celebrated stud for the stables.” Mason’s worry practically vibrated in his voice.

“Never fear,” Kane assured him, as he had many times in the last two years. They’d been through a lifetime of ups and downs together. Kane wasn’t about to let them fail. “I’ve got a new plan that will work just fine.”

His brother’s gaze followed him as he turned back to the women and slipped his arm around Presley’s shoulders. The muscles beneath his palm tightened and her smile faltered for a moment, but he didn’t move away. The sooner she became used to his touch, the better.

The more he touched her tonight, the sooner word would start to spread. Nothing overtly sexual. He’d keep it completely casual—not that anyone would interpret it that way.

Kane wanted his name linked with hers from this moment forward...for however long this situation remained beneficial to them both.

Mason continued to watch him with interest and just a touch of shock. Not surprising, since Kane hadn’t been publicly involved with a woman since Emily left.

He hadn’t wanted to be and was actually shocked by how much he wanted it now. But then he spotted Presley’s stepmother over Mason’s shoulder. When her stepdaughter’s presence registered, Ms. Macarthur trotted their way with the grace of an overadorned poodle, and Kane had only a moment to wonder if he really knew what he’d gotten himself into.

Her loud greeting only confirmed it. “Lordy, Presley! Is that really hay in your hair?”

* * *

As her stepmother’s words echoed throughout the long, open back hall of the Harrisons’ home, Presley wished she could sink into the floor.

Not that embarrassing her was anything new for Marjorie. No, it actually seemed to be her regular pastime. But repeated experience didn’t take away the sinking feeling in Presley’s stomach or the hot flush that flooded her cheeks so quickly that she was surprised she didn’t pass out from blood loss.

Her stepmother practically shoved herself between Presley and Kane. “Look at you. Hay on your dress, dirt on your sandals. What were you doing out in the barn, you silly girl?”

“I think the answer to that might be just as embarrassing as the question.”

With that single answer, Kane caught the attention of everyone within hearing distance. Presley wished she could fade into the flowered wallpaper as his laser gaze inspected her from head to toe, no doubt noticing her lack of style and ability to attract dirt no matter how hard she tried to stay clean. But he didn’t mention it. Oh, no. Kane had embraced this pretend relationship wholeheartedly.

If he only knew what a mistake he was making—though it was beneficial for her that he didn’t. The sooner he realized she wasn’t going to be the perfect princess on his arm at all these events, the sooner she’d have to repay him in full.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured near her ear, though his voice still seemed to carry. “I didn’t mean to get you all dirty.”

Holy Moses. The heat that swept through her as she heard him talk should have been an embarrassment. She should have been wishing he would quit making a spectacle of her. Instead, she wished he would keep on talking and make her forget about their audience.

He reached out to snag the small piece of hay from the tip of her loose ponytail—the only hairstyle she could comfortably create—and then held it up as he smiled into her eyes. There was mischief in that look, and also something deeper, darker, that tempted her to join him in his game.

Only she’d never learned how to play.

Her stepmother was just as nonplussed, which was the first time Presley had ever seen that happen. Marjorie watched Kane’s actions with a kind of wide-eyed fascination, then glanced back and forth between the two of them as confusion clouded her expression.

Finally she focused solely on Presley, frowning. “Well, you should have at least told me you had a date. I could have helped you find something more appropriate to wear.”

Apparently the embarrassment wasn’t going to end any time soon. Over Marjorie’s shoulder Presley could see a group of women—the same debutantes who had haunted her existence since she was about fourteen—whispering furiously and grinning. All except one: Joan Everly. She simply stared through narrowed lids, anger slowly taking over her polite society mask.

“Oh,” Kane said, his amused tone warning Presley she wouldn’t like what was coming. “I think her dress suited my purposes just fine.”

Judging from the few gasps she heard out of the debs, Kane’s voice had carried. But Presley could sense the disbelief in people’s reactions. And now she was done being put on display.

She turned around and blindly grasped the nearest door handle and pushed her way through. She didn’t care where she went, as long as it was away from prying eyes. But the shuffle of feet and the click of dress shoes on the floor behind her told her she hadn’t escaped. She had company. Great. More confrontation was just what she wanted right now.

Give her a stubborn horse or an uppity ranch hand and she met the challenge like a trouper. Social settings and public displays of anything, much less affection, were definitely not her forte.

A familiar weariness seeped into her muscles. The feeling had made its first appearance as soon as her father’s funeral was over and all the guests were gone. Since then it returned regularly, but she always pushed it back. She didn’t have time to be tired, especially not with the task of taking care of her stepmother on top of her already heavy schedule managing the business.