Her Tycoon to Tame

She visibly reined in her temper, taking a deep breath then relaxing her tense muscles. “Sutherland Farm specializes in birth and rebirth.”

A bird swooped through the open barn door. The horse spooked and jumped sideways, its haunches knocking into Hannah. She stumbled. Wyatt instinctively sprang forward to catch her. His muscles bunched as he banded his arms around her and braced his thighs to keep them both from going down under the ragged, dancing hooves.

Her feet tangled with his as she scrambled for traction and shifted against him in ways that made him excruciatingly aware of the surprising firmness and strength beneath her curves.

“Are you all right?” he asked through a knotted jaw.

Her wary gaze locked with his. Her cheeks flushed and her lips parted. His pulse spiked and heat flooded him, proving he shared something he wanted no part of with the pampered princess.

Chemistry.

“I’m fine. Thank you. Release me. Please.” She planted her palms on his chest and pushed, broke his hold and backed away. Keeping an equally watchful eye on him, she circled to the opposite side of the horse.

“I’m sorry, Hannah,” Jeb said. “I have her now.”

“It’s okay, Jeb. My mistake,” she offered. “I know better than to turn my back on an unfamiliar animal.”

She flashed a brief look at Wyatt as if he were the animal in question, then she bent to reexamine the mare’s fetlock the way she’d done everything this morning—with a methodical thoroughness and attention to detail that had frustrated him in the lab because he’d suspected her of deliberately stalling as she checked and rechecked each sample and then meticulously packaged and charted each vial. Slow and steady was very likely her modus operandi and not just a passive-aggressive ploy to get under his skin.

She finally stepped away from the mare and, ignoring Wyatt, approached the vet, who’d been watching Wyatt as much as he had the horse. “I’ll keep her.”

“She could jeopardize the safety of the other horses,” Wyatt objected.

“She’ll be quarantined until the test results come back.”

The vet nodded. “Thanks, Hannah. I’ll take care of the legalities. Can you send me the pictures documenting the abuse ASAP? I took some video with my cell phone and shot that off to the authorities. But detailed still shots will help our case.”

“I’ll get photos before and after I clean and treat her wounds, and I’ll email those and the lab results to you as soon as I’m done.”

Wyatt didn’t like the way this was playing out. “The mare’s suffering should end. Put her down. I’ll cover the cost.”

Hannah gripped Wyatt’s forearm. Her touch burned through his sleeve like tongues of fire. Heat licked up his limb and settled in his torso.

“If you don’t care about the mare, let me put it another way. To stand any chance of making the bastard who did this pay for his heinous crimes and to keep him from hurting another animal, we’ll need documentation. Not only was this mare beaten and malnourished, she was obviously living in filth. The judge has to see what a sadist her owner is or the jerk might be allowed to own and torture other animals. No creature deserves to live or die in those conditions. Please, Wyatt, let me do this for her.”

When she put it like that how could he refuse? Reports of abuse and neglect had been the top reasons he’d refused to put Sam in a facility. The mare, like Sam, deserved to be treated with dignity.

Her movements slow and deliberate, Hannah approached the mare and smoothed a hand down the white blaze. The horse shied away, tossing her head and almost knocking Hannah over, but the stupid woman wouldn’t quit. She kept sweet-talking and caressing until the horse tolerated her touch.

“Look at that face. She deserves a second chance, don’t you, girl?” Hannah’s eyes, soft and wide, beseeched him. “Give me two weeks. Unless she tests positive for something I can’t cure, I’ll prove to you, and to her, that she deserves a better life. When I’m done she’ll be healthier so someone else might be willing to foster her. Worst-case scenario, her final days will be good ones. She’ll be warm and clean and well-fed.”

Wyatt couldn’t care less about Hannah’s bedroom-soft purr or the horse’s face. He didn’t believe for one minute this spoiled rich girl had what it took to bring the mare back from near-death, but her point about final days got to him. That’s why he’d bought the farm for Sam.

“Two weeks. You pay for the costs, and no heroic measures.”

Relief softened Hannah’s expression. “Wait and see the miracles a little TLC can create.”

“I don’t believe in miracles.”

She shrugged. “Your loss. They happen every day.”

“That’s Pollyanna garbage.”

“Beats pessimism.”

The vet’s pager buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and frowned at the message. “Hannah, darling, I have a colic call on the other side of the county. I have to go. Can you manage without me?”

“Jeb and I can handle her.”

Hannah flicked her fingers at Wyatt in a dismissive gesture. “You can go, too. I’m going to be busy here for a while. I’ll call you when I’m done, and if there’s still enough daylight left, you’ll get your tour. If not, I’ll make time tomorrow.”

The liability of her getting hurt on the job outweighed his disgust with the situation, and he couldn’t think of a better way to keep an eye on her than to help. “I’m not leaving. You’ll be shorthanded without Doc.”

Hannah frowned. Her mouth opened, then closed as if she’d considered arguing but had changed her mind. “If you insist on staying, then go into the office and get my camera out of my desk drawer. You can take the before photographs while I get my suture kit. But stay out of my way.”

Her bossy tone reminded him that she was probably used to men jumping at her command. She’d learn quickly that he had no intention of being one of her minions.

Four

Hannah could barely concentrate on cleansing the mare’s wounds. She wished she could think of a way to get rid of her new boss—one that didn’t include angering him and making him renege on their bargain.

Her collision with Wyatt earlier had left her more than a little mystified. His touch had filled her with some weird, almost kinetic energy that she couldn’t identify and didn’t like. And since then it was almost as if she’d grown antennae that stayed tuned into the Wyatt channel. The constant awareness of him was exhausting. She wanted it and him gone.

His hawkeyed presence made her uncomfortable—something the sensitive mare picked up on and displayed with each nervous swish of her tail. Add in that he had removed his sweater ten minutes ago, revealing a newsworthy set of broad shoulders in his snug white T-shirt, and Hannah was practically salivating over a pair of deliciously defined pectorals.

Pitiful, Hannah. Just pitiful.

She glanced up and her gaze slammed into Wyatt’s dark brown one over the mare’s withers. Her pulse bucked.

“When will Jeb return?” he asked in that rumbly, make-her-insides-quiver voice of his.

“It’ll take him a while to run all the tests. We’ll probably finish before he does.”

“Does the staff always dump the dirty work on you?”

She couldn’t tell if his question arose from genuine curiosity or from the quest for information he could use against her coworkers. She would have to guard every word she said.

“They know I like cleanup detail. It gives me a chance to assess the damage and get to know the horse. But for what it’s worth, a number of the employees volunteer their free time to FYC like Jeb is today. Weekends are hectic for most of us. Our trainers are away at horse shows, and the staff left behind is tied up with current or prospective clients.”

Despite the crowded farm, this barn was empty except for the two of them—something her crazy hormones couldn’t seem to ignore.

As much as she disliked the arrogant jerk she needed his cooperation and financial support to keep FYC going. If Wyatt fired her, who would care for her horses? They weren’t ready for adoption yet and had little monetary value in their current conditions. She had to take every opportunity to sell the concept of Find Your Center to Wyatt and not only make him a believer, but a willing sponsor.

Making nice wouldn’t kill her—or so Nellie always claimed. Afraid she’d choke on the necessary words, Hannah swallowed and forced a smile. “I appreciate your help and the extra set of hands today. You’ll see that it’s time well spent.”

“Doubtful.” He capped the antibiotic salve, drawing her attention to his hands—as if she hadn’t been fixated on them already. He had good hands. Firm. Strong. Gentle when necessary.

The kind of hands a woman wanted in a lover.