Who's Cheatin' Who?

Which shouldn’t matter at all.

But it did.

Dammit, he might have been responsible for initiating that kiss, but he didn’t thank her for unlocking needs he had no intention of satisfying. He’d grown up watching the devastating toll love had taken on his mother, and that was enough for him to never want to go anywhere near that same path. Ever.

More and more, leaving Quest looked like a smart move. He just wished he’d get over the dragging regret that had plagued him since he gave Andrew Preston his notice. Regret that now seemed to have settled like a stone in his gut with the knowledge he’d likely never again have another taste of the woman he’d held in his arms less than an hour ago.

Dammit, why did that seem to matter so much?

“Earth to Vasquez.”

The comment had Marcus shifting his attention back to Tyler. The general manager of Lochlain Racing was tall and lanky, with dark hair and a tanned face made ruddy by hours spent under the Australian sun. At the moment, his green eyes were narrowed speculatively on Marcus.

“The way you’re taking the crowd apart makes me think you’re on the lookout for someone.” Sliding one flap of his tuxedo jacket back, Tyler slipped a hand into the pocket of his slacks while studying the crowd. “A woman, maybe?”

“I’m just checking out who came to witness your brother tie the knot,” Marcus said, avoiding a direct answer.

He sipped the scotch he’d opted for over the champagne that flowed freely. To ensure the subject veered away from the reason he’d taken up residence in a spot with a prime view of all the celebrants, he turned the conversation back to a subject close to Tyler’s heart. “As for Lightning Chaser, does he still like to make the other horses try to catch him?”

“Every time he gets on a racetrack,” Tyler answered with a wide smile. “I have high hopes for him in the upcoming Classic.”

Marcus thought about a black cloud that could mar the race. “What about Sam Whittleson?” he asked, referring to the man whose horse had beat Lightning Chaser in an Australian race several months back. After it was discovered Whittleson’s horse had been pumped full of steroids, Lightning Chaser was declared the winner. Bad blood ensued when Whittleson claimed his horse had been sabotaged. There were those who speculated Tyler could be responsible. “He might be interested in payback.”

“If Whittleson tries anything, he’ll be sorry.” The hard snap in Tyler’s voice left no doubt that his threat was anything but idle.

The music swept up into a crescendo then ended, followed by a round of applause for the bride and groom. Tyler set his drink aside. “It’s time for me to claim a dance with my new sister-in-law.”

Moments after Tyler smiled goodbye and headed for the dance floor, Marcus spotted Melanie. She was on the far side of the conservatory, leaning down to say something to her nieces, the twin daughters of her brother Brent, Quest’s head breeder. Both girls had their brown hair in braids and wore knee-length dresses made out of the same gold material as Melanie’s. Smiling, she whispered something to them, and the twins giggled.

All so innocent, Marcus thought. Far from innocent was the hunger emanating from him as he studied their aunt’s soft, angular profile. The attraction had been there from the moment he met Melanie on his first day at Quest, sitting in the stables with her boots off. But now he’d had a taste of her. No mere attraction had ever made him ache the way she was making him ache. And no sexual desire had ever made him feel as if he were inexorably sinking into hot lava.

When he caught himself imagining what it would be like to have another taste of her, he knew he was in trouble. Draining his scotch, he decided to say goodbye to the Prestons and head to his quarters for one last night at Quest. He had no idea where he would be twenty-four hours from now.

“Marcus, have you got a minute?”

He turned to find Demetri Lucas standing inches away. Earlier, Marcus had overheard someone mention that the recently retired race car driver, who was engaged to Elizabeth Innis, a Preston cousin, had missed the wedding due to business concerns. Since Demetri was dressed in a casual sweater and slacks, Marcus theorized he had just arrived.

“I have more than a minute,” Marcus said, shaking the hand Demetri offered. A native of Greece, he had a dusky Mediterranean complexion, black hair and dark eyes. It was well-known Demetri was a close friend of Hugh Preston, the family patriarch who’d built Quest from the ground up. Taking advantage of Hugh’s legendary ability to sense when a horse had the makings of a champion, Demetri had followed his mentor’s recommendations when buying a dozen Thoroughbreds over the years. Currently those horses were stabled at Quest, but unaffected by the North American and international racing ban on horses majority owned by the stables.

“Is Elizabeth here?” Marcus asked.

“Unfortunately, no. Her concert tour’s in London right now. She called earlier with news that the rest of her European tour is sold out.”

“Impressive,” Marcus said. And because he and Demetri had spent time working with the horses Demetri kept stabled at Quest, he asked, “Do you have questions about your horses?”

“Always, but they can wait. Right now, I want to talk about you.”

“Me?”

“I know today was your last working day at Quest. Do you have another job lined up?”

“Not yet. I plan to start looking in earnest after the holidays.”

“This may be my lucky day.” Demetri beamed the smile that had shown up on the covers of international racing magazines, as well as People and GQ. “Yours, too.”

“How so?”

“Have you ever wanted to own part of a Kentucky horse-racing stable?”

Marcus raised a brow. “The thought has crossed my mind.” Then had been quickly rejected, and not just because of the heart-stopping amount of money that would be involved. Owning a stable meant putting down roots, something he had never had a desire to do. Keeping loose, free and unfettered had always been more to his liking.

He thought again about the heavy regret that had hounded him over the past month. The idea of moving to another job simply didn’t carry the same feeling of rightness it always had in the past.

He made a quick survey of the wedding guests, sought out Melanie. She was dancing with the groom now. Shane was her cousin, yet seeing her in the arms of another man made Marcus’s jaw go tight. Lord, he had it bad.

“Hugh knows about this deal and he’s given me the use of his study upstairs,” Demetri said, pulling Marcus’s attention back. “If you’re interested, you and I can talk business there in private.”

“I won’t know if I’m interested until I hear what you have to say. But I’m curious.”

Minutes later, Marcus and Demetri stepped into the study, a warm, vibrant room with thick rugs and polished brasses. Dark walnut paneled one wall; floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the other three. The windows were tall and narrow, diamonds of leaded glass that looked out on the dark December night.

“As of today, Elizabeth and I own Rimmer Stables,” Demetri said, handing Marcus a crystal tumbler of scotch. He settled into the red leather chair beside Marcus’s, both grouped in front of the enormous gray stone fireplace. “Rimmer’s one hour from here. Are you familiar with it?”

“Not with the stables, but their horses. They’ve had some champions in the past.” Pulling details from his memory, Marcus stared into the flames dancing in the fireplace. “The distant past,” he clarified. “I understand the original owner, Jack Rimmer, died a couple of years ago. Apparently his son doesn’t have the experience or know-how to keep the stables a success.”

“Which is why Rimmer’s widow put the place on the market. I’ve got the same problem she does. Elizabeth and I own the stables now, but neither of us have the expertise or the time to operate them. That’s where you come in. We need a partner, Marcus. One who knows horses inside and out, and has what it takes to run a successful business. I’m not talking just about horses but the facility itself. Rimmer junior has kept up with the maintenance on the stables and other structures, but not on the main house. Seeing to that is high on my list.”

“And not cheap.”

Demetri grinned. “Luckily, winning Formula Gold races has made my financial standing very comfortable. Not to mention the purses my Thoroughbreds have brought in. And Elizabeth’s latest album debuted at number one on the charts. Money isn’t an issue.”

“That will definitely ease the way.” Marcus angled his chin. “Speaking of your Thoroughbreds, I take it you’ll be moving them from Quest to Rimmer?”

“Which I plan to rename Lucas Racing,” Demetri said. “And, yes, I’ll have my horses transported there.” Demetri sipped his scotch. “You’re probably thinking that pulling my Thoroughbreds from Quest when it’s in financial trouble is a slap in the face to Hugh and all the other Prestons. And not a particularly wise move, considering that I’m engaged to a Preston cousin.”

“I don’t have a clue how family politics work, so I’ll leave that up to you,” Marcus said.

Thanks to a father who’d rejected his pregnant mistress and their son, Marcus had no idea whether Demetri was stubbing his toe when it came to dealing with future relatives. But Marcus did know the Thoroughbred racing business.

“You’ve held back moving your horses longer than other owners. Some took their stock out the day after the U.S. ban went into effect. I imagine the Prestons appreciate the loyalty you’ve shown. And starting up your own stable more than justifies the move.”

“After I get my horses relocated to Lucas Racing, I plan to purchase more. The Prestons own a number of Thoroughbreds. If selling some to me will help their cash flow problems, everybody gains.” Demetri sipped his scotch. “You know every horse stabled here. I’d like you to think about which ones would be a good addition to my new venture.”

“All right,” Marcus said. It wouldn’t take any thought on his part, though, to choose the number one horse on the list. Robbie Preston had first clued Marcus in on the fact that Something To Talk About was special. Robbie had been right. The colt Melanie had raced to a magnificent win in Dubai’s Sandstone Derby before the international ban took effect was in the star-making class. He wouldn’t just break records, he would smash them to bits. But only if he could race.

Marcus frowned when he thought about the special affinity Melanie had for the colt. He was aware that she visited its stall every evening. Several times, he’d stood unobserved in a shadowy corner, listening to her coo to the gray horse with white stockings while treating him to a slice of pear.

It was clear she loved the colt. Marcus didn’t have to wonder what her reaction would be if her family agreed to sell the horse.