Who's Cheatin' Who?

“I’ve got some terms in mind for our proposed partnership,” Demetri said. “Most are negotiable.”

“I’m listening.” Sipping his scotch, Marcus settled back in his leather chair.

“What do you say?” Demetri asked, after outlining the terms. “Are you interested?”

“So far,” Marcus said. The offer sounded almost too good to be true, and he wanted time to think about it. Look at it from all angles. “One thing, if I sign on, I want total authority over the stable staff. If I decide to hire someone, or an employee needs firing, I don’t want to have to come to you for permission before I can act.”

“Agreed.”

“I’ll go tomorrow and take a look at your new stables.” Marcus rose, offered Demetri his hand. “I’ll get back to you soon with an answer.”

SHE MISSED MARCUS.

Melanie frowned at the knowledge while she groomed Something To Talk About. They’d had a good exercise this sunny December morning, flying out across the fields, streaking over the rises through the cold whip of wind while the air roared with the thunder of hooves.

During the whole of it, Marcus Vasquez had clung to her thoughts like a troublesome burr.

It had been nearly a week since she’d last seen him at Shane and Audrey’s wedding reception. Almost that long since she’d heard Marcus had gone into partnership with Demetri Lucas and her cousin.

“Demetri is engaged to my cousin, Elizabeth,” Melanie informed the colt as she ran her hands up his legs to feel for heat in strained tendons. “You met her—the country-and-western singer I introduced you to a month or so ago? She thought you were the most handsome thing on four legs she’d ever seen.”

As though he understood, Something To Talk About nickered.

Melanie glanced up. “You’re right, Elizabeth’s gorgeous. And, man, can she sing—she’s got a boatload of Grammy awards to prove it, too. Anyway, she’s in Europe right now on a concert tour. Which means she’s not around to give me the inside scoop about what’s going on at the new stables.”

Specifically, what was going on with Marcus Vasquez, Melanie added mentally.

Frustrated over her seeming inability to get her mind off the man for more than five minutes, she lifted the colt’s foreleg to check the hoof.

It was maddening to find herself thinking about Marcus so often. He was gone from Quest—she had wanted him gone because he was nothing but total, sexy-as-hell temptation. Even so, she missed him.

It was that damn kiss. She couldn’t stop her mind from doing slo-mo replays of it. And with each replay her nipples popped to attention and the spot deep between her thighs went all tight and achy.

Which was the last thing she needed. Wanted.

She’d learned her lesson about trusting a man who had a lot in common with an iceberg: far more lurking underneath than showed on the surface. With every intuitive fiber of her being, she knew that Marcus was the iceberg king.

She should have never let him kiss her. Never let herself kiss him back.

“Why am I even thinking about that man when I have a big guy like you right here?” she asked, nuzzling the colt’s neck.

Something To Talk About blew out a soft breath. Pure pleasure.

Smiling, Melanie met his big brown eyes. “I love you, too,” she murmured while retrieving one of the brushes from her grooming kit. “When the ban’s lifted and we can race again, you and I are going to kick some serious butt. Show everyone you’ve got what it takes to be a champ. You’ll have cute mares falling all over you after that.”

The horse snorted and flicked his ears.

Melanie heard the dull thud of boots coming along the concrete floor. She looked across her shoulder in time to see Joe Newcomb, one of Quest’s longtime grooms, step up to the stall door. He was a burly man, running to fat, growing bald.

Looks were deceiving. Melanie’s grandfather had told her that, in his day, Joe had been the toughest man ever to put his foot in a racing stirrup. “Morning, Joe.”

“Morning. Your brothers asked me to tell you they need to talk to you.”

“Which brothers?”

“Andrew and Robbie. They’re waiting in the office off the tack room.” Joe dipped his head toward the colt. “You want me to, I’ll finish up grooming him.”

“Thanks, Joe.” Melanie handed him the brush and headed out of the stall.

She hoped whatever it was her brothers wanted to talk to her about would get her mind off Marcus.

“YOU’VE DONE WHAT?” Melanie asked minutes later. She stood at the edge of the desk in the small, cluttered general-use office, her heart in her throat.

“I’ve sold an interest in Something To Talk About,” Andrew Preston said again from the chair behind the desk. With one hand, he stroked Seamus’s head while the Irish wolfhound gazed up at him adoringly, tongue lolling out of one side of his mouth, tail wagging hard enough to achieve liftoff.

Melanie had always thought her oldest brother was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. She still did. But he was Quest’s business manager, and over the past months, stress from the scandal had etched deep lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth.

She knew Quest’s financial status was bleak. Understood the logic behind the sale. That didn’t stop her heart from breaking at the thought of losing the colt she loved so fiercely.

“Something To Talk About can’t race, not as long as we own a majority interest in him.” The comment came from her younger brother, Robbie. Tall and lean, he stood with one shoulder propped against a wall, his arms folded over his chest. His dark blue eyes held the same grimness as Andrew’s.

“If he isn’t allowed to start proving himself in upcoming races, it’ll waste his entire two-year-old year,” Robbie continued. “You know that as well as I do, Mel. You and I spent the past months training him to get him on a racetrack, not keep him off.”

“I know.” She understood that Robbie, as the new head trainer, had to shift his focus to the overall needs of Quest rather than the single colt he’d trained. Still, it seemed her chest would explode from the sheer force of the emotion churning there. “Who bought the majority interest in Something To Talk About?”

“Lucas Racing,” Andrew replied. “That’s the name of the company Demetri, Elizabeth and Marcus have formed. And the name they’ve given the facility they bought recently. The place used to be Rimmer Stables.”

“Marcus is an excellent trainer, Mel,” Robbie added. “He’ll do right by the colt.”

She nodded slowly. Of course, Marcus would have recognized the colt’s potential. Buying an interest in Something To Talk About was a wise move to get the new company off the ground.

“When do they plan to pick him up?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“This afternoon.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO DO just fine at your new home,” Melanie told the colt. She’d waited to come back to Something To Talk About’s stall until her emotions had settled. Horses were smart, they could sense when someone was upset. She didn’t want to disturb the colt’s emotional balance.

You shouldn’t be upset, Melanie lectured herself. Over her lifetime, she’d felt a fondness for dozens of horses that had been stabled at Quest, then moved on for one reason or another. That was the nature of the horse-racing business, and she accepted it.

Just as she should be able to accept losing Something To Talk About to another stable.

With trembling hands, she used a knife to slice a pear in half. “You already know Marcus.” She held out one of the halves, which the colt nipped from her open palm. “Even though he didn’t train you from the beginning like Robbie did, Marcus’ll take good care of you. Make you into a champion. And won’t it be a kick in the pants if someday I wind up riding another horse in the same race with you?”

She laid the knife aside, then pressed her cheek to the colt’s. “God, I’m going to miss you.”

Her shoulders instinctively stiffened at the same instant the horse shifted.

“I expect he’ll miss you, too,” Marcus said.