Who's Cheatin' Who?. Maggie Price
Something To Talk About had to cover yards of ground the other horses bypassed. And he ignored it when his rider tapped his flank with the crop, trying to get him to move inward.”
Melanie pursed her lips. “Your new horse is an independent thinker, Mr. Vasquez.”
“He’s only partly my horse, Miss Preston. And he doesn’t think independently when you’re on his back. I’ve seen you ride him in person and I’ve studied videos of you on him during workouts and races. He pays attention to your signals and acts on them. When you’re in the saddle, it’s all fluid, flawless teamwork.”
Her focus shifted to the far end of the track where the colt was being led to the stables. “He and I have this communication thing going. He listens to me, I listen to him.”
“Keep it up because whatever you say to each other works.” Marcus slid his stopwatch into the pocket of his denim jacket. “Do you want to tour the stables and other buildings first? Or would you rather see the quarters you’ll have if you take the job?”
“The stables.” She patted her right hand against her jacket pocket. “I brought a pear for Something To Talk About.”
“Then let’s go give it to him.”
BY THE TIME MARCUS had shown her through the stables, the barn and the offices, the sun had warmed the air enough that Melanie had shed her heavy jacket and carried it draped over one arm.
“From what I’ve seen, you have the makings of a first-class facility,” she said while they headed up the crushed stone path toward the big house.
“It will be. After Demetri’s renovations are finished on the main house, the place will be top-notch. Unfortunately, that’s going to take a while.”
“Speaking of Demetri, where is he?”
“Rome. Elizabeth’s doing a couple of concerts in Italy. Apparently he can’t go for more than a few days without seeing your cousin.”
“True love,” Melanie said and smiled. “I got an e-mail from her saying they’re trying to schedule a wedding date for next year between her tours.” While they continued up the path, Melanie swept a hand toward a mass of flower beds. “By then, Elizabeth will have had all these beds planted. It’ll be gorgeous around here when everything blooms.”
Marcus paused at the edge of the brick patio and turned to face her. “Will you be here with me to see all those flowers?”
Melanie felt a flutter in her stomach. She knew exactly how she would like to be with him. Down, girl, she told herself.
“That depends,” she said evenly.
“On?”
“Three things.”
“I’m listening.”
“When we went through the stables, you outlined a few renovations you and Demetri plan to make. I’d like you to agree to three more.”
She saw caution kick into his dark eyes. “What sort of renovations?”
“As you know, I’ve been studying new stable management theories. One being how important it is to pay attention to the flow of energy.”
Marcus’s brow furrowed. “How exactly do you do that?”
“By placing doors and windows in the right orientation.”
“That’s the only theory you’ve been studying?” he asked neutrally.
“No, color,” she said. “Horses don’t see color the way we do, but they can differentiate various hues. Everything in your stable is painted a dingy gray. It’s depressing, to people and horses. Also, there’s no music.”
Marcus stared at her for so long that Melanie felt the urge to squirm. Then he gripped her elbow and nudged her along the path that led to the two-story brick building she’d noticed earlier
“There are two apartments on the upper level,” he explained. “If you take the job, the one on the south will be yours.”
“Who lives in the other one?”
“I do.”
Side by side, they headed up one of the building’s gleaming white staircases. Melanie didn’t ask if he intended to agree to the changes she’d suggested for the stables. Patience, she told herself as they stepped onto the wooden balcony that spanned the building’s front. She would find out soon enough.
Marcus slid a key into the lock of the nearest door, swung it open. “I realize this is much smaller than you’re used to, but it’s nice.”
She stepped past him into a bright, cozy room with pale yellow walls and a shining oak floor. A tan leather sofa and matching chair sat in front of a small brick fireplace. Melanie could see rambling hills through the wide sheer-draped windows.
New, top-of-the-line appliances sparkled in the kitchen. A tub with jets took up one corner of the tidy bathroom. The walls of the bedroom were painted a pale blue; sheer white curtains hung at the two windows. The soft blue and white were repeated in the bedspread, and a round rug spread a pool of color on the wooden floor. A framed mirror hung over the whitewashed pine dresser.
Marcus had remained in the bedroom’s doorway, one shoulder propped against the jamb. She met his gaze in the mirror. “These quarters are more than nice.”
“Glad you think so. You said your taking the job depends on three things. You told me one. What’s another?”
“For the past five years, I’ve sponsored a summer mentor program for students. I’d like to continue it.”
Their gazes were still locked on each other’s mirrored reflection.
“I worked at Quest this past summer,” Marcus said. “I don’t recall your program.”
“I put it on hold this year.” Her chest tightened at the thought of how many things the DNA discrepancy had touched. “I was busy working with Robbie, trying to get Something To Talk About up to speed.”
“Which you did,” Marcus acknowledged. “A lot of stables use working students during the summer. In exchange for all the chores they do, they get riding lessons and room and board. Is that the type of program you’re talking about?”
“No. The kids I work with all want to be jockeys and their riding skills have to already be at a certain level. I give each student a one-on-one inside look at a jockey’s life. We work on their form, I teach them signs to watch for while they’re riding that might indicate a horse has an injury. And what to look for in a horse’s performance so they can tell the trainer what’s going on.” Melanie pursed her lips. “That would benefit you.”
In the mirror, she watched Marcus push away from the door and move toward her. With every step he took, her pulse beat faster.
“What’s the third condition on your taking the job?”
Here we go, Melanie thought. To buy time, she laid her folded jacket on top of the dresser while she tried to remember her carefully constructed reasons against their further personal involvement that she’d come up with during the sleepless night. Sleepless because of him.
She turned, and discovered he now stood only inches from her. Close enough to make her feel threatened. And tempted.
While the incredible scent of musky aftershave and potent male surrounded her, aroused her, she decided in retrospect that a bedroom probably wasn’t the prime place to have this conversation. Especially since her thought processes had suddenly detoured into wondering how it might feel to toss caution aside, shove him onto the bed and have her way with him.
Which she absolutely, positively was not going to do, she lectured herself. A reminder of the battering her heart had taken by another man who’d shared nothing about himself was all it took for Melanie to square her shoulders and dive in.
“What