turned, picked up the brush and stepped back into the stall with the stud. “Mr. Carter—”
“Grant,” he reminded her with a grin.
Her eyes darted to his, then back to the horse she’d been brushing. “Mr. Carter, my schedule is pretty tight. I came up with a spreadsheet so you can see when I’m practicing, when I’m working in the stables and when I have time blocked off for you. Your area on the sheet is green. I would like to stick to this spreadsheet, but if you have other engagements during our time, I can attempt to rework it.”
Grant tried his hardest not to burst out laughing. She was starting to sound like his oh-so-organized twin sister...or at least how he remembered his sister before her accident.
Seeing as how Tessa still hadn’t shown a hint of a smile, he assumed she was dead serious. Wow, this woman would be tough to crack. He loved a challenge, but something told him she wanted nothing to do with this movie. Most people would be thrilled to know Hollywood wanted to make a film around their life and on their property. The majority of the women he knew would give their entire shoe collection to be associated with a Bronson Dane movie with Max Ford as lead actor.
Grant watched as Tessa stroked the horse’s mane with precision and care. This woman was obviously not impressed with him or this film. She seemed to be in her own world of details and structure, from the spreadsheet to her perfectly placed low ponytail. He had a feeling the beautiful Tessa Barrington rarely had her feathers ruffled.
And he’d so love to ruffle her. But beyond coproducing this film, he couldn’t get swept back into the world that had ruined his family’s life. He had to keep any personal emotions off this set. His next goal, of starting his own production company, was within reach, and he’d be damned if he’d let his guilt and fear hold him back.
“When is my first time slot, Tessa?” he asked, propping his hands on his hips as he took a step back from the open stall. “My team will be arriving in a month, and I plan on outlining the sites for the order of filming after I visit all the locations. But I’m flexible. I’ll work around you.”
With perfect ease, she turned, tapped the brush against her palm and tipped her head. “I know my father agreed to have me help you, but my racing has and always will come first. I should make it clear I’m not happy about this film and I don’t endorse any part of it.”
Grant couldn’t help but grin. Apparently Tessa wasn’t a fan of having her work disrupted. Actually, she was a refreshing change from the women who stumbled over themselves to get his attention because of his celebrity status and his bank account. Tessa was obviously impressed with neither, which only made her even more intriguing.
“I understand you’re a busy woman,” he repeated, hoping to use a little charm to get on her good side. “I’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”
“I only agreed to let you shadow me because I refuse for this film to be anything but accurate. I don’t want my father’s life spun into something ugly or devious.”
Interesting. Clearly, Tessa had had an unpleasant experience somewhere along the way, and now Grant was in her path of anger. Lovely. Nothing like spending the next month working closely with a bitter woman.
“I will make sure this movie is done to everyone’s satisfaction and is the best film we can produce,” he promised.
“Looks like we’ll both be getting our way, then,” she said with a tight smile.
Both get their way? His eyes roamed over her delicate frame. Oh, the possibilities. Slipping that tight ponytail down would be the first. Unbuttoning her stiff shirt would be next.
And making use of that empty stall would be another.
Yeah, this would definitely be a long month.
* * *
Tessa knew when a man was attracted; she wasn’t stupid. And in all honesty, she found this hotshot producer pretty sexy, but she’d built up an immunity to sexy, smooth talkers.
Besides, the last guy who’d captured her attention was a city boy through and through. His polished shoes, designer suits and perfectly coiffed hair hadn’t bothered her. What bothered her was when he’d decided to use her name and finances to further his small-business venture.
There was no way Tessa would let herself get sidelined by some captivating, powerful stranger from Hollywood just because he made her heart beat a bit quicker with that one-sided smile and those heavy-lidded eyes.
Most twenty-five-year-old women were getting married and having babies. Tessa opted to chase her own set of dreams—the Triple Crown.
There was no time for serious relationships when she lived in a stable, training most hours of the day. And she most definitely thought more of herself than to let go of her innocence for a quickie.
Besides, she’d learned the hard way how cruel relationships could be and how the word trust meant different things to different people.
“I need to take Oliver out for a ride,” she told Grant, hoping he’d take those sultry eyes and be on his way for now. “I assumed when Dad said you’d arrive today, it would be later, so I had blocked out a two hour window for you after lunch.”
He checked his watch. “I can come back, but it may help if I have that spreadsheet, so I know when not to disturb you.”
Tessa sighed. He was mocking her. That was fine; she was used to it. But the last guy who’d decided to make a joke of her had found himself out one girlfriend and a whole lot of pride by the time she’d finished with him. Of course, his mocking had come on a whole other, more painful level.
She moved to the next stall, where Oliver, her beautiful Thoroughbred, waited for his warm-up. Oliver wasn’t her racing horse. No, he was her baby, and she loved him as dearly as she would her own child. He was a bit finicky, a bit hyper some might say, but Tessa and he understood each other. And they pretty much both loathed outsiders.
“I’ll bring that spreadsheet to our meeting,” she told Grant as she slid open the stall. Oliver, restless as usual, started his bucking dance, his way of letting her know he was more than ready to go. “I can meet you back here in two hours—”
One second she was talking and the next she was in Grant’s arms. She hadn’t seen him move, but suddenly he was pulling her away from the opening in the stall.
“What are you doing?” she asked, looking up into the most impressive set of dark, near-black eyes.
Grant stood frozen, his arms wrapped around her, his eyes now wide and focused on Oliver. With his attention not directly on her, she could take a moment to appreciate the strong jawline beneath the dark stubble, the tanned skin, his firm grip on her, giving her the opportunity to learn that he had fabulous muscle tone beneath that new gray flannel shirt.
And he smelled so damn good. Perhaps she was just glad to be inhaling something other than hay and horse poop, but Grant Carter’s aftershave, cologne or the combination of both was masculine, strong and sexy...just like the man.
“Grant?” she asked, sliding from his grasp.
His gaze went from the stallion to her and held, before he shook his head as if to focus.
“He
