His short, thick lashes flickered, then he moved forward, calling her bluff and forcing her to yield territory to avoid contact. He bent over the microscope. “Tell me what I’m looking for.”
Unsure whether he was testing her knowledge or simply being a pain in the rear, she scowled at the thick, dark strands covering the back of his head. “You’re checking to see whether the sample has enough potency to get the job done.”
He straightened. Their gazes collided unexpectedly and held. Her thoughts scattered like bowling pins. Tension crackled between them.
“And the answer?”
She inhaled slowly, trying to remember his question, but a trace of his cologne—something hinting of patchouli, sandalwood and cypress—distracted her. He smelled good and looked good. Too bad he was a jerk. She’d dealt with enough overinflated egos over the years to know bad attitude cancelled out any positives.
“Yes, this is a fertile stud, and a good thing, too, since Commander is Sutherland Farm’s top moneymaker.”
Determined to get back to business, she waved him out of the way and bent over the eye pieces, but his presence disturbed her. She could feel him dissecting and cataloging her every action as if he were waiting for her to make a mistake. When she adjusted the focus her hands weren’t as steady as they’d been before his arrival, and it annoyed her that he could rattle her so easily.
“What’s the purpose of all the equipment and charts?”
Another odd question from Sutherland’s new owner. She lifted her head and put down the pencil she’d been using to make notes. “If I explain, will you go away and let me finish my job?”
“I’m not leaving until you’ve given me a satisfactory tour.”
Not what she wanted to hear. “Are you completely ignorant of the business into which you’ve invested millions?”
Whoops. Not nice, Hannah. What happened to killing him with kindness and not making waves?
“You mean the business I own, the one that pays your salary?”
He had her there. And if she wanted to continue receiving that paycheck so that she could care for her horses and put food on her table, she’d better dam the resentment pouring from her mouth. “I apologize. The clock is ticking and I really need to get this order ready before the sample is ruined.”
“Answer my question, Hannah.”
“The shelves are filled with the collection equipment we use. Each stud has his own—” Her cheeks warmed and her tongue tangled. Oh, for pity’s sake. Reproduction was her job. Discussing it was routine. So why did explaining it to him make her uncomfortable? They weren’t discussing her personal sexual preferences.
Or his.
An image of him bare-chested, braced on his forearms above her and with passion instead of irritation tightening his features flashed in her mind. Her womb clenched. She inhaled sharply.
Girl, you have been too long without a man’s attention.
She cleared her throat and, trying to ignore the unwelcome warmth seeping through her, carefully chose her words. “Stallions have likes and dislikes that could interfere with or assist in production and collection. We get our most successful outcomes when the positive elements are in place, and we keep track of each stud’s preferences with the charts.”
His eyes narrowed and for a moment the air seemed to hum with tension. “Sutherland Farm has two veterinarians on staff. Your position seems redundant. Why should I continue paying your salary?”
Alarm froze any lingering awareness faster than a liquid nitrogen dip. “You’re asking me to justify my job?”
“Correct. Convince me nepotism wasn’t a factor in your hiring.”
She dampened her suddenly dry lips. “Our staff vet oversees general animal health. I oversee breeding.”
“Something animals have managed without assistance or all this equipment since the beginning of time.”
“Breeding is Sutherland Farm’s bread and butter. Without the raw material, our trainers can’t produce champions. We continue to make money off successful mares and studs for years, sometimes even decades, after they leave the show ring.”
“And why can’t the staff vet oversee that?”
“Developing a winning bloodline is far more complicated than randomly pairing animals and hoping for a pretty foal. It’s an intricate mix of genealogy, genetics, biology and veterinary science aimed at producing an animal with optimal traits and minimal deficiencies. It’s a science—one at which I happen to excel.”
He didn’t look impressed.
“Tell me, Wyatt, exactly how much do you know about horse breeding?”
“My knowledge of horses is limited to thoroughbreds.”
That explained a lot. “And yet you bought a Warmblood farm. Thoroughbreds are bred naturally. Sutherland Farm does almost everything by artificial insemination.”
“Why?”
“There are several reasons. Our horses are too valuable to risk one of them getting injured during the natural breeding process, and artificial insemination allows us to service mares globally and not only in our barns. It’s cost-effective and less stressful for the mares than being shipped to the stallion’s home stable. Shipping a horse overseas is expensive and often disturbs her cycle. Plus quarantine is a hassle. Shipping semen is less aggravating. We simply freeze or chill it and send it out.”
He pointed to yet another chart. “And this?”
Hannah grimaced. She was fond of her charts and graphs. Charts were predictable. They made sense. She could weigh the pros and cons of practically any permutation on paper and erase her mistakes. Unlike life’s bad choices.
“That’s the stallion schedule. Regular, predictable collection encourages better production. In layman’s terms, it’s our way of aligning supply to demand so we know where to set our stud fees. And the chart beside it is the pending shipment list—the one I need to get back to before I can give you the tour and before this sample loses viability. So please, Mr. Jacobs, go away and let me do my job.”
“Wyatt,” he corrected.
She didn’t want to be on a first-name basis with him. That implied friendship—something they would never have. But he was the boss and that meant she had to mind her manners.
“Wyatt. Sutherland Farm bloodstock has been producing champion jumping and dressage stock for years. Let me show you to the visitors’ lounge in the office building. You can have a cup of coffee and look through the catalogue of our studs, mares and foals until I finish here.”
His dark gaze lingered on hers until an odd sensation stirred in the pit of her stomach and her toes curled in her boots. “I can find the lounge.”
The moment he left the room tension drained from her shoulders, torso and legs
