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.
It didn’t surprise her that she hadn’t heard him approach the stall. Nor did it surprise her that despite not hearing him, she’d sensed he was there. The air around her changed, she thought, whenever Marcus was nearby.
She took a steadying breath and forced herself to turn.
He stood in the stall’s open door, looking all tough and rangy and fit in a sweater as black as his eyes, and faded jeans with bleach stains splattered over one thigh. Just seeing him again had something in her leaping to attention.
What is it about this man? I take one look at his face, inhale a whiff of his scent, and I’m aching to tear off his clothes. And mine, as well.
Not good, she thought. After all, he hadn’t come to Quest to see her. He’d come to conduct business. So, she would accommodate him.
“You know horses, understand them, that’s a given,” she said. “But does Demetri?”
Marcus studied her a long moment. “A lot of owners don’t know horses. What are you getting at?”
“Demetri races cars. Or he did before he retired. I hope he understands that horses aren’t like race cars. You can’t just park them in a new place and expect them not to notice. Not to get upset.”
“I’ll be sure and tell him,” Marcus said, his eyes lingering on her.
She wore her blond hair anchored back with clips. Her jeans were snug and faded to a soft blue-gray that matched her down vest. Under that she wore a sweater the color of pale, creamy caramel. Her boots appeared old, scuffed and serviceable. Despite her work clothes, she wore earrings with bright stones that glittered beneath the stable’s lights.
Seeing the sparkle of the stones had Marcus wondering if she’d also taken time that morning to dab on Chanel. Nearly a week had passed since they’d kissed, and the memory of her scent still kept him awake at night. He wasn’t sure he would ever get it out of his system.
Wasn’t sure he wanted to.
Which told him right there he should stay away from her. He’d grown up watching just how miserable love could make a person, and he wanted no part of it. He could have easily sent one of his grooms with a trailer to transport the colt. Instead, he’d come himself. Solely because he wanted to see her. And find out for himself if she was as upset about losing the horse as he suspected she’d be.
And maybe, just maybe, toss out the offer he’d been considering. The offer he kept telling himself was all sorts of crazy.
“Will you race him soon?” she asked, while holding out her palm to offer the horse a slice of pear.
“If I decide he’s ready.” While Something To Talk About munched on the pear, Marcus gave him an appraising look. The colt was strongly built and had already demonstrated in Dubai that he had the hunger and ability to win. “Florida’s Gulf Classic race is on New Year’s Day.”
“That’s less than a month away.”
“True.”
“You know full well that changing facilities and trainers and jockeys all at the same time could affect Something To Talk About’s desire to win.”
Marcus lifted a brow. “Did he tell you that when you were talking to him?”
“He tells me lots of things,” Melanie countered, her chin inching up. “One being that you need to give him time to get used to his new home and new people before you expect him to race.”
“He’ll settle in just fine at Lucas Racing. I’ve got a nice stall lined with fresh hay waiting for him.”
Marcus watched Melanie’s blue eyes narrow when he stepped through the open door. “As for trainers, Something To Talk About already knows me.”
He moved farther into the stall. When he paused beside Melanie, he caught the faintest echo of her scent. Instantly, heat coiled in his gut.
Marcus set his jaw. He could feel himself falling into something with her that he couldn’t handle, didn’t want. But hell if he could stop thinking about her. Or stay away from her.
The offer he’d been considering might be crazy, but he didn’t care. Not when he still had her taste in his system. And wanted more.
He ran his palms over the colt’s head and throat, skimming, stroking, checking. “He won’t have to get used to a new jockey if you come to work for me.”
He had the satisfaction of seeing sheer astonishment in Melanie’s face.
