go into the house and get started.”
“What?” Yeah, processing was not her strong suit at the moment. Which she didn’t like. Being in control meant a lot to her.
“If you want to take Sun home tonight, there’s no time like the present.”
Why did his arrogant expression make her want to both smack him and rub the pad of her thumb along the arch of his raised eyebrow?
“Once we’ve made an appearance, I’ll even make sure he gets properly loaded myself.”
He gave her clothes a once-over. She’d come dressed to fit in with the party crowd, even though she had no intention of setting foot in the house. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Kane thought he’d gained a sidekick who would give him an entrée into the tightest circles of racing society.
What would happen when he found out Presley was far from a social butterfly?
Large groups of people made her break out in hives. She’d only attended parties when her father insisted and usually spent the time doing her best wallflower impression. The men who constantly called her for advice and dropped by the stables to ask about their mares’ latest ailments seemed to grow blinders the minute she slipped into a dress.
Not that she could blame them. Formal clothes looked bad on her and made her uncomfortable. Still, she was well enough known now that plenty of people would drop by her corner to talk business. But the endless conversations about horses dried up when prettier women entered the picture, making parties a minefield Presley had no ability or desire to navigate.
Maybe Kane wouldn’t realize that until she had Sun safely home...
“Shall we?”
Kane graciously waved a hand to indicate she should precede him out of the stall. But Presley had now had an up-close encounter with the power and stubbornness behind the manners. They might have an agreement, but one look into his dark eyes told her he’d release the information about her stepmother and ruin her if she didn’t cooperate.
A wolf tended to hide behind the good ol’ boy facade here in the South.
She picked her way out of the stall, taking care not to dirty her sandals. The soothing cocoon of familiarity she always felt in the presence of animals immediately disappeared as she slipped into the wide alley that cut through the stables. As she passed Kane, she was once more impressed with his height; she barely reached his chest.
What little she knew of the Harrington brothers had come from local gossip after they had taken over the manor, and then it had mostly covered Mason. Kane hadn’t moved here full-time until very recently, and lived in his own home in the historic district downtown. According to the gossip mill, he had yet to hook up with anyone, but that wasn’t for lack of trying on the ladies’ parts. More than a few were eager to take Kane for a test drive.
Which meant Presley would not be their favorite person. Her steps slowed as she came back to the major flaw in his plan: she was not the best person to help Kane gain acceptance. And though she’d never admit it in a million years, the thought of this virile, astute man seeing just how inadequate she was in this situation had her cheeks burning already.
But she also couldn’t let her reputation be ruined because of her stepmother’s greed and ineptitude.
When she got close to the main door of the stables, Presley let her trepidation bring her to a full halt. Kane got a little ahead of her, then paused. He threw a look over his shoulder that seemed to ask what the problem was. How could he say so much with just a look? She had the feeling time spent with Kane Harrington would not be filled with idle chitchat.
Which would be a welcome prospect after endless hours of it with her stepmother.
Shoot! She’d forgotten her stepmother had spent all week expounding on what an event the Harrington’s open house would be, which meant Marjorie would be a witness to this command performance. And she was a woman who was more than aware of Presley’s faults and not shy about bringing them up when she had the chance. Not vindictively—it just never occurred to her flighty little self that what she was saying embarrassed Presley to no end.
Presley just couldn’t do this. She’d end up falling flat on her face, literally and probably physically, too.
“What is it, Presley?”
If he had demanded, she might have lied. Instead his coaxing tone brought the most unexpected words to her lips. “How can I possibly pretend to be the—” she choked a little “—lover of a virtual stranger?”
Kane didn’t seem the least bit fazed by her naive question. Instead he retraced his steps until he was all too close and her body was a jumble of sparks she didn’t recognize.
“Would you like to practice first?” he asked, his husky tone sending a singular shiver down her spine.
Yes. “No! I just need time—”
“And I need everyone to talk about something else besides why the prize stud horse won’t be making an appearance in my stables. The surest way to distract people from that is if we have a captive audience.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
His unexpected chuckle had her stomach doing somersaults. What was wrong with her tonight?
Without warning, Kane brushed her chin with his long fingers. Startled at the warm contact, she glanced up, but the shadows over his face didn’t give her any clues to his thoughts. He simply covered her lips with his.
Sensations immediately assaulted Presley, as if her body weren’t already on overload. This simple touch sent her over the top.
He didn’t grope or force his tongue into her mouth. No, Kane wasn’t an overeager boy looking for an easy in. Most of her experience had been like that. Instead, he rested against her mouth for a few moments. Just long enough for her to anticipate the next move.
When it came, it left her gasping. He brushed his lips lightly across hers, back and forth, until she opened to him. Still, he didn’t force himself in. Instead he traced the outline of her lips with his tongue...and everything inside Presley tightened in response. One quick flick against her parted teeth, then he was gone.
Only then did Presley realize that her entire awareness had narrowed to the man touching her. The man she should have been scolding like a chaste maid from the seventeenth century. But no—
“How dare you?” she breathed.
He glanced down. Her gaze followed his and her cheeks started to burn.
Her hands clutched the lapels of his suit jacket, wrinkling the fabric. Her lungs strained for air as though she were a horse bellowing after a race. Her heart beat hard in her chest, the pounding of her pulse finding an embarrassing echo lower in her body.
And the man before her stood with his hands loose at his side, appearing completely unmoved.
Mortification that she could be overwhelmingly affected while he was completely cool hardened her attitude. “I told you to keep your hands to yourself.”
“I wasn’t using my hands,” he said, holding them out to his sides. “See? No harm, no foul.”
Despite
