jacking up the truck to get the tire changed.
Lunch was a rushed affair at the house, and there were phone calls to return and more stable chores to finish before she could finally break away to see Carter.
It was quarter to four when she climbed in her truck. Carter Scott lived on a wide residential boulevard in an exclusive Lexington neighborhood where the houses looked remarkably alike and were blueprints for the classic Southern mansion—brick steps, stately white columns and wrought-iron gates.
Her truck sputtered as she parked in the circular driveway, and as she rang the doorbell she noticed the dust on her boots and the grime on her jeans. She was filthy. This wasn’t exactly the right approach to take with Carter. He appreciated fine things. He would have appreciated Daisy more if she were … clean.
Carter’s housekeeper ushered Daisy to the formal high-ceilinged parlor at the front of the house, and Carter appeared almost immediately. He greeted Daisy warmly, offered her iced tea, which Daisy declined, and then something stronger, which Daisy also declined.
Five minutes of small talk was the best she could stomach. At the first conversational lull, Daisy brought up the problem. “Carter, something’s happened that shouldn’t have happened, and I need your help.”
“Anything, Daisy. You know how I feel about you.”
“Yes,” she hurriedly continued, trying not to squirm. All of Lexington had dumped them, all, that is, but Mr. Scott. He’d seized on the Collingsworths’ bad fortune as an opportunity to get a young bride at an elegant price. At least that’s the way Daisy saw it. “I understand you made Zoe a very generous loan.”
“It wasn’t a loan. It was payment on a contract.”
“Unfortunately, it’s a contract I can’t honor.”
“The contract’s legal, Daisy.”
“Carter, you know you can’t go to Zoe on farm matters. I manage the farm.”
“But this was between your dad and me. Zoe was just acting as his power of attorney.” Carter shifted in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. He’d once been blond but was quickly turning gray. Even his long handlebar moustache was graying. “Your sister does have that right, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“We met at Pembroke, Pembroke and Brown, the law firm that represents your family. Everything was done in accordance with your father’s wishes.”
But my father didn’t know what he was doing. Or did he? Daisy needed an aspirin badly. “I’ve sold Kentucky Kiss. She’s not mine to breed.”
His expression didn’t change. “My contract with Collingsworth Farm supercedes any other arrangement you’ve made for Kentucky Kiss.”
“Carter, please.”
He didn’t answer. His gaze dropped, and he stared into his crystal tumbler and wrinkled his nose before taking another long drink. “Go with me to the Lindleys’ tonight and I’ll think about it.”
“Oh, Carter—”
He didn’t plead, didn’t protest, he just waited. She couldn’t believe he’d do this, but what did she expect? Other people’s vulnerabilities made Carter feel strong. “You’re not being fair,” she said at length.
“No, you’re not being fair. You know how I feel about you. You want something from me. Why shouldn’t I want something from you?” He must have noticed her stunned expression because he hurriedly added, “Not that, Daisy. I’m a gentleman.”
“Carter, you’re a friend and a nice man but I don’t love you, and I can’t marry someone I don’t love.”
“You’ve never given me a chance.”
Daisy looked at him and felt the hopelessness of her situation. She knew she’d already told Dante no about the party and it seemed wrong—no, it was wrong—to accept a date from Carter. But did she have a choice? “If I go with you, you’ll consider tearing up the contract?”
“I’ll consider it.”
“And what would it take for you to actually do it?” She couldn’t believe she put the question to him, but she might as well have it out in the open. If he wanted to barter, she needed to know what was on the table.
He swigged the rest of his whiskey. “I don’t think we need to go there … yet.”
Daisy had her answer. He’d break the contract if she married him.
CHAPTER FOUR
DAISY gazed at her reflection in the mirror, dazzled by the shimmer of silver sequins, glitter drop earrings and the elegant upswept hairdo.
If she didn’t know herself, she’d think the sparkling blonde lived a glamorous life on the social circuit far from farm life. But since it was her, she knew exactly what she was seeing—fake diamond earrings, a cheap sequin top and Zoe’s white taffeta skirt left over from her debutante party two years ago.
Was she out of her mind? Was she really going to the Lindleys’ preauction party with Carter Scott dressed like this?
She looked like Carter’s dream date, she told her reflection morosely. Ugh. A fate worse than death.
Knots formed in her shoulders, and distaste rippled through her middle. She couldn’t believe Carter was making her play this game. She couldn’t believe she was agreeing to it.
The only one she really wanted to see tonight was Dante. And he wouldn’t even be at the party.
Thank goodness.
Tentatively Daisy touched the waist of her long white taffeta skirt, the skirt full with layers of stiff petticoats. The skirt would pass, but her top’s silver spangles practically blinded her. As she looked up, blue eyes mirrored her uncertainty, and she felt a tremor of trepidation.
The Lindleys were not going to welcome her with open arms. The Lindleys might even try to embarrass her.
She closed her eyes, found her courage and a little of her old backbone. If she was going to go through with this, then she’d do it her way. She couldn’t be fake. The Collingsworths were good people. They didn’t have to put on airs.
Carefully using her bruised hand, Daisy unpinned the coil of hair, and the long pale mass came tumbling down, falling past her shoulder blades to the middle of her back. Stick-straight hair, the blond of flax, the texture of corn silk. Next she wiped off most of the lipstick, reducing the fuchsia stain to a soft pink. There, at least she looked more real.
So real that when she gazed into the mirror she saw herself as a little girl, perched on the bathroom counter watching her father adjust his black bow tie. She could see him wink at her in the mirror, creases fanning from his cornflower-blue eyes, still so young and movie star handsome. Her father was amazing. He’d been a wonderful father.
He still was.
The bathroom door opened and Zoe popped her head in. “Mr. Scott’s here,” Zoe said.
