Read the book: «Latin Lovers Untamed»

Latin Lovers Untamed

In Dante’s Debt

Jane Porter

Captive in His Bed

Sandra Marton

Brazilian Boss, Virgin Housekeeper

Maggie Cox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

In Dante’s Debt

About the Author

JANE PORTER grew up on a diet of Mills & Boon^® romances, reading late at night under the covers so her mother wouldn’t see! She wrote her first book at age eight, and spent many of her high school and college years living abroad, immersing herself in other cultures and continuing to read voraciously. Now Jane splits her time between rugged Seattle, Washington, and the beautiful beaches of Hawaii, with her sexy surfer and three very active sons. Jane loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 524, Bellevue, WA 98009, USA. Or visit her website at www.janeporter.com

For Tessa. A wizard and a brilliant editor.

CHAPTER ONE

“A HALF million dollars?” Daisy Collingsworth repeated incredulously, her lips curving tightly, heart thumping with sickening speed. “You might as well slit my wrists, Count Galván, I’d bleed faster that way.”

A trio of sleek glossy thoroughbreds pounded past, jockeys sitting high in the saddle, hooves kicking up fine pink-brown dust.

But Dante Galván ignored the yearlings in training. “I don’t want to kill you. I just want my share.”

“The lion’s share,” she retorted fiercely, grinding the heels of her boots into the soft racing track dirt, unable to fathom how fate, and her father’s mistakes, had so completely turned their lives upside down. This should never have happened. Not in a thousand years. The family farm was not negotiable. Never had been. Never would be.

But he clearly was unmoved by her argument. “I only take what is mine.”

She suddenly pictured him as a lion, a massive glorious leo sunning on a rock while a half dozen lionesses loyally, happily did his work.

The mental picture infuriated her. Yes, he was Dante Galván, the son of one of her father’s former business associates—an associate notorious for underhanded business practices—but that had no weight with her. She wasn’t about to be knuckled under. “I will get a lawyer and fight you all the way.”

“Lawyers are expensive, Miss Collingsworth, and in this case even an excellent lawyer will be a waste of money.”

Her lips parted to interrupt but he held up a finger, momentarily silencing her.

“And if I might use a cliché,” he continued smoothly, the expression on his handsome face genial, downright friendly. “Even with a good attorney, you have no legal leg on which to stand. Your father signed a contract. My stables provided the stallion. Your mare delivered a foal. It’s time you paid the stud fee.”

She didn’t need to look at the contract to remember the outrageous amount the Galváns had charged them for the stallion’s stud fee. It was so outrageous she’d actually laughed out loud the first time she’d seen the statement. “Nearly half a million dollars, Count Galván? Can we please be serious? No stallion is worth a halfmillion-dollar stud fee.”

“Your father seemed to think so.”

She colored, her face burning in hot fierce bands. “My father—” She broke off, swallowed hard, fighting the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake her. After a moment she felt calm enough to try again. “My father wasn’t thinking clearly.”

It was as close to the truth as she could admit. Anything else would be revealing too much of their own personal tragedy, and that she’d never do, especially not to a man as calculating and self-serving as Count Dante Galván. He was, she thought contemptuously, no different from his greedy, manipulative father. Nothing like a chip off the old block.

His eyes suddenly narrowed, his expression subtly hardening. “I’m not interested in excuses. Your father knew what he was doing.”

“Call a spade a spade, Count Galván! Your father knew exactly what he was doing. You know how much my father looked up to him—”

“If you hope to appeal to my heart,” he interrupted curtly, “you’re going about it the wrong way. There is no love lost between my father and me.”

“Even though he’s gone?”

“Especially now that he’s gone. Death doesn’t excuse or forgive incompetence.”

“My goodness, you’re cold.”

“Not entirely.” His hands went to his hips, pushing aside the soft suede coat, and he half-smiled, a small ironic smile. “I’m not immune to the plight of a beautiful young woman facing bankruptcy and eviction. I do feel for you and understand perfectly why your father sent you to meet with me.”

His lips were stretched into a smile, and yet she’d never seen more teeth or such an impression of a snarl. He looked like a big cat about to take down its prey. Her heart thumped double hard. “And why is that?”

“You’re to butter me up, sweet-talk your way into more time, perhaps a better deal?”

She felt herself blush. “If my father wanted to butter you up, he would have sent Zoe. My sister is the sugar in the family. I’m the vinegar.”

Dante Galván threw his dark head back and laughed, melting the tension from his shoulders, easing the lines from his mouth and eyes. He suddenly looked lazy, relaxed, completely at ease. “So you’re not trying to butter me up? You’re not going to ask for favors?”

His supple brown leather coat hung open over an oatmeal-colored knit sweater. The sweater clung to the hard curved planes of his shoulders and chest. He was gorgeous. And there was nothing worse than a man who knew he looked good.

Daisy cast his dark sun-streaked hair a critical glance. Just look at him! He wore his hair long, well past his collar. She saw the way he’d ruffled it earlier as he sighed, feigning boredom. What an ego. And now he was standing here, licking his chops, anticipating his money.

Fury surged through her, fury and indignation. He, who had so much, now wanted to strip them of the little they had left.

“I wouldn’t call it a favor,” she said flatly. “But we do need time. We don’t have a half million dollars in the savings account. We don’t even have five thousand dollars in the savings account. But we can work out a payment plan—”

“Your father said that a year ago but there’s been no payment. There’s been nothing at all.”

“I sent you a check last month.”

“Yes, and it bounced.”

His sarcasm made her wince, and her stomach plummeted, a speedy free fall that left her cold and clammy. Deeply embarrassed by the reminder, she felt the blood drain from her face.

The bounced check had been an awful, ungodly and yet ridiculous mistake, a mistake she rarely made with finances. Somehow last month, in her hurry to get bills paid on time, she’d failed to record a cash withdrawal from the ATM in downtown Lexington. The cash withdrawal hadn’t been huge, but it was large enough to insure that the check to the Galváns wouldn’t clear. And it didn’t.

Daisy cursed herself yet again, bitterly heaping blame on her head.

If she’d only double-checked her ATM slips, if she’d only waited an extra day before mailing off the payment to the Galváns, none of this would have happened.

If she hadn’t made that silly error, Count Galván would have accepted the delinquent but legitimate payment, and the Collingsworths would finally be working their way out of debt.

Instead Count Galván was here, and he wanted blood.

Daisy drew herself tall and met his cynical gaze head-on. “The check would have cleared the next day. If you’d given the check a chance to clear. But you wouldn’t do that.”

He didn’t look the least bit remorseful. “No, I wouldn’t. I learned my lesson. You weren’t serious about settling the debt. You’re playing games—”

“Not true!” Daisy couldn’t help herself. The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. An immediate blush followed, her face burning from brow to chin, her cheeks feverishly hot. “It’s not like that at all.”

His lashes suddenly dropped, his gaze intently examining her flushed cheeks and pinched lips. His voice lowered, too, taking on an almost caressing tone. “Then how is it, Daisy Collingsworth? Can you explain it to me?”

With his words he was asking for an explanation, but his eyes were asking for something else, something entirely different. He was subtly shifting the focus from business to personal, from work to her. She felt a bubble of warmth rise inside her, adrenaline and nerves. She’d never dealt with anyone like Dante Galván before, didn’t know the first thing about how to handle a man like him.

She drew a ragged breath, nails biting into her palms. “I can cut you another check right now for last month’s and this month’s payment. I promise it will never happen again. You have my word.”

Count Galván’s leather-coated shoulders shifted, a small, apologetic shrug. “I can’t accept that. I’m sorry.”

It felt as though he’d punched her in the ribs. Daisy sucked in air, trying not to flinch. He had no idea how hard she’d worked this past year, no idea the sacrifices made to free up enough cash to give him one month’s payment, much less two.

Jackass. Her eyes burned but she held the sting of tears back. He was such a jackass. He was so rich, so successful that he didn’t know what it was like to count every little penny, to scrape together loose change, to deny oneself the most basic of expenses to free up every dollar possible.

For what?

A horse farm. A bankrupt four-generations family horse farm.

The moment Daisy thought it, she felt worse than before. She didn’t hate the farm. She loved the farm. The farm was her life. It meant everything to her—the horses, the land, the farm buildings—this was home and to hell with Dante Galván if he thought he could take it from her.

Daisy tightened the muscles in her legs, locked her knees and pressed down through her heels, rooting her to the soil. “My word might mean nothing to you, but our cash should. You want to be paid, I’m telling you that you’ll be paid. I’ll cut the check now and accompany you to the bank.”

“What about next month? What happens in thirty days?”

He was trying to bait her but she wouldn’t do it. He wasn’t going to get another rise out of her. “You’ll be paid. Promptly.”

“And the month after that?”

“Stop it.” She didn’t snap, but she wasn’t smiling, either. She was too tired to do this. She didn’t have the patience. Her father had been particularly difficult last night, and instead of waking Zoe as they’d agreed, Daisy let her younger sister sleep, knowing that Zoe needed her rest. But the generous gesture last night meant that Daisy was worn out this morning and Count Galván’s patronizing attitude was wearing her raw.

His lips, full and overtly sensual, twisted. “Miss Collingsworth, I’m not trying to be rude. I’m simply trying to make the point that I can’t afford to wait to be paid. Your farm is clearly struggling. If we don’t settle the debt now, I think it’s highly unlikely it will ever be settled.”

She was tall, five ten without her boots, but he was a good head taller. She jerked her chin up, her gaze colliding with his. “You really do like to hit below the belt.”

“Never with a woman, especially not with a woman like you.”

She averted her head, half closing her eyes, denying the honey warmth flooding her limbs.

His husky pitch did as much damage to her nerves as his words. He couldn’t have meant anything by that, and if he did, she wouldn’t let herself feel flattered. “We own the house free and clear. We’re not about to lose the house—”

“But you’ve taken out second and third loans on the property itself. You’re behind in payments to the bank.”

How did he know that? She felt sick to her stomach. “But the bank won’t foreclose. I’m working on a payment plan with them.”

“Just like you’ve been working on a payment plan with me.”

For a moment she almost thought she was going to lose her breakfast, throw up her coffee and cold cereal all over his polished leather loafers. But she clamped her jaw tight, ground her teeth and held back the sick wave of nausea.

Daisy couldn’t imagine a more awful torture. She, with all her pride, forced to endure his condescension and pity. The poor Collingsworths … those hapless, helpless down-on-their-luck Collingsworths …

No. She wouldn’t buy into it. They were struggling but they weren’t down and out. She’d find a way out of this. She’d get her family through this. One way or another.

Daisy pushed up the brim of her taupe cowboy hat, and her long blond ponytail fell forward, slipping over her shoulder in a silvery sheen. “Count Galván, I realize we owe you nearly a half million dollars for the stud fee and I realize two small monthly payments seem like a drop in the bucket, but I’m attempting to settle this debt. However, you won’t work with me, and I can’t make you work with me, but I can consult an attorney and get some legal advice—”

“Advice?” His tone turned deceptively soft.

“Regarding harassment,” she hurriedly continued, trying to ignore the fact that his cheekbones had hardened, the high curve turning to granite as his lips compressed.

“Muneca, you don’t want to take me to court.”

His husky voice trickled down her spine like fingertips, and she shivered inwardly, more deeply affected than she’d admit. “I can file Chapter Eleven. We’d be protected while we reorganized our debt. You wouldn’t see a penny for a long, long time.”

He didn’t say anything. He simply stared at her, a mixture of disgust and amazement lighting his eyes. She’d surprised him.

Daisy wondered why she didn’t feel more victorious. In truth, she felt a little afraid. Only fools turned the Galváns into adversaries. The Galváns were incredibly powerful people. Her father had always tried so hard to keep the peace with the late Tino Galván.

Thankfully Dante’s cellular phone began to ring, and he fished inside his leather coat, retrieving the phone from an inner pocket. The phone was minuscule, barely larger than a credit card. Of course he’d carry the newest form of technology. Nothing but the most modern and most expensive for Count Dante Galván.

He turned away to take the call but Daisy watched him converse, his dark head tipped in concentration, lashes lowered to conceal his expression. Suddenly he looked at her from beneath his lashes and caught her staring.

He lifted his eyebrows slightly as if to say, “Well? Do you like what you’re seeing?” and Daisy blushed deeply, a frisson of warmth bursting to life within her. She hated that she even found him interesting. He shouldn’t be interesting to her. He was shallow, superficial, spoiled. He—but no, she didn’t want to think about him, didn’t want to waste even a second on him.

Abruptly Daisy moved away, walking on stiff legs to the edge of the track. Drawing a deep breath, she leaned against the painted fence railing and waited for the trio of horses to round the bend.

The thudding hooves shook the ground, sending a rumbling sensation through her boots and into her legs. She watched as the horses galloped closer, and Daisy moved near the fence to get the best view possible. She held her breath as the horses thundered past, the jockeys a blur of red and yellow in their training jackets.

Oh, how beautiful they are.

For a blissful moment she forgot everything—her father, the debt, Dante Galván—too immersed in joy.

Her gaze clung to the yearlings, enthralled by the vision of long legs flying, arched satiny necks, tails sailing. Her horses, her farm, her future.

“You file Chapter Eleven and you might as well close Collingsworths’ doors.” His voice came from behind her. “Horses are big business, particularly in Kentucky. You don’t play with people’s investments.”

She snapped upright. She hadn’t realized he’d finished his call, nor heard him approach.

“I understand,” she answered tightly, irritated by his superciliousness. His superiority grated on her. How could he think he was more virtuous simply because he had money and they had none? “But people around here also know the Collingsworths are honest. We’ve been in business more than eighty years. We’ve hit rough patches before and pulled through.”

He didn’t immediately speak, and she couldn’t bring herself to turn and face him. He was wreaking havoc on her nerves. She definitely had lost the upper hand.

The silence seemed to last forever. At length he spoke. “Where is your father?”

His tone had lost its brusqueness. He sounded almost conciliatory. She turned slightly, glanced at him. “He’s retired.”

“I wouldn’t call it a good time for him to retire.”

“In our business there’s never a good time to retire.”

His jaw tightened, deep grooves forming along his mouth. “But he’s left this … disaster … to you?”

“This disaster is our farm, and yes, I manage the farm now, so unlucky for you, you’re going to have to deal with me.”

“Oh, I’d say lucky me,” he corrected softly.

It was the last thing she expected him to say. Daisy flooded hot, cold and began to shiver.

She could deal with sarcasm, deal with intimidation, but she couldn’t handle this—this …

Suggestive sort of foreplay. Or whatever it was. She’d never been particularly sexual or confident about herself as a woman. She knew she was smart and strong, but not …

Daisy flushed and ground her teeth, digging her hands into the back pockets of her jeans to hide her trembling. He was making her incredibly self-conscious, and suddenly she didn’t know how to handle this conversation anymore.

In the old days she would have thrown a punch. It was the way she grew up solving problems but she hadn’t thrown a punch in years, not since Tommy Wilcox had made fun of thirteen-year-old Zoe’s braces and she left Tommy with a black eye, bruised ego and a new, healthy respect for the Collingsworth sisters.

What Daisy wouldn’t give to teach Dante Galván a similar lesson.

But she was done with her fighting days, done acting the part of a rough-and-tumble tomboy. At twenty-four she knew a quick temper wouldn’t solve the problems facing her family. Only a cool head would get them out of this crisis.

Dante glanced at his watch and with a sigh shook his sleeve down, covering the gleam of gold on his wrist. “As much as I’m enjoying this little tête-á-tête, a problem has come up in Buenos Aires. I have to return to the hotel to handle this, but I will be back, Miss Collingsworth. Sooner than you think.”

He couldn’t be pleasant. Not even if he tried. But Daisy forced a smile even though it made her jaw ache. “Is that a promise, Count Galván, or a threat?”

He laughed, and the early morning sunlight cascaded over him, forming a halo around his dark head, creating the impression of impossible strength and energy. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

Again his eyes smoldered, his expression both personal and tangible. He made her feel so aware of herself, and aware of him. He made her realize that they were very different people and somehow he made it seem like an intriguing premise. “I’ll be back later today.”

Daisy swallowed hard, quivered inwardly, stung by the spark of heat, and took an instinctive step backward. “I’ve appointments until noon,” she said. He didn’t need to know that she’d be home, helping her father with his morning routine.

“We can meet after lunch then. I want to go over your books, see the records.”

“Those are private.”

“Daisy, I’m trying to keep this civil. It doesn’t have to be war—”

“Afraid you’d lose?”

His smile was small. He gave his head a brief, benevolent if regretful shake. “No. You’d lose. And you’d lose everything.”

Daisy’s heart pounded as she drove the short distance home. His parting words filled her with dread. It wasn’t that his tone had been cruel. Far from it. He’d actually spoken most gently. Rather, she was troubled by the stark realization that he was right. Legally, morally, financially. They owed him.

She parked the old work truck in front of the house and climbed the four front steps leading to the covered porch. Stepping through the front door of the two-story Victorian farmhouse, she smelled the faint tang of the lemon oil and the musky spice of antique English roses, varieties planted by her mother over twenty years ago.

She yanked off her hat and shook her long hair loose from its ponytail, the heavy mass reaching the dip in her back. She tossed the hat on the stair banister, passed the mirror without giving it a glance and headed straight for the kitchen.

Twenty-year-old Zoe turned from the sink where she was washing pots and pans, her blond hair twisted into a knot on top of her head. Even though they were four years apart, people often mistook them for twins.

“More calls,” Zoe said softly, lavender-blue eyes wide with apprehension. “Five of them today.”

Creditors were always calling. They started early, sometimes before seven. Daisy’s stomach knotted, but she forced a smile, wanted to somehow reassure her sister. “It’ll be all right, Zoe. I’ll call them back this afternoon.”

Straddling one of the kitchen’s ladder-back chairs, Daisy sat down and rubbed her temples, trying not to be overwhelmed as the mountain of worries kept getting bigger. “How’s Dad this morning?”

Zoe leaned against the sink and slowly wiped her sudsy hands dry. A long blond tendril had slipped from the knot and fluttered against her cheek. “Not so good. He’s been asking for Mom.” She stared at her hands, rubbing the dish towel across one hand and then the other.

Daisy watched her sister methodically rub the towel, her hands constantly moving, her anxiety palpable.

Finally Zoe looked up, her eyes wide and wet with tears she wouldn’t shed. “I never know what to tell him anymore.”

Zoe shouldn’t have to go through this, Daisy argued silently. She’d never even had the chance to go to college or get out on her own. She’d jumped from teenage innocence to adult responsibility.

Daisy felt like a failure. She should have somehow been able to protect Zoe from all this. She should have shielded her better. “I’m sorry, Zo.”

Zoe twisted the dish towel tighter, her knuckles shining white. “But what do I tell Daddy when he asks for Mom?”

A lump wedged itself in Daisy’s throat. “The truth, I suppose.”

“But the truth makes him cry.” Zoe looked up, caught her sister’s eye, her lips trembling with emotion she could barely suppress. Her expression was pleading, the lavender-blue depths filled with an agony that neither knew how to deal with. “Daddy’s never going to get any better, is he?”

Daisy stood and headed for the stairs without answering Zoe’s question. She couldn’t answer. She didn’t need to anyway. They both already knew the answer.

He should let her off. Nearly half a million dollars! It wasn’t that much money, at least not now that he’d restored the Galván fortunes. But if he let her off, his adversaries would know and would broadcast his weakness. They were sniffing for his Achilles’ heel, certain that sooner or later they’d expose it.

They probably would, too, he thought with a sigh, changing hands on the phone as he paced his hotel suite.

First there were problems with the Zimco acquisition, and now trouble was brewing with his young half sister, seventeen-year-old Anabella.

It had not been a good day so far and it was about to get much worse because he was forced to deal with his stepmother who couldn’t roll out of bed without at least one or two good stiff drinks. It was now almost noon in Argentina, which meant Marquita must be halfway through a liter of vodka by now.

If he didn’t care it would be so much easier. He could walk from his family, walk from the unbelievable debt his late father had left them, walk away from all of it and just do what he pleased.

Unfortunately, what pleased him was knowing he wasn’t like his father. What pleased him was providing for his younger sisters. What pleased him was proving that he was as unlike his father as possible.

The screech of Marquita’s voice in his ear brought him back to the moment. The phone dangled from his fingers as he paced the floor of his suite. Marquita was drunker than usual for noon. She must have finished her liter and started on a new bottle already.

“What’s Anabella done now?” he asked with exaggerated patience.

Countess Marquita Galván immediately launched into an incoherent diatribe, gibberish words about Anabella and boys and running away from school.

Dante closed his eyes and drew a slow, deep breath. “Where is she?”

“At school, of course. She can’t come here.”

“Why not?” he asked. “She is your daughter.”

“Because I can’t deal with her. I can’t handle her problems. I have problems of my own.”

Yes, liquor, laziness, extravagance. His jaw hardened, a muscle popping close to his ear as he fought to contain his anger. Why had his stepmother ever had children? How could she have three and then abdicate all responsibility?

He suddenly pictured Tadeo, the lost one, the half brother who’d never made it to eighteen. Dante’s heart felt wrenched. It actually felt broken in places. Would he never get over Tadeo’s death? Would he ever be able to think of Tadeo without wanting to scream?

Tadeo was a great kid. Smart, funny, compassionate, sensitive. Sensitive. And it had killed him.

Dante was damned if he’d let Marquita’s indifference destroy Anabella, too. “I’ll be back in a couple days. Leave Anabella to me. I’ll call the headmistress. I’ll work this out.”

“Thank goodness,” Marquita breathed with relief. “I have a massage at two. I’d hate to miss that.”

“That’d be a real tragedy.”

Dante hung up, paced the suite another half dozen times before hesitating in front of the mirror hanging over the fireplace mantel.

Dark hair, light eyes, wide mouth. But he didn’t see himself. He saw his father. Dante looked just like his father. It was a curse, he thought, a curse because he was constantly reminded that his father had not only failed him, but had failed all of them—his father had brought them all to the brink of destruction and abandoned them there.

Dante felt his father’s sins again. Dante had saved the Galván family corporation from disaster, turned the bleak financial picture around, but that success meant nothing if he couldn’t save Anabella.

And he couldn’t do that here. He had to get back to Buenos Aires, which meant straightening out this mess with the Collingsworths and closing the door on what had been a very bad business deal.

Resolved on action, Dante picked up the phone, looked up the Collingsworth phone number, then punched in the seven digits. A soft voice answered on the second ring.

“Daisy Collingsworth?” he said sharply. He didn’t want to be harsh, but he didn’t like what he was going to do. He didn’t want to nail the Collingsworths to the wall, but he couldn’t afford to waste more time here. He needed to get on a plane. Needed to return home. One had to be tough to survive, he thought cynically. One had to take no prisoners.

“This is Zoe. Did you want Daisy?”

Zoe. Her voice was so gentle, almost tender, and he realized she couldn’t be much older than Anabella.

His gut burned. His chest tightened. He felt like hell. “Yes. Is she available?”

He waited a good several minutes before someone picked up the phone. “This is Daisy.”

Daisy’s voice was firmer than Zoe’s, a little huskier but no less feminine, and Dante suddenly pictured Daisy as she’d faced him at the track—pink T-shirt outlining full breasts, long legs sheathed in tight denim and the barest, softest lips he’d ever seen.

She was tall, blond and beautiful. And while her blue eyes looked cool, he’d seen enough of her temper to know she burned fire.

“Dante Galván here,” he said, and then almost smiled when he heard her swift inhale. “It’s time to get serious, muneca.”

CHAPTER TWO

HE WAS already at the track office when she pulled into the driveway. As she slammed the truck door shut behind her, Daisy caught a glimpse of Count Galván through the office window, and her stomach did a sudden wild free fall.

Perhaps her father had liked working with the Galváns, but she didn’t. It wasn’t just the issue of the stud fee. It wasn’t an issue of trust, as much as one of personal dislike. The Galváns weren’t known for their ethics, and Daisy despised anyone who took advantage of the weak. But that’s how Dante’s father had operated. Tino Galván preyed on struggling businesses, pumped them up with cash or promises of financial assistance and then later moved in for the kill, seizing not just the investment but the small business itself.

Dante was sitting on the edge of her desk reading a stack of paperwork when she walked through the door. She recognized the papers as their yearly farm report, a dismal record of all the losses they’d incurred in the last year. She couldn’t help shuddering inwardly, recalling that disastrous fire. The losses had been horrifying. On paper the farm was an absolute disaster. But she refused to let him see her fear. “Found what you wanted?” she asked grimly.

He made a rough sound and gave his head a silent, derisive shake. “It’s worse than I thought.”

Daisy felt heat sweep through her, embarrassment and shame. “It’s been a hard year.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” He tossed the report onto the desk next to him, the paper sliding to a far corner. “You don’t have any income. What happened to your great new breeding program? Where are your boarders? Your investors?”

She hated that she had to defend their business, especially to him, and still found it inconceivable that they owed his family so much money.

Nearly half a million dollars for a stud fee? Highway robbery, that’s what it was. Daisy couldn’t hide her hostility. “We have plenty of boarders. We’re training more horses today than ever before.”

“Pet ponies, not thoroughbreds.”

“Our work may appear trivial to you, but we’re a respected farm—”

“Without a competent manager,” he softly interrupted.

“I am the manager.”

“My point, exactly.”

The gloves were off. He wasn’t worried about hurting feelings any longer, or bloodying noses. It was war, and he intended to win.

He pushed off the desk and moved to the window. His narrowed gaze swept the distant farm buildings, focusing on the old barn in need of a new roof and the new stable, erected after the old one had burned down, that had yet to be painted. “You haven’t paid me, and you certainly haven’t maintained the farm. So what have you done with your money? How did you blow my father’s investment?”

His words were a relentless assault, a hard pummeling that made her ache.

Daisy closed her eyes, swayed on her feet and wished for the first time in years that she’d never fallen in love with horses and hay and Collingsworth’s green meadows.

She wished she didn’t care so much about colts, yearlings and winning the big races. If she didn’t care she could walk away from it all. If she didn’t love the whole business so much she could give up on the disaster taking place at Collingsworth’s and become someone else. But she did love the business—she loved the horses, the foals, the stallions, all of it.

He’d turned from the window and was studying her with the same detached scrutiny he’d viewed the farm buildings. Daisy felt his gaze all the way through her and dug her nails into her palms as heat flooded her middle. She didn’t want to feel him. Didn’t want to be aware of him. She wanted nothing to do with him. Not now. Not ever.

“We didn’t blow that investment,” she answered hotly, moved by emotions she couldn’t name. Her heart raced as though she were one of the yearlings on the track, and she felt dangerously close to tears. “Our farm has been struggling for a number of years. American farmers have been struggling for a decade. But we’ve made progress this year. We’ve made progress under my management.”

Her gaze met his as she emphasized the last words, her chin lifting defiantly. “I realize being Latin, and male, you don’t want to work with a woman. But in this case, you don’t have a choice. My father retired earlier this year. I run the farm now. I cut the checks. I make the decisions.”

Dante turned completely around. “I have no problem working with women. I just don’t like working with stupid people.” He paused as her lips parted, her eyes widening. “But I don’t think you’re stupid. I think you’re very intelligent and perceptive enough to realize I don’t play games.”

His arrogance made her see red, and yet beyond the emotional reaction came another response. Unwilling admiration. He’d dealt with conflict before. He was handling her like a pro.

It crossed her mind for the first time that she just might be in over her head.

What if she couldn’t pull this off? What would happen to the farm and her family? She pictured Zoe, pictured her sister twisting and untwisting the dish towel.

A lump lodged in her throat, and she swallowed with difficulty. “I don’t play games, either, Count Galván. I want nothing more than to work this out with you. But I have to be honest. I’m not prepared to lose the farm. It’s been in our family since nineteen-eighteen, when my great-grandfather emigrated from Ireland. This is home.”

“Miss Collingsworth—”

“No. Don’t do it. Please. Give me one more year.”

She saw a flicker of emotion in his face, his eyes darkening and his jaw tensing. She felt his ambivalence and thought for a moment he’d relent. But then he gave his head a sharp shake.

“And do what?” He laughed shortly, “Watch as your barn burns down next? Sorry, muneca, can’t do it.”

She felt as though the air were being strangled from her. “Can’t, or won’t?”

“Both.”

He did pity them, she thought faintly, it was there in his face, in his voice, in the cynical twist of his lips. His smile was bitter, the lower lip curling, accenting his high carved cheekbones and the hollows beneath.

My, he was beautiful, like a fallen angel, but only worse because he was real. Daisy had never felt so out of her depth before. How on earth was she supposed to pull this off? “Why not?” she whispered.

“Bad business. You make an exception for one, you’ve set a precedent. Before long you’re making exceptions for all. So I don’t do it. Won’t do it. For anyone.”

A soft, strangled sound ripped from her throat. She hadn’t meant to cry out. She’d thought she had better control over herself.

She turned away, leaned against the desk, palms pressed flat on the scratched surface. She pressed hard, pressing against the suffocating desperation. It couldn’t be this bad. It couldn’t be the end. Everything was here. Her whole life was here. Even her mother was buried here.

Her rage threatened to boil over. “If your father were alive—”

“Your father shouldn’t have agreed to work with him,” he interrupted.

“My dad was charmed by your father.” She dug her nails into the desk. “Charmed right out of the farm.”

Dante saw her fingers whiten as she pressed them against the desk. Her blue eyes shone dark with pain, and her soft lips twisted, compressing to keep her misery within. She didn’t want to reveal her suffering but she couldn’t quite hide it.

This was his father’s responsibility, and now it had become his.

He drew a slow breath, feeling the tightness in his chest, conscious of his self-disgust. His father, Tino, should never have made the deal with Bill Collingsworth. But his father had never been able to resist easy money, or what he perceived to be easy money. Tino had intended to take possession of Collingsworth Farm and add it to the stockpile of farms, ranches and family businesses that he was accumulating around the world.

The problem with Tino’s plan had been that most of these family businesses were bankrupt or nearly bankrupt, and all were in need of massive infusions of cash.

Tino’s greed had almost bankrupted Galván Enterprises and it had taken Dante nearly two years to break up and sell off two dozen debt-ridden ventures.

What a waste of time.

He’d arrived in Lexington to settle with the Collingsworths. The unpaid stud fee was the last debt uncollected, the last of the headaches Tino had left behind, and Dante needed closure. He needed to move forward and close the door on the past, but suddenly it wasn’t that simple.

He rubbed the back of his neck, easing the knot of tension tightening the muscles there. He didn’t owe the Collingsworths anything and didn’t have to work with them, but Daisy was complicating everything.

Her golden blond beauty and leggy elegance had nothing to do with his change of heart. It was her courage, her intelligence, her passion for the horses.

He couldn’t forget her expression as she watched the horses race earlier in the morning. He’d seen the wonder in her eyes and sensed her devotion. She loved the horses profoundly. It seemed criminal to make her suffer for her father’s mistakes—and his.

Don’t do it, he told himself. Don’t turn soft now. This is exactly why you and Father always fought. This is why he called you names.

He swallowed, and his mouth tasted sour. This bad day was getting worse. Yet he couldn’t ignore his conscience, couldn’t throw the Collingsworths from their home.

If only he didn’t feel so much, care so much, he might be a bigger success. He might be a multibillionaire instead of just a multimillionaire.

His lips twisted cynically. “Maybe there is a way,” he said, pushing aside his personal fatigue to focus on the Collingsworths’ needs.

He moved toward her, felt her stiffen as he leaned past her slender body to pick up the farm records. Heat surged through him as his arm brushed her shoulder. He hadn’t meant to touch her, yet the touch felt electric.

Daisy slid from beneath his arm and moved quickly to the water cooler. She lifted a chipped cup from the shelf behind her but didn’t fill it. Instead she stared at him, hands clasping the mug, apprehension in her eyes.

She’d felt the electricity, too, he thought. She’d felt the same current that had passed through him.

“What?” Her voice was pitched an octave lower.

She was right to be mistrustful. Dante’s mouth tugged. His motives weren’t entirely pure. He did want her more than he’d wanted any woman in a long, long time. “Let’s look at the books together. Perhaps we’ve overlooked something.”

Hands jerky, she filled her cup with water and brought it to her mouth, but she didn’t drink. “When?”

“Now. Unless you have something more pressing to do?”

Three hours later Daisy wished she’d had something more pressing to do. She would have been willing to agree to Chinese water torture instead of looking at the farm books with Count Galván.

Three hours of shoulder-to-shoulder contact. Three hours of her thigh accidentally brushing his. Three hours of the most crazy tension imaginable, a tension that balled in her belly, tight and hard and heavy.

She wasn’t attracted to him, was she?

Disconcerted, Daisy frantically pushed up and away from the desk, needing to create some immediate distance. She walked to the water cooler again and filled her cup, gulped the chilled water until it was gone.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.” No. She drew a small, shallow breath. The truth was her head swam, her nerves were shot, and she felt terrible.

They’d come to no resolution about the debt, but one thing she knew. Dante Galván was not good for her. He made her feel nervous and unsure of herself and completely unbalanced. This wasn’t the way she liked to function. This wasn’t a comfortable sensation. It was making her sick.

“Should we take a break?” she suggested, thinking she definitely needed some air.

His dark gaze met hers and held. He searched her eyes. She didn’t know what he was looking for and she certainly wasn’t about to reveal anything more. She’d already exposed too much weakness.

“I think it’s best if we just continue,” he answered. “The sooner we get this settled, the sooner we can put this behind us.”

Her wish exactly, she thought with a ragged sigh.

Finally, an hour later, they finished going through the records. They’d gone over every entry, discussed every line, checked her numbers.

Dante closed the report and sat back, stretching his legs in front of him. “How were you going to pull this off, Daisy?”

It was the second time today he’d called her by her given name, and the way he said her name undid her. He made her feel hot, awkward, self-conscious. She’d never felt uncomfortable in her skin before, but he was peeling away a protective layer and exposing raw nerves, tender nerves. How could he do this to her? How could he make her feel so—so … naked?

Feeling oddly undone, Daisy gathered the loose papers on her desk, the bills that he’d asked to see, the pedigrees on the new foals. She struggled to organize her thoughts even as her hands shuffled the paperwork. “I don’t know, but I would have. I could have. I always do what I say I will.”

“Always?”

Something in his voice made the air catch in her throat, and she looked at him, hands stilling, heart stopping. His dark gaze held hers.

He didn’t believe her. But then he didn’t know her determination or her sheer will. If she set her mind to something, she succeeded. Without a doubt. “I haven’t broken my word yet.”

He didn’t say anything. He just kept looking at her, looking into her, and it was then she realized his eyes weren’t dark brown. They were considerably lighter, almost the color of toffee ringed by a darker gold. What made his eyes appear dark was the intensity in his expression. His eyes were beautiful. Like the rest of him.

She felt heat rise through her, wave after wave of warmth until her cheeks burned and her lips felt as though they were melting.

“You’re so sure of yourself,” he said softly.

Her mouth tasted like sawdust. “I have to be.” Was that her voice? “I love my home. If I can’t find a way to keep the farm, then I’ve failed my family.”

“But you didn’t create this mess.”

He was doing something to her, taking hold of some emotion inside her chest and shaping it, changing it, making it his. She didn’t like it but she didn’t know how to stop it.

Daisy rose to her feet. “It doesn’t matter. It’s my job to straighten it out.”

He suddenly reached out and caught her hand in his, stopping her from moving away. “One person can only do so much. You’re a smart woman, a strong woman, but you’re just one person. This, muneca, is a huge farm. Right now you’re understaffed, overworked and hip deep in red ink. Daisy, beyond the debt you owe to my family, what are you going to do?”

His fingers slipped to encircle her wrist. The pad of his thumb stroked her racing pulse. She felt as though she were melting, starting on the inside, deep down in her belly. The heat spread, as did the honey warmth, everywhere, making her aware of her thighs, her breasts, her oversensitized skin.

Her cheekbones felt scalding hot. She stared at him in mute fascination. His lips were perfectly shaped, his chin hard, a hint of a beard shadowing his jaw. She swallowed.

“Daisy?”

Her gaze lifted, and her eyes met his again. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to know what his mouth would feel like. Wanted to know what a mouth like that could do.

“Daisy.”

His voice was impossibly deep, increasingly husky. Even his accent sounded thicker, and she shivered inwardly, fearful and yet thrilled.

He tugged gently on her wrist, drawing her forward. She sucked in air, her head feeling far too light. She couldn’t remember when she’d last felt this way. If she’d ever felt this way. A kiss was just a kiss, but she wanted this kiss badly.

Yet just before his lips brushed hers, he hesitated, and his hesitation brought her firmly back to reality.

Was this any way to do business? Is this how she hoped to save Collingsworth Farm?

She must be out of her mind.

Daisy broke free and walked on wobbly legs to the far end of the office. She moved the window blind aside. The sun came through the glass in faded golden rays, highlighting a dust spiral in the middle of the floor.

“Now you know where the money’s gone,” she said, voice shaky, more breathless than usual.

He hadn’t moved. He still sat in the leather chair at her desk. “Not exactly.”

She looked at him over her shoulder. Her eyes met his. It was like touching a live wire. Every glance, every touch was a jolt, and the intensity of the jolts was making her tremble from head to toe. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t understand about the stable. Why isn’t there any record on the insurance settlement from the fire? Is there a reason you’ve kept it off the book?”

They’d kept nothing off the books. That would be illegal. Not to mention just plain wrong. “We don’t operate that way,” she answered flatly, wondering how he could say such things. Did he really think so little of them?

She drew a rough breath, trying to ignore the turbulent beat of her heart, and turned to look at the stable. The building was less than six months old, the siding unpainted, the wood still fragrant.

“Then tell me about the fire.”

No, he wasn’t going to put her through the third degree about the fire now, was he? Did he really have so little trust? “The fire is private. It’s nobody’s business but ours.”

“Answer the question, Daisy.”

“No.”

“If you don’t work with me, I can’t work with you.”

She spun on him, her hair slapping her shoulder, hands on her hips. “There you go, throwing your weight around. It must be wonderful having that kind of power. But I’m not going to go there, Count Galván. I’m not going to lay down and grovel just because you want to feel superior.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not why I’m asking.”

“No? What is your point then?”

“The settlement on the stable would have been at least a quarter million dollars. It would have gone a long way to paying off your debt. But there’s been no record of a settlement in your books. Why?”

“Maybe because there’s been no settlement.”

“You haven’t received a payout?”

“No.”

“Nothing?”

She almost felt like laughing. It must be nerves. “Not even a penny.” She saw his incredulity. “We were insured, but it’s all tied up in litigation.”

He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. She could see exactly what he was thinking. The rumors were everywhere —in Lexington, in the neighboring farms, at the track. It was whispered that the fire had been purposely set. The Collingsworths had risked cashing in on their bankrupt farm. They were trying to bail out of the business before they were chased out.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

But Count Galván didn’t care about facts. He’d already formed his own opinion. She saw his horror, felt his disgust. No animal lover could imagine setting one’s stables on fire to enjoy a fat insurance policy, but that was what everyone thought they’d done.

That was what Count Galván thought they’d done.

She left the window and crossed the floor to stand within a foot of him. “The rumors are false.”

“The fire wasn’t deliberately set?”

She’d never forget that night, the heat, the dense, suffocating smoke, the acrid smell. She’d never seen anything like it in her life. The flames had been ungodly. The stable went up in minutes. No time for the fire department to come, no time for anything.

When it looked as though they’d lose the mares still trapped in the stalls, grizzled old Teddy McCaw, their thirty-year-veteran trainer, dashed into the inferno and saved the terrified horses. But he wasn’t able to save himself.

Daisy’s eyes burned, her throat thickening with a grief she couldn’t share. “Who on earth would do such a thing? Me? My father? My sister? What kind of people do you think we are?”

“People in need of easy money.”

Pure instinct, instinct and fury, drove her fist. She swung at him and connected with his jaw. She didn’t even feel the pain in her hand, fury and pain blinding her. “Go to hell!”

He caught her wrist in his hand, imprisoning it, his fingers hard around the slender bones. “That’s not going to get you anywhere.”

She tried to ignore the burst of heat surging through her middle, his touch both painful and electric. “I don’t want to get anywhere with you, Count Galván. I resent your questions, and I resent the implications. I don’t know what kind of people you do business with, but we’re not like them. The Collingsworths are a family business, run by family. Now let me go.”

“Don’t take another swing.”

“I won’t. I don’t need any broken bones.”

He let her go, and she cradled her hand against her chest. Her fingers hurt. The knuckles, bones and joints throbbed. It felt like she’d slammed her hand into a brick wall.

No wonder she hadn’t punched anyone since hitting Tommy Wilcox all those years ago. It hurt throwing punches.

But if she was going to hit anyone, she was glad she hit Dante. He deserved it. She felt absolutely no remorse.

Daisy swore beneath her breath and rubbed her sore hand and wrist.

“Hurt?” he managed to drawl the word without sounding the least bit sympathetic.

Her eyes snapped fire and fury. “No.”

“Did you damage anything? It sounded like eggshells breaking.”

“Those were just the cobwebs in your brain.”

His eyes glinted. He seemed amused. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?”

“Get out.”

“I don’t think so.” Without asking permission, he took her hand in his and ran his thumb over her throbbing knuckles. Her fingers had begun to swell. But worse than the pain in her knuckles were the crazy sensations in her belly.

Every place he touched tingled. It was warfare on her senses. Her hand felt sensitive, and yet it was her body responding, her body quivering and melting and aching for things she’d never even cared about before.

When he looked at her, the mocking smile was still there in his toffee-colored eyes. “You’re right. Nothing’s broken. But you do need ice. It’s already starting to swell.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Tell me where you keep the ice.”

“I’ll do it when you’re gone.”

He muttered something inelegant. “Daisy, I’m not leaving until you’ve iced your hand. You’re the only one running this farm. You have to be able to work tomorrow. So sit down, be quiet and stop fighting me.”

“I’m not fighting you. You’re fighting with me. You keep forgetting this is my farm.”

He gazed at her, his expression half amused, half exasperated. “Are you always so stubborn?”

“Stubborn’s not a bad thing, Count Galván. It just depends on the situation.” She hated that he made her feel willful, like a child. “There’s ice in the kitchen, in the little freezer. But I don’t need your help.”

He brought her a makeshift ice pack, ice cubes wrapped in a dish towel. “Yes, you do. You just don’t know it yet.”

Dante placed the ice bag on her hand. “You should never lose your temper like that. It’s the fastest way to let the enemy take the upper hand.”

“Your words, not mine.” She hated that when he touched her she burned. She hated that his eyes made her feel things, want things. She hated that he had to be the reasonable one now, after he’d provoked her into losing her temper.

It was crazy, the way she felt, nerves shot full of adrenaline. It was the same rush she got when riding an unbroken horse—danger, fear, anticipation. But this was not the kind of reaction she wanted to have. Not to a man, and especially not to Dante Galván.

Daisy pressed the ice bag more firmly to her knuckles, trying to ignore the throbbing in her hand and the bittersweet ache in her chest. “I think we’re finished.”

He regarded her steadily, speculation in his hard gaze. And then he smiled. “Finished? No, Daisy, not by a long shot. We’ve got quite a bit of unfinished business between us still. But I do know a way to settle the debt. You have something I want.”

“I do?”

“Kentucky Kiss.”

The blood drained from her face. Her horse, her mare, her fifteenth birthday present? “Kentucky Kiss?”

CHAPTER THREE

DAISY struggled to her feet, the ice bag slipping crookedly off her arm. “Kentucky Kiss isn’t for sale.”

“She’s a valuable dam.”

“No.” Her father had given her Kentucky Kiss when she turned fifteen, and for nearly two weeks after her birthday, Daisy had slept in the stable, snuggled in a sleeping bag inside the yearling’s stall.

“Surely you’ve had offers.” Dante persisted.

Daisy dropped the ice bag on the desk. “That’s not the point. She’s not for sale. Kentucky Kiss is the heart of Collingsworth Farm.” And was her heart, too.

“Daisy, we should at least discuss this.”

“I’ll consider other horses. We have a dozen dams—”

“My interest is only in Kentucky Kiss. I know her pedigree. Four foals, three to race, two winners. She’s the one I want. She’s extremely valuable. If you sold her to me, you’d erase the debt.”

Daisy couldn’t speak. Words were impossible. She simply stood there, fingertips braced on the desk, heart beating so slowly she felt the weight of every second, the pressure building inside her until she felt like a balloon about to burst.

So much had been taken away from her. Her mother. Teddy McCaw. Her father’s health. Her college education.

And now her horse.

But Kentucky Kiss was more than a horse. She’d been Daisy’s best friend. When Daisy groomed Kiss, she’d told her everything, confided everything, shared her secrets and her longing and her dreams. And maybe it sounded stupid, but Kentucky Kiss understood Daisy. Kentucky Kiss loved her, and accepted her, and just let her be herself.

Daisy took a shaky step toward the water cooler but then couldn’t take another. Her legs were too weak. She couldn’t move in either direction. “Kentucky Kiss is the heart of our breeding program.”

“Yes, now she is, but her foal, Miracle Baby, will be your future.”

She pictured Kentucky Kiss’s foal, Miracle Baby, who’d just turned twelve weeks old and was still all gawky legs. She could see him tripping about behind his mother in coltish ecstasy.

If Miracle Baby went to auction as a yearling, it had already been speculated that he’d go for at least a million dollars, probably two to three times as much if in the next year he was raised by the right trainer, handled as a champion should be handled.

Daisy knew she needed to hire a big-name trainer for the foal, but she didn’t have the money to do it. She wouldn’t be able to attract a reputable trainer if the farm continued to hover on the verge of bankruptcy. Reputation meant everything in this business. And horse people were susperstitious. You had to have a good name. You had to have wins. And you needed luck.

Which was why Daisy had told no one about her father’s illness. Collingsworth Farm would be finished if people knew her father was as sick as he was.

“We need a trainer,” she said slowly, staring out the window and yet seeing nothing.

How could she sell Kentucky Kiss? But the farm had been in the family forever, and there was Zoe’s future to think about. How could she not sell Kentucky Kiss? “You can have Kentucky Kiss for six hundred thousand. That will settle the debt and pay for a trainer for Miracle Baby.”

“Six hundred?”

“And you leave her here until Miracle Baby is weaned.”

He seemed to consider this. “You’ll put this in writing?”

“I’ll get the paperwork together later tonight. We can take it to a notary first thing tomorrow.” At least she wouldn’t have to part with Kentucky Kiss immediately. She’d have another four months. Six, if she was lucky.

And she did feel lucky, luckier than she had in a year. Keeping the farm was what mattered. Keeping her father in his own house. Keeping Zoe’s inheritance intact.

Selling Kentucky Kiss was a personal sacrifice and maybe one her father wouldn’t approve of, but she was doing it for the right reasons. She was doing it for the right people.

“I’ll meet you tomorrow downtown,” she said, naming a prominent law firm that handled transactions like this one. In Lexington, breeders and buyers left nothing to chance.

He waited outside as she locked up the office for the night. She didn’t intend to return until morning. In the evenings Daisy liked to give Zoe a break from taking care of their dad. Earlier in the year Zoe used to drive into town to meet her old high school friends. They’d catch a movie, get coffee, just hang out together. But lately Zoe didn’t go out anymore, and her friends didn’t call that often, either.

Dante opened the truck door for Daisy. “Your hand is bothering you,” he said.

“It aches,” she admitted, knowing she only had herself to blame. Losing her temper was stupid. It just made her look immature.

“Take something when you get home. It’ll help with the swelling.”

“Right.” Daisy slid behind the wheel, wanting nothing more than to escape. It was embarrassing having Dante worry about her bruised hand. She’d been the one to lose control. She’d thrown the punch.

But Dante held on to the green truck door, his foot resting on the old Chevy’s riser. He studied her for a long minute, his expression impossible to read. “I have an invitation to the Lindleys’ black-tie party tomorrow night,” he said finally. “Would you consider going with me?”

“The Lindleys?” she repeated, wrapping one hand around the steering wheel, gripping the ridges tightly.

“It’s the big horse event of the year.”

Daisy knew all about the Lindleys’ preauction party. It was an annual event, and the funds raised went to charity. Last year it was literacy. This year a women’s shelter. But this year, like last year, the Collingsworths hadn’t been invited.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She struggled to put voice to words and still came up with nothing. Peter Lindley had been her father’s best friend. Peter Lindley had dropped her father like a hot potato.

“I don’t think so,” she said at length, her voice a squeak, her throat so tight she couldn’t say more. She didn’t hate the Lindleys, but there was no love lost between the families.

But Dante didn’t take no easily. “Why not?”

“We’re not exactly popular people in Lexington.”

“Then fake it.”

He smiled, and she’d never seen him look more confident. “I … can’t. I hate those things. I hate the snobbery, the superficial small talk, the absurd money the women spend on clothes. It’s just not me.”

“You’re not a fashion darling, then?”

She felt herself blush. He was making fun of her. It was obvious she wasn’t into high fashion. She lived in her boots and jeans. They were comfortable and practical. “No.”

He reached out, touched her cheek gently. “You don’t need designer clothes to make you stand out. You’re beautiful, Daisy. You turn heads just as you are.”

His fingers scorched her skin, and heat flooded her limbs. She drew a shaky breath and was suddenly grateful she was sitting down because she didn’t think she’d have the strength to stand. “You don’t need to flatter me, Count Galván. I can live without compliments.”

His lips twisted. “We’re past the formalities, Daisy. It’s Dante now. It has to be. Once a woman hits me, there’s no going back.”

Heat surged through her. She felt herself blush yet again, the color staining higher, hotter beneath her skin. He was having the worst effect on her. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes, say you’ll go to the Lindleys’ with me.”

She looked up, and her eyes met his. His eyes were such a light toffee color, beautiful like topaz. Her heart did a strange double thump, two painful beats in one. She’d never survive an evening alone with him. She’d be tied up in knots. She’d wish for things she shouldn’t ever wish for.

Like another touch from his hands.

She loved it when he brushed her cheek just now. She loved the tingle in her skin and the clench of her belly and the heat in her veins. She loved the powerful response as much as she loved the newness of it. It was the first good thing she’d felt in so long.

In years.

“No,” she blurted. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I have obligations at home. It’s Zoe’s night out tomorrow.”

He regarded her steadily. “Switch nights with her.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“No?”

She felt like she was falling, tumbling forward into the warm gold-brown eyes, tumbling headfirst into emotion, and emotion was all wrong for her. Emotion meant trouble. “No,” she whispered, her voice faint even to her own ears.

“Then I won’t go, either.”

“No—”

“Yes. If you won’t go with me, I don’t want to be there. It’s you I want to be with. Not the Lindleys.”

Looking at him, looking into his face she almost changed her mind. It would be amazing to go to the formal party on his arm. He’d look incredible in a tuxedo. He’d break every woman’s heart.

Daisy swallowed, her throat dry as sandpaper. She needed to get out of here. She’d do something stupid soon. Say something stupid. Maybe say yes, maybe say kiss me, maybe say touch my cheek and make me feel beautiful again.

“I’ll call you when I have the paperwork in order,” she said, voice husky, heart thudding hard, too hard. She wanted to cry and she didn’t even know why. Nothing was wrong. Everything was fine. Kentucky Kiss would get them out of debt, and life would go on.

“Okay.” He smiled, and then he lifted a strand of silver-gold hair from her cheek and carefully tucked it behind her ear. “Call me when you’re ready.”

She sucked in air, her chest on fire. “I will.”

But as she drove home, wincing with each shift of the transmission, she knew she’d never call him. She’d finish the business arrangements, and that would be the end.

Daisy was smart enough to know when she was in over her head, and with Dante, she was definitely in the deep end, woefully out of depth.

Reaching the drive leading to the house, Daisy changed gears yet again. The truck’s old manual transmission required rigorous shifting, and each throw of the stick sent shooting pain through Daisy’s right hand. If you think you hurt now, she told herself, just imagine what it would be like to get involved with him. Don’t do it. Keep your distance. Focus on the business.

The sunlight was waning fast as Daisy entered the house. Warm gold light shone through the lacy dining room curtains and gilded the fading cabbage rose wallpaper. In the red-gold light the full-blown roses looked almost real. Daisy stopped to touch one dusty pink rose.

“Daddy never liked this wall paper.”

It was Zoe. She’d entered the dining room behind Daisy. Daisy turned to look at her sister. “But it was Mom’s wall paper. Mom picked it out before you were born.”

“So Daddy never changed it.”

“Dad never stopped loving Mom.” Daisy’s voice throbbed with emotions she rarely let surface. Dante had stirred something to life in her, and she was finding it difficult to stamp it back down.

Gently she traced the outline of a lavender rose. The blossom’s edge curled like lettuce. Soft, wavy, delicate. But beneath those fragile petals lay sharp dark thorns.

Just like life.

Daisy faced Zoe. “I’m selling Kentucky Kiss. Count Galván is buying her for six hundred thousand.”

“Daisy, you can’t do that.”

“We’ll be able to afford some help for Dad now,” she continued as though Zoe had never spoken. “I’ll also look for a trainer to work with Miracle Baby. Miracle Baby is the answer. If he goes high at auction—”

“Daisy, you can’t sell Kentucky Kiss.”

Daisy felt like she’d swallowed a bucket of nails. “I’m all right with this.”

“There’s got to be another way.”

“If we’d gotten the insurance settlement things might have been different, but … “ Her shoulders lifted, fell. “But we didn’t get it.”

“We still might.”

“Zoe, they think we set the fire. This will be tied up for years in court. We can’t wait. If we keep bouncing checks, if we can’t bring on another trainer, we’re dead in the water.”

Zoe shut her eyes and pressed her palms against her forehead. “This is bad,” she whispered.

“It could be worse, though. We could have no options. We could be on the streets—”

“You can’t sell Kentucky Kiss to Count Galván.”

“Of course I can. She’s my horse. It’s my decision.”

“Then get the count to wait a year. He has to wait.”

“Dante’s not going to wait. We’ve already made him wait for payment on the stud fee. He’s done waiting.”

“I don’t think he has a choice,” Zoe answered in a small voice. “I’ve promised Carter Scott he could breed his new stallion with Kentucky Kiss next year.”

Carter Scott, a former customer who’d asked Daisy to marry him once. “What?”

Daisy rarely raised her voice. She didn’t need to raise her voice, but she couldn’t help it at the moment. She was shocked. Beyond shocked. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

“Zoe, she’s not your horse. You don’t run the farm. You have no right to make arrangements for our best dam. What on earth would possess you to do such a thing?”

“Dad. I did it for Dad.” Then she explained, hesitantly reminding Daisy about the new study the university hospital was doing on Alzheimer’s.

Daisy had discovered the new treatment, one so controversial that health insurance wouldn’t touch it. But despite her best efforts to raise more cash, including getting a second mortgage on the farm property, Daisy couldn’t scrape up enough to allow him to participate.

It had been a devastating realization, and breaking the news to Zoe had been awful.

“I couldn’t accept no,” Zoe continued faintly. “I couldn’t accept that he wouldn’t get help because we didn’t have enough money.” Tears trembled on Zoe’s lashes. “I couldn’t let the opportunity slip away.”

“You entered Dad in the hospital program?”

“Carter Scott gave me the money in advance for breeding his stallion with Kentucky Kiss. He’ll own the foal, and he’s agreed to pay all boarding and medical fees.”

“How much money did he give you?”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

Daisy pressed her knuckles to the wallpaper. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars? On top of the fee they already owed Dante?

The mountain of debt staggered Daisy. For a moment she couldn’t think. She just knew she couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t keep juggling bills and problems and mistakes and keep it all together. It was too much. The stress of it was just too much.

She heard a strange low buzzing in her ears. Like static on a radio.

“I thought you’d be happy.” Zoe’s voice sounded strained. “I thought you’d be glad I found a solution.”

Daisy struggled to focus. She looked at Zoe and realized Zoe wasn’t doing very well, either. Her skin looked ashen. Her lavender-blue eyes were enormous. “I guess Dad is participating now in the hospital program?” she asked.

Zoe nodded. “He’s on new medication. We go in to the hospital once a week for follow-up and blood tests.”

Daisy didn’t speak.

Zoe’s hands clenched, nails digging into her fists. “I can’t give up on him. I want him back. I want him the way he used to be.”

Daisy’s eyes burned. It would kill Zoe to watch their dad wither away, and it would happen before their eyes. His memory would go. His control would go. His mind …

She shook her head, not wanting to think that way. This was hard on her, but it would be doubly painful for Zoe. Daisy’s sister had never got to know their mom, as she’d died just after Zoe was born. Now Zoe would lose Dad, too.

How could she blame Zoe for fighting for Dad? How could she blame her for loving him so much? “I’m glad you did it, Zo. I wish I’d done it.” Her voice broke. “Somebody should try to save Dad.”

It was a great sentiment, Daisy thought a half hour later as she stood on the farm house’s front porch, but it didn’t change the fact that they were now indebted to two people for three quarters of a million dollars. And that wasn’t including interest.

It also meant she had to talk to Dante.

She knew he carried a cell phone but she didn’t have that number so she phoned his hotel. He wasn’t in. Daisy left a message for him to call, and then she remembered that he’d mentioned a business function this evening. He’d said he was meeting someone at the Derby Club for drinks before a dinner engagement.

Daisy glanced at her watch. If she hurried, she might still be able to catch him at the Derby.

The club exuded old-world comfort and class; the walls were paneled, the furniture all large sturdy pieces upholstered in butterscotch and burgundy leather. The club provided owners and breeders with a place to gather and discuss the subject they loved best—horses.

Daisy pushed through the entrance, ignoring the discreet, suit-and-tie employee trying desperately to wave her out. “Members only, miss,” he said, stepping in front of her, his smile politely frigid.

“Yes,” she said, smiling stiffly before sidestepping him and walking past. “I know.” They used to be members. Back when they could afford luxuries.

Daisy ignored the proliferation of brass plaques mounted to the wall, plaques reading No Denim in Clubhouse, Members Only and Men Only in the Lounge.

She entered the library, her gaze roving the clusters of men and women. The suit-and-tie staff member who’d stopped Daisy at the door cornered her. “You can’t be here. This is a private club.”

“I need to see someone. I won’t be long.”

Members were watching. Even the smokers standing around the library’s brandy cart paused to see what the commotion was about.

She felt a crackle of electricity, a new hum of tension. “What’s the problem?” It was Dante.

Daisy swung around, feeling an inexplicable thrill at seeing him. She hadn’t expected to feel a ripple of excitement, but he did something to her, made her pulse race. “I need to talk to you.”

“Is she your guest, sir?” The club employee wasn’t pleased.

“Yes.”

“Denims aren’t permitted in the clubhouse, sir.”

“We’ll talk outside, then.” Dante placed a hand on her lower back.

He didn’t push her or pressure her, and yet his touch made her tense, her spine shuddering at the razor sharp sensations rippling beneath her skin. All her nerve endings were alive and connected. She felt so much. She felt too much.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said, referring to the awkward scene in the library.

“I’ve dealt with worse,” he answered as they stepped outside onto the broad front porch. “So what’s wrong? Something serious must have happened if you chased me down here.”

Daisy turned her back on the views of darkened, endless emerald-green pastures. The air smelled ripe and fresh, a welcome change after the club’s smoky interior. She might as well get this over with. “We’ll have to put off signing the sale papers tomorrow. There seems to be a small problem with some of the documents.”

“You’ve changed your mind.”

His tone sounded ominously flat. She suddenly sensed he’d be ruthless in negotiations and realized she didn’t want him as an adversary. “No,” she denied swiftly. “It’s not that at all.”

“Then what is it?”

“Just details.”

His narrowed gaze swept her face, searching for a sign of deception. “You’re not shopping her around, are you?”

“No. I promise.”

Tension emanated from him in waves. His jaw jutted, and grooves formed on either side of his mouth. “Because I won’t pay more, Daisy, and I won’t jump through hoops. We made a deal. I expect you to honor it.”

“Just as I intend to honor it,” she answered tightly.

His jaw eased. “Good.” He was smiling again. “When I saw you in the library I hoped you were here because you’d changed your mind about going to the Lindleys’ tomorrow night. You haven’t, have you?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

His smile was one of pure regret. “No, I’m sorry.”

Later that night, at home in bed, Daisy lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. The roof sloped above her head and the dormer window let in moonlight. The trees outside patterned her ceiling with the outline of leaves, and it was like a mosaic, she thought, the texture and shape of leaves and branches against the white paint.

Dante wasn’t going to let her off the hook. He wanted Kentucky Kiss and he didn’t want to be jerked around over the purchase. She didn’t blame him. He’d been jerked around enough by her family.

So if Dante wouldn’t back down, it meant Carter Scott would have to.

Daisy closed her eyes. She dreaded going to see Carter Scott, but that’s what she’d do, first thing tomorrow.

But the next morning the truck had a flat tire, and one of the stable hands never showed up for work, so Daisy tackled his feeding and grooming chores after painfully 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.