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The Prince's Cowgirl Bride
Brenda Harlen


The undercover prince! Gorgeous Mediterranean Prince Marcus of Tesoro del Mar doesn’t want to admit that he’s one of the world’s most eligible royal bachelors. Instead, he’s moonlighting as Mac Delgado, cowboy.Mac’s dazzled by his beautiful boss, Jewel Callahan. But Jewel never mixes business with pleasure and doesn’t know the true identity of her ranch hand. Can she really be falling in love with a man she doesn’t even know?







“I can’t get involved with you, Mac.

“Why not?”

“For starters, you work for me.”

“OK, I quit.”

Jewel laughed, though the intensity with which he was staring at her made her suspect that he wasn’t entirely joking.

“Anyway, you lost the race.”

“You cheated.”

She lifted a brow. “How do you figure?” “You started first.”

“Just because you were slow out of the gate—”

The rest of the words lodged in her throat when his arm snaked around her waist. “No one’s ever accused me of being slow out of the gate.”

“Well -” she gave herself a moment to acknowledge the delicious little sparks that zinged through her system “- you were this time.”

“Maybe I was,” he acknowledged, drawing her closer. “Or maybe I chose finesse over speed.”

“You still lost.”

He smiled. “I don’t think so.”

Then he kissed her.


Brenda Harlen grew up in a small town surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practising as a lawyer (including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada), she gave up her “real” job to be a mum and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first book.

Brenda lives in Southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (“too many books,” according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with “real” people. Readers can contact Brenda by e-mail at brendaharlen@yahoo.com (mailto:brendaharlen@yahoo.com)




The Prince’s Cowgirl Bride

Brenda Harlen





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Connor & Ryan

- the next generation of princes -

the reason for everything I do.

I love you both

with all of my heart.




Prologue


“Does it give you ideas?”

Prince Marcus Santiago of Tesoro del Mar glanced down at his dance partner and found her smiling up at him with big blue eyes filled with promises she was far too young to be making. He’d been holding her at a careful distance, not wanting to give her any encouragement or the press any reason to speculate that he was interested in more than waltzing with a guest at his brother’s wedding, but clearly she hadn’t taken the hint.

“No.” His answer was succinct and unequivocal.

“I’ll bet if you met the right woman you’d change your mind.”

“Maybe if I met her at the right time,” he conceded, though he sincerely doubted it. “But I’ve got to finish university before I even start thinking about settling down.”

She pouted prettily. “Are you really going back to Harvard next week?”

“Only because the university has this annoying expectation that a student attend classes and write exams in order to earn a degree.”

She laughed prettily. “But you’re not really going to be a lawyer.”

“Aren’t I?”

“Of course not. You’re a prince.”

“The two titles aren’t mutually exclusive,” he said dryly.

Her eyelashes fluttered. “I only meant that you don’t need to work.”

He couldn’t prevent the smile that curved his lips. Clearly this girl had no idea what it meant to be a royal. The truth was, he didn’t know anyone who worked harder or longer than his brother Rowan. As the youngest, Marcus didn’t bear the same burden of responsibilities, but he wasn’t exactly given a free ride, either.

She shifted closer to him, lowered her voice. “If you must go away, maybe we could go somewhere to share a private goodbye.”

He was relieved to note that the song was winding down to a finish. He touched his lips briefly to the back of her hand and stepped back. “Right now, I must speak with my brother.”

Disappointment clouded her eyes as she dropped into a curtsy. “Of course, Your Highness. Maybe later?”

He didn’t bother to respond.

That was exactly why Marcus wasn’t a big fan of weddings. It wasn’t so much that he was opposed to the institution of marriage—not for other people, anyway. No, what he disliked was the effect that they seemed to have on the single females in attendance. It was as if they suddenly couldn’t see anything but wedding gowns and bouquets of flowers and any unmarried man who happened in their path as a potential candidate for the altar. No thank you—no way.

There were just too many women out there—fun women, smart women, beautiful women—to want to commit to a single one. If he ever met a woman who was all of those things, he might reconsider his attitude toward matrimony, but he was doubtful.

He snagged a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and carried it to the terrace where he’d seen his brother Eric disappear. He found him in the shadows, nursing a drink of his own.

“Hiding out?” Marcus asked him.

Eric grinned. “And not ashamed to admit it.”

He leaned back against the stone balustrade and crossed his feet at the ankles. “So how many times have you been asked if Rowan’s wedding has given you ideas about getting married?”

“I lost count.”

Marcus nodded and sipped his champagne, enjoying the stolen moment of quiet camaraderie with his brother.

Then Eric broke the silence by saying, “I wouldn’t say I’ve never thought of it, though.”

Marcus nearly choked. “Marriage?”

His brother nodded. “Not with respect to any particular woman, but I’ve wondered, sometimes, what it would be like to have what Julian had with Catherine, or what Rowan has found with Lara.”

“Mi Dios—don’t let anyone overhear you saying that or you’ll have a ring on your finger before you have a chance to recover from this temporary bout of insanity.”

Eric’s lips curved. “Do you really think it’s crazy? Crazier than being alone?”

“Maybe you have been at sea too long.”

“And that is exactly why I won’t ever have what our brother has. Because I can’t imagine ever leaving the navy any more than I could imagine asking someone to share my life when I’m at sea more than I’m home.”

“You could ask,” Marcus argued. “And not have any trouble finding someone who believes becoming a princess is more than adequate compensation for an absent husband.”

Eric shook his head. “You’re too cynical.”

“Realistic. Isn’t that why we all have passports with our mother’s maiden name—so we can occasionally escape the attention of being royal?”

“I didn’t think you minded the attention.”

He couldn’t blame his brother for thinking that because there had been a time when it was true, when he’d not only not minded the attention but had courted it. Lately, however, he’d just wanted to get away from it all. To shake free of the media spotlight and everyone else’s expectations and figure out what he really wanted. Because the truth was, he still didn’t have a clue. For too long, he’d been moving from one thing to the next, from school to school, earning degree upon degree, searching for the one thing that really seemed to fit.

Or maybe Eric was right. Maybe it wasn’t something so much as someone that he’d been searching for.

He almost laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of that thought.

Tonight, the only thing he was searching for was a good time. He tossed back the rest of his champagne and went to find it.




Chapter One


Two years later…

Jewel Callahan slid onto a stool at the counter at the Halfway Café and scowled at the slim back of the blond woman who was grinding beans for a fresh pot of coffee. Crystal Vasicek was the proprietor of the popular little café and the creator of the most amazingly decadent desserts in all of West Virginia—and probably the other forty-nine states, too.

Jewel waited for the grinder to shut off before she spoke. “It’s your fault, you know.”

Crystal dumped the grounds into the waiting basket and slid it into place, then punched the button to start the coffee brewing before she turned. “That’s quite an accusation coming from the woman who’s always so quick to assume responsibility for everyone else’s troubles.” Her pretty blue eyes sparkled with a combination of amusement and curiosity. “What did I do?”

“It’s what you didn’t do,” Jewel told her.

“Okay—” Crystal picked up a pot of coffee that had finished brewing and poured her sister a cup “—what didn’t I do?”

“Marry Russ.”

Crystal raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “He never asked.”

“He might have.” Jewel dumped a heaping spoonful of sugar into her cup. “If you hadn’t run off and married Simon.”

“Forgive me for falling in love and not anticipating how that event might somehow interfere with your plans.”

“You always were the type to leap without looking.”

“And you always exercised enough caution for both of us,” Crystal replied evenly.

Because she’d wanted to protect her sister, to shield her from the expectations—and the disappointments—that were inherent in being a daughter of Jack Callahan. After all, she’d had half a dozen years of experience with that before Crystal came along.

“We were talking about Russ,” Jewel reminded her.

“What about Russ?”

“He’s leaving.”

“Oh.”

There was a wealth of understanding in that single syllable.

Jewel’s throat was suddenly tight, making it difficult for her to speak. And what more could she say, anyway?

Crystal went to the bakery display and pulled out a milehigh chocolate cake, then cut a thick wedge and put it on a plate with a fork. Jewel managed a smile as her sister nudged it across the counter toward her. Crystal believed that chocolate was a cure-all for every one of life’s problems, and judging by the seven layers of moist cake and creamy icing she’d just set in front of Jewel, she understood the magnitude of this one.

Russ Granger had worked at the Callahan Thoroughbred Center for the last ten years, but he’d been Jewel’s friend a lot longer than that, and she couldn’t help but be shocked by his defection. He wasn’t just leaving his job—he was leaving her. He was the only man she’d ever felt she could truly count on, and now he was moving on.

After pouring herself a cup of coffee, Crystal came around to sit next to her sister at the counter. “Why is he leaving?”

Jewel picked up the fork and dipped the tines into the decadent dark icing. “Because Riley got some big recording contract and he wants to go on tour with her.”

“She was wasting her talent singing at The Mustang,” Crystal said gently.

Jewel popped a bite of cake into her mouth, but even the rich flavor didn’t lift her spirits. “I should have guessed something like this would happen,” she admitted. “As soon as he told me he was going to propose to Riley, I should have known. But I was so happy for him that I didn’t think about what it might mean for CTC. I certainly didn’t think he’d take off in the middle of the season.”

“He’s leaving soon, then?”

“The end of next week. He’s been working closely with Darrell over the past several years and assured me that he’s more than ready to take over his duties, but—” she sighed and dug into the cake again “—I can’t imagine how I’ll get through the season without him.”

“You will,” Crystal said confidently. “Because there isn’t anything you can’t do if you put your mind to it.”

Jewel had always prided herself on being capable and independent, able to handle anything and everything on her own. And it was a good thing, too, because that was how she always ended up—on her own.

“Jack Callahan might have built CTC, but the only reason it’s one of the top training facilities in the state today is because of you,” Crystal said, then smiled wryly. “And in spite of me. Lord knows, I never had any interest in staying on the farm or working with the horses.”

“You carved your own path.” Jewel was proud of her sister’s success, and she still got a kick out of the fact that Crystal’s spectacular desserts were available not just at the little café where she’d first started baking but in some of the area’s trendiest and most exclusive restaurants. “Sometimes I wonder why I couldn’t have wanted something else more than I wanted the farm.”

“You were a champion barrel racer for three years running,” Crystal reminded her.

She smiled, though her memories of that time in her life were more bitter than sweet. “That was a lifetime ago.”

“It was what inspired me to do my own thing, regardless of what Jack wanted.”

“I would have done anything he wanted,” Jewel admitted. Even now, she wasn’t sure why she’d always tried so hard to please him, she only knew that she’d never succeeded. Nothing she’d ever done was good enough for Jack Callahan.

“And did,” her sister reminded her. “Including giving up your own life to come home when he asked you to.”

He hadn’t really asked but demanded, as both sisters knew was his way. But the truth was, six years on the rodeo circuit had disillusioned Jewel about a lot of things, and she’d been more than ready to return to Alliston, West Virginia. Her father’s heart attack had been both her incentive and her excuse to finally do so and, her difficulties with him aside, she hadn’t ever regretted that decision.

She had become his willing assistant, as eager to learn as she was to demonstrate what she already knew, confident that he would learn to trust in her abilities and eventually grant her more authority. But Jack Callahan had continued to hold the reins of the business in his tightly clenched fist until—many years later—they’d finally been pried from his cold, dead fingers.

Jewel and Crystal had stood side by side at his funeral, his daughters from two separate marriages, both sisters painfully aware that they’d been neither wanted nor loved by their father. And more than they’d mourned his death, they’d mourned the distance between them that he’d never tried to breach.

“My life was always here,” Jewel finally responded to her sister’s comment. “Even when I thought it wasn’t.”

Crystal touched a hand to her arm. “Maybe the problem isn’t that Russ is leaving, but that he found someone and you haven’t.”

Jewel pushed the half-eaten cake away. “Not this again.”

“Honey, you’re too young to have resigned yourself to being alone.”

“Resigned suggests that I’m settling for less than I want, and I’m not. I’m happy with my life.”

“You’re happy being alone?”

“I’m hardly alone.”

“The horses don’t count,” her sister said dryly.

“At least they don’t hog the bed—or the remote.”

“Well, I can’t dispute that Simon does both of those things,” Crystal said, then a slow smile curved her lips. “But he does other things that more than even the scales—and I’m not talking about taking out the garbage.”

Jewel got up and went around the counter to grab the coffeepot for a refill. “You lucked out with Simon,” she admitted.

“Then you’re not really mad that I didn’t wait around for Russ to propose?”

She sighed. “How can I be mad when you’re so happy?”

“I am happy,” Crystal said. “Happier than I ever could have imagined.”

Jewel knew the feeling. She’d experienced that same euphoria of love—and the complete devastation of losing the man she’d thought she would love forever. She only hoped her sister would never have to know that kind of pain, that her life would always be wonderful, that Simon would always love her as much as he did now.

As if following the path of her thoughts, Crystal reached out and squeezed her hand. “Someday your prince will come.”

Before Jewel could respond, the jingle of the bell over the door announced the arrival of another customer.

Crystal glanced over, then let out a low whistle.

“Don’t look now,” she told her sister. “But I think he just walked in the door.”

Jewel picked up her cup, sipped.

Crystal frowned at the lack of response.

“You told me not to look,” Jewel reminded her.

“Since when do you listen to me?”

She shrugged. “Since the last prince turned into a frog.”

Crystal picked up a menu and fanned herself with it. “Six-two, I’d guess. Dark hair, darker eyes. Sinfully sexy. And—” she glanced pointedly at her sister and smiled “—flying solo.”

Her curiosity undeniably piqued by the description, Jewel twisted in her stool—and nearly slid right off of it and onto the floor.

For once, Crystal hadn’t exaggerated. The man hovering just inside the door had short, neatly cropped hair, dark slashing brows over espresso-covered eyes, a strong jaw, straight nose, slashing cheekbones and a beautifully sculpted mouth that brought to mind all kinds of wicked fantasies. His olive-toned skin and exotic looks suggested some kind of Mediterranean heritage that made her think of sultry nights and hotter passions, and the punch of lust that hit low in her belly left Jewel almost breathless.

No, her sister definitely hadn’t exaggerated. But what she’d neglected to include in her description was “young.” Way too young. Probably younger than Crystal even. Definitely too young to make a thirty-four-year-old woman weak in the knees and hot everywhere else.

His gaze moved around the room and collided with hers. Then those beautiful lips slowly curved, and her heart pounded hard against her chest as if it was trying to break free in order to fall at his feet.

“Well, well, well,” Crystal said softly.

Jewel felt heat infuse her cheeks as she tore her gaze away from his hypnotic stare. Crystal smirked at her before turning her attention back to the new customer.

“Grab a seat anywhere you like,” she called out cheerily. “I’ll be with you in just a sec.”

“Thank you.” His voice was low and deep and as sexy as the rest of him.

“Mmm-mmm,” Crystal murmured her appreciation.

Jewel picked up her cup again and sipped before asking, “Weren’t we just talking about how happily married you are?”

“I am,” Crystal assured her. “But the ring on my finger hasn’t affected my eyesight and that is one exceptional specimen of masculinity.”

She could hardly deny the fact, nor would she make the mistake of agreeing with her sister aloud, so she only said, “A specimen probably waiting for a cup of coffee.”

“Oh. Right.” Crystal grinned and grabbed the pot.

Jewel concentrated on finishing her own cup while her sister chatted with her new customer. She couldn’t hear what was said, but the low timbre of his voice was enough to create shivers that danced up and down her spine. Crystal’s responding laughter bubbled over like a newly opened bottle of champagne, then his deeper chuckle joined in.

Jewel had always envied her sister’s ease with other people—her outgoing personality and easy charm, her natural warmth and friendliness. She’d always been more cautious and reserved than Crystal, and though she didn’t think anyone would accuse her of being unfriendly, she wasn’t often mistaken for warm and welcoming, either. She dealt with a lot of people in her business, not out of choice but necessity, and most of the time, she preferred the horses to their owners. Though lately, she’d been spending a little too much time up close and personal with certain aspects of the thoroughbred training business that she’d prefer to avoid, which reminded her of the other reason she’d come into town to see her sister today.

She waited while Crystal finished serving her “exceptional specimen” and checked on her other customers.

“In addition to Russ leaving, I’ve got Grady laid up with a broken leg so I’m short a stable hand,” she said when her sister returned to the counter. “Do you think Simon’s brother would be interested in a summer job again this year?”

Crystal tallied up a bill. “Ted’s in Europe with his girlfriend for the next couple of months.”

“Oh.” Jewel pushed her now empty cup aside. “Know anyone else who might be interested?”

“Most of the local college kids already have their summer jobs lined up.”

She sighed. “I guess I’ll have to put an ad in the paper then.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t be more help,” Crystal said. “I know how much you hate interviewing people.”

“Actually the interviews don’t concern me as much as the possibility that it might be too late to find qualified help for the summer.”

“What kind of qualifications do you need to muck out stinky stalls?”

“Some experience working around animals would be helpful,” she said dryly.

“What kind of animals?” a masculine voice asked from behind her.

She whirled around and found herself face-to-chest with the hunky stranger and couldn’t help but notice how the polo shirt he wore stretched across impressive pectoral muscles. Cheeks hot, mouth dry, she lifted her gaze and found his eyes on her again.

Crystal offered profuse apologies as she refilled the cup in his hand.

“Not a problem,” he assured her, then shifted his attention back to Jewel and asked again, “What kind of animals?”

She drew in a breath and, along with it, his scent. Clean and sharp and as tempting as the rest of him.

“Horses,” she finally managed to respond to his question.

“Thoroughbred racehorses,” Crystal elaborated. “My sister runs one of the top training facilities in the state.”

Jewel’s quelling glance was met with a sweet smile.

“I’m Mac Delgado,” the man introduced himself. “I happen to know my way around horses and I’m looking for some short-term employment.”

Jewel only said, “And I don’t hire anyone without a recommendation,” and stepped away from the counter.

“I’ll let you know if I find any suitable candidates,” her sister called after her.

“Thanks, Crystal.” She didn’t turn back, but she knew he was watching her. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her as she made her way to the door.

He’d been dismissed—blatantly and unapologetically. It was a new experience for Mac Delgado—aka His Royal Highness Marcus Santiago, Prince of Tesoro del Mar—and not one he’d particularly enjoyed. She hadn’t even given him her name, and he was frowning over that fact as he watched her walk out, enjoying the quick strides of long, lean legs and the subtle sway of slim hips until the door of the café swung shut behind her.

A soft sigh drew his attention back to the young waitress with the friendly smile. Crystal, the other woman had called her.

“She really doesn’t mean to be rude,” Crystal said now.

“And yet, she has such an obvious talent for it.”

She smiled again, a little ruefully this time. “She’s got a lot on her mind right now.”

He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, as if he didn’t have a hundred questions about the woman who’d walked out the door without so much as a backward glance in his direction. But he sat down on the stool she’d recently vacated as Crystal waved goodbye to an elderly couple as they headed out the door.

“So what brings you to Alliston?” she asked, turning her attention back to him.

“Road construction on the highway,” he admitted.

She smiled at that. “Where are you headed?”

“California eventually.”

“Driving?”

He nodded.

“You’ve got a long way to go.”

“I’m not in a hurry,” he told her.

“What’s in California?” she asked. “Friends? A job? A wife?”

He fought the smile that tugged at his lips in response to her not-so-subtle probing. “None of the above.”

“You have to give me more than that if you expect me to answer any questions about my sister.”

“What makes you think I have any questions about your sister?”

She lifted a brow. “Then you aren’t interested in seeing Jewel again?”

“Jewel?” he echoed, then realized it was her sister’s name, and an apt description for the woman with wildly sexy hair and eyes the color of a summer sky before a storm.

And then there were her lips, glossy and full and as perfectly shaped as a cupid’s bow. And her hair, miles of honeygold corkscrew curls tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. And—

He caught a glimpse of Crystal’s satisfied smile out of the corner of his eye and forced himself to sever the thought.

Her smile widened. “I believe you were telling me how much you weren’t interested in my sister.”

“Actually,” he said, “you were going to tell me where I could find her.”

Jewel was faxing her Help Wanted ad to the classifieds department at the local newspaper when the knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” she said, her eyes never lifting from the machine where she was manually inserting pages because it had a tendency to chew the paper if she used the automatic feeder. She’d been meaning to take the machine in for service, but kept forgetting. With so many other tasks to deal with on a daily basis, those that didn’t directly impact the horses tended to get shifted to the bottom of the list and frequently forgotten.

The door creaked as it was pushed open, reminding her that oiling the hinges was another one of those tasks that she never seemed to get around to doing. On the other hand, she didn’t have to worry about anyone sneaking up on her.

She fed the last page into the machine before turning around, and found herself looking at a pair of very broad shoulders—not covered in flannel or denim, as was usual around the stables, but a royal-blue polo shirt, complete with the embroidered logo of pony and rider on the left side. The shirt stretched over those shoulders, across a broad chest and tucked into a pair of belted jeans that fit nicely over narrow hips and long, muscular legs.

Her eyes shifted and discovered that the face was just as spectacular as the body, and not entirely unfamiliar.

It was the man from the café, and along with the sense of recognition came a quiver inside—a humming vibration that rippled from her center all the way to her fingertips and churned up everything in between. The sensation was both unexpected and unwelcome, and she fought against it as her gaze locked with his.

Amusement lurked in the depths of his dark eyes, as if he’d been aware of her perusal and wasn’t bothered or surprised by it.

He was probably used to women ogling him—a man who looked that good would have to be—but that didn’t excuse her own behavior. It had just been so long since Jewel had looked at a man and recognized him as such.

Around the stables, the men were her employees or customers, and over the past few years, she hadn’t had much of a life beyond the stables. Her instinctive reaction to this man’s arrival at the café had been proof of that. Her response now only reinforced that truth.

“Can I help you?” she asked, the politely neutral tone giving no hint of the hormones zinging around inside of her.

“Actually, I’m here to help you.” His warm, rich voice was as sensual as a caress and caused another quiver of sensation deep in her belly.

She mentally cursed her sister, certain that Crystal was somehow responsible for this man’s appearance here now.

“How do you think you can help me?” she asked cautiously.

“By taking the job you were talking about at the café.”

She looked him over again—had, in truth, not been able to take her eyes off of him—and shook her head. While she didn’t doubt that long, lean body was more than capable of the physical work she needed done, she did doubt that he’d ever done such physical labor. “I’m looking for someone to muck out stalls as well as groom and exercise my horses.”

“That’s what Crystal said,” he agreed.

Yep—her sweet but interfering little sister’s sticky fingerprints were all over this ambush.

“And you are?” she asked, vaguely recalling that he’d offered his name at the café but unable to remember what it was.

“Mac Delgado.”

Her father had taught her that she could learn a lot about a man from his handshake, so she moved forward to take his proffered hand, undeniably curious about this one. His grip was firm, strong and the contact of his palm against hers sent an unexpected jolt of heat through her.

She saw a flicker of something in his eyes, as if he’d felt the jolt, too. Or maybe she was just imagining it. She disengaged her hand and lowered herself into the chair behind her desk. “I have to be honest, Mr. Delgado, you don’t look much like a stable hand.”

He shrugged. “I have a lot of experience with horses and I’m between jobs at the moment.”

She eyed him skeptically but gestured to the chair across from her desk. “Tell me about your experience.”

He sat, somehow owning the space rather than merely occupying it. There was an aura about him, a sense of command, as if he was accustomed to giving orders rather than taking them. It made her wonder again why he was really here, because she didn’t believe it was to muck out her stalls.

“I assume you’re asking about my experience with horses?” There was just the hint of a smile on his lips, and the gleam in those sinfully dark eyes suggested he was flirting with her.

She’d known guys like Mac Delgado before—guys who trusted their good looks and easy charm to get them what they wanted in life, whatever that might be. Jewel wasn’t going to fall for it, not this time, no matter how hard her heart pounded when he smiled at her.

Still, there was a part of her—a shallow, sex-deprived part—that was tempted to hire him just so she could have the pleasure of looking at him every day. Because she had no doubt that those muscles would ripple very nicely as he mucked out stalls—if he knew which end of a pitchfork to grab hold of. But hiring a man who obviously expected to get the job by offering little more than his name and a smile would be a mistake, and Jewel Callahan didn’t make mistakes. Not anymore and especially not when it came to the business that carried her name.

“Yes, Mr. Delgado. I was asking about your relevant job experience.”

He propped one foot onto the opposite knee, a casual pose that allowed her to picture him in Levi’s and flannel, rather than the designer threads he was wearing. “I grew up around horses,” he told her. “Even before I could walk, I was sitting on a pony.”

“That doesn’t prove you know the difference between a curry comb and a hoof pick,” she noted.

He shrugged again, and she couldn’t help but notice how his shirt moulded to the broad shoulders. “I’ve groomed more than a few horses, even helped train some of them.”

“Do you have references?”

“Give me a trial period,” he said. “A week to prove that I can do the job.”

“No references,” she concluded.

“I’m a hard worker.”

“This is a busy stable—”

“Three days,” he interrupted.

She shook her head with more than a little regret as she pushed her chair back from her desk. “I don’t have the time or the patience to train anyone.”

“Give me a chance—I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

“I might have been willing to give you that chance, if not for your hands.”

His brows lifted. “What’s wrong with my hands?”

“They lack the calluses of a man accustomed to physical labor.”

“I’ve spent the last few years at school,” he admitted. “But I wouldn’t risk my life around animals who weigh more than six times as much as I do if I didn’t know I wasn’t capable.”

She leaned back in her chair. “At school where?”

“If I give the right answer, do I get the job?”

“You’re assuming there is a right answer.”

His smile was filled with confidence and charm, and she felt a distinctly feminine flutter in her belly. “Isn’t there?”

“No,” she said. “And no about the job.”

She might end up regretting her hasty decision if no one else responded to her ad, but she instinctively knew that hiring Mac Delgado would present a bigger risk than turning him away. Not just because his experience was unproven, but because of the way her heart raced whenever he was near.




Chapter Two


Four hours later, Marcus had checked out of his hotel and was retracing the route to Callahan Thoroughbred Center after Jewel had—reluctantly—reversed her decision about hiring him.

He wasn’t sure he believed in fate, but he couldn’t deny feeling that he’d been in the right place at the right time—first, when he’d walked into the café and noticed Jewel sitting at the counter, and again when a young stable hand rushed into her office to warn that an expectant mare was having trouble with her labor.

Not just any mare, as it turned out, but one Jewel had raised since it was a newborn filly, and she’d been frantic at the thought of losing both mother and baby.

With the vet more than an hour’s drive away and most of her own personnel at the track in preparation for the next day’s race, she’d had almost no choice but to trust Marcus’s assurance that he could turn the breech foal. Of course, she’d given it her own best effort first, demonstrating more strength and stamina than he would have expected of a woman who was about five-feet-three-inches tall and hardly more than a hundred pounds. And only when her own efforts proved futile had she stepped aside for him.

He’d been sweating when he was done, not just because it was a messy and physically demanding task, but because he knew this was his only chance to convince her to give him a chance. He hadn’t considered why it mattered or why the opinion of a woman he’d only just met meant anything to him, he only knew that it did.

Having been born royal, even if he had been the last of four sons, meant that he was accustomed to a certain amount of deference from the cradle. The wealth he’d inherited aside from his title ensured that he could live his life as he chose, while dictates of custom and tradition established the parameters within which he was expected to make those choices.

Now he was twenty-five years old and still didn’t have a clue about what he really wanted to do with his life—except that at this point he wanted to know Jewel Callahan better. The woman in question, however, had made it clear that she only wanted a hired hand.

Of course, she didn’t know who he was. He’d enrolled in school as Mac Delgado, trusting that the use of his mother’s maiden name as his own would help him avoid media scrutiny and allow him to concentrate on his studies. And it had worked—more successfully even than he’d anticipated. In fact, soon after coming to America he’d realized few of his classmates could find Tesoro del Mar on a map. They certainly never suspected that Mac was a member of the royal family.

His anonymity hadn’t made him any less sought after by the female coeds, confirming that his looks, charm and intelligence were almost as big a draw to members of the opposite sex in America as his royal status had been in Europe. And he found it interesting that the characteristics that had attracted so many women in the past were the same traits that made Jewel wary.

She was grateful to him—he was sure of that. Whether she felt anything beyond appreciation for his actions in delivering the foal he was less certain. But now that he’d been hired on, albeit on a trial basis, he would have some time to find out.

What he found, when he detoured to check on the new foal, was that the woman in question had the same idea.

She was standing at the gate, her arms folded on top of it, her attention riveted on the mare nursing her baby.

“Hard to believe she caused such a fuss only a few hours ago,” Marcus noted.

“And scary to think how differently things might have turned out.” She turned to face him. “I didn’t expect you’d be back so soon.”

“I didn’t have a lot to pack,” he told her.

But before he’d checked out of the hotel, he’d taken the time to shower and change, as he saw she had done, too.

Her jeans had been discarded in favor of a pair of khaki pants, the navy T-shirt replaced by a soft yellow one, and the band that tied her hair back had been removed so that the riotous golden curls tumbled over her shoulders.

She dug something out of her pocket, held it out to him. “The apartments aren’t big or fancy, but they’re conveniently located, a fact which you’ll appreciate at 4:00 a.m. tomorrow morning.”

He nodded and took the key she offered. “Thanks.”

“There’s a cafeteria on site, but also a refrigerator and microwave and some dishes and cutlery in your room.”

He nodded again.

She tilted her head, and studied him as if he was a mystery she was trying to figure out. “When I told you I didn’t think you were right for the job, I thought that would be the end of it.”

“So did I,” he admitted.

“Why did you follow me to the birthing shed?”

“Curiosity. Impulse.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’m not entirely sure.”

“Well, I’m grateful you did,” she told him. “I could have lost both of them if you hadn’t been here.”

He touched a hand to her arm, to reassure her. When he felt the muscles go taut and heard her breath catch, he knew she was feeling more than just gratitude. Whether or not Jewel Callahan liked him, she wasn’t immune to him.

He let his hand drop away and kept his voice light. “She’s a beautiful filly.”

“‘The prettier they are, the more trouble they are.’”

His brows rose in silent inquiry.

“Jack Callahan’s words of wisdom,” she explained.

“I’m guessing you gave him a lot of trouble.”

Her cheeks flushed in response to the compliment, but there was sadness lurking in the depths of those stormy blue-gray eyes as she shook her head. “Not really.”

“Well, if I’d had to put money on it, I would have guessed the foal was a colt,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you said that she wasn’t due for another couple of weeks, and it’s been my experience that females are rarely on time for anything, never mind early.”

Her lips quirked at the corners, just a little. “I could pretend to take offense at that comment, except that I set my watch ten minutes ahead to help me get where I’m going on time.”

It was the first insight she’d given him of her character, and while it wasn’t a significant revelation, it was enough to give him hope that she might be warming up to him.

“Does it work?” he asked.

The smile nudged a little wider. “Usually.”

The foal, her hunger now sated, curled up in the straw to sleep, and Scarlett moved to the feed bucket for her own dinner.

“Of course, the process of birth doesn’t fit into any kind of schedule,” he acknowledged.

“You obviously have some experience with that,” she noted.

“I was eight years old the first time I saw a foal born.”

And a few years after that, he’d witnessed a breech birth, and the complicated and time-consuming process of turning the foal. Even now, so many years later, he remembered the profound sadness that had washed through him when the roan filly was finally pulled free of her mother’s womb. Even covered in what he’d referred to at the time as the slime of birth, he’d thought she was perfect and beautiful—and he’d known that her complete stillness was unnatural.

“You grew up on a farm?” she asked.

Her question drew him back to the present and made him want to smile. He’d never heard the royal palace described as such, but he supposed, in a way, it might be considered that. “The horses were more of a hobby than anything else.”

“How many?”

“It varied. Sometimes half a dozen, sometimes more than twice that number.”

“We have between eighty and a hundred here at any given time,” she told him.

“I guess that means I’m going to be busy.”

She nodded, her gaze drifting back to the mare and her foal. Another minute passed before she said, “This is a prestigious establishment. The races around here draw crowds from around the world and focus a lot of attention on Callahan. Two years ago, a former British prime minister was at the derby. Last year, it was the Princess Royal from some small country in the Mediterranean.”

“You have a point, I’m guessing, other than name-dropping.”

She nodded. “I can’t afford to make mistakes where the business is concerned.”

“You didn’t make one in hiring me,” he assured her.

“We agreed to a one-week trial period,” she said. “If we’re both satisfied with the way things are working out by the end of the week, we can discuss further terms.”

“Then I’ll look forward to our discussion at the end of the week.”

“Cocky, aren’t you?”

“Confident,” he corrected, and smiled.

“In any event, I’m only looking for someone to fill in for a couple of months while Grady has a cast on his leg.”

“Riding accident?”

“No. He tumbled off a ladder while taking down his Christmas lights.”

“In May?”

Now she really smiled. “He didn’t want to do it in January when it was icy and snowy because he might slip and fall.”

She was even more beautiful when she smiled, when her eyes sparkled with humor and her lips tilted up at the corners. His gaze lingered on her mouth for a moment, wondering if it would taste as soft and moist as it looked, and certain that putting the moves on his new boss would be a good way to lose his job before he’d started.

He took a mental step back, because as attracted as he was to Jewel, he really did want this job.

He had three university degrees and countless royal duties waiting for him at home, but what appealed to him right now was the opportunity to work in these stables.

It was nothing less than the truth when he told Jewel he’d been riding since before he could walk. His father had taught all of his sons to ride, and with the duties of his office monopolizing so much of his time, the brothers had grown to appreciate those all-too-rare occasions when they’d raced across the hills together.

After his father’s death, Marcus had started spending even more time in the stables, because it was there that he could recall his fondest and most vivid memories. It was when he was with the horses that he felt his father’s presence most keenly. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed working with animals until this opportunity had come up and he wasn’t going to blow it because of a woman—no matter how much she tempted him.

Still, he couldn’t prevent his gaze from skimming over her again, couldn’t help wondering if he’d ever seen eyes such an intriguing shade of gray-blue, if her hair was as silky as it looked, if the pulse fluttering at the base of her jaw would race if he brushed his fingertips over it.

He curled his fingers into his palms to resist the temptation to do just that.

Something had changed.

Jewel wasn’t sure how or when, she only knew that it had.

One minute they were joking about Grady’s clumsiness, then he was looking at her as if nothing existed but the both of them, as if there was no time except in that moment.

The very air around them seemed to be charged with an electricity that heightened her senses, amplified her awareness of him, magnified the needs that had been too long ignored.

She wasn’t the type of woman whose knees went weak at the sight of an attractive man—at least, she never had been before. But that was precisely what had happened when she’d caught her first glimpse of Mac Delgado in the café.

He was a man who would make any woman look twice, so she didn’t fault herself for doing so. Even her sister, who was unquestionably devoted to her husband, had sighed in appreciation when he’d walked in the door.

But he was also young—probably a decade younger than her—and she was old enough to recognize the dangers of getting involved with a man just because he was nice to look at.

Okay, he was a lot more than nice to look at, and he’d already proven that he was more than a pretty face. But she’d made the mistake of following her heart once before. She’d ignored her sister’s concerns and her father’s demands, and she’d let herself get swept away by her dreams. And she’d come home with those dreams and her heart shattered.

It was a mistake she wouldn’t ever make again.

She pushed away from the gate. “I’ve got other animals to see to, and you need to get settled.”

But as Jewel walked briskly from the barn, she felt anything but settled.

She’d meant what she said when she told him she couldn’t afford to make mistakes with respect to the business. She was even less willing to take risks where her heart was concerned.

Though the idea of a casual affair held a certain and undeniable appeal, Jewel didn’t dare let herself think about it. Because she’d never been able to share her body without first opening up her heart, and she had no intention of opening up her heart again.

You’re too young to have resigned yourself to being alone.

Jewel tried to ignore the echo of her sister’s words in her head, along with the admonition of her conscience that she’d lied to Crystal when she’d claimed she wasn’t settling for less than what she wanted. Because the truth was, she wanted a husband, a family, a life outside of the farm where she’d grown up.

But while it wasn’t entirely accurate to say that she was happy being alone, she was content. She’d become accustomed to quiet nights and an empty bed, accepting that was the price to be paid to protect her heart.

And if she sometimes desperately yearned for a baby of her own to hold in her arms, well, she’d just have to accept that wasn’t going to happen for her—not without a ring on her finger first. And since she had no intention of falling in love again, she would just have to be satisfied with her role as doting aunt to any children her sister might have.

As for Mac Delgado, she was probably misinterpreting her feelings for him because she was grateful for his help in delivering Scarlett’s foal, exaggerating the attraction because it had been so long since she’d been with a man.

She frowned, trying to figure out exactly how long it had been, then realized if she had to think about it that hard, she probably didn’t want to know.

When Jewel left the stables, she saw that Russ had returned from his errands in town, and her lips curved with genuine pleasure as she made her way toward him. Her smile slipped a little when she noted the scowl that darkened his usually handsome face.

“Did you see Scarlett’s foal?” she asked.

His only response was an abrupt nod. Then he jerked his head in the direction of the barn. “Was that him?”

“Who?”

“The guy who drove up in the fancy wheels. Is he the new groom Cody said you hired?”

She nodded. “Mac Delgado.”

His scowl deepened. “What do you know about him, JC?”

“I know that he doesn’t panic under pressure.”

“You hired him because he helped deliver a foal?”

“It’s not my usual interview technique, but I’d say he more than proved himself. If he hadn’t been here, I might have lost both Scarlett and the baby.”

“Cody would have come through for you.”

“Cody was shaking so badly I’m surprised he managed to dial the phone when I asked him to call the vet.”

“You’re mad that I wasn’t here.”

She shook her head. “There’s no point in being angry about anything. There weren’t any of the usual indicators that she was going to foal so soon and, truthfully, if she’d waited another couple of weeks, you’d be gone anyway.”

“Is that why you hired the first guy who showed up here?”

She shifted her gaze away, not willing to admit that she still had her own reservations about Mac—though they were more personal than professional. And considering the way he’d come through for her, she figured she owed him a chance. “I don’t answer to you, Russ.”

“No,” he acknowledged. “But it used to be we talked about things, made decisions together.”

“That was before you decided to leave.”

“Are you going to throw that up at me in every single conversation we have over the next nine days?”

“Maybe.”

His jaw tightened.

She sighed. “I’m sorry, Russ. I know that wasn’t fair.”

“I’m not abandoning you, Jewel.” The quiet words were filled with understanding.

She nodded, grateful that he didn’t say what they were both thinking. Like her mother. Like Thomas and Allan and everyone else who had ever claimed to love her. And she knew he honestly didn’t see his leaving as yet another abandonment—but it sure felt that way to Jewel.

Marcus worked closely with Russ over the next seven days, learning the routines of the farm and getting acquainted with the animals and the people who worked with them. He barely crossed paths with Jewel during that time and she certainly never stopped to engage him in conversation. In fact, the most response he ever got from her was a nod acknowledging his presence—certainly no more than any other employee.

At first, he enjoyed the novelty of being treated just like the other men. But after a few days, her indifference started to frustrate rather than amuse him. Until he realized it was studied indifference—and that she would only have to make such a deliberate effort to ignore him if she was as aware of his presence as he was of hers.

He heard her name come up in conversations and blatantly eavesdropped, trying to piece together a picture of who the woman referred to by most of her employees as “JC” really was. He was surprised to learn that she’d spent some time on the rodeo circuit before her father’s first heart attack several years earlier, after which she had come home to help with the running of the facility. He also learned that she was both liked and respected by the men in her employ, most of whom had been with the Callahan Thoroughbred Center for years.

The owners who came to the onsite track to monitor the progress of their horses weren’t as unanimous in their praise. While they thoroughly approved of the facility, they weren’t sure that “Jack’s daughter”—as Jewel was frequently labeled—had her daddy’s head for business. And then they’d look across the fields and shake their heads. Mac had yet to figure out what that was all about.

By the end of the week, he was exhausted. But it was a good exhaustion—the kind that came from hard physical work. His hands weren’t as soft as they’d been the first day he came to the farm, but the sting of blisters was a small price to pay for the enjoyment of working with the horses and the satisfaction of knowing he’d done a good job.

“Hey, Mac.” Crystal tossed him an easy smile and a quick wave as she passed by the track, where he was watching some of the yearlings work out.

“Hi, Crystal. Where are you racing off to?” he asked, falling into step beside her.

“Haven. And I’m late.”

“Where’s Haven?”

She stopped in her tracks and stared at him. “How long have you been working here?”

“My seven-day trial period ended today. Since your sister hasn’t fired me yet, I assume she’s willing to keep me on.”

“I can’t believe she hasn’t told you about Haven,” Crystal said, picking up her pace again. “She never misses an opportunity to rope someone into helping out, if she can.”

“Helping out with?” he prompted

She stopped outside of a barn that was on the far side of CTC’s property. He’d noticed the building before, but because it was so distant from the hub of CTC, he’d assumed it was owned by someone else. There was a brass oval on the door with the silhouette of a horse’s head inside it and the word “Haven” spelled out in brass letters above it.

“This is Haven,” she told him.

He followed her inside, immediately noting that it was as clean and organized as any of the buildings at CTC if somewhat more utilitarian in design. The floor was concrete rather than cobblestone and the names of the stalls’ residents noted on white boards rather than engraved on brass plates, but the stalls were still twelve-by-twelve and filled with straw bedding.

“Jewel started Haven for old or injured racehorses. The big money winners are well taken care by their owners, but those with less successful careers are sometimes neglected and often resented because of the high cost of their maintenance. Those unwanted animals come here until she can find them new homes.”

A huge draft horse tossed his head over the stall door and whinnied.

“That isn’t a thoroughbred,” he said.

“No,” Crystal agreed. “Some of them are, some aren’t. But they’re all horses that have been rescued or are in need of rehabilitation.”

“So this is what she does in her spare time,” he murmured.

“Jack Callahan established the Center,” Crystal told him. “Jewel took over running it after he died because she could, and because she loves horses. But CTC is a business. This is her passion.

“And this—” she indicated a powerfully built chestnut in the end stall “—is Cayenne. Also known as The Demon Stallion.”

“Temperamental?” he guessed.

“You might say,” Crystal agreed. “His trainer thought a heavy hand with the crop would teach him to obey. Instead it taught him to be mean. And then there was an incident in the stables and—” She shook her head. “Let’s just say his owners wrote him off.”

Marcus had heard about trainers like that and thought the crop should be used on them. How anyone could abuse such a beautiful animal—or any creature—was beyond him. And while he didn’t doubt Cayenne was capable of acting like a demon, right now the horse just looked wary, and scared.

He moved closer, keeping one eye on the stallion and his voice low.

“How did he end up here?”

“Jewel heard about him from a friend of a friend, or something like that. It’s hard to keep all of their stories straight sometimes.”

He was starting to realize there was a lot more to the story of Jewel Callahan than she wanted him to know.

“Anyway,” Crystal continued, “the owner was looking to unload him rather than invest in further training, so Jewel made him an offer. Now she’s faced with the challenge of undoing the damage that has been done so that she can find a good home for him.”

“Who decides what a good home is?” Mac asked.

“Jewel, of course. But never before a personal interview with the potential buyer and a thorough inspection of the premises.”

“Is there anything she doesn’t do?” he wondered aloud.

Crystal grinned. “She doesn’t make a cheesecake that compares to mine.”

“I have a weakness for cheesecake,” Mac admitted.

And he had a growing fascination with Jewel Callahan. The more he knew about the beautiful, stubborn woman who had reluctantly given him a job, the more he wanted to know. And he had a pretty good idea about how to get what he wanted.

Cayenne was in the paddock when Jewel returned to the farm after her trip into town, so she knew her sister was cleaning his stall. Knowing how much Crystal hated that job, she felt a twinge of guilt that she’d been gone as long as she had, but only a slight twinge. Crystal had been helping out at Haven since they took in their first horse, but with her own business turning into such a success, she’d had to severely cut back her volunteer time. Since she was only able to put in a few hours on Tuesdays and Fridays now, Jewel figured mucking out a couple of stalls was actually necessary to keep her in practice.

But as she carried the bags of vitamin supplements through to the storeroom, she couldn’t resist teasing. “You must be losing your touch, Crys, if you didn’t manage to sweet-talk some cute stable hand into doing that for you.”

But the head that popped up in response to her comment was neither blond nor female, and “cute” was far too bland a description to do it justice.

“Hey,” Mac said.

“Obviously she hasn’t lost her touch,” Jewel muttered beneath her breath.

But not so quietly that Mac didn’t hear, because he flashed her an easy grin that, even from a distance of twenty-five feet, made her tummy quiver.

“Does that mean you think I’m cute?” he asked.

She ignored the question. “You haven’t mucked out enough stalls already this week?”

“More than enough,” he assured her, leaning on the handle of the pitchfork.

“Where is my sister?” Jewel asked. “And how did she con you into doing her job?”

“She didn’t con me—she bribed me.”

“With?”

“Promises of homemade cherry cheesecake.”

Jewel began stacking bottles and jars on the appropriate shelves. “I’d say she got the better end of the deal, but she does make a spectacular cheesecake.”

“Pot roast was also mentioned,” he told her.

“Crystal invited you up to the house for dinner?” Not that she objected, exactly. And since Simon had a late meeting and Crystal would be dining with them, she had no reason to object. But she was still a little wary of her sister’s reasons for issuing the invitation.

“She thought it would give you and I an opportunity to talk about my duties for the next several weeks.”

“If you want to stay on, I’d be happy to have you continue doing what you’ve been doing.”

“I want to stay on,” he told her. “And I want to help out here.”

She closed and latched the door. “Why?”

“Because it’s obvious to me that you could use a couple extra hands.”

“I could use a dozen extra hands,” she admitted. “But Haven doesn’t have the funds to hire any help. Mostly we take on coop students from the local high school.”

“And you come in every day after they’re finished to redo what wasn’t done properly,” he guessed, tossing fresh bedding into the stall.

She shrugged. “They’re kids. They do the best they can.”

“And they’re scared to death of Cayenne.”

“There’s no shame in being afraid of a twelve-hundred-pound animal. Randy Porter trained horses for more than thirty-five years and even he watches his step around Cayenne.”

Mac finished spreading the straw before he turned to her. “I could work with him.”

She’d have to be crazy to let him. He’d proven he was a competent groom, but what he was suggesting was way beyond the scope of anything he’d been doing in the past week, and Cayenne wasn’t like any of the horses he’d encountered at CTC. The Demon Stallion had earned his nickname by being both difficult and unpredictable, and though Jewel had been working with him personally over the past couple of months, she’d made little progress.

But while she might worry about Cayenne’s inconsistent behavior, her own had been no better. When she’d started training him, she’d planned to spend a couple of hours with him every day. The reality was that she didn’t always have a couple of hours to spare, there were simply too many demands on her to be able to dedicate the time and attention he needed.

And there were too many reasons why she should refuse Mac’s offer, not the least of which was that if he started hanging out around the Haven stable, their paths would cross more often.

On the other hand, if she spent enough time around Mac she might become inured to his presence so that warm tingles didn’t dance through her veins every time he looked at her, and her heart didn’t skip a beat every time he smiled.

“Dinner’s at six,” she finally said. “We can talk about it then.”




Chapter Three


Jewel decided to grab a quick shower after she finished up at Haven and was just tugging on a clean pair of jeans when she heard a knock on the back door. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that it was almost six. Confident that the housekeeper would let him in, she didn’t hurry. She was combing her fingers through the unruly mass of hair she’d released from its ponytail when the knock came again.

Ignoring the socks she’d tossed on the bed, she made her way to the kitchen. Where she expected to find Bonnie hovering at the stove, she instead found a note.

Crystal is driving me into town to pick up a package at FedEx. Dinner is in the oven. Enjoy.

She noted the two place settings along with the candles and wine on the table and seriously doubted that there was any package. She’d invited Mac to dinner because she’d believed Crystal and Bonnie would also be there. But somehow her conniving sister had managed to take what was supposed to be a business discussion over a meal and made it look like a date. And while she understood her sister’s motivations, she had no intention of being manipulated.

She tucked the candles and wine into the pantry, returned the stemware to the cupboard and moved the place settings to opposite ends of the table before she went to answer the door.

The first thing Mac noticed when Jewel opened the door was that she’d showered and changed since she’d left the stable. Her hair tumbled freely down her back, her freshly scrubbed skin glowed and her feet were bare. She wasn’t wearing any makeup that he could tell, but she looked beautiful, natural.

She noticed the flowers in his hand and frowned. “You shouldn’t have brought me flowers.”

“They’re only for you if you cooked the pot roast.” He was pleased to note that his response had surprised her, because he suspected that the only way he was going to make progress with Jewel was to give her the unexpected and keep her off her stride.

“I didn’t.” She smiled wryly. “For which we should both be truly grateful.”

He smiled back. “Then the daisies are for Bonnie.”

“You’ve met Bonnie?”

“Not yet, but your sister did such a good job extolling her culinary virtues I almost feel as if I have.”

“Well, you won’t meet her tonight, either. She had an errand to run in town.” Jewel took the flowers from him. “But I’ll put these in water for her and tell you that she’d appreciate the thought.”

As he followed her into the house, he thought she smelled good enough to eat, though he didn’t think the citrusy scent was perfume. She didn’t seem the type to bother with such frills. More likely the scent was from some kind of lotion or cream that she’d rubbed onto her skin after her shower.

He firmly shoved that tempting image from his mind and glanced around the kitchen.

The table and chairs appeared to be solidly built and obviously well used. The dishes were stoneware rather than china, the cutlery was stainless instead of silver, the napkins made of paper not linen. It was a family table, and the rich aromas that filled the air were those of a good, home-cooked meal, and he found the simplicity of everything appealed to him.

As Jewel appealed to him.

Noting that the table was set for two, he said, “I thought your sister would be here for dinner.”

“So did I.”

Something in her tone suggested that she wasn’t only surprised—but annoyed—by Crystal’s change of plans. And he wondered if it was the thought of dining alone with him that bothered her.

“Does her absence mean there’s no cheesecake?” he asked.

“No.” She smiled as she carried a tray laden with thick slices of beef and chunky roasted vegetables to the table. “The cheesecake’s in the fridge.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” he said.

She gestured for him to sit, but he scooped the basket of warm rolls and the pitcher of steaming gravy from the counter to set on the table before she could do so.

She slanted him a look, as if his willingness to assist with domestic chores was something else she hadn’t expected, but silently took her own seat on the other side of the table.

He loaded his plate with a generous helping of beef and vegetables and noted that she did the same. When he passed her the pitcher of gravy, she smothered her plate with it.

They chatted casually while they ate, about the horses and the routines in her stables and then about thoroughbred training and racing in general. He enjoyed her company as much as dinner because of her sharp intelligence and wry humor and found he was reluctant for the meal to end.

When she got up to get dessert, she frowned at the clock. “Is it seven-thirty already?”

“Looks like,” he agreed. “Is there somewhere else you need to be?”

“No.” She slid a generous slice of cake onto a plate. “I was just wondering what kind of errand could have kept Bonnie out so long.”

As if on cue, the phone rang. Jewel passed him the plate then excused herself to answer the call.

“That was Bonnie checking in,” she said, when she returned to the table. “Apparently she and Crystal decided to stop for coffee and got caught up chatting with some mutual acquaintance.”

He stabbed his fork into the cake, noting that while she’d started to relax over dinner, she wasn’t so relaxed now. Was she anxious for him to leave? Or nervous because the phone call had reminded her that they were alone together?

She sat back down with obvious reluctance and cut herself a much smaller piece of cake.

“Tell me about Haven,” he said. “The more I know about it, the more useful I can be.”

“Why are you so eager to help out?”

“I figured that was obvious,” he said. “I’m trying to ingratiate myself to you so you’ll keep me around, maybe even consider having a hot and torrid affair with me.”

Jewel glanced at Mac across the table. “Was that comment intended to fluster or flatter me?”

He shrugged. “I’m guessing it failed on both counts.”

Actually it had succeeded on both counts, but she wasn’t willing to let him know it. Or know that she’d given some thought to the same thing.

“Are you always so suspicious when someone offers you help?” he asked her.

“Let’s just say that I’ve learned to look for the strings that are usually attached.”

“I like horses,” he said. “And, for some reason, I like you, too. Maybe it did occur to me that spending time at Haven might result in spending time with you, but my motives are no more nefarious than that.”

“Well, you were right about extra hands being needed at Haven,” she said. “And if you really want to spend your spare time there, I have no objection.”

“That’s incredibly gracious of you,” he said.

She smiled at his dry tone. “Yeah, Crystal’s always telling me I need to work on my social skills. But the horses don’t usually complain.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said.

She took the tray of leftovers to the counter to wrap up. She heard the scrape of chair legs on the floor as Mac pushed away from the table, too, then brought their plates to the counter.

“Are you going to question my motives for clearing the table, too?”

She bit down on her lip, because she’d been tempted to do exactly like that. Instead she said, “I appreciate your help, but I can handle it.”

He ignored her and began loading the dishwasher.

“You’ve got to be up early in the morning,” she pointed out.

“And you’ll be up just as early,” he noted. “Whatever time I walk into the stable, you’ve already been there.”

“It’s my stable,” she pointed out.

“No one’s disputing that.” He nudged her aside with his hip so he could move around to the other side of the dishwasher.

The brief contact shot arrows of awareness zinging through her system.

She stepped back quickly and braced her hands on the counter behind her. As she did so, her elbow bumped a water goblet on the counter and sent it crashing to the floor. The glass shattered, jagged shards flying.

Silently cursing her clumsiness, she started toward the closet for the broom.

“Watch,” Mac said.

“I am,” she snapped irritably, then swore when she stepped down on a piece of glass.

She lifted her foot, saw the blood was already dripping.

Before she could say anything, he scooped her up off her feet and lifted her onto the counter. Her breath whooshed out of her, though she wasn’t sure if that was because of the unexpected jolt when he plunked her down or the surprising thrill of being held by a strong man.

He took a step back and picked up her foot. His hand was warm, his touch firm but gentle, and somehow incredibly sensual.

“Mac—”

He snagged a paper towel from the roll. “Just let me take a look.”

She didn’t see as she had much choice in the matter. And when his thumb slid over her instep, she didn’t protest because she was incapable of speaking.

He dabbed gently at the blood. “You up-to-date on your tetanus shots?”

“I had one a couple of years ago,” she said.

“It doesn’t look like it needs a stitch, but it definitely needs some antiseptic cream and a bandage.”

“There’s a first-aid kit in the bathroom. If you let me get down, I’ll—”

“You stay put,” he said. “I’ll get it.”

“You give orders better than you take them, Mac,” she noted when he returned with the box of medical supplies.

He shrugged. “I didn’t figure you wanted to get blood all over the floor by hobbling around before that cut was tended to.”

She didn’t, of course, but that wasn’t the point. “I would have managed just fine if you weren’t here.”

In fact, she probably wouldn’t have knocked the glass off the counter if he hadn’t been there to distract her—not that she was going to admit as much to him.

She sucked in a breath when he wiped an antiseptic pad over the bottom of her foot.

“You’re being ungrateful again,” he told her.

She frowned at that. “I’m used to doing things on my own.”

“Then it’s not just me,” he noted, dabbing some cream onto the pad of a Band-Aid before affixing it to her wound.

“No.”

His fingers smoothed down the edges of the dressing, and caused those tingles to dance and swirl through her system again.

“Maybe,” she muttered under her breath.

Not quietly enough, obviously, because he looked up at her and grinned.

“That should take care of it,” he said, finally releasing her foot.

But he didn’t move away, and she was suddenly aware of the intimacy of their positions—of the cupboards behind her back, and the man standing between her thighs.

“I need to, uh, get that glass swept up.”

He stayed where he was, his hands on the counter, bracketing her knees. “Are you always this skittish when anyone gets too close?”

She laid her hands on his chest and tried not to think about the solid muscles beneath her palms, the strong beat of his heart, or the heat of his skin as she pushed him back a few inches.

The intensity in his gaze made everything inside her quiver, but she managed to keep her eyes level with his and her voice steady when she responded. “I have this thing about personal space—as in, I don’t like people in mine.”

Before he could say anything else, a flash of headlights warned of a vehicle coming up the driveway.

“That will be Crystal dropping Bonnie off,” she told him, torn between relief and disappointment that their time alone together was about to be interrupted. Because as much as she did tend to veer away from intimacy, she occasionally experienced pangs of loneliness, moments when she was sometimes even tempted to open up her heart again. Usually those moments were quick to pass and her life would go back to normal.

But Mac Delgado had shaken up the status quo the minute he walked into the Halfway Café, and Jewel didn’t know what—if anything—she was going to do about him.

Mac’s knowing expression suggested that he’d picked up on her mixed emotions, that he knew how confused she was and how tempted she didn’t want to be. She found it strange that a man she’d met only a week earlier should be able to see through all the layers she’d worked so hard to build up over the years and recognize the longing that was buried deep in her heart.

And she knew that if she wasn’t careful, he might find a way to tunnel through those layers.

As Mac found the broom and quickly swept up and disposed of the broken glass, Jewel promised herself that she would be careful. Very careful.

Jewel was making some adjustments to the yearling training schedule on her computer when Caleb Bryant came into her office. He’d started as an exercise boy for her father when Jewel was still riding ponies and they’d grown up and into the business together. Now he wasn’t just an Eclipse-winning trainer but a good friend.

The ready smile faded when she saw the concern etched between his dark brows.

“Gabe Anderson was here,” he told her.

It was all he said, and yet those few words said so much. Gabe Anderson had been a client of Callahan for a long time, and he’d never made any secret of the fact that he had doubts about JC’s ability to run the facility as her father had done. Jewel would have liked to be able to tell him to take his horses elsewhere, but the fact was, he had a fair amount of clout in the racing world and a lot of horseflesh in her stables. So she gritted her teeth and tried to accommodate his needs and wishes whenever possible, but something in Caleb’s eyes warned it wouldn’t be so easy this time.

“Is there a problem?”

“After Midnight came ninth in a field of fourteen at Belmont on the weekend.”

She rubbed at the throb in her temple. The headache had been hovering there for a couple of hours, but she’d managed to stave it off with a handful of aspirin and focused determination. Until now.

“Should he have done better?”

Caleb only shrugged. “He’s a young colt with a lot of potential, but right now, he has more enthusiasm than focus.”

And that was the reason, she suspected, that Caleb had recommended not racing the colt so early in the season. The two-year-old had been a late season foal and would have benefited from a few more months training before being loaded into a starting gate. But he was also a foal with impressive bloodlines and a price tag to match, and she knew that Anderson was focused so intently on seeing a return for his investment that he couldn’t see anything else.




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