Who's Cheatin' Who?

Chapter Two

“I have a good feeling about the Outback Classic, Marcus.” Pride, along with a deep Australian accent, shimmered in Tyler Preston’s voice. “You should see Lightning Chaser now. These days, he eats up the ground.”

With his mind only partly on the conversation, Marcus skimmed his gaze for what seemed the hundredth time around the conservatory brimming with music, flowers and elegantly gowned and tuxedoed guests.

Audrey Griffin Preston looked stunning in snowy white lace glimmering with pearls, her face luminous as she danced with her tall, sandy-haired husband, Shane. The newlyweds shared the dance floor with numerous family members and guests, including the groom’s parents and grandparents, who’d flown in from Australia for the wedding festivities.

A knot of people had gathered near the towering Christmas tree brimming with silver ornaments and white lights that looked like tiny stars trapped in its limbs. Other guests mingled around the room.

Since he had walked Melanie back to the reception, Marcus knew she was somewhere in the crowd. At the moment, though, he couldn’t locate her.

Which shouldn’t matter at all.

But it did.

Dammit, he might have been responsible for initiating that kiss, but he didn’t thank her for unlocking needs he had no intention of satisfying. He’d grown up watching the devastating toll love had taken on his mother, and that was enough for him to never want to go anywhere near that same path. Ever.

More and more, leaving Quest looked like a smart move. He just wished he’d get over the dragging regret that had plagued him since he gave Andrew Preston his notice. Regret that now seemed to have settled like a stone in his gut with the knowledge he’d likely never again have another taste of the woman he’d held in his arms less than an hour ago.

Dammit, why did that seem to matter so much?

“Earth to Vasquez.”

The comment had Marcus shifting his attention back to Tyler. The general manager of Lochlain Racing was tall and lanky, with dark hair and a tanned face made ruddy by hours spent under the Australian sun. At the moment, his green eyes were narrowed speculatively on Marcus.

“The way you’re taking the crowd apart makes me think you’re on the lookout for someone.” Sliding one flap of his tuxedo jacket back, Tyler slipped a hand into the pocket of his slacks while studying the crowd. “A woman, maybe?”

“I’m just checking out who came to witness your brother tie the knot,” Marcus said, avoiding a direct answer.

He sipped the scotch he’d opted for over the champagne that flowed freely. To ensure the subject veered away from the reason he’d taken up residence in a spot with a prime view of all the celebrants, he turned the conversation back to a subject close to Tyler’s heart. “As for Lightning Chaser, does he still like to make the other horses try to catch him?”

“Every time he gets on a racetrack,” Tyler answered with a wide smile. “I have high hopes for him in the upcoming Classic.”

Marcus thought about a black cloud that could mar the race. “What about Sam Whittleson?” he asked, referring to the man whose horse had beat Lightning Chaser in an Australian race several months back. After it was discovered Whittleson’s horse had been pumped full of steroids, Lightning Chaser was declared the winner. Bad blood ensued when Whittleson claimed his horse had been sabotaged. There were those who speculated Tyler could be responsible. “He might be interested in payback.”

“If Whittleson tries anything, he’ll be sorry.” The hard snap in Tyler’s voice left no doubt that his threat was anything but idle.

The music swept up into a crescendo then ended, followed by a round of applause for the bride and groom. Tyler set his drink aside. “It’s time for me to claim a dance with my new sister-in-law.”

Moments after Tyler smiled goodbye and headed for the dance floor, Marcus spotted Melanie. She was on the far side of the conservatory, leaning down to say something to her nieces, the twin daughters of her brother Brent, Quest’s head breeder. Both girls had their brown hair in braids and wore knee-length dresses made out of the same gold material as Melanie’s. Smiling, she whispered something to them, and the twins giggled.

All so innocent, Marcus thought. Far from innocent was the hunger emanating from him as he studied their aunt’s soft, angular profile. The attraction had been there from the moment he met Melanie on his first day at Quest, sitting in the stables with her boots off. But now he’d had a taste of her. No mere attraction had ever made him ache the way she was making him ache. And no sexual desire had ever made him feel as if he were inexorably sinking into hot lava.

When he caught himself imagining what it would be like to have another taste of her, he knew he was in trouble. Draining his scotch, he decided to say goodbye to the Prestons and head to his quarters for one last night at Quest. He had no idea where he would be twenty-four hours from now.

“Marcus, have you got a minute?”

He turned to find Demetri Lucas standing inches away. Earlier, Marcus had overheard someone mention that the recently retired race car driver, who was engaged to Elizabeth Innis, a Preston cousin, had missed the wedding due to business concerns. Since Demetri was dressed in a casual sweater and slacks, Marcus theorized he had just arrived.

“I have more than a minute,” Marcus said, shaking the hand Demetri offered. A native of Greece, he had a dusky Mediterranean complexion, black hair and dark eyes. It was well-known Demetri was a close friend of Hugh Preston, the family patriarch who’d built Quest from the ground up. Taking advantage of Hugh’s legendary ability to sense when a horse had the makings of a champion, Demetri had followed his mentor’s recommendations when buying a dozen Thoroughbreds over the years. Currently those horses were stabled at Quest, but unaffected by the North American and international racing ban on horses majority owned by the stables.

“Is Elizabeth here?” Marcus asked.

“Unfortunately, no. Her concert tour’s in London right now. She called earlier with news that the rest of her European tour is sold out.”

“Impressive,” Marcus said. And because he and Demetri had spent time working with the horses Demetri kept stabled at Quest, he asked, “Do you have questions about your horses?”

“Always, but they can wait. Right now, I want to talk about you.”

“Me?”

“I know today was your last working day at Quest. Do you have another job lined up?”

“Not yet. I plan to start looking in earnest after the holidays.”

“This may be my lucky day.” Demetri beamed the smile that had shown up on the covers of international racing magazines, as well as People and GQ. “Yours, too.”

“How so?”

“Have you ever wanted to own part of a Kentucky horse-racing stable?”

Marcus raised a brow. “The thought has crossed my mind.” Then had been quickly rejected, and not just because of the heart-stopping amount of money that would be involved. Owning a stable meant putting down roots, something he had never had a desire to do. Keeping loose, free and unfettered had always been more to his liking.

He thought again about the heavy regret that had hounded him over the past month. The idea of moving to another job simply didn’t carry the same feeling of rightness it always had in the past.

He made a quick survey of the wedding guests, sought out Melanie. She was dancing with the groom now. Shane was her cousin, yet seeing her in the arms of another man made Marcus’s jaw go tight. Lord, he had it bad.

“Hugh knows about this deal and he’s given me the use of his study upstairs,” Demetri said, pulling Marcus’s attention back. “If you’re interested, you and I can talk business there in private.”

“I won’t know if I’m interested until I hear what you have to say. But I’m curious.”

Minutes later, Marcus and Demetri stepped into the study, a warm, vibrant room with thick rugs and polished brasses. Dark walnut paneled one wall; floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the other three. The windows were tall and narrow, diamonds of leaded glass that looked out on the dark December night.

“As of today, Elizabeth and I own Rimmer Stables,” Demetri said, handing Marcus a crystal tumbler of scotch. He settled into the red leather chair beside Marcus’s, both grouped in front of the enormous gray stone fireplace. “Rimmer’s one hour from here. Are you familiar with it?”

“Not with the stables, but their horses. They’ve had some champions in the past.” Pulling details from his memory, Marcus stared into the flames dancing in the fireplace. “The distant past,” he clarified. “I understand the original owner, Jack Rimmer, died a couple of years ago. Apparently his son doesn’t have the experience or know-how to keep the stables a success.”

“Which is why Rimmer’s widow put the place on the market. I’ve got the same problem she does. Elizabeth and I own the stables now, but neither of us have the expertise or the time to operate them. That’s where you come in. We need a partner, Marcus. One who knows horses inside and out, and has what it takes to run a successful business. I’m not talking just about horses but the facility itself. Rimmer junior has kept up with the maintenance on the stables and other structures, but not on the main house. Seeing to that is high on my list.”

“And not cheap.”

Demetri grinned. “Luckily, winning Formula Gold races has made my financial standing very comfortable. Not to mention the purses my Thoroughbreds have brought in. And Elizabeth’s latest album debuted at number one on the charts. Money isn’t an issue.”

“That will definitely ease the way.” Marcus angled his chin. “Speaking of your Thoroughbreds, I take it you’ll be moving them from Quest to Rimmer?”

“Which I plan to rename Lucas Racing,” Demetri said. “And, yes, I’ll have my horses transported there.” Demetri sipped his scotch. “You’re probably thinking that pulling my Thoroughbreds from Quest when it’s in financial trouble is a slap in the face to Hugh and all the other Prestons. And not a particularly wise move, considering that I’m engaged to a Preston cousin.”

“I don’t have a clue how family politics work, so I’ll leave that up to you,” Marcus said.

Thanks to a father who’d rejected his pregnant mistress and their son, Marcus had no idea whether Demetri was stubbing his toe when it came to dealing with future relatives. But Marcus did know the Thoroughbred racing business.

“You’ve held back moving your horses longer than other owners. Some took their stock out the day after the U.S. ban went into effect. I imagine the Prestons appreciate the loyalty you’ve shown. And starting up your own stable more than justifies the move.”

“After I get my horses relocated to Lucas Racing, I plan to purchase more. The Prestons own a number of Thoroughbreds. If selling some to me will help their cash flow problems, everybody gains.” Demetri sipped his scotch. “You know every horse stabled here. I’d like you to think about which ones would be a good addition to my new venture.”

“All right,” Marcus said. It wouldn’t take any thought on his part, though, to choose the number one horse on the list. Robbie Preston had first clued Marcus in on the fact that Something To Talk About was special. Robbie had been right. The colt Melanie had raced to a magnificent win in Dubai’s Sandstone Derby before the international ban took effect was in the star-making class. He wouldn’t just break records, he would smash them to bits. But only if he could race.

Marcus frowned when he thought about the special affinity Melanie had for the colt. He was aware that she visited its stall every evening. Several times, he’d stood unobserved in a shadowy corner, listening to her coo to the gray horse with white stockings while treating him to a slice of pear.

It was clear she loved the colt. Marcus didn’t have to wonder what her reaction would be if her family agreed to sell the horse.

“I’ve got some terms in mind for our proposed partnership,” Demetri said. “Most are negotiable.”

“I’m listening.” Sipping his scotch, Marcus settled back in his leather chair.

“What do you say?” Demetri asked, after outlining the terms. “Are you interested?”

“So far,” Marcus said. The offer sounded almost too good to be true, and he wanted time to think about it. Look at it from all angles. “One thing, if I sign on, I want total authority over the stable staff. If I decide to hire someone, or an employee needs firing, I don’t want to have to come to you for permission before I can act.”

“Agreed.”

“I’ll go tomorrow and take a look at your new stables.” Marcus rose, offered Demetri his hand. “I’ll get back to you soon with an answer.”

SHE MISSED MARCUS.

Melanie frowned at the knowledge while she groomed Something To Talk About. They’d had a good exercise this sunny December morning, flying out across the fields, streaking over the rises through the cold whip of wind while the air roared with the thunder of hooves.

During the whole of it, Marcus Vasquez had clung to her thoughts like a troublesome burr.

It had been nearly a week since she’d last seen him at Shane and Audrey’s wedding reception. Almost that long since she’d heard Marcus had gone into partnership with Demetri Lucas and her cousin.

“Demetri is engaged to my cousin, Elizabeth,” Melanie informed the colt as she ran her hands up his legs to feel for heat in strained tendons. “You met her—the country-and-western singer I introduced you to a month or so ago? She thought you were the most handsome thing on four legs she’d ever seen.”

As though he understood, Something To Talk About nickered.

Melanie glanced up. “You’re right, Elizabeth’s gorgeous. And, man, can she sing—she’s got a boatload of Grammy awards to prove it, too. Anyway, she’s in Europe right now on a concert tour. Which means she’s not around to give me the inside scoop about what’s going on at the new stables.”

Specifically, what was going on with Marcus Vasquez, Melanie added mentally.

Frustrated over her seeming inability to get her mind off the man for more than five minutes, she lifted the colt’s foreleg to check the hoof.

It was maddening to find herself thinking about Marcus so often. He was gone from Quest—she had wanted him gone because he was nothing but total, sexy-as-hell temptation. Even so, she missed him.

It was that damn kiss. She couldn’t stop her mind from doing slo-mo replays of it. And with each replay her nipples popped to attention and the spot deep between her thighs went all tight and achy.

Which was the last thing she needed. Wanted.

She’d learned her lesson about trusting a man who had a lot in common with an iceberg: far more lurking underneath than showed on the surface. With every intuitive fiber of her being, she knew that Marcus was the iceberg king.

She should have never let him kiss her. Never let herself kiss him back.

“Why am I even thinking about that man when I have a big guy like you right here?” she asked, nuzzling the colt’s neck.

Something To Talk About blew out a soft breath. Pure pleasure.

Smiling, Melanie met his big brown eyes. “I love you, too,” she murmured while retrieving one of the brushes from her grooming kit. “When the ban’s lifted and we can race again, you and I are going to kick some serious butt. Show everyone you’ve got what it takes to be a champ. You’ll have cute mares falling all over you after that.”

The horse snorted and flicked his ears.

Melanie heard the dull thud of boots coming along the concrete floor. She looked across her shoulder in time to see Joe Newcomb, one of Quest’s longtime grooms, step up to the stall door. He was a burly man, running to fat, growing bald.

Looks were deceiving. Melanie’s grandfather had told her that, in his day, Joe had been the toughest man ever to put his foot in a racing stirrup. “Morning, Joe.”

“Morning. Your brothers asked me to tell you they need to talk to you.”

“Which brothers?”

“Andrew and Robbie. They’re waiting in the office off the tack room.” Joe dipped his head toward the colt. “You want me to, I’ll finish up grooming him.”

“Thanks, Joe.” Melanie handed him the brush and headed out of the stall.

She hoped whatever it was her brothers wanted to talk to her about would get her mind off Marcus.

“YOU’VE DONE WHAT?” Melanie asked minutes later. She stood at the edge of the desk in the small, cluttered general-use office, her heart in her throat.

“I’ve sold an interest in Something To Talk About,” Andrew Preston said again from the chair behind the desk. With one hand, he stroked Seamus’s head while the Irish wolfhound gazed up at him adoringly, tongue lolling out of one side of his mouth, tail wagging hard enough to achieve liftoff.

Melanie had always thought her oldest brother was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. She still did. But he was Quest’s business manager, and over the past months, stress from the scandal had etched deep lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth.

She knew Quest’s financial status was bleak. Understood the logic behind the sale. That didn’t stop her heart from breaking at the thought of losing the colt she loved so fiercely.

“Something To Talk About can’t race, not as long as we own a majority interest in him.” The comment came from her younger brother, Robbie. Tall and lean, he stood with one shoulder propped against a wall, his arms folded over his chest. His dark blue eyes held the same grimness as Andrew’s.

“If he isn’t allowed to start proving himself in upcoming races, it’ll waste his entire two-year-old year,” Robbie continued. “You know that as well as I do, Mel. You and I spent the past months training him to get him on a racetrack, not keep him off.”

“I know.” She understood that Robbie, as the new head trainer, had to shift his focus to the overall needs of Quest rather than the single colt he’d trained. Still, it seemed her chest would explode from the sheer force of the emotion churning there. “Who bought the majority interest in Something To Talk About?”

“Lucas Racing,” Andrew replied. “That’s the name of the company Demetri, Elizabeth and Marcus have formed. And the name they’ve given the facility they bought recently. The place used to be Rimmer Stables.”

“Marcus is an excellent trainer, Mel,” Robbie added. “He’ll do right by the colt.”

She nodded slowly. Of course, Marcus would have recognized the colt’s potential. Buying an interest in Something To Talk About was a wise move to get the new company off the ground.

“When do they plan to pick him up?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“This afternoon.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO DO just fine at your new home,” Melanie told the colt. She’d waited to come back to Something To Talk About’s stall until her emotions had settled. Horses were smart, they could sense when someone was upset. She didn’t want to disturb the colt’s emotional balance.

You shouldn’t be upset, Melanie lectured herself. Over her lifetime, she’d felt a fondness for dozens of horses that had been stabled at Quest, then moved on for one reason or another. That was the nature of the horse-racing business, and she accepted it.

Just as she should be able to accept losing Something To Talk About to another stable.

With trembling hands, she used a knife to slice a pear in half. “You already know Marcus.” She held out one of the halves, which the colt nipped from her open palm. “Even though he didn’t train you from the beginning like Robbie did, Marcus’ll take good care of you. Make you into a champion. And won’t it be a kick in the pants if someday I wind up riding another horse in the same race with you?”

She laid the knife aside, then pressed her cheek to the colt’s. “God, I’m going to miss you.”

Her shoulders instinctively stiffened at the same instant the horse shifted.

“I expect he’ll miss you, too,” Marcus said.

It didn’t surprise her that she hadn’t heard him approach the stall. Nor did it surprise her that despite not hearing him, she’d sensed he was there. The air around her changed, she thought, whenever Marcus was nearby.

She took a steadying breath and forced herself to turn.

He stood in the stall’s open door, looking all tough and rangy and fit in a sweater as black as his eyes, and faded jeans with bleach stains splattered over one thigh. Just seeing him again had something in her leaping to attention.

What is it about this man? I take one look at his face, inhale a whiff of his scent, and I’m aching to tear off his clothes. And mine, as well.

Not good, she thought. After all, he hadn’t come to Quest to see her. He’d come to conduct business. So, she would accommodate him.

“You know horses, understand them, that’s a given,” she said. “But does Demetri?”

Marcus studied her a long moment. “A lot of owners don’t know horses. What are you getting at?”

“Demetri races cars. Or he did before he retired. I hope he understands that horses aren’t like race cars. You can’t just park them in a new place and expect them not to notice. Not to get upset.”

“I’ll be sure and tell him,” Marcus said, his eyes lingering on her.

She wore her blond hair anchored back with clips. Her jeans were snug and faded to a soft blue-gray that matched her down vest. Under that she wore a sweater the color of pale, creamy caramel. Her boots appeared old, scuffed and serviceable. Despite her work clothes, she wore earrings with bright stones that glittered beneath the stable’s lights.

Seeing the sparkle of the stones had Marcus wondering if she’d also taken time that morning to dab on Chanel. Nearly a week had passed since they’d kissed, and the memory of her scent still kept him awake at night. He wasn’t sure he would ever get it out of his system.

Wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Which told him right there he should stay away from her. He’d grown up watching just how miserable love could make a person, and he wanted no part of it. He could have easily sent one of his grooms with a trailer to transport the colt. Instead, he’d come himself. Solely because he wanted to see her. And find out for himself if she was as upset about losing the horse as he suspected she’d be.

And maybe, just maybe, toss out the offer he’d been considering. The offer he kept telling himself was all sorts of crazy.

“Will you race him soon?” she asked, while holding out her palm to offer the horse a slice of pear.

“If I decide he’s ready.” While Something To Talk About munched on the pear, Marcus gave him an appraising look. The colt was strongly built and had already demonstrated in Dubai that he had the hunger and ability to win. “Florida’s Gulf Classic race is on New Year’s Day.”

“That’s less than a month away.”

“True.”

“You know full well that changing facilities and trainers and jockeys all at the same time could affect Something To Talk About’s desire to win.”

Marcus lifted a brow. “Did he tell you that when you were talking to him?”

“He tells me lots of things,” Melanie countered, her chin inching up. “One being that you need to give him time to get used to his new home and new people before you expect him to race.”

“He’ll settle in just fine at Lucas Racing. I’ve got a nice stall lined with fresh hay waiting for him.”

Marcus watched Melanie’s blue eyes narrow when he stepped through the open door. “As for trainers, Something To Talk About already knows me.”