“I couldn’t sleep…when I closed my eyes, I saw you.”

Darcy’s words whispered against her skin.

Silver felt herself melt under the seductive pull of his words.

“All I could think of was holding you, touching you, kissing you.”

He pulled her flush against him until she could feel every hard, hot inch of him.

She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn’t resist. Pulling his head down to hers, she opened her mouth, allowing her tongue to tease, to stroke before pressing her lips to his.

She had to get him out of her system. “Darcy, we’re going to exorcise this tension between us with pure, red-hot sex. Just a good roll in the hay.”

“Since we’re in the office, we’ll have to save the hay for another time,” he teased.

Her eyes narrowed. “There can’t be another time. This is it.”

“In that case, I’m going to make sure I do a damn fine job!”

Meg Lacey first discovered romance in the sixth grade when she wrote her own version of Gone with the Wind. However, her writing career didn’t last. Instead, she went into theater, earned her degree and, over the years, has been an actress, director, copywriter, creative dramatics teacher, mime, mom, college instructor and school bus driver. Currently she is president of her own television and interactive media company, writing and producing in all media from film/video to print. Meg lives in Ohio, where she is currently working on a number of fiction and nonfiction projects.

Books by Meg Lacey

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

734—SEXY AS SIN

865—A NOBLE PURSUIT

HARLEQUIN DUETS

13—MAKE ME OVER

SILHOUETTE YOURS TRULY

IS THERE A HUSBAND IN THE HOUSE?

DID YOU SAY BABY?!

Million Dollar Stud

Meg Lacey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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My husband and daughters—for their laughter, excouragement and always being there when necessary. And who never hesitate to kick me in the behind when I need it.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

1

RICHARD D’ARCY KRISTOF, heir to the Kristof family fortune, strode into a private library at his country club, removed his bow tie with a jerk and quickly unbuttoned his collar. “That’s better. I hate these monkey suits.’’ He took the glass of smooth aged bourbon his older cousin, Nicholas Demetries, handed him, and downed the contents in one gulp, handing it back for another shot.

Nicholas chuckled and refilled the glass. “Rough night, Cousin?”

Darcy scowled. “If I had to dance with one more debutante, or listen to one more proud parent telling me how lovely their…whoever…is, I would have jumped off the balcony.”

The Tremont twins paused in setting out the poker chips and cards. “Wouldn’t have done you any good,” Tommy said. “Not if you were thinking suicide. The balcony is only five feet off the ground.”

“Yeah,” Terry agreed. “Worst that would happen is you’d break a leg and end up in the barberry bushes.”

Nicholas, tall, handsome and immaculately dressed in summer formal attire, clasped his cousin’s shoulder. “Then all those lovely debutantes you’re trying to avoid would be banging on your door trying to give the ‘millionaire stud’ some comfort.”

“God forbid.” With a twist of his lips, Darcy sat down at the table and drew the deck of cards toward him. “And don’t call me that. You know how much I hate that idiotic—”

Nicholas smiled. “The press has to sell their stories any way they can, Cousin.”

“Tell you what, Darcy,” said Tommy. “If you need help with that mob of women who’re always chasing you, I’m at your service.”

“Me, too,” echoed Terry.

Darcy began dealing, snapping the cards off and zipping them across the table to the respective players. “Be my guest. I haven’t met the woman yet who could intrigue me for more than forty-eight hours. Most of them bore me stiff.” He doubted a woman existed who could capture his mind as well as his senses, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying them every chance he got.

“Are you talking about in bed or out of it?” Tommy gave him a horrified look. “You don’t actually talk to them, do you?”

Terry nodded as he considered his cards. “Yeah, what’re you doing talking to them, anyway? That’s a mistake I never make.”

“You’re right, Terry.” Tommy grinned. “Take our advice—much better to look at them. That way you won’t get bored.”

Darcy stared at the twins, then shrugged, feeling the tightness in his shoulders. The tension had been building over the past few months, along with his sense of dissatisfaction. Lately, Darcy had felt confined by the aimlessness of his life. But he didn’t know what he wanted instead. He picked up his cards, fanning the hand. “At the moment, everything bores me.”

“Ah, poor misunderstood rich boy,” Nicholas said, mock sympathy dripping off his tongue. He ducked at Darcy’s feigned punch. “Wish we all had your problems.”

Darcy slid him a glance, then an unwilling grin. “Keep it up, Nick.”

Nicholas winked. “Somebody’s got to keep your feet on the ground.”

Terry gulped his drink, then, his words slurring a bit, said, “Are we going to talk all night or play cards? ’Cause if we’re going to talk, I’m going back to the dance.”

For a few minutes they played in silence, focusing on the cards and their bets. But then Darcy tossed back another drink and threw in his hand. “Sorry. I’m just not in the mood to play tonight. Let’s take a rain check, okay?”

The Tremont twins looked at each other, then back at him. “What’s got into you lately?” they asked in perfect unison.

Darcy lifted a brow, his voice tightening. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, screw this,” Tommy said, grabbing his brother’s arm and raising him to his feet. “Let’s go back to the dance. I got my eye on this redhead….”

Nicholas waved the twins to the door, giving Darcy a narrow glance as he did so. When they’d left, he said, “What is the matter with you, Darcy? You’ve been picking fights with everyone lately. Are you having some kind of problems I don’t know about?”

“Yes, I…no…hell, I don’t know.”

Nicholas stared at him. “Is it money? Do you need an advance on your trust?”

“No. I’ve got plenty of money.”

“I’ll say.” Nicholas chuckled, clasping his hands as he prepared to listen. “Okay. Then regardless of what you just said, it must be a woman.”

Darcy sent him a narrow glance. “A woman?” There hadn’t been a woman for weeks, not since Susanne Westingham had seduced him in the pool at the Overtons’ pool party. Or was it the other way around? Darcy frowned. Sometimes it all ran together.

“I know your parents have been pushing you very hard to settle down.”

“With a suitable bride,” Darcy reminded his cousin. “Which means lots of money and connections. The way they talk about it, I’m supposed to vet them before I even date them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked me to check their teeth.”

Grinning, Nicholas took a sip of his drink. “Well, you can’t quite blame them. There’s a lot at stake from a family point of view.”

“Fortune, reputation, heritage, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera…” Darcy shuddered.

“Afraid so.”

“Ah hell, Nick, I’m bored to death. It’s all so damn predictable.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “How could your life be predictable, Darcy? You’ve got the means to pick up at any time and go anywhere, do anything you want.”

Knowing how fortunate he was, Darcy had the grace to blush. “I know, but sometimes I want something different.” He felt like the spoiled little kid who wished for a pony, then when he got it, wished for a horse instead.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Darcy fiddled with his empty glass. “Don’t you get bored with it all? The same people, the same places. Doing the same type of things. No real challenge, no real enjoyment. You run from place to place, but it doesn’t change.” He thumped his fist on the table. “Lord-in-a-box, I’m bored to death, Nick. I need an adventure. Something to take me out of here.”

Nicholas shook his head, then focused on his cousin for a long, intense moment. “Darcy, maybe the problem’s not on the outside. Maybe the problem is…” He took a breath, then plunged on. “Maybe the problem’s with you.”

Darcy tossed his head like a restless horse. “Of course it’s with me—that’s what I’m telling you. It’s with who I am.”

“That’s not really what I meant.”

“Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be nobody. Know what I mean?”

Nicholas picked up the cards, inserting them neatly into their wooden holder. “No, I don’t.”

Leaning back in his chair, Darcy spread his hands wide. “Nobody. Man, wouldn’t that be a lark? To just be an ordinary guy? No living under the microscope, no gossip. No women trying to trap me into marriage, no idiots trying to borrow money or start a fight to prove I’m not any better than they are—nothing like that. Just normal.”

Nicholas hooted with laughter. “Come on, as if you could ever be a normal guy.”

Darcy’s eyes kindled as he sent his cousin the famous Kristof stare, the one his grandfather had used to stare down the enemy during World War II, or so family legend said. “Sure I could. Why couldn’t I?”

“Because you’ve got money and a lifestyle that most people envy and will never achieve—and you’re on the most-eligible-bachelor list for every woman from Virginia to New York to Palm Beach, and have been since you turned eighteen.” Nicholas shook his head. “You couldn’t be normal.”

“Want to bet?”

“Bet what?”

“I’ll bet that I can live the life of a perfectly ordinary citizen for one month.”

Nicholas rubbed his chin for a moment, finally saying, “What are you betting?”

“I’ll bet my car on it.”

“You’ll bet your car?” Nicholas lost his sophisticated air as his jaw dropped to his shoes. “You love that hunk of metal more than you’ve ever loved a woman.”

“That’s because it’s a hell of a lot more fun and much less trouble. But I’m not worried. I won’t lose.”

“We’ll see,” Nicholas commented. “So you plan to waltz out of here and become an ordinary guy, is that it? And where are you, the gossip rags’ poster boy, going to pull off this little miracle?”

Darcy was puzzled for a moment but then brightened, snapping his fingers. “Let’s find a map.”

“A map? Why do you need—”

“I need a place to go. It has to be somewhere where no one knows me.” He walked over to the bookshelves and started pulling out travel literature the club kept handy for members. “Here we go, a map of the U.S.” Darcy walked back to the table and spread it open. Putting one hand over his eyes, he stretched the other over the map, took a deep breath and stabbed with his finger. “All right,” he said, studying the spot. “Cecil, Kentucky—good a place as any.”

“Cecil? It sounds as if it’s in the middle of nowhere. ”

“No, look, it’s in…I’ll be damned. It’s in Bluegrass country, a little southwest of Lexington.”

“Lexington is the home of horse racing, Darcy. What makes you think people aren’t going to recognize you there? Your family owns a horse farm, for God’s sake.”

“Since I don’t really work the farm, I’m better known in Virginia horse circles—by sight, anyway. No one will connect me with Darcy Kristof of WindRaven Farms, because no one will be expecting to see me as Darcy Kristof. They’re going to see a man, period.”

Nicholas frowned. “This has disaster written all over it.”

“You worry too much.”

“You pay me to worry.”

Darcy grinned. “Then you’re really going to earn your money, aren’t you? Now here’s the deal. I escape and have an adventure for one month, without anyone but you knowing where I am.” He stared into the distance. Maybe this was just what he needed to shake things up. Either that or a new woman. Of the two ideas, the adventure was probably safer. He only hoped it would be as much fun.

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve heard you say in a long time. If you want to change something, why the hell don’t you take over some of your business and family responsibilities? That would be a challenge.”

“And put everyone out of work who’s there to do it for me?”

“Darcy…” Nicholas sighed. “It’s time you got involved with your life.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“By running away and having an adventure?”

Darcy shrugged. “Why not? Who’s it going to hurt?”

“I still think—”

Darcy leaned forward, interrupting him. “Nick, promise you’ll tell no one where I am. Not even my parents.”

“They won’t ask. They’re in Europe at our uncle’s villa.”

“That’s right. I’m supposed to be there next week, aren’t I?”

“Yes, for Aunt Rosalind’s birthday.”

“You’ll have to make up some story for me, Nick. Come on, be a sport. Do we have a bet?” Darcy extended his arm and stared at his cousin. “I pass as an ordinary guy for one month or I hand over the keys to the Jag. And if I win, your new, very expensive boat is mine to use for the next six months.”

Nicholas was silent for a moment, then grasped Darcy’s hand. “Ah what the hell, you’re going to do it anyway. You’ve got a bet.” He poured them each another tot of bourbon from the crystal decanter. “What in hell are you going to do in Cecil, Kentucky?”

“I’ll get by. Don’t worry.” Darcy downed his drink.

“I still think this one of the most crack-brained—”

“Cool it, Nick. You’re my lawyer, not a mother hen.” Darcy headed for the door, turning to give his cousin an affectionate smile. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen. I’m just going to have some fun, that’s all.”

“All right, but whatever you do, don’t seduce all the local farm girls. Your family won’t take kindly to that, especially if I have to clean up the mess.”

“I don’t spend my entire time thinking about women.”

“You don’t have to—they think about you.”

“I can’t help that,” Darcy exclaimed. “Besides, when did you have to clean up a mess beyond Christina Petrou? Which wasn’t entirely my fault. It was just fun, till her parents got involved.”

“All I’m saying is be a bit circumspect, all right?”

“I won’t do anything anyone could misunderstand.” Darcy exhaled, getting his quick flare of temper under control. “Unless they ask for it, of course.”

Nicholas gave him a sardonic look. “Oh, now that’ll be a comfort to me while you’re gallivanting around Cecil.”

Darcy laughed. “Trust me, if I see a good-looking babe, I’ll turn the other cheek. Or at least I’ll try.”

“Ah hell, go,” Nicholas said, picking up his drink. “But call if you need me.”

Darcy waved as he left the room. “See you in a month.”

HAVING MADE HIS DECISION to leave, Darcy didn’t waste time in getting on his way. Monday morning, just after dawn, he hefted a large duffel bag into the seat of the old pickup truck he’d borrowed from one of his grooms, and hit the road. He felt an unaccustomed feeling of freedom. When was the last time he’d had an adventure like this? Never, he thought. His adventures had always included exotic locales, first-class accommodations and expensive equipment. At the moment he had five hundred dollars in his wallet, a few changes of clothes and a couple of his favorite books. He was ready to roll.

He ignored the interstates and took back roads, meandering through the familiar rolling valleys of Virginia, then the mountains of West Virginia, passing through small towns that brought a smile, and over rivers and creeks with names that celebrated pioneer discovery. He slipped unnoticed into Kentucky, into the eastern Appalachian hills, and finally into the majesty and promise of the bluegrass region—the grazing land, rolling wooded vistas and wide valleys that surrounded his final destination.

SILVER BRAYBOURNE TOOK a firmer grasp on the lunge lines as her horse walked in a tight circle. “All right, now,” she crooned, “just settle down. You know what this is all about.” Lucky Hand wasn’t a young, inexperienced horse, but one who needed retraining if he was ever to reach his potential. And Silver thought this horse had plenty of potential. The problem lately was convincing her father.

“That’s right, let’s smooth it out.” She jammed her old baseball hat down on her head as she studied the stallion’s gait, paying close attention to the movement of his back legs as she let the line out a bit. She’d had the horse for about two months, but had only been working him hard for one. “We’ve had a lot of winners come out of Braybourne Farm. I expect you to do your share.” The horse glanced her way as if he understood. “You’re a winner. I just know it, and I’m going to prove it, no matter what anyone says.” After all, they’d bred and trained a number of winning racehorses, even if they hadn’t produced a Derby winner. But she could change that if she managed this farm. She lightly cracked her whip, smiling as the horse responded. Daddy was just getting cold feet, not up to taking a risk. She’d convince him otherwise or she didn’t deserve to be a Braybourne.

Silver blinked sweat from her eyes and wiped her forehead on the sleeve of her old cotton shirt. Damn, it was hot. She couldn’t remember when it had last been so hot in Cecil. June in Kentucky was generally pleasant, but this year was already promising to be a scorcher. She hoped it wouldn’t be dry, too. The past few years had been hard on their crops, not to mention their horses. They couldn’t afford to take any more losses.

“’Scuse me, Miz Braybourne,” a voice interrupted her. “Doc Winters sent me over with some of that new liniment you was asking about.”

Silver glanced over her shoulder at the young man giving her an admiring glance from behind the fence.

“Hi, Jamie. Just put it in the office for me, okay?”

“You gotta sign for it. Doc Winters said you gotta sign for it.”

“Why don’t you sign for me, Jamie? I’m fine with that.”

“The doc wouldn’t like it. He’s got a new office manager who says he’s gotta clean up his act, and she’s making the doc’s life miserable.”

Silver laughed. “Well, I’m almost finished anyway, so bring the paper on out here. I wouldn’t want you to break the rules on my account.” That was her job. Breaking rules, pushing to see how far she could go, before someone hauled her back to the gate. Unfortunately, most of the time she was pulled up short before she’d even gotten onto the field. But that didn’t stop her from trying.

Jamie slipped into the paddock and picked his way over to Silver, taking care to avoid the big black stallion at the other end of the line. He held out a professional-looking clipboard. “Here you go, Miz Braybourne.”

“You can call me Silver, Jamie. You used to.” She sent the young man a teasing grin. “Before you remembered that I changed your diapers when I baby-sat for you.”

Jamie blushed and scuffed his toe in the dirt. “I wish you’d forget about that.”

Silver held the lunge line in one hand as she scribbled her name with the other. “Can’t, Jamie. You had such a cute little backside.”

Silver’s grin expanded as Jamie turned every shade of red. “Ah, geez!”

A high-pitched cackle erupted from the fence, followed by a halfhearted command, “Girl, you leave that there young man alone. Ain’t no call to embarrass him that way.”

Silver handed the clipboard back to Jamie, smiling at his muttered “thank you” as he walked to his pickup truck. She looked over her shoulder at Travis O’Neill, whom her grandfather had nicknamed Tater when he was just a little sprout. “Tater, where’ve you been? Dad was down here looking for you a little while ago.”

“He found me,” he replied, resting his elbows on the fence.

Silver stared at him. There was something about his tone of voice…. She slowed her horse to a walk. “Is anything wrong?”

Tater climbed stiffly onto the fence, perching on the top rail. “What could be wrong, girlie?”

She walked to the horse and removed the line, leading him by the bridle over to Tater. “Besides the fact that we’re in hock up to our ears, you mean?”

“Nothing new in that, Silver. Braybournes been either in the money or out of it ever since your great-great-great-great-grandfather settled Cecil.”

“I know, but we were getting ahead until Brett made that stupid investment.”

“Your brother didn’t make it by hisself, ya know. Your daddy okayed it.”

“I know. If he’d asked me, I could have told him—”

“Point is, he didn’t. So I’d let it go if I was you, and do your best to help turn things around, any way you can.”

“I’m trying, Tater, but my father doesn’t always listen to me. For God’s sake, I know as much, if not more, about horses than any of my brothers ever did, and he listens to them. No questions asked. And now with Daddy’s accident…”

“Well, you know how it is with a man and his sons.” He held up his hand to shut her up. “Now, I ain’t sayin’ it’s right, just that’s how it is with some people.”

“Uh-huh. And much as I love my brothers, what did those three sons do? Each of them managed the place for a while, then moved on to something else. I’m the one who stayed.”

“You’ll be moving on yourself someday, Silver. Some man’ll sweep you right on out of here.”

“What?” Her chin came up. “No, that won’t happen.”

“You’ll get yourself hitched and—”

“Think again. The only male I’m interested in—” she jerked her head toward her horse “—is this one, ’cause the man hasn’t been born yet who can sweep me off my feet.” Silver kept hoping she’d find one, but so far all the men she’d met seemed so tame. So familiar. So boring. If she ever met one who wasn’t…look out! She didn’t see much chance of that, however, not in her social circle.

Tater eyed the stallion and chuckled. “Silver, girl, I don’t think that there male is what your pa has in mind for your future.”

Silver grimaced as she started on her biggest gripe. “No. I’m supposed to be the Braybourne debutante, go to all the parties and play the dating game.”

“I always said you could do anything you put your mind to, girl.”

“Oh, I’ve got the debutante moves down pat. I know when to smile, when to flutter my lashes, when to tease and flirt. But on the whole, I’d rather muck out the stables.”

Tater laughed. “Ah, Silver, the man that takes you on is in for a hard ride. You’d swear something is black even if it’s as white as a church steeple.”

She looked down at her jeans and old, comfortable riding boots. “Did you ever try to stuff your feet into a pair of heels, Tater? Take it from me, you might as well be wearing a piece of wood balanced on a nail. My toes go numb.”

“But you look right pretty when you wear ’em.”

“Forget the flattery.”

“Don’t you have something to do today?”

“Today? I don’t think…wait a minute, what day is it?”

“It’s Monday.”

“Oh damn, Mama and I are going to that charity tea. I forgot.” She glanced at her watch. “Eleven-fifteen? It’s not that late, is it?”

“It surely is.”

“Oh, Lord, I have to get going.” Taking a good grip on Lucky Hand, she started to walk away.

“Wait a minute, Silver.” Tater caught up with her and grabbed the bridle. “I’ll rub him down and feed him. You get on up to the house and put on your fancy duds.”

“Well, I…he’s my responsibility.”

“So’s that charity project you been helping your mother with.”

“I know, but—”

“Go on, git. The horse and the farm will still be here when you get back.”

DARCY PULLED HIS PICKUP to the side of the road and stared at the sign on the outskirts of town. Cecil, it proclaimed in elegant letters. Now the adventure really begins, he thought, wondering where it would take him. Good or bad, he was here, and he’d have to play it out. What the hell, it wasn’t life or death, it was just…what? A way to find something he was missing in his life? He’d been thinking more and more about that lately, with his twenty-ninth birthday coming up. Then he shook his head. What a crock—he had everything. He just temporarily needed something new, that was all. An adventure.

The afternoon heat was kicking in with a vengeance, made worse by the sticky black vinyl seats of his borrowed truck. He’d give anything for a shower and a long cool drink about now. Right. Enough thought, time for action. He leaned over, started the truck, then glanced in his mirror and pulled back onto the highway that headed straight to the heart of Cecil, Kentucky.

It was a pretty little town, full of old, well-restored homes, riotous gardens and charming shops laid out on either side of a broad main street shaded with majestic elm trees. He looked for a likely place to stop to get a drink and find some conversation that would clue him in on job prospects around Cecil. Unfortunately, everything looked too genteel to get the kind of gossip he needed. Then he remembered his own farm and it dawned on him to look for the local feed and grain store. People there were bound to know what type of work was available.

Darcy found the feed store on the other side of the town, near the outskirts. It was a large enough business to feature gas and diesel tanks, storage areas and a large grain operation. The main building had a broad porch where a couple of old men were seated on wooden chairs, engrossed in a game of checkers.

“This is more like it,” Darcy said aloud, eyeing the men.

He pulled into the front parking area, slid out of the truck and stretched, aware of the two men giving him curious glances. With his trademark saunter he headed for the steps, pausing on the top one to ask, “Can I get a cold drink inside?”

“Yes, sir,” drawled one of the sparsely thatched, gray-haired gentlemen. “They got one of them cola machines right inside the door.”

“They’ve also got those fancy sodas in there, too, Tater,” said the other man, who was wearing an old John Deere hat pulled low over his forehead. “Remember when they put them in there?”

“That’s right, I remember ’cause…”

Positive these two geezers might go on this way for a long time, Darcy gave them a grin and small salute. “Thanks.” He sauntered inside the building, feeling their eyes on his back. He knew the men’s conversation would shift to him as soon as he disappeared through the door. Darcy pulled some coins from his pocket and made his selection at the soda machine. He took a long, cool drink before strolling back toward the doorway.

If I’m really lucky, these two old guys will open up and talk to me. Tell me just what I want to know. Unlike his father, who had an exaggerated sense of his own worth, Darcy generally found it easy to approach individuals in all strata of society, and for the most part it was easy for them to approach him, too. Unless he got on one of his arrogant high horses. Then everyone who knew him ran for cover, as the Tremont twins had last night.

Cold drink in hand, he strolled over to the railing and leaned against it. He watched the checker game, wondering how to start the conversation, when one of the men—Tater—saved him the trouble.

“Just passin’ through, are ya?” Tater asked.

“No, sir,” Darcy replied. “I’d like to find a job and stick around for a bit. Decide whether to move on or not.”

The other man jumped his red king over Tater’s black one. “Ah, you one of them migrant workers then?”

Tater glared at the board, then glared at his companion. “’Course he ain’t no migrant, Lawrence. What in Sam Hill’s the matter with you?”

“Well, I didn’t mean no disrespect, I just meant—”

Darcy interrupted before the squabble got more intense. These two men seemed to have a long-running routine, and he wasn’t sure he could stand still and listen to it. “I don’t know as much about working crops,” he said diplomatically, “as I do working horses.”

“Ah.” Tater nodded. “You a horseman?”

Darcy nodded in turn. “Yes, sir.” It was true he’d ridden and been around horses all his life. Even if he didn’t do any of the breeding and training work on his farm now, his grandfather had made him work on the farm every summer until he was thirteen. He’d avoided it ever since, but what the hell—a horse was a horse! How bad could it be for a month? “Know of any horse farms around here that might be hiring?”

Tater narrowed his eyes and leaned back, giving him a slow, steady once-over. “Well, I might. I just might.”

“Ain’t you looking for somebody to help out for a while, Tater?” Lawrence asked.

Darcy met Tater’s gaze with his steadiest stare, hoping the man liked what he saw, fully expecting that he would. After all, Darcy had been rebuffed by very few people in his life. The strange thing was, he was just now starting to wonder if he’d earned that reaction or if it was given in sheer deference to his wealth and position.

The man’s eyes, bright and sharp, seemed curiously out of place in his grizzled old face. “That I am, Lawrence.”

Talk about luck. Darcy was tempted to ask for a job, but restrained himself. His stomach clenched as he waited for Tater to make up his mind.

A long moment later, the old man rubbed his chin and exhaled. “Might be we could give you a try. I gotta warn ya, though, the pay won’t be great. But we’d be talking room and board.”

“We?”

“Harden Braybourne of Braybourne Farm. Harden had an accident awhile back and he’s decided we need some more help.” Tater grinned, revealing a large gap between his front teeth that gave him a peculiarly boyish look. “The operation’s not as big as it was, but we ain’t as young as we used to be, neither.”

“Getting older happens to everyone, I hear,” Darcy said with a smile.

“Gotta tell you, Son, I’d be a lot happier if t’weren’t happenin’ to me.” He stood up and extended his hand. “Name’s Travis O’Neill. Most folks call me Tater.”

“Darcy…uh, Rick Darcy.” He shook the man’s hand. “Just call me Darcy. Everyone does.”

“Okay, Darcy. Hop in your truck and follow me back to the farm. I’ll show you around and you can tell me about yourself. Then we’ll see.”

“Didn’t you say Harden was lookin’ for a temporary manager, Tater?”

Tater nodded, saying slowly, “So he told me this morning.”

“Oooeee!” Lawrence hit his knee with the heel of his hand. “Silver Braybourne ain’t gonna be happy about that, is she?”

Tater gave his friend an annoyed glance. “You know, Lawrence, you talk a mite too much sometimes.”

Darcy was intrigued. “Who’s Silver Braybourne?”

Tater clamped his hat on his head. “Sylvia is Harden Braybourne’s daughter. Silver’s her nickname.”

Lawrence laughed. “Name fits her. She’s fast moving, with a temper as hard and shiny as a new quarter. Oh boy, I’d love to be a fly on the wall if you hire this young stallion to—”

“Lawrence, like I said, you talk too much.” Tater headed for his own pickup, moving at a clip that belied his years. “Saddle up there, Rick Darcy. I got chores to do.”

“Yes, sir.” Darcy dashed down the steps behind him and leaped into his truck to follow the man to Braybourne Farm.

Tater O’Neill’s truck picked up speed on the way out of town, leading Darcy up and down gentle hills, past some surprising, jutting limestone cliffs, then through a woods. Just when Darcy was wondering why this was still considered part of the bluegrass area, the woods parted to reveal wide pastures and farms. Tater turned into a driveway. A white gate swung open automatically to reveal a long road that led to a white house, barn and stable complex, all decorated with dark green trim.

Darcy stared at the sprawling farmhouse. It was slightly shabby, but charming gable windows and a big front porch with flowering vines climbing up the posts made up for that. This place was nowhere near as luxurious as what he was used to, which in itself was a surprising relief. Here he could really be a normal guy.

His stomach clenched again with anticipation. Something momentous was going to happen; he could almost see the hand of fate…. Then he shook his head, marveling at his idiocy. His cousin would probably tell him that anyone could imagine anything in order to justify doing exactly what they wanted to do. As Darcy stopped the truck near the stables and looked around, he had to agree. He didn’t know what awaited him here, but he was about to find out. He set the brake, jumped from the truck and followed Tater inside the dim barn. The air was cooler in there and filled with the mingled scents of hay, feed and horses.

“Well, Darcy…” Tater waved his hand. “This here is home.”

Darcy’s eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and he looked around. The stables were neat and well ordered, with the names of each horse printed on a decorative board above its stall. As Darcy took stock of his surroundings a few horses came to gaze curiously over their gates. Fewer than he might have expected from the number of stalls. He glanced at Tater.

“We had a few hard years here and had to sell some of the stock. Hell of a shame.” Tater reached to scratch behind the ears of a glossy chestnut mare. “We had one colt that had wings for feet. He might a’ done the Derby job for us, but…what is, is.”

“Tater? Tater, have you seen…” A big voice echoed through the stables, followed by a tall, powerfully built, silver-haired man. His left arm was in a cast and he leaned on a cane as he limped down the stable corridor toward them. He stopped and stared at Darcy, his sharp gaze slicing into him.

Tater stepped forward. “Harden Braybourne, this here’s Darcy, Rick Darcy. Just got into town. Says he knows horses and is looking for work. I brought him out to talk about his qualifications, before we go further.”

“Hmm…” Harden nodded, his gaze sweeping over him from top to bottom. “You got the look of a horseman, young fella.”

Suddenly a bit nervous, Darcy met the man’s firm stare. “Thank you, sir.”

“Been around them long?”

“All my life. My grandfather was one of the best horsemen I ever knew. I hope I take after him.” And not just in his handling of horses, either. The thought surprised him.

“Well, do you?” Harden asked in a dry tone.

“I’m working on it,” Darcy said.

Harden gave a bark of laughter. “Well, that’s honest, at any rate.” He gave him another long, penetrating look before he said, “Let’s go into the manager’s office and you can fill us in on your experience. Tater probably told you we need some help.”

“Yes, sir.” Darcy reached to steady Harden as he turned and stumbled.

“Don’t do that, boy, I’m not that old. I had an accident is all.”

Darcy pretended to kick something to the side, plastering his most diplomatic expression on his face. “There’s a rock here. I didn’t want your cane to land on top of it and send you sprawling to land on top of me.” He grinned. “You’re a pretty big man.”

Tater winked at Darcy as he opened a door to the left. “Right in here.”

Darcy followed the two older men inside, and with an unaccustomed knot in his stomach, prepared to cross his fingers and give a brief and slightly embellished story of his life and career to date. As he answered Harden’s probing questions, he silently thanked his grandfather for working his butt off on the horse farm when he was a young boy. He must have absorbed more knowledge than he thought. A half hour later he and Harden were shaking hands. Darcy was hired as temporary manager of Braybourne Farm.

“You understand it’s just till I get back on my feet and can take over again,” Harden said as they emerged from the office. “Should be a couple of months on the outside. Meanwhile, Tater and Billy and Ed will be helping you.”

“Don’t forget Silver,” Tater murmured.

Harden frowned. “Silver is going to get married soon.”

“She is?” Tater exclaimed. “Says who? Silver didn’t tell me nothin’ about that and I just seen her this—”

“Well, there’s nothing definite, so I wouldn’t go asking her about it,” Harden cautioned. “But I got it on good authority that John Tom Thomas is that far—” he held his fingers one-eighth of an inch apart “—from popping the question.” Harden set his face in a mulish expression, blustering, “I can’t see any reason she wouldn’t accept him. He’s well-off, from a first-rate family, good-looking and—”

“He puts me to sleep every time he opens his mouth, Daddy.” A female voice floated through the stables.

Surprised, Darcy looked toward the doorway, but the light was behind the woman who stood just inside. All he could see was a tall slim silhouette with a cloud of platinum-blond hair that glowed like a halo. He stared at the hair. This must be why she was called Silver. He glanced over at Harden, who was now looking a bit flustered.

“Damn you, girl. Where’d you come from? Why don’t you make a bit of noise instead of sneaking up on people?”

The woman walked forward, her gait as smooth and fluid as a prime show horse…or a Vegas chorus girl. She had the body for Vegas—the long long legs, slim hips, full high breasts just suggested by an expensively cut summer suit the color of orange sherbet. Lord, but Darcy loved cool women with hellfire and heat underneath. Darcy didn’t know why she gave him that impression, but she did. Maybe it was the direct, challenging look she gave him, or the slight pout on her full lips. Cool, cool ice ready to melt. His gut twisted and his mouth watered. He wanted to lick her all over. The surge of lust took him completely by surprise and he glanced at the two older men, hoping his desire wasn’t written on his face.

“I didn’t sneak. I roared up and parked my car right outside behind that old pickup truck. Whose is it, anyway?”

Darcy hid a grin. She could see him perfectly well, but she wasn’t going to acknowledge him until she was forced to, a time-honored feminine play to get the upper hand. Funny, he didn’t think he looked like much of a threat, but maybe that moment of sheer sexual awareness hadn’t been one-sided. As intense as it was, he sure as hell hoped not. Ready to play, he nodded his head in mock deference.

“It belongs to me, Miss Braybourne. I’m sorry if it’s in your way. I can move it.”

“I parked right behind you, so you’ll have trouble getting out to leave.”

Darcy grinned. That was subtle. “I’m not going anywhere.” He’d thrown the first card. Now he waited to see if she’d pick it up.

She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

Harden jumped in. “This is my only daughter, Silver…uh, Sylvia. Honey, this is Mr. Darcy—”

“Darcy.”

“Uh, Darcy, who’s come to help us out for a while.”

She lifted her lids slowly, letting the long sweep of lashes flutter a bit before meeting his gaze. A slight smile played over her tempting lips. “Call me Silver, Darcy. Sylvia always makes me feel as if I’m in trouble.”

Tater chuckled. “You been in trouble since the day you was born, missy.”

“Now, Tater. You’ll give Darcy the wrong impression of me.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’ll happen,” Darcy said.

“Why not?”

“’Cause I’ve got a good idea what you’re all about.”

He did, too. He gave her a slow once-over. Silver Braybourne reminded him of the more successful debutantes he’d grown up with, the ones who made getting their own way an art. He was a bit surprised to find her kind here on this slightly run-down farm, but you never could judge by appearances. Darcy knew many illustrious families who’d slid into genteel poverty. His gaze met hers again.

Silver’s eyes glinted. “You think so, do you, Mr. Darcy?”

Again Harden jumped in. “How was the charity tea? Did you and your mother have a good time?”

“We had watercress sandwiches and fruit salad. What does that tell you?”

Darcy chuckled. “Southern fried chicken not on the menu, huh?”

Taken by surprise, Silver smiled at him. “Not even close.” She turned back to her father. “However, we did give the children’s hospital a big check from the money we raised in our Southern Ladies recipe book sale.”

A nice respectable organization with a nice respectable purpose. Figures, Darcy thought, almost sighing as he looked at Silver. Regardless of the impression she’d initially given him, Silver was just another dull debutante type—same as all the rest. Why had he thought even for a moment that she was different? Because he was in a different situation?

“So,” Silver said, “you’re here to help out, you said?”

“Yes, I’m—”

“Silver, why don’t you walk me back up to the house?” Harden said.

She patted his hand. “We’ll go in a few minutes, but right now it would be extremely rude of me to walk away when Darcy is talking to me, now wouldn’t it, Daddy?” She smiled at Darcy, tilting her head like an inquisitive bird. “You were saying?”

“I’m the new—”

“Tater,” Harden interrupted again, “why don’t you give him the back room to stay in for now.”

“Okay, Harden.”

With an annoyed glance at the two older men, Silver stepped forward until she was practically chest to chest with Darcy. The sheer intimidating intent of the move tickled the hell out of him. He wondered what she’d do if he slid his arms around her waist and pulled. Tempting, very tempting.

“You were saying?”

Darcy gave her his most innocent stare. “I don’t remember.”

Her voice dropped to a smooth whisper that had the kick of moonshine. “You said you’re the new…what?”

Darcy stepped a little bit closer. “The new manager.”

“The new manager of what?”

“This.” He waved his arm, as if the king of all he surveyed. “It’s just temporary, of course, till your father improves.”

Silver let out her breath in a snort that reminded Darcy of an ill-tempered pony. He waited to see what would happen next, half expecting her to come after him with teeth bared. “You are the temporary manager at Braybourne Farm?”

Darcy glanced at Harden and Tater, who were standing as still as statues. “Your father just hired me a few minutes ago.”

“I see.” She glanced over her shoulder at Harden, and Darcy was glad the man was made from strong stuff. Then she turned her attention back to him. “And you, what—magically appeared from thin air?”

He laughed. “No, I got into town this afternoon and ran into Tater. He said you needed some help here, and I was looking for something to do.”

“Something to do? Tennis or golf is something to do. Running a horse farm is a bit more complicated than that.”

Harden interrupted with a firm, impatient tone. “Silver, Darcy knows all that, or else I wouldn’t have hired him.”

Silver turned and stepped toward her father, while Tater took the opportunity to back out of range. “Oh, I don’t know, Daddy. I think you would have hired anything that had the right equipment between its legs.”

Harden stiffened, gripping his cane. “Wait a minute, what do you mean by that?”

“I mean this is a boys-only club, isn’t it? No girls allowed. Well, sorry, but this girl’s here—and she’s staying! You know you promised me that—”

Clearing his throat, Harden attempted to regain control. “Sylvia, we will not discuss this at the moment.”

Silver propped her fists on her hips. “I don’t know a better time.”

“Well, there is a better place, young lady. You do not air your grievances in front of the hired help.” Harden turned and started for the stable entrance. “It’s not proper.”

The hired help. Darcy wasn’t sure if he should be amused or insulted by that comment. He’d never been called that before. He glanced at Tater. Although he could actually remember having referred to some of his people that way, he’d had no idea until just now how arrogant it sounded.

Silver stalked after her father. “Daddy, don’t just turn around and walk away from me.”

For a moment, Darcy wasn’t sure what to say, so he said nothing. Neither did Tater. Finally Tater sighed. “I guess I ain’t meant to understand women. I’ll take a horse any day.”

Darcy chuckled, which seemed to break the tension the Braybournes had left behind. Tater gave him a reluctant grin in return.

“Come on, Darcy, I’ll show you where you can bunk for a while. It’s not luxurious, but it’s cozy.”

2

TATER LED THE WAY back through the barn and stopped at the door next to the manager’s office. Surprised, Darcy said, “You want me to live in the stables?” He’d been positive Tater was going to lead him out the far end of the building.

Tater seemed taken aback. “What’s that?”

Darcy recovered fast, aware that he must have sounded snobby. “I mean, I’m surprised that your manager’s residence is in the stable.”

“This ain’t really the manager’s place,” Tater said as he opened the door and stepped aside to let Darcy into the room. “We have a house on the property, but we had a fire about a year ago and still haven’t finished renovating it. Always seemed to be somewhere else to put the money.” Tater looked around. “This here room’s where the groom usually stays, but it’s just sittin’ here empty at the moment. You don’t mind sleeping in the stables, do you?”

Darcy blinked as he met Tater’s hard stare. If he’d been asked that question a few days ago, he would have wondered if the person asking had lost his mind. But now he waved his arm in an expansive gesture. “No, sir, of course I don’t. If it’s good enough for the horses, it’s good enough for me.”

Exhaling, Tater clasped Darcy’s shoulder. “That’s the attitude, boy. Had me worried for a minute. But I always say that bedding down with horses is a lot safer than bedding down with a woman.”

Grinning, Darcy said, “Safer, but not as interesting.” A picture of Silver Braybourne immediately formed in his mind, her eyes heavy with sleep, hair tousled, the silk strap of her nightgown sliding off her shoulder. Given his choice between a horse and Silver, he’d take Silver anytime.

“Some women have a knack of getting in a man’s blood, heating it until it boils over.”

Recalled to his surroundings, Darcy met Tater’s wise old eyes, and realized he probably knew exactly what thoughts had been racing through his mind. “Those are the kind of women I try to avoid. It’s too much like commitment.”

“Sometimes it ain’t so easy. You gotta have eyes in the back of your head to see ’em coming.”

Darcy smiled and changed the subject. “This’ll do just fine,” he said, looking around the room. “So where do you live, Tater?”

“I got me a little place just the other side of that big hill behind the house. My daddy left it to me. He worked for the Braybournes, too, an’ so did my granddad. Braybournes and O’Neills have been together since the beginning, I guess. I watched all four of those little ones grow up, Silver and her three brothers.” He smiled, staring into the distance at an image only he could see. “I put Silver on her first pony and taught her to ride. She was a little stick of a thing as a kid, but that little gal was the prettiest rider I ever seen. Fearless, she was.” Tater shook his head. “But impulsive.”

“It seems to me she hasn’t changed a great deal.”

Tater winked. “Sure has changed on the outside, though, boy.”

Darcy grinned. “I noticed.”

Nodding, Tater said in a dry tone, “I noticed you noticing.”

“Hopefully her father didn’t,” Darcy said, sharing a wry look with the older man. “Don’t worry, I’m just looking. With a woman like that, it’s practically my civic duty.”

Tater held his gaze for a moment longer, then changed the subject. “I expect Harden will send down some sheets and such. Bathroom’s over there, an’ you got a closet, readin’ chair and light. You even got a little refrigerator and one of them microwave things over there in the corner. Most of your meals you’ll take up at the house with the family. Can’t have no real cooking in here, ya know.”

“Do you eat with the family, too?”

“When I want. But most times I cook for myself.” Tater looked around and rubbed his hands together. “So, you’re all set, right and tight?”

Darcy walked him to the door. “Yes, sir. I’ll get my things from the truck and make myself at home.”

“I’ll finish my errands and I’ll see ya tomorrow morning, then.”

Darcy watched Tater leave, then stepped outside, walking over to his truck to roll up the windows and collect his bag. He stopped for a moment and glanced toward the riding rings and track. The heat was still a force to be reckoned with, and the late afternoon sunshine shimmered off the ground.

He took his time on his way back to his room, stopping to visit each horse as he tried to familiarize himself with his new domain. The last stall contained a black stallion that seemed determined to ignore him. Darcy sensed a wild spirit in the horse, one that called to him. But no amount of coaxing would bring the black any closer.

“Suit yourself, then,” he said. “You’ll have to make friends sometime.”

The horse snorted.

With a grin, Darcy turned and went into his room. He threw the duffel bag onto the chair and went straight to the bathroom. He closed the door and stripped, dropping his clothes on the floor before stepping into the shower. The water sluiced over his skin, washing away the dust he’d gathered on the road. He stood for a long moment, face to the spray, and just enjoyed himself. He was very pleased with the way things had turned out.

Stepping out of the stall into a steamy bathroom, he caught sight of his reflection in the foggy mirror. Well, here you are, Kristof. You wanted to be just a normal, everyday guy. He grabbed the towel and wiped off, then knotting the towel around his waist, opened the door and stepped into his room.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Silver gasped, standing frozen in position near the door. “I knocked, but didn’t realize…”

Darcy stood, stunned for a moment, then recovered as he noticed both her shocked expression and the bundle of bedding and towels she held in her arms. He thrust his hands through his hair, slicking it back. “I take it this is an official hostess visit?”

Silver struggled to get her flushed features under control. “What else would it be?”

Darcy glanced from her to the bed, knowing just how to annoy her for maximum result. “Hope on, hope ever.”

“Hope never, is more like it.”

“Now, now, Silver.” He winked. “Never is such a long time.”

Silver scowled. “I brought you some sheets and a blanket.”

“I don’t think I’ll need a blanket.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I generally do.”

Silver cleared her throat. “I brought towels, too.”

Darcy looked down at the damp towel covering him from waist to midthigh. “Now, towels I’m really going to need. This is my only one.” He glanced up, catching Silver as she focused her attention on his hips. If she kept staring at him, she was going to see more than she bargained for.

She jerked her gaze up to meet his. The atmosphere suddenly turned steamier than his recent shower as they stared at each other. Neither said a word as Darcy’s eyes roamed over her face, over those high cheekbones, catlike eyes, tilted nose. He stopped at the lips. She had a mouth shaped for giving pleasure, the top lip a perfect bow, the bottom one plump and sensuous. As he stared, her teeth worried her lower lip for a moment before releasing it. He wanted to catch that ripe, moist lip between his own teeth and nibble until she opened wide. He tried to keep his thoughts hidden, but the way the towel was creeping up in the front, he was pretty sure she had a good idea what he was thinking.

Silver tightened her grip on the bundle in her arms and exhaled. “Well, I—I should…”

Darcy followed her lead, trying to bring the situation back to some type of normality before he said the hell with it and threw her on the bed. “It’s nice of you to deliver these in person. I would have come and gotten them.”

“My mother asked me to bring them down right away. She wanted you to feel at home.”

“That’s very kind of her.” He sent her a teasing look. “And what a dutiful daughter you are to respond so promptly.” He didn’t know why he was continuing to goad her. Was it to see if she was still as impulsive underneath that ladylike exterior as Tater had indicated? All he knew was he wanted her to lose control, not give him that smooth, practiced smile designed to keep him at arm’s length.

“Don’t push your luck.”

He grinned. “I generally have a lot of it to push.”

Silver glanced away. “And the ego to go with it, it seems, Mr. Darcy.” Was that a smile at the corner of her mouth?

Darcy stepped closer and cupped her chin, turning her face back to him. “Please, just call me Darcy, remember?”

“Your name could be Quasimodo for all I care.”

Absently, his thumb caressed her chin as he watched her. “You can call me that if it makes you happy.”

“That wouldn’t make me happy. The thing that would make me happy is for you to go somewhere else.”

He dropped his hand. “Why? You need help here, from what I’ve seen. So I’m here to help.”

“We need help, yes, mucking out the stables. Not a new manager. The only new manager that’s supposed to be here is me. That’s why.”

“I don’t think your father sees it that way, does he?”

She didn’t answer him for a moment. Then she warned, “I’ve got my eye on you.”

“How convenient.” His lifted his brow. “And how very forward of you, Ms. Braybourne.”

She gave him a look that was partly suspicious, partly nervous. “What do you mean, convenient?”

He smiled. “What do you think I mean?”

She licked her lips, his eyes following every move. “I think you’re flirting with me.”

“When I start flirting, you’ll know it. I’m very good at flirting.”

Silver took a sudden step backward, hugging her bundle tighter. She didn’t realize how close she was to the wall, and she cracked her head against the knotty pine.

“Oh.” Darcy winced. “That must have hurt.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“Your eyes practically crossed.” He stepped closer. “Here, let me see if there’s going to be a goose egg.” He smiled into her eyes, stunned to see they were the brilliant light green of spring grass. He reached for her, tipping her head so he could feel for swelling. Her hair fell forward and he fingered a strand. “I wondered what this would feel like. It looks like spun silk.”

“You shouldn’t be—”

“Now, now, easy…” he crooned to her, as if she were a contrary horse. His fingers pressed here and there, caressing as much as searching. He was so close he could sense her beginning to tremble, much as a mare might before a stallion. Involuntarily, his hands pressed down as he stepped a bit closer to her.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry. Is that where it’s sore?” He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining her in his arms. Unconsciously he stepped even closer.

As his body touched hers, Silver seemed to come back to life—and regain her attitude. She lifted her head and slapped his hand away. “Yes, that hurts. Stop pushing on it.”

Stepping back slowly, he smiled. “I think you’ll live, but you might want to put some ice on it.”

“Thank you.” She hugged the towels closer as her eyes darted down his body. “And you might want to put on some pants. Your towel is slipping.”

“Oops.” Darcy grabbed his towel like a lifeline and attempted to regroup by growling in a soft suggestive tone, “You really want me to put on some pants?”

Do I? Silver would have much preferred to glide her hands down his sleek, sexy skin than tell him to cover up. “Well, if you don’t, I think it’s going to get mighty drafty soon.”

He grinned. “I don’t mind a bit of a draft. It’s a hot day.”

Silver gritted her teeth at the superb male confidence in that grin. The fact that he was such a prime specimen only made it worse. Darcy reminded her of her black stallion. The elegantly sculpted muscles, the breeding and the wild untamed spirit equaled beauty in Silver’s eyes. Combine that with black hair that curled just a bit at the edges, eyes as dark as coal, tanned skin and a strong, finely chiseled face, and it was enough to make a woman go weak at the knees. Her eyes swept over him. Under other circumstances she’d give her grandmother’s pearls to make love to the man. Or more accurately, to have a bout of the hottest sex she could ever imagine. Instead, she flattened him with her stoniest stare—or at least tried to.

Darcy grinned. “Ah well, if you insist.” He walked over to his bag, rummaging inside to extract a pair of jeans. Turning back, he toyed with his towel, and said, “You might want to turn around so I don’t shock your maidenly sensibilities.”

Silver decided to call his bluff, mainly out of contrariness. She folded her arms and leaned back against the wall, hoping she looked perfectly at ease. “You won’t shock me. I’m used to looking at masculine appendages.” Of course, they all belonged to stallions—but a penis was a penis was a penis, wasn’t it? Just because the one in question belonged to the most exciting man she’d ever met shouldn’t make a difference. She knew her reasoning was completely faulty, but couldn’t back out now. It was a point of pride.

Darcy stared at her for a moment, his eyes bold and challenging. Then, he turned around, dropped his towel and stepped into his jeans. Casually, he turned back to face her, holding her gaze as he slowly buttoned them.

“Covered enough for you?”

The jeans sat low on his hips, exposing his tanned, rippling stomach muscles. Silver was tempted to slip her fingers inside, just to see if he really had himself reined in as tight as he was pretending. She stared for a moment longer. She could feel the ache deep inside her as she contemplated her next move. Playing games with this man had an element of danger that could get to be a habit.

Her eyes met his. “Quite satisfactory, Mr. Darcy.”

“We’re back to mister, are we?”

“What can I say? I’m polite.”

Darcy stepped a bit closer. “I don’t want you to be polite.”

Her voice faltered a bit. “Why not?”

“Because you’re much more interesting when you’re rude.”

“I am never rude.”

He chuckled. “You practically told me to get out, that I wasn’t wanted here.”

“I told you I don’t want you here as manager.”

Gaze sharpening, he verbally pounced. “But you want me.”

“Well, of course I want you.” At his sudden wolfish grin she realized what she’d said. “I mean, I want your help. As you pointed out, we need help.”

“Help. Of course.”

She placed her hands on her hips, ready to annihilate him. “Look, you egotistical ass. I don’t deny that a few minutes ago, when you were…I might have become… ‘preoccupied’ with you—”

“Preoccupied?”

He gave her such an innocent look that she wanted to deck him. Instead she thrust the bundle of towels and sheets toward him. “Never mind. That’s not the point.”

“Pity,” he said with an elegant lift of his shoulders as he took the linens from her. “So what is the point?”

She inhaled, then exhaled, hoping to calm herself. “The point is my father’s getting older, and even before his recent accident, whether he admits it or not, it was getting tougher for him to work with the horses, not to mention the rest of the farm. And you may have noticed that Tater isn’t a babe in arms, either.”

Darcy turned aside, tossing the linens onto the bed. “I noticed that.”

“Then you can see what the problem is. It’s hard to get the regular work done, much less the training and the breeding we need to move forward with the horses we’ve still got. And make no mistake, Braybourne Farm still has what it takes. We might not have ended in the big money, but we’ve had winners, lots of them. And we’ve had them since the first Braybourne settled in Kentucky.” She lifted her chin. “We’ll have them again.”

Darcy turned back to her, his expression becoming serious. “You love this place, don’t you?”

“It means everything to me.”

“That’s nice.”

Taken aback, she stared at him. “What’s nice?”

“Caring that passionately about something.”

“Well, naturally. Why do anything if you’re not passionate about it?”

He smiled.

A few moments earlier that smile would have made her want to open to him as eagerly as a mare to a mate. Even now her impulse was to lead this man over to that bed so fast he’d be crying for mercy! Instead, she stepped back.

“Listen,” she said. “Just because you’re a passably good-looking man, don’t think I’m some little exercise girl who’d be impressed by that. Regardless of what you seem to think.”

“You’re not, huh?” His eyes held hers with a challenging gleam. “What if a time comes when I decide not to listen to you?”

“You—you…” Silver heard herself sputtering like a worn-out tractor. “You have no choice but to listen to me.”

“There’s always a choice. It’s just that sometimes there isn’t any maneuvering room.”

Silver lifted her chin and glared at him. “Well, you certainly aren’t going to maneuver me into something I don’t want to do.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

She shook her finger under his nose. “You will not get around me with what you consider excess charm.”

“I don’t want to get around you.” He held her gaze. “What makes you think I don’t have another position in mind?”

“Why, you…how dare you!” Even as he enraged her, she felt the lick of excitement race along her nerve endings.

He grinned. “Are you afraid you might enjoy it?”

“The sheer arrogance of that remark makes me want to fire you on the spot.”

“I don’t think you can do that, Silver. Since your father hired me, I believe he’s actually the one to fire me.”

“I’ll speak to him about it.”

“And you’re going to tell him what? After all, nothing happened. It’s not as if I kissed you or anything.” He dropped his gaze to her mouth. “What would you have done if I’d kissed you?”

“Slapped you with a harassment suit.” Which was stretching the truth, but as usual when she was angry, she lashed out regardless.

“Theoretically speaking, what if I kissed you and you kissed me back—with a great deal of passion, of course?”

She couldn’t look at him. “I wouldn’t.” Another lie.

“Silver?”

She glanced back, practically mesmerized by his reproachful dark eyes. “Oh, all right, I’m human. Maybe I would kiss you back. I don’t know why, except…”

“Except?”

Reluctant to answer, she looked away again. She might not understand herself lately, but she certainly wasn’t about to open her heart and mind to a man who’d only butted into her life an hour before.

One finger under her chin turned her back to face him. “Except maybe now you’re wondering what it would be like to have an adventure? To make love with a stranger? Not the familiar young blueblood your father wants you to marry.”

“No. I’ve never…I’m not marrying him. That’s my father’s idea, not mine.” She scowled. “Why am I even having this conversation with you? This is none of your business.”

He smiled, as sweetly as the big bad wolf looking for a snack. “I don’t know. Why are you?”

“You started it with all your talk of flirting.” Love with a stranger. She tingled at the thought. What woman didn’t have a few fantasies—maybe of a chance encounter with a dark stranger, and steamy, uncomplicated sex? That didn’t mean she acted on them.

After a long, searching moment and an even more searching look, Darcy stepped away from her to indicate the pile of sheets and towels. “Thanks for bringing these down.”

“My pleasure.” She threw her shoulders back, adjusted her pearls and tugged down her jacket, attempting to restore herself to the elegant woman she’d tried to present when she first came into his room, which was pretty damn hard under the circumstances. “I have to go.”

Darcy walked over and opened the door.

Silver walked past him, then stopped. “Oh, by the way, my mother asked me to invite you up to the house for dinner if you don’t have other plans.”

“I hope she isn’t going to any trouble.”

“No. There’s always plenty for one more. Mother’s used to cooking for a big family and can’t seem to stop.”

He hesitated, staring at Silver for a moment. “In that case, I’d be delighted.”

“I’ll pass that along. I, um…okay, I’ll see you.” Feeling awkward, she stood there for a moment, then turned and stepped away.

“Silver?”

“Yes?” She glanced over her shoulder. Darcy stood in the doorway, shoulder leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his pockets. He was an animal in his prime, confident and seemingly at ease with the world and his place in it.

“What time?”

Her mind went blank as her eyes feasted on his chest. “Time?”

“For dinner.”

She met his gaze, noticing the devils dancing there, tempting her closer, beckoning her. “Seven.” Then Silver nodded and got out of there as fast as she could without looking as if she was running for her life.

Rick Darcy. She stared at the dusty black pickup parked outside the stables. Where had he come from? Her father had told her a bit about him, but not much. Why didn’t her father realize that managing Braybourne Farm was all she’d ever wanted to do? Since she was a little girl, she’d dreamed of what she would do when the farm was hers.

She turned from the pickup and stared at her home. She’d gone to the University of Kentucky, not far from here, and done the things expected of her—studied hard, joined a sorority, cheered the Wildcats on to victory, met the right people, then later got socially involved in the surrounding community—all in an effort to show her father how perfectly she would perform as the head of Braybourne Farm, given the chance. When her brother Brett had left a year ago she’d felt it was her time. Or so it had seemed. Her father had started turning to her more and more to talk over decisions. Silver felt as if she was making great strides. Until Harden fell from the horse and had decided to settle her future.

Settle her future! For God’s sake, she was only twenty-six, but to hear her father tell it, she was well on her way to mummification.

And now there was Rick Darcy.

She glanced over her shoulder at the dusty truck, imagining him behind the wheel, the image so strong that she shook her head. Not that Daddy would ever encourage her to look seriously at him—he was rather feudal on some issues, and breeding and family lineage were among them. She could respect his views because he was her father, even as she disagreed with the principles behind them. But her own inclinations might be the real problem, she thought. She hadn’t the vaguest idea why she was responding to Darcy so immediately and strongly, but she was. Maybe it was because she sensed he was different, much different from the men she knew. At her first sight of him standing in their barn this afternoon, feet planted as if he owned the place, he’d immediately gotten her back up. The fact that he had the hot come-and-get-me-or-it’s-your-loss-baby type of good looks was as annoying as it was enticing.

Swearing under her breath, she headed toward the fence that separated the drive from the landscaped grounds around the house, then stalked up the flagstone path. At least she’d recovered her cool enough at the end of their encounter to give Rick Darcy a good warning. He’d know better than to mess with her from now on. She kicked at a clump of dirt, muttering, “Why did Daddy have to hire him, anyway?”

With a frustrated huff, she stopped to cool off near one of the old, towering oaks that shaded the house. She had the unnerving feeling that things were spiraling out of her control. She didn’t like that. Regardless of how she often chafed at the restraints of tradition, she liked making plans and knowing where she was going and when she expected to get there. But now, as she looked at her home, she felt an element of uncertainty, of expectation. It no longer seemed a safe haven—not since Darcy had arrived on the scene. She rubbed the area between her brows, trying to erase the tension that had collected there. There was no reason for her to get bent out of shape. Her father had reassured her that the man was temporary, just until Harden’s health improved. But Silver had doubts that her father would ever return to his former capability, which made someone like Darcy even more of a threat. The thought saddened her. Her daddy had been such a big, marvelous presence in her life for so long. It was difficult to watch age creeping up on him, even though the process had been very gradual until this recent accident. His strength of will might still be powerful, but his body was beginning to decline.

She leaned back against the tree trunk. For the first time she looked at her childhood home and wondered if she was strong enough not only to save it, but to bring it to the glory she imagined. Suddenly, doubt crept in where previously there had been only confidence—thanks to a man with raven coloring and a bold, marauding attitude.

Silver sighed. Memories rushed through her mind as she studied the place. It was a clapboard ranch house that had been added to over the years. It wasn’t an architectural gem, but it was home—and had been since Cecil Braybourne settled in the area and decided to build a shack and put down roots. The roots had grown with each generation, until the entire farm seemed to be embraced into the landscape.

As she stared, her mother came out of the front door onto the broad front porch. She had a colander in one hand, a saucepan in the other and a dish towel slung over her shoulder. Silver smiled affectionately. Her mama was as small and seemingly delicate as her father was large and outspoken. To the outside world, Agatha Sweet Braybourne might have seemed a pushover with her polite manners and soft-spoken voice, but Silver knew better, as did her friends. Aggie, as Silver’s father called her, was as malleable as a hunk of diamond. Silver felt the power of her mother’s personality when Aggie walked to the edge of the porch and looked across the yard at her.

“Well, young lady, are you planning to become part of that tree or just hold it up?”

Silver automatically straightened from her slouch. “Neither one, ma’am—just thinking for a minute.”

“Well, come over here and help me snap these green beans while you think.”

“Okay.” Silver strolled up the path and climbed the steps, walking over to the porch swing. She joined her mother, who immediately set the saucepan in Silver’s lap and placed the colander in her own. Silver grabbed a handful of beans and started snapping. For a moment they sat and rocked gently, saying nothing, listening to the sleepy sounds of a late summer afternoon in the country.

Silver began to relax as her fingers performed the familiar homey chore. “Mama…”

“Hmm?”

“How did you first meet Daddy?”

Aggie grinned. “I accidentally crowned him with a baseball.”

“What? I didn’t know you played baseball.” Somehow she couldn’t picture her mother with a baseball bat. She was more the horse and tennis type.

“I didn’t. Harden was eleven years old and so full of himself that my little eight-year-old self just couldn’t stand it. We were at school and he was playing baseball with some friends. The ball had rolled off the field and over to where I was watching. He pointed at the ball and said, ‘Hey, throw it back, you dumb girl.’ Showing off for his friends, you know. So I picked up that ball and threw it as hard as I could.” Aggie laughed. “Well, I had more strength than aim. That ball took off like a bullet. Unfortunately, it slammed right into his forehead instead of his hand. He went down like an old oak.”

Staring at her mother in amazement, Silver gasped. “My God, Mama, what did you do?”

“I sent one of his friends for the teacher and sat down beside him and pulled his head into my lap. He had a knot already starting to swell. So I smoothed back his hair, kissed his cheek and told him he’d better not die on me ’cause he had to marry me when we grew up.”

Silver blinked and snapped another bean. “Was he conscious? What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Over my dead body, you dumb girl.’ And I said, ‘If that’s what it takes, Harden Braybourne, consider it done.”’

“And Daddy just went along with this?”

Aggie smiled that secretive smile that only another woman can really recognize and understand. “Now, Silver, when did you ever know your daddy to go along with someone else’s idea? It took me twelve years to convince him that it was his idea in the first place.”

Silver laughed. “How’d you know Daddy was the one for you?”

Aggie shrugged. “Sometimes you just know, honey.”

Silver thought about that for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Well, I did, so I have no reason to think otherwise. Why are you asking?”

To avoid her mother’s searching gaze, Silver looked down at the growing pile of green beans in the saucepan. “No reason, just curious.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with John Tom Thomas, would it?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because I know how much your father would love to see you settled, and I know how much John Tom would love to have it be with him.”

Silver glanced up. “How do you know that? Did John Tom say something to you?”

Her mother handed her another pile of beans. “The man announced to everyone that you are his next fence to jump. And he has no intention of taking a spill.”

Silver winced. “Surely he put it more romantically than that, Mama.”

Aggie chuckled. “’Fraid not, honey girl.”

“Oh, Lord. Where did he announce this?”

“At the club the other night, when you were helping Aunt Violet out to the car.” Aggie sighed. “I wish that woman would switch to another drink and stay away from the mint juleps. They just don’t agree with her.”

Giving her mother a dry look, Silver commented, “She says the mint settles her tummy.”

“Well, mint is good for that,” her mother agreed, eyes twinkling. “It’s the alcohol that upsets it.”

Silver indicated the stable. “Remember that horse we had who raided the herb bed and ate all the mint one year?”

“Sweet and Spicy, wasn’t it? Oh, your daddy was furious because we couldn’t have fresh mint juleps for your brother’s wedding reception.”

Silver stared across the yard, thinking about the gelding they’d sold many years before. Her pleasant nostalgic feeling passed when she saw Darcy emerging from the stables. Her stomach clenched. She could use a bit of mint, or something stronger, right about now, she thought, as she watched him stride across the gravel drive. The man had a way of moving that was almost poetic. Silver waved her hand, vaguely indicating his direction as she glanced at her mother. “I, uh, invited him to dinner tonight like you said.”

“What?” Her mother leaned forward a bit, peering toward the stables. “Oh, Mr. Darcy, you mean?”

“Darcy. He wants to be called Darcy.” Silver could feel the heat flood her face as her mother sent her a curious glance. “That’s what he told me.”

“Darcy’s a nice name.”

Silver shrugged, pretending a nonchalance that she was sure her mother would poke holes through in a minute. “It’s okay, I suppose.” She didn’t dare look up, concentrating instead on the beans, as if her life depended on breaking each one cleanly.

“My, my, my…”

Her mother’s comment recaptured her attention.

“That young man sure has a behind to die for.”

Shocked, Silver whipped her head around to stare at the older woman. “Mama. You’re too old to be looking at his behind.”

“Now look here, Miss Saucy Mouth. I may be a bit older, but I’m not dead, and I believe in saying what’s on my mind.”

“Since when? You always come at a subject round about, so you can take people by surprise.”

“Well, that’s true, but I’m thinking of changing my approach. I’ve decided that your father has been getting his own way for too many years. He’s becoming a bit difficult lately.”

“You won’t get an argument from me, Mama.” Silver glanced over, but her mother still had her attention focused on Darcy, who was now climbing into his pickup truck.

“I didn’t get to meet this Darcy before Harden hired him. But now that I look at him, I can say your father does have an eye for talent. I wonder if he’s as good in the ‘saddle’ as he looks?”

“Mama, for God’s sake, what’s gotten into you?” Just thinking about her mother referring to Darcy and mentioning sex made Silver squeamish. Next thing she knew, she’d start thinking about her parents in bed together, which might give her nightmares for the rest of her life.

Her mother wagged her finger vigorously. “Don’t pretend to be prudish, Silver. If you can’t look at that young man and see a work of art, then I’m very worried about you.”

“Well, of course I can—”

“Besides, we live on a farm, honey lamb. No one understands sex better than someone who lives on a farm.”

Silver arched her brows. “Our own little sex education clinic, you mean?”

“Absolutely. You not only learn about the passion to recreate, but you learn the value of good breeding, too.”

“Oh please.” Silver tried to change the subject. “This isn’t your subtle way of yammering at me about marrying John Tom Thomas after all, is it? Because this conversation is along the same lines as Daddy used a few days ago.” She cleared her throat. “The breeding part, I mean.”

“Of course not. I do not yammer,” her mother huffed. “But now that I think about it, I don’t really understand what you’ve got against the man. He’s certainly got the right stuff. And if I remember clearly, you had a crush on him all the way through high school.”

“That was high school. Right now he just seems so…so tame.” An image of Darcy flashed into her mind.

“Tame?”

“Proper. Broke to saddle, to use John Tom’s own riding metaphors.”

Fixing a penetrating gaze on her, Aggie smiled. “You want a wild stallion, do you? Like that black monster you’re trying to train right now?”

Silver flushed. “I don’t know what I want. I’m all mixed up.” But she did know what she wanted—a man who could take her breath away, a man with an element of danger instead of the ingredients of soft white bread. A man she hadn’t known since she was in braces.

“Hmm.” Her mother gave her a wise look and a hug. “Don’t fret, honey. I’m sure something will happen to help you figure it out. It always does. And when it does, just go with what feels right.”

Silver leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder for a moment. “Maybe I’m being silly, Mama.”

“Maybe.”

“I mean, John Tom is handsome, friendly, has good manners….”

“That’s true. But on the other hand, Silver, that description could fit any number of males, including our dog.”

Silver chuckled at her mother’s dry expression, but said nothing for a moment. She didn’t want to marry John Tom. She didn’t want to marry anyone. Not yet. The man who could make her change her mind was somewhere out there, she supposed. Perhaps even closer than you think, a small voice whispered. But marriage wasn’t her focus at the moment. Braybourne Farm was.

“Your daddy and I just want to see you happy, Silver. We’re not getting any younger, you know. But that doesn’t mean we want you to rush into something that wouldn’t be right for you.”

“I know, Mama.” She turned to face her mother. “I can’t promise I’ll choose the right person—when I finally choose, that is—but I’ll try not to disappoint either of you.”

Her mother stroked her cheek. “Honey, you’re missing the point. Try not to disappoint yourself.” Aggie patted Silver’s hand, then stood up and took the saucepan from her. “I need to see to the chicken,” she said, headed toward the door. “You did tell your Darcy that supper’s at seven?”

“He’s not my Darcy, Mama.”

Her mother grinned. “Just a figure of speech, honey lamb. But it sure is something to dream about, isn’t it?” She hesitated for a moment before opening the screen door. “You remember what I said now.”

Try not to disappoint myself.

Silver looked toward the stables. Easier said than done. Her life had changed since she’d left the house earlier that day. She bit her lip. She couldn’t decide if it was changing for the better or the worse.

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