Meg Lacey - Million Dollar Stud

“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.”