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‘Whatever.’ Eve didn’t look back. Squaring her shoulders, she said, ‘In any case, that’s enough straw. If you want to see Storm, it’s this way.’
She slipped out of the door and Jake pulled on his jacket, feeling vaguely irritated that she was treating him so offhandedly. What had he said—or done, come to that—to warrant the cold shoulder she was presently giving him? No, scrub that, he amended shortly. She’d been giving him the cold shoulder ever since he’d got here, and he didn’t like it.
Deciding that if she wanted the handcart, she could fetch it herself, he buttoned his jacket and followed her outside. The skies were lighter now, but it was just as cold, and he pushed his hands into his jacket pockets as he trudged across the cobbled yard in her wake.
The stables were amazingly warm. Considering only one animal was in residence, he’d expected it to be only marginally less frigid than the barn, but it wasn’t. Unless the company had something to do with it, he thought caustically. Obviously Eve preferred the horse to him.
Storm was stabled at the end of the row. He’d evidently heard them coming and was neighing a welcome as they reached his stall. A solid-looking chestnut, the animal had a distinctive flash of white between his eyes. Intelligent eyes, too, Jake noticed, as it nuzzled Eve’s pockets for sugar or some other treat.
Eve pulled out a small apple and let Storm take it from her hand. He crunched away happily, showing surprisingly good teeth for his age. In Jake’s opinion he wasn’t a young animal, but he looked strong and well-muscled.
‘How old is he?’ Jake asked, when Eve said nothing, and she gave him a scornful look.
‘He’s a she,’ she said, unlatching the gate and attaching a halter. ‘Storm Dancer. And she’s twenty-eight. My—Mrs Robertson used to breed from her when she was younger.’
Jake stepped back to allow her to bring the horse out, and Storm took the opportunity to nip his ear. She didn’t bite him. She was amazingly gentle, actually, and he saw Eve watching her with some surprise.
‘She seems to like me, anyway,’ he said, finding a reluctant humour in the situation. ‘Sorry.’
‘I imagine females usually do,’ retorted Eve hotly, and then turned scarlet when she realised what she’d said.
‘You don’t,’ remarked Jake drily, following her and Storm Dancer along the row of empty stalls, but Eve didn’t look back.
‘I neither like nor dislike you, Mr Romero,’ she said, the words drifting back over her shoulder, but Jake could tell she wasn’t half as indifferent as she was trying to sound.
‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ he said, as they emerged into the morning air again. He held her gaze when she darted a glance towards him. ‘That gives me some hope.’
Eve swallowed. ‘Hope—for what?’
‘That you might come to like me.’ He glanced about him, allowing her to return to her task. ‘Where are we going now?’
‘I’m going to take Storm into the paddock,’ she told him, concentrating on controlling the mare to avoid another visual confrontation. ‘I think you ought to go back to the house. Cassie will be wondering where you are.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘At ten after seven in the morning?’ He grimaced. ‘I doubt it.’
Eve tugged on the halter, causing Storm Dancer to toss her head in protest. ‘You’d know, of course.’
‘Because I’ve slept with her?’ suggested Jake flatly, and once again he saw that he’d disconcerted her.
But he also saw the way she tried to disguise it. ‘Well, you have, haven’t you?’ she demanded fiercely, and instead of feeling angry he knew an almost irresistible urge to take her face between his cold palms and kiss her.
Her mouth looked soft and vulnerable, despite her desperate bid for control, and he wondered how she would taste. He already knew what she smelled like. She probably hadn’t showered before coming to attend to the mare, and the clean scent of her woman’s body was overlaid with the faintest trace of perspiration. He found it an incredible turn-on, incredibly sexy, but it wasn’t a good feeling. Dammit, he’d come here with one woman and now he was lusting after another. What kind of an animal was he when he got a hard-on just being with Eve? What the hell was the matter with him?
The fact that he hadn’t wanted to come here was some comfort, but Cassandra would spit blood if she even suspected he was attracted to her mother’s companion. She’d been trying for more than six months to get him to commit to a relationship, and it was only because he’d had the excuse of business meetings in various parts of Europe that he’d been able to avoid any serious entanglement.
He liked her well enough. She was good company when she wasn’t continually trying to get into his pants. And he’d been glad of her company at many of the parties and social gatherings he’d been invited to while he was in London. But this…This didn’t bear thinking about, and, abandoning any idea of helping Eve to clean out the mare’s stall and spread the fresh straw, he jammed his hands deep into the back pockets of his jeans.
‘Does it matter?’ he asked dispassionately. Then, deliberately emptying his face of any expression, he added, ‘But I guess I’d better go and let her know I haven’t forgotten about her.’
As if that was likely, thought Eve painfully as he strode out of the stable yard. She had the feeling that, however he felt about her, Cassie would make sure she was not easy to forget.
She wished she hadn’t taunted him now. Although she knew she was asking for trouble, something about Jake Romero got under her skin. And, despite her determination not to let him get to her, she’d enjoyed their verbal baiting. Enjoyed being with him, she thought, tugging rather viciously at Storm’s halter again.
And how sick was that?
CHAPTER FOUR
JAKE went up to his room, showered, and changed into navy chinos and a long-sleeved purple polo shirt. He was downstairs again, having breakfast in the morning room, when Cassandra finally made her appearance.
Of Eve there was no sign, but as it was already after nine o’clock he guessed she’d probably left for work. Mrs Robertson was still in her room, of course, resting her ankle. Which was a shame, he reflected, because he would have welcomed the chance to avoid a tête-à-tête with her daughter.
Cassandra trailed into the room, still wearing her dressing gown. A red silk kimono that she’d told him some admirer had brought her from Hong Kong, Jake doubted it was warm enough for Watersmeet in November. But he knew she liked the garment. She thought it flattered her fair colouring. And, as she didn’t appear to be wearing anything under it, Jake guessed where this was going.
‘Darling,’ she exclaimed petulantly, ‘where have you been? I came to your room earlier but you weren’t there, and I was worried. Now, here you are, scarfing down bacon and eggs as if you didn’t have a care in the world.’
‘I don’t.’ Jake had got up at her entrance, but now he subsided into his seat again. He didn’t usually eat a big breakfast, but Mrs Blackwood seemed to think he needed fattening up, and he hadn’t the heart to refuse her. ‘This is good.’
‘It’s also very bad for your arteries,’ said Cassandra irritably. ‘So—where were you?’
‘When?’
Jake was being deliberately obtuse, but Cassandra was like a dog with a bone. ‘Earlier on. When I came to your room,’ she said, ru
Jake finished the last morsel of sausage and put his knife and fork aside. ‘I went out,’ he said, relieved at having avoided another confrontation about their sleeping arrangements. Then, in the hope of diverting her, ‘Why don’t you get dressed and go and see how your mother is this morning?’
CONTENTS
Cover
About the Author
Title Page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Copyright