The Bluegrass Billionaire Trilogy: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Box Set

by Alice Ward

  His breathing quickened and his hands reached for me. I slid over his clenched stomach and let him pull me upward. He pushed my thighs apart and pulled me down to sit upon his pulsing manhood. He drove upward in a relentless movement to exorcise any awareness other than his need and my warm, moist cave clenching to hold him within. I felt the rising and slammed down upon him harder, my hands twisting my hair high in a dance of exultation. I screamed when I came and the sound seemed to echo from him as well.

  The mist of rain bouncing off the windowsill cooled our flesh and hardened my nipples. Worth rolled off the bed long enough to close the window and then returned with a gentle lunge, my nipples softly bathed by his tongue. He pulled me against him then, a tangle of damp hair and soft, appeased womanhood. Worth’s grasp was possessive and determined. Even though I could barely draw a breath, I laid limply upon him, tears of passionate completion wetting my cheeks. He stroked my hair and held me tight until finally he dropped off to sleep. I continued to lay there a very long time, listening to the storm — the one retreating outside the window matched to that of his heart.

  *

  Worth had already left for work when I awakened the next morning. I heard Betsy softly talking to Ford and knew she was feeding him the milk I’d pumped for him the night before. I found a note on Worth’s pillow.

  Auggie, you will always be my magical witch.

  I love you, Worth

  I half-smiled to myself and then groaned a bit as I rose from the bed and headed to the shower. I was a bit sore and resolved that it was time I resumed regular exercise.

  After cuddling Ford for a while and downing a cup of coffee, I made my way to my office. This was a special retreat for me; a place where I ruled and restored my senses. I’d decorated it in the shades of a peacock; deep to aqua blues mixed with grass greens and dotted with patches of black. The furniture was Queen Anne and my desk chair was richly upholstered and yet it swiveled. I flipped on some soothing nature music and dove into the pile of papers I’d let accumulate in my basket.

  Although Beverly did an excellent job managing the construction of the estate, much still required my approval. She and I butted heads at the onset but had now learned to respect one another’s territories and that allowed the project to flow more smoothly.

  There were new barns under construction, including one that was designed for healing and coddling of stressed horses. It contained a swimming pool with a gradated ramp for entry. Swimming was an excellent exercise for stressed legs, as well as nerves. It was to eventually become a commercial concern and I would board horses for the equestrian industry of our region.

  The interior stalls were paneled and the animals restrained by velvet ropes with brass fittings. Paintings hung upon the walls and there were wingback chairs where owners and trainers could rest and sip a coffee or discuss the business of the day.

  The next building was to be a show barn where sales could ultimately be conducted. It was ringed by plush theatre seating and a state-of-the-art speaker system so the announcer’s voice could remain calm and matter of fact in this event of expensive horse flesh.

  Next to the swim building was a modest house where our veterinarian would live. His job would be to oversee the health and breeding of the horses. These were expensive animals and all breeding was done with artificial insemination, eliminating the risk of a mare’s back being broken by the weight of the stud.

  Eventually, I would build a Steeplechase track. I was saving my favorite for last. All this construction was convenient and yet far enough away on the property to protect our privacy. In fact, our home was bounded by a high wrought-iron fence with gates that required the matching remote or the keypad numeric combination.

  Although there was an enormous amount of detail to be seen to, Beverly and I had it under control. I was looking forward to getting it done so I could begin helping Worth with his clinics.

  I was doing my best to maintain concentration on the estate and the business at hand. I knew Ford was safely in the hands of Betsy but began to consider taking on an assistant. Perhaps having someone to act in my absence, but who knew the business would become more and more necessary as all our businesses grew.

  To that end, I phoned an agency in town with an excellent reputation and put forth my need. They assured me they would be in touch shortly with some possible candidates that I might interview.

  I felt rather satisfied with myself and went to find Ford. He had just gone down for his nap and I crept to the twin bed in the nursery and took one for myself.

  Worth

  Finding a competent psychologist was my primary concern with the Cincinnati clinic. That person had to share my vision and yet be innovative enough to resolve on-the-spot issues and provide me with constant feedback.

  I’d spent an afternoon interviewing when a woman walked through the door who squelched her competition upon first glance. Her name was Dr. Jessie Klinger and she dripped with good taste and breeding. She was east coast educated and that always seemed to carry considerable influence among my patients. Not only did she not already know their family — an added asset when you wanted to hide something — but she provided a role model for the type of women my demographics included.

  She was nearly as tall as me, with most of her height in her legs. Her black hair and flashing blue eyes missed nothing. I sensed she could have quite a temper if so motivated. She was extremely professional and for a moment, I wondered if she might not prefer women to men.

  “Dr. LaViere,” she reached out with crimson-tipped fingers to briefly clasp my hand. “I understand you’re looking for a therapist for your clinic?”

  I felt myself harden a bit as I looked at her, although she was typically not my type. There was something authoritative and even magnetic about her. I felt drawn in and yet repelled. “Therapist and director,” I corrected her. “I’ve read through your qualifications and references and they are, as I’m sure you know, impeccable. I would ask, however, what brings you to the Midwest. Surely you’ve been offered many opportunities along the East Coast?”

  She crossed those endless legs and my throat clenched. Her voice was throaty and the blue eyes had already hypnotized me. “I have personal reasons for wanting to relocate,” she began. “I trust that really has no bearing on the position or qualifications?”

  I’d just been verbally slapped and at that moment, appreciated the more genteel, well-mannered ladies of Louisville. This woman was capable of castration without lifting a finger.

  “You have a forward manner, Dr. Klinger. We’re accustomed to a bit less, shall we say, arrogance?” I had swords as well.

  She never blinked. “I’m sure you believe you are,” she commented and flicked away an imaginary piece of lint from her immaculate black suit.

  This bitch is cold, I thought to myself. I didn’t envy her patients. However, I couldn’t fault her qualifications and she was a precise fit for the clinic. That’s when I was struck with inspiration.

  “Do you ride, Dr. Klinger?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Auggie

  Worth and I managed to pass the week without any interference from our newly discovered brother. I was personally gloating over this fact since it had been my recommendation that we ignore him and he would eventually go away. He could only pose a threat to us as long as we permitted it.

  Sunday had the promise of being a gorgeous day. We packed up Ford and started off toward Lexington. Our intent was to drive through some of the horse farms there to cultivate ideas we might use for our own place.

  We would be driving past Worth’s childhood farm. There was no way to avoid it without going a distance out of our way, which we refused to do. He turned up the CD player as we got closer, almost as if trying to ward off bad spirits. I felt sorry for him. Even though we didn’t want to live there, Kentuckians placed a very high value on home and tradition; neither of which he had now.

  We approached the farm at a fairly brisk speed, but there was no way
to prepare for what we saw. A moving van sat in the drive, pulled close to the house. Burley men were hefting a sofa and someone wearing a vivid scarf was directing them, hands twirling in the air with authoritative zest. She turned and the shock hit me in the gut as if I’d been punched.

  It was my mother.

  *

  We pulled into Dad’s driveway and found him sitting on the patio, reading the Sunday paper. As Worth, Ford and I approached, Dad stood and came toward us. He took one look at our faces and said with a resigned look, “I guess you know.”

  He hugged me, shook Worth’s hand and we followed him back to the patio. “Auggie, go in and get some glasses. I have a pitcher of sweet tea here.”

  “Did you know anything about it?” I heard Worth ask as I returned, glasses in hand.

  “Not until yesterday evening,” Dad answered, patting his crossed leg in a sort of nervous gesture. In the distance, someone was driving dad’s tractor, mowing the fresh Spring grass. Dad didn’t have any horses at the time, so the tractor was doing the munching.

  “I had a phone call from her,” he continued, looking down into Ford’s carrier when he whimpered. “She said she was calling to tell me that she’d had a miracle. Of course, I knew what she was talking about before she even told me. She said he’d just showed up at the apartment to tell her he’d managed to get the house back and wanted to know his real mother. She was real teary. Hell, you might even think she had a heart in there. Course, could be that she was finally getting to live in the LaViere place.” He winced and added, “Sorry, Worth.”

  “Don’t be. That was my mother’s doing and I hold no sentiments over it. I just want the son of a bitch, sorry Auggie, out of here.”

  I smiled. “Don’t be,” I echoed.

  My mother was no one’s favorite person. She’d raised me with an iron fist and tried to belittle me every chance she got. I fought her at every turn, often staying away for long periods of time. Even college at UK wasn’t far enough. The only reason I ever came home was to be with Dad.

  Years ago, when Mother had gotten pregnant by Worth LaViere, II, she’d run to Florida to stay with her aunt and have the baby. Dad married her out of nobility, and I think he was in love with her at the time. It was his chance to be the knight in shining armor, even if she never did see him in that light. She’d put the baby up immediately for adoption.

  What she didn’t know was that Worth’s father wanted the baby, his heir, albeit illegitimate, but he didn’t want Mother. He’d married Worth’s mother shortly thereafter and the baby, Linc, had become the object of the switch we’d just recently learned about.

  “What do you suppose he’s up to?” Dad speculated.

  “He’s after my birthright,” Worth said calmly. “Other than my mother, my wife, and child, he’s welcomed to it,” he added in a voice of bravado that fell short of covering his sense of violation.

  “Dad, can you stand it if she’s just down the road?” I asked.

  “Stood her being in my bed, guess down the road will be just a little quieter.” Dad always chose to look on the bright side of things. “How’s that new clinic going, Worth?” Dad always kept track of things and showed he cared enough to ask.

  “Just fine, sir. In fact, I hired a doctor just this last week.”

  I looked at him, surprised. “You never mentioned that.”

  “I didn’t? Guess I got busy with other things,” Worth said absently.

  “Dad, we’re riding over to Lexington to look over some farms for ideas. Want to ride along?”

  “No, you kids go on. I’d like to keep an eye on the place. For all I know, your mother will be sending that moving van down this way to pick up a few things she knows she can’t have.” He chuckled.

  I was glad he could find humor in the situation. It made things so much easier.

  We left and spent the afternoon prowling some farms. I knew most of the owners and stopped by to say hello and admire what they’d done. They were only too glad to show off their places. Horses and farms were a source of pride.

  On the long drive home, I started thinking about the heaviness in our atmosphere at home and had an idea. “Worth? What would you say to our having a Derby party? We’re not going to the track this year and things are far enough along at the estate that we could have a nice barbecue. It’s sort of mine to inherit, you know? Both our mothers were famous for them, as well as Mrs. Jessup. In fact, I’ll bet she would come over to the house for the day and invite all her friends. It could be a good business move as well, you know?”

  Worth smiled and looked sideways at me. “Sweetheart, I think that’s an absolutely inspired idea. Take the checkbook and do it up right. Leave me a few places to fill on the guest list too.

  I sat back and began mentally planning, quite pleased that I’d come up with the idea. I didn’t realize that Worth was already planning his own version at the same time.

  *

  I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than my Kentucky in the spring. The Derby was always the first Saturday in May. I could remember years when the celebrities who attended flew in and promptly traded their flouncing hats for fur coats, but the weather was usually warm, if not hot. Derby seats came at a premium. Indeed, they were passed down through the family. The ordinary citizen could only hope to get into the infield, but that was an entirely different kind of party. You had to arrive hours early and bring your own seats and food. Liquor wasn’t permitted but, naturally, that rule prompted any number of creative methods of smuggling it in. People in the infield seldom even saw a single horse in the race. It was a free for all party that often included the worst decadence.

  Many people don’t realize that Derby Day wasn’t a single race. Instead, eight to ten of them filled the day, beginning around noon. It peaked at the Derby itself about five o’clock and then wrapped up the following races until dark.

  Nor was Derby Day the only celebration for that week. Up to three weeks before the big day, one or more significant events were held every day, beginning with Thunder Over Louisville, a mammoth fireworks demonstration. There were parades as well as a relay between restaurant servers carrying a glass of wine on trays called Run for the Rosé. The Saturday before Derby dawned with the Great Balloon Race, where sometimes hundreds of hot air balloons lifted off to catch the hare balloon some miles away. There was also a steamboat race between the Belle of Louisville and a competitor, most years the Belle of Cincinnati.

  All the events were heavily attended so many Louisvillians chose to have private parties, often barbecues. The better parties had entertainment, including a bookie who would accept bets for the day’s races. The best parties often were held post-race and included the celebrities who had attended at Churchill Downs.

  Amongst our families, one either went to the Derby itself, watching from a family booth, or attended a barbecue held by someone among our set. Mrs. Jessup had been the queen of these, but since she was now essentially penniless and living in a nursing home, the crown was ripe to be passed. It was my intent to wear that crown.

  We were to have our party that day. I’m not sure if I earned the crown, but it certainly wasn’t forgettable.

  *

  I stood on the patio at seven in the morning of Derby Day, surveying the work that had been done so far. The morning’s mist had not yet burned off as I looked out over three enormous white tents, each of which could seat a hundred guests comfortably. They were set side by side and before them were another hundred or so tables with umbrellas. Off to one side was yet another tent, outlined by dozens of cookers that were already steaming pork, beef, ham and chicken. I had engaged two caterers; one for the main foods and another for the desserts, drinks and hors d’ oeuvres. Their staff was hard at work, setting up serving dishes and refrigerated tables for the food that needed to remain cool. There was a bar where rows of liquor bottles sparkled in the rising sun and white-coated bartenders were polishing glassware using starched linen towels.

  We had foun
tains brought in for the occasion, each one with a statue of a Triple Crown winner at its center. Yard upon yard of outdoor carpeting had been laid for the ladies who insisted on wearing heels to the event.

  My stomach was turning upside down with nervousness. Worth was relaxed and munching toast, smiling at me. “Why did you take this on if it was going to make you so nervous?” he asked with a grin.

  “Never mind,” I said, wrinkling my nose at him. “I just want it all to be perfect. At least the weather is doing its part.”

  “So far, but the forecast is calling for storms about race time.”

  “Hush — don’t make me worse!”

  I went into the nursery and played a bit with Ford. He was learning to sit up and even crawl a bit, pulling himself across the carpet as he reached for a colorful toy. He was an instant relaxation; his baby’s scent filling my nostrils with a familiar comfort.

  There was a commotion downstairs and I realized that the driver had arrived with Mrs. Jessup. She’d agreed to spend the day with us, bringing her years of party hostess experience with her. She was also the keeper of the list — both guests and the right people to hire to keep things running smoothly. I had hired a party planner and she was to interface with Mrs. Jessup for royal approval.

  Indeed, Mrs. Jessup had once hosted a Derby party that was attended by British royalty. She loved to share stories of their advance team who had come to approve recipes, survey the property for security and approve the guest list. While it was a great honor to have them, their presence required strict adherence to a great many rules, including the size of the crowds who could be on hand. This tended to make them almost too much work, but at least you maintained bragging rights for having pulled it off.

  I’d chosen a white linen peasant dress and my white hat was banded in navy. It was simple and yet elegant; appropriate for a hostess who should not outshine her guests. I wore white sandals with low heels that allowed Worth to positively tower over me. Ford was going to remain in the nursery for the day, guarded by Betsy’s sister as nursemaid. He was too small to be exposed to so many people.