by Dani Wade
But she also couldn’t let her reputation be ruined because of her stepmother’s greed and ineptitude.
When she got close to the main door of the stables, Presley let her trepidation bring her to a full halt. Kane got a little ahead of her, then paused. He threw a look over his shoulder that seemed to ask what the problem was. How could he say so much with just a look? She had the feeling time spent with Kane Harrington would not be filled with idle chitchat.
Which would be a welcome prospect after endless hours of it with her stepmother.
Shoot! She’d forgotten her stepmother had spent all week expounding on what an event the Harrington’s open house would be, which meant Marjorie would be a witness to this command performance. And she was a woman who was more than aware of Presley’s faults and not shy about bringing them up when she had the chance. Not vindictively—it just never occurred to her flighty little self that what she was saying embarrassed Presley to no end.
Presley just couldn’t do this. She’d end up falling flat on her face, literally and probably physically, too.
“What is it, Presley?”
If he had demanded, she might have lied. Instead his coaxing tone brought the most unexpected words to her lips. “How can I possibly pretend to be the—” she choked a little “—lover of a virtual stranger?”
Kane didn’t seem the least bit fazed by her naive question. Instead he retraced his steps until he was all too close and her body was a jumble of sparks she didn’t recognize.
“Would you like to practice first?” he asked, his husky tone sending a singular shiver down her spine.
Yes. “No! I just need time—”
“And I need everyone to talk about something else besides why the prize stud horse won’t be making an appearance in my stables. The surest way to distract people from that is if we have a captive audience.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
His unexpected chuckle had her stomach doing somersaults. What was wrong with her tonight?
Without warning, Kane brushed her chin with his long fingers. Startled at the warm contact, she glanced up, but the shadows over his face didn’t give her any clues to his thoughts. He simply covered her lips with his.
Sensations immediately assaulted Presley, as if her body weren’t already on overload. This simple touch sent her over the top.
He didn’t grope or force his tongue into her mouth. No, Kane wasn’t an overeager boy looking for an easy in. Most of her experience had been like that. Instead, he rested against her mouth for a few moments. Just long enough for her to anticipate the next move.
When it came, it left her gasping. He brushed his lips lightly across hers, back and forth, until she opened to him. Still, he didn’t force himself in. Instead he traced the outline of her lips with his tongue...and everything inside Presley tightened in response. One quick flick against her parted teeth, then he was gone.
Only then did Presley realize that her entire awareness had narrowed to the man touching her. The man she should have been scolding like a chaste maid from the seventeenth century. But no—
“How dare you?” she breathed.
He glanced down. Her gaze followed his and her cheeks started to burn.
Her hands clutched the lapels of his suit jacket, wrinkling the fabric. Her lungs strained for air as though she were a horse bellowing after a race. Her heart beat hard in her chest, the pounding of her pulse finding an embarrassing echo lower in her body.
And the man before her stood with his hands loose at his side, appearing completely unmoved.
Mortification that she could be overwhelmingly affected while he was completely cool hardened her attitude. “I told you to keep your hands to yourself.”
“I wasn’t using my hands,” he said, holding them out to his sides. “See? No harm, no foul.”
Despite herself, the deep tone of his voice gave her just a smidgen of satisfaction, even when he was lying through his teeth.
Three
“Sir, there’s a trailer out—”
The words barely registering, Kane turned to find his stable manager, Jim Harvey, standing in the doorway of the barn. Jim’s gaze moved from Kane’s face to Presley.
His eyes widened.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt—”
“No problem,” Kane cut him off quickly. He had a feeling Presley was on the edge of bolting at any moment. He needed this to be short and simple to set her at ease.
“Jim, this is Presley Macarthur.”
Jim nodded. Recognition softened his expression, and he slipped off his cowboy hat. “Pleasure, ma’am.”
He looked back and forth between the two of them, obviously curious about what he’d walked in on but smart enough to know when something wasn’t his business.
“Give us about an hour, if you don’t mind,” Kane went on, “then load Sun up for Miss Macarthur in the trailer so she can take him home.”
Despite his confused look, Jim didn’t question Kane in front of Presley. “Yes, sir.” He turned to the woman who hadn’t spoken a word. “I’ll be right nearby, ma’am. We’ll inspect the trailer when you get back.”
“Thank you, Jim.”
Ah, they were back to the confident, businesslike voice now. Probably for the best, though the off-guard squeaky one was Kane’s favorite so far. What would she sound like if he kissed her again? Touched her more intimately? Cutting off the interesting train of thought, he offered Presley his arm and escorted her out of the stables.
They had barely stepped into the night air when she paused. “I don’t understand. You’re just gonna hand him back over to me?” She waved toward the brightly lit house. “Don’t you want to test the goods before you make that decision?”
Kane couldn’t help smirking. “I believe I already have.”
Feeling the wave of shock shoot through her, he patted her hand in a benign gesture and continued on. As they crossed the drive back to the house, Kane found himself hyperaware of the woman at his side. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, which made her taller than the average woman. She would fit right into the crook where his chest met his arm. The faint scent of honeysuckle teased his nose, an unusual perfume and one that reminded him of some of his happiest times on a horse in the countryside near his childhood home.
Honeysuckle had also grown on the edge of the yard at the house where he’d grown up before his mother died. He could still vividly remember her first attempts to teach him the gentle force needed to get the liquid from the honeysuckle flowers—and the tiny burst of sweetness on his tongue when he succeeded.
“Besides,” he continued on, “I never go back on my word. Sun will be home tonight.” They’d reached the covered side entry, and Kane paused with his hand on the doorknob. “This situation is tricky, but I know you’ll do what’s best for your family and your business.”
Blackmail wasn’t a sexy subject, but before they stepped onto the stage, Kane wanted Presley to remember exactly what was at stake here. The stiffness of her body told him more about her state of mind than her simple nod of acquiescence.
He ushered her inside with a hand at the small of her back, and the lights from the Swarovski crystal chandeliers left her blinking. In fact, her whole demeanor changed the minute they walked through the door. If someone had told him a person could become invisible, he wouldn’t have believed them—until he saw Presley practically pull off the impossible.
They’d barely made it halfway down the back breezeway when Mason and EvaMarie stepped out of the office. “Kane,” his brother called.
Only as he stopped and registered the concern on Mason’s face did Kane remember that he hadn’t taken the time to shut down his computer before storming out the door. The knowledge sat between them like a lead brick. Mason knew exactly what that email
from Vanessa Gentry would have done to Kane—he’d been there when Emily had left him behind, and watched as Kane systematically let everything disappear from his life except their shared goal.
Because life was easier that way.
Hoping to ward off any questions from his impulsive sibling, Kane preempted the conversation. “Mason, this is Presley Macarthur.”
His brother blinked, then focused on the woman on Kane’s arm. “Oh, from Macarthur Haven?”
Presley’s hand tightened on Kane’s elbow. But she relaxed a touch when EvaMarie nodded and smiled. “Hello, Presley.”
“Congratulations, EvaMarie.”
The lovely woman, who had been Mason’s first love and had been the epitome of a woman defeated by life when they’d returned to Kentucky, now practically glowed. “Thank you.”
As the women chatted for a moment about the engagement, Mason looked at Kane with a raised brow.
“There’s been a change of plans,” Kane murmured, keeping his voice low though he’d moved slightly away from Presley.
“As in?”
Kane turned to face his brother. “It appears Ms. Macarthur didn’t have the proper authority to sell Sun.”
Mason cursed. “That’s a helluva mistake to make.”
An understatement if ever there was one. But then, Kane was being generous when he labeled Marjorie Macarthur’s actions a mistake.
“What are we gonna do now? Our plan going forward hinged on having a celebrated stud for the stables.” Mason’s worry practically vibrated in his voice.
“Never fear,” Kane assured him, as he had many times in the last two years. They’d been through a lifetime of ups and downs together. Kane wasn’t about to let them fail. “I’ve got a new plan that will work just fine.”
His brother’s gaze followed him as he turned back to the women and slipped his arm around Presley’s shoulders. The muscles beneath his palm tightened and her smile faltered for a moment, but he didn’t move away. The sooner she became used to his touch, the better.
The more he touched her tonight, the sooner word would start to spread. Nothing overtly sexual. He’d keep it completely casual—not that anyone would interpret it that way.
Kane wanted his name linked with hers from this moment forward...for however long this situation remained beneficial to them both.
Mason continued to watch him with interest and just a touch of shock. Not surprising, since Kane hadn’t been publicly involved with a woman since Emily left.
He hadn’t wanted to be and was actually shocked by how much he wanted it now. But then he spotted Presley’s stepmother over Mason’s shoulder. When her stepdaughter’s presence registered, Ms. Macarthur trotted their way with the grace of an overadorned poodle, and Kane had only a moment to wonder if he really knew what he’d gotten himself into.
Her loud greeting only confirmed it. “Lordy, Presley! Is that really hay in your hair?”
* * *
As her stepmother’s words echoed throughout the long, open back hall of the Harrisons’ home, Presley wished she could sink into the floor.
Not that embarrassing her was anything new for Marjorie. No, it actually seemed to be her regular pastime. But repeated experience didn’t take away the sinking feeling in Presley’s stomach or the hot flush that flooded her cheeks so quickly that she was surprised she didn’t pass out from blood loss.
Her stepmother practically shoved herself between Presley and Kane. “Look at you. Hay on your dress, dirt on your sandals. What were you doing out in the barn, you silly girl?”
“I think the answer to that might be just as embarrassing as the question.”
With that single answer, Kane caught the attention of everyone within hearing distance. Presley wished she could fade into the flowered wallpaper as his laser gaze inspected her from head to toe, no doubt noticing her lack of style and ability to attract dirt no matter how hard she tried to stay clean. But he didn’t mention it. Oh, no. Kane had embraced this pretend relationship wholeheartedly.
If he only knew what a mistake he was making—though it was beneficial for her that he didn’t. The sooner he realized she wasn’t going to be the perfect princess on his arm at all these events, the sooner she’d have to repay him in full.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured near her ear, though his voice still seemed to carry. “I didn’t mean to get you all dirty.”
Holy Moses. The heat that swept through her as she heard him talk should have been an embarrassment. She should have been wishing he would quit making a spectacle of her. Instead, she wished he would keep on talking and make her forget about their audience.
He reached out to snag the small piece of hay from the tip of her loose ponytail—the only hairstyle she could comfortably create—and then held it up as he smiled into her eyes. There was mischief in that look, and also something deeper, darker, that tempted her to join him in his game.
Only she’d never learned how to play.
Her stepmother was just as nonplussed, which was the first time Presley had ever seen that happen. Marjorie watched Kane’s actions with a kind of wide-eyed fascination, then glanced back and forth between the two of them as confusion clouded her expression.
Finally she focused solely on Presley, frowning. “Well, you should have at least told me you had a date. I could have helped you find something more appropriate to wear.”
Apparently the embarrassment wasn’t going to end any time soon. Over Marjorie’s shoulder Presley could see a group of women—the same debutantes who had haunted her existence since she was about fourteen—whispering furiously and grinning. All except one: Joan Everly. She simply stared through narrowed lids, anger slowly taking over her polite society mask.
“Oh,” Kane said, his amused tone warning Presley she wouldn’t like what was coming. “I think her dress suited my purposes just fine.”
Judging from the few gasps she heard out of the debs, Kane’s voice had carried. But Presley could sense the disbelief in people’s reactions. And now she was done being put on display.
She turned around and blindly grasped the nearest door handle and pushed her way through. She didn’t care where she went, as long as it was away from prying eyes. But the shuffle of feet and the click of dress shoes on the floor behind her told her she hadn’t escaped. She had company. Great. More confrontation was just what she wanted right now.
Give her a stubborn horse or an uppity ranch hand and she met the challenge like a trouper. Social settings and public displays of anything, much less affection, were definitely not her forte.
A familiar weariness seeped into her muscles. The feeling had made its first appearance as soon as her father’s funeral was over and all the guests were gone. Since then it returned regularly, but she always pushed it back. She didn’t have time to be tired, especially not with the task of taking care of her stepmother on top of her already heavy schedule managing the business.
So just as she had a hundred times in the past six months, she pushed the gray cloud back and straightened her spine. When she spun around, she saw that only their small group had followed, but it was Marjorie who spoke first.
“Presley, what is going on here?”
Confusion still reigned in Marjorie’s expression, but years of being ridiculed for not living up to Marjorie’s expectations, not being feminine enough, being too smart and serious all the time...none of that made Presley want to confide exactly what had happened in the barn earlier. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. How in the world could she possibly say out loud that the only way she could attract a man of Kane’s caliber was because her stepmother had tried to swindle the Harringtons out of a large amount of money?
Of course, given the result, Marjorie would probably see that as doing a good deed.
To Presley’s surprise, Kane spoke up.
“The fact is, Presley wouldn’t even be here without your criminal lack of judgment, Ms. Macarthur.”
Shock rippled through the room, settling in Presley’s core. No one had ever stood up for her. Not even her daddy. When he’d brought Marjorie into their lives, he’d hoped that she’d teach his daughter to be a woman. Marjorie’s abject failure in that area was considered all Presley’s fault. And though he had loved her, her father hadn’t hidden his disappointment from her.
The look of shock on Mason’s face was priceless. Especially when Kane stepped closer to Presley and draped his arm around her shoulders again. But Kane ignored his brother as he said, “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m very grateful she did show up.”
Marjorie wasn’t buying it. “If you expect me to believe that my Presley snared the catch of the county in thirty minutes, in that dress, you must think I’m really stupid.”
Presley wasn’t sure what set off her normally dormant outrage. The stress of the day. Kane’s blackmail. Or everyone’s obvious disbelief even as Kane insisted they were interested in each other. If you had to sell it that hard, might as well not sell it at all.
Without thought Presley stomped forward, invading her stepmother’s personal space. “What I think is that you couldn’t care less how your actions affect me or anyone else who has to put up with your antics.”
“Well, I knew that my very smart stepdaughter would smooth everything out,” Marjorie whined.
“Excuse me?” Suddenly all the tension and upset of the night became too much and Presley was the one who couldn’t control her voice. She made a desperate attempt to contain the words but couldn’t keep them back. “You bargained with an animal you knew didn’t belong to you, but that’s okay because Presley will figure it all out?”
Marjorie blanched. “I know you love the horse, but money is—”