by Dani Wade
“What?” Joan gasped, her expression more shocked than it should be. She probably hadn’t been prepared for Presley to fight back.
“I didn’t stutter,” Presley said, her tone only a little shaky.
“Look here, you—”
Presley stepped forward. “No, you listen.” She straightened her posture a notch, using her extra inch over Joan to her advantage. “I’ve put up with a lot over the years. I’ve ignored, pouted and, yes, even cried a few times.”
She pressed a little closer, which caused Joan’s eyes to widen.
“But we aren’t children anymore, Joan. And I don’t have to put up with the manure you’re shoveling. Do not talk to me again, or I will not hesitate to make your life as miserable as you’ve made mine in the past.”
Presley didn’t wait for an answer. She swung toward the exit and kept walking. Only when she’d pulled back the door did Joan shout, “You won’t win.”
“I already have.”
“He won’t stay long.”
This time, Presley looked back, giving Joan her full attention. “See, that’s how silly you are. That doesn’t matter. This isn’t about Kane.”
“Yes—”
“It’s about you and me, Joan. And at the end of the day, you still have to live with yourself. But I don’t.” She stepped forward, letting the door go so it could slowly swing shut. But the last word was still hers as she caught Kane’s gaze on her from a few feet away. “So, yeah, I win.”
* * *
Kane smiled slightly at Presley’s words, though they obviously weren’t spoken to him. The door to the ladies’ room slid silently shut as she walked straight to him and took his arm, her expression calm and almost triumphant. He glanced back over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of Joan storming out the door to glare at them.
Or, rather, Presley.
But she never looked back, and Kane was damn proud of her. He didn’t know what had transpired in there, but Presley had obviously come out on top. He took a couple of steps to meet her.
“Did you put someone in her place?” he murmured.
Presley paused in her forward push and blinked at him. He could see her register her surroundings for the first time.
He couldn’t help but tease. “Well, she seemed to have all her hair. You must not have tried hard enough.”
That brought her up short. “I wouldn’t resort to hair pulling.”
Kane grinned. “Sometimes they deserve it.”
“I’m fine just using words,” she said, but she did match his smile with a sheepish version of her own.
“That’s my girl. Let’s go.”
“Already?” she asked.
He bent close to her ear as he took her arm. “You deserve a reward.”
But as he turned toward the door, their plans were interrupted.
“Great to see you again, young lady,” the man Kane had been speaking with said as Presley came so close she almost settled against him.
“Mr. Stephens,” she exclaimed, moving away long enough to give the graying man a hug. “I didn’t see you earlier.”
“Oh, we arrived a bit late,” the man said. “A little car trouble on the way, but we finally made it.”
“That’s good. Kane, have you met Mr. Stephens? He was my original trainer, but has been a friend of the family for many, many years.”
“Oh, yes,” Stephens said as he shook Kane’s hand. “So wonderful to meet the newest celebrity in our little club.”
Kane watched as the two shared a look that spoke volumes he wasn’t privy to—and found himself surprised by the sudden questions peppering his brain.
“So how’s the training going?” Mr. Stephens asked Presley. “That new young’un getting a hang of things?”
A cold sensation seeped into Kane’s chest. He knew exactly what kind of training Stephens was referring to.
“Yes,” she said, enthusiasm coloring her voice. “Just a little more work and I think we will lick that hitch. Once he gets some maturity on him, he’ll be a champion jumper. Your jockey will be thrilled.”
Stephens turned to Kane with a beaming glow. “She’s one of the best students I ever worked with. All those trophies aren’t just for show.”
Kane forced a smile, though his feelings were already in deep freeze. He’d gone out of his way not to mention Presley’s jumping practices again. Sometimes he could almost convince himself that they didn’t happen. And he was okay with that, for now. After all, he wasn’t delusional enough to think the issue wouldn’t come up at some point...far in the future.
They talked about the gelding’s finer points and what Presley was doing to correct his approach. Kane let the words swirl around him, let the confusion and remembered pain melt away as they moved on to other subjects, let himself admire the confident woman who stood by his side.
By the time they left Stephens, Kane was more than ready to cut their evening short. Presley didn’t protest as he led her to the lobby and called for the limo. They’d barely made it inside before Kane took her lips with his, an unmistakable need rising like a tide inside him. However long he had her, he would make it the best time they’d ever had.
Her lips were soft, but the grip of her hands was strong. She pulled him closer, her eagerness leaving him gasping. The dark taste of the wine she’d drunk at the party and the delicate smell of honeysuckle intoxicated him.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing deep, then licked along the ridge of her collarbone, taking in her flavor. Her gasps played on the air like music. Kane pulled her close, struggling for control. How much longer was it to the hotel?
He was proud he didn’t drag her through the lobby to the elevator at high speed. The instinct was there, but he controlled himself. Barely. No need to spoil the surprise.
They came through the door to a darkened room, only a couple of lamps casting a dim glow. Her shy smile as he led her to the balcony doors intrigued him, urged him to push this further than she might be comfortable with.
He led her through the door the staff had left open to find the soft glow of electric candles on the small table outside. The ivy created a sense of a walled-in space, isolating them from the city around them, darkening the area to a level of intimacy that heightened Kane’s senses.
Presley stepped toward the table for two. “What’s this?” she asked, surprise lightening her tone.
Kane didn’t even have to look. More champagne. Slices of decadent coconut cake. “Your favorite,” he said simply.
She glanced back at him, but he couldn’t make out her expression in the dark. When she spoke, her voice had grown husky. “What if I had eaten dessert already?”
“You didn’t,” he said, stepping closer. “Chocolate cake doesn’t seem to appeal to you.”
“You noticed?”
“I notice everything about you, Presley.” Even the things I don’t want to see because they worry me.
He lifted a bite to her lips, the candlelight glinting off the silver fork. Over and over he fed her, appeasing her hunger more important to him than feeding his own.
“You’re spoiling me,” she murmured between bites.
“Good. Someone should.”
Suddenly the night flared to life, sparkling lights and the popping of fireworks filling the sky. Presley turned to look, giving Kane a brief glimpse of her profile. He switched the candles off and led Presley to the rail, abandoning their dessert. She gripped the support, face lifted for the famous fireworks show preceding the Kentucky Derby.
Kane was much more interested in creating some fireworks of their own.
The thickness of her hair as he pulled it to the side made him anticipate seeing it spread across a pillow in the early hours of the morning. He tasted the light sheen of salt on her skin as he k
issed the back of her neck. He stood close enough to feel the shiver that traveled down her spine at his touch.
It was more intoxicating than the champagne. Hell, it was more intoxicating than a good bottle of scotch.
He sucked lightly, moving to the sensitive junction where her neck met her shoulders. She arched back into him. Her softness molding to his hardness made him groan. He heard a slight huff of air, as if she were smothering a laugh, and decided he’d be happy to make her pay for her amusement.
Pressing closer, he used his body to bend her toward the rail. She didn’t protest. Her breath sped up as his hands found her hips. Slow and sure, he let his palms follow the silky-soft material down the outsides of her thighs. Then he bunched it up so he could slip beneath the hem and indulge his desire to feel skin against skin.
“What are you doing?” she murmured, turning to watch him over her shoulder. Her voice only conveyed a hint of dismay, far less than what he’d been expecting.
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “What do you think?” He lifted back up to align his body close against hers, whispering in her ear. “Trust me.”
* * *
Trust me?
Presley wasn’t so sure about that, but Kane’s touch convinced her to leave the worry to him. Though she knew no one could see them, her brain automatically equated outside with being in public, Kane didn’t seem to care.
Pretty soon, his mouth and hands convinced her she didn’t care, either.
She tried to breathe, tried to hold on to her sanity, but it simply wasn’t happening. His hands roamed her thighs, massaging the muscles in a way that made her want to turn into jelly. Her heels made her the perfect height, so she fit neatly against his body. He was aroused. He wanted her.
And she wanted this.
She didn’t protest when she felt the cool night air against the backs of her thighs. The front of her dress still fell straight from her waist, which calmed her irrational fears of being seen. His hands briefly clasped her hips, as if positioning her for his pleasure. She had to press her lips together to hold back the moan that ached to escape.
The fireworks continued in the distance, but Presley hardly even saw them. Her focus turned inward to the need buffeting her body. Behind her she heard the rasp of a zipper, the rustle of clothing, the rip of the little foil packet.
Kane nudged the inside of her ankle, spreading her legs a little wider, leaving her exposed. One of his hands meandered around the front, sliding beneath the scrap of lace between her thighs. The throb of her core deepened. She panted through the need to beg.
Back and forth his fingers played, leaving her aching and wet. Without thought, she shifted, tilting herself back in invitation. Taking advantage, Kane fitted himself against her and slid home. Everything inside Presley tightened, desperate to keep him with her.
“Yes,” he hissed, giving her little nub a flick with his fingers as a reward.
This time she couldn’t cut her cry off before it escaped. It was followed quickly by Kane’s groan of satisfaction. Ever so slowly, he withdrew. Then he returned at the same pace, allowing her to feel every inch of delicious fullness. She expected him to pick up the pace, but he didn’t. For what seemed like an eternity, he played with her. The push forward filled her and also bumped her against his hand. The increase in pressure sent ecstasy coursing along her nerves, but never quite enough to send her over the edge.
The pullback shot her need higher, the glide eliciting a whimper just short of begging. But Kane wasn’t in the mood to hurry, it seemed. Instead of speed, he added force, taking her up on her toes with each thrust. She tracked his climb by the harsh tempo of his breath with the intimate recognition only a lover would have—a fact that added to her awe.
Then all thought was lost. Waves of pleasure rolled over her body, crashing deep inside just as the crescendo of fireworks exploded before her eyes. Her cry was lost in the roar of the explosion and the distant applause of the crowd across the city. One thrust, two, then Kane joined her, pressing himself deep inside her and holding hard as his body gained release. She soaked in his groan, the tight grip of his hands.
As she stared out into the night, she knew that everything had changed. She had changed. The barriers were gone, leaving her heart exposed. It was his for the taking.
She had a feeling she’d never get it back.
Thirteen
Presley walked through the beginning half of Derby Day feeling off kilter, as if she were on a cruise and couldn’t find her sea legs.
It wasn’t a physical sensation, though. Her body moved with a languid ease that she’d never experienced before but could definitely attribute to Kane’s TLC. If last night hadn’t been satisfying enough, the way he’d woken her up this morning definitely finished the job.
She’d thought she was dreaming as dawn crept into the room. A slow coming to consciousness prompted by the smooth glide of warm skin against her own. Kane’s leisurely, silent loving this morning, being surrounded by his scent, only made her crave him more. His touch had lit a fire inside her that pushed all sleepiness aside, replacing it with white-hot need. A need Kane had more than met.
No, the problem this morning was definitely a mental game.
She’d been afraid to stay with Kane overnight, and her fears had been justified. Despite knowing this was a business arrangement, she’d managed to fall hook, line and sinker for the gentleman behind the contract. A man who seemed to have no interest in making this a long-term arrangement.
He was kind, attentive, sexy—and completely close-mouthed about anything to do with his emotions or history beyond business. He’d never again mentioned his ex-fiancée, nor Presley’s training pursuits, even though she secretly wished his comments meant he was interested in her personally.
No such luck. The only true depth of emotion they experienced was in bed.
“Mint julep, ma’am?” a meandering waiter asked, balancing his tray of gorgeous cut-glass tumblers. Though it wasn’t even noon, she eagerly reached for one, hoping it might calm her nerves. She sipped the signature concoction while she and Kane waited for lunch to be served in Millionaires Row.
Kane eyed her drink, then let his gaze drift over the sea of hats and fancy clothes surrounding them. “Pretty impressive,” he murmured.
So was he. The white suit and pale purple shirt and tie set off his dark good looks in a mouthwatering way.
“You’ve never been here for Derby Day?” she asked instead of giving voice to her appreciative thoughts.
“Definitely not like this,” he said, surveying the room a second time.
The announcement that lunch was about to be served produced a surge of three hundred guests toward the doors to the dining area. Kane took her arm.
“I’ve only witnessed the race in person once, though we watched it every year on television,” he continued as they headed in to lunch. “My father brought us here the year after my mother died. We were in the infield with a picnic from a fast food chicken place. But we each got brand-new dress clothes for the occasion and stayed in a run-down motel across town—the only rooms available that Dad could afford.”
His smile took Presley’s breath away as he went on. “We didn’t care. We were at the derby. I remember every moment of that weekend.”
Presley swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “You’re amazing, you know?”
Kane settled her into her seat, then pulled his own chair out. He removed his suit jacket and sat down beside her. As their dining table slowly filled, he leaned close, so their heads were almost touching. “How so?”
“It takes a special kind of person not to be resentful of that, heck, of everything that happened to your family,” she said, holding his dark gaze for the first time today.
Kane smirked, though the look in his eyes remained somber. “I think Mas
on has proven that revenge only backfires.”
Presley thought back to the rumors surrounding Mason and EvaMarie’s reunion romance. “Guess so.”
Kane frowned at his water glass. “There are still times I don’t understand why my father did what he did. Why didn’t he use the money from my mother to make life easier on himself?”
“Did he ever give you a reason?”
Kane’s smirk grew into a grin. “Besides honoring my mother’s wish that the money be used for us boys? His only other answer was pride.”
Presley lowered her voice as the seats around them filled. “What? Why?”
Kane leaned a little closer. “Since he moved back to her hometown to finish raising us, he didn’t want her parents and people in that town accusing him of being a gold digger, just as they had when he’d married her. He knew that if he suddenly had money to spare, they’d gossip, and that gossip would eventually get back to Mason and me.”
Kane absently fingered one of the loose strands of her hair. She knew he loved it down, so today she’d worn it with just a simple turquoise fascinator with feathers and ribbon pinned to one side, instead of the traditional hat worn by most of the ladies in attendance.
“I’m sure he would have withdrawn some funds if he’d needed it to feed us,” Kane continued, “but once he was working again, our situation wasn’t dire. Things became easier, and he really just left the money where it was and forgot about it for long periods of time.”
Flash. Flash.
Presley squinted as an unexpected flare of light surprised her. She glanced across the table as Kane turned in the direction of the light. A grinning man with a camera covering half his face snapped another picture. Presley eased closer to Kane as a wave of unease swept through her.
“Gorgeous couple,” the man said as he lowered the camera. “Bernie with the Louisville Scene.”
He strode around the table to shake Kane’s hand. “I recognized you right away, Mr. Harrington. I’ve been following the opening of the Harrington stables since the big announcement a couple of months ago.”