Worth Winning

by Tricia Johnson

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Worth Winning

  About the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this Wild Rose Press publication.

  Worth Winning

  by

  Tricia Johnson

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Worth Winning

  COPYRIGHT  2012 by Tricia Johnson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by R.J. Morris

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Yellow Rose Edition, April 2012

  Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-410-5

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For the lesson horses of REF. They may not be Grand Prix, but they sure can dance.

  Worth Winning

  Sarah Ames put her booted feet up on the coffee table in the barn lounge and sat back on the sofa with a groan. Every inch of her ached, and she still had four horses to ride before her day was done. Luckily, she had a few precious minutes while the farrier finished shoeing some horses in the aisle. Bongo, the six-year-old Hanoverian she was training, didn’t share space well, and she really needed just to sit.

  “Todd said I could find you here.” Drew Davenport strode into the lounge, taking her totally by surprise. Her brother’s best friend since high school should still be in Manhattan, not slumming here in Connecticut where she and her brother owned and operated Four Corners Farm together.

  The moment he walked in, Sarah’s insides went on high alert—she’d always been a sucker for tall, dark, and handsome, but Drew wore the expression like a second skin. He was just rugged enough not to be too pretty, his firm jaw layered with a light hint of scruff, his deep blue eyes keen, quick.

  He wasn’t too tall—Sarah guessed six feet, since her brother Todd was six-one—and if he rode, he’d be spectacular in breeches and tall boots. But he didn’t ride, and right now his usual tailored business suit had been left wayside for a flannel shirt and jeans—so unlike Drew on a Friday morning.

  Even scruffy and in jeans, the man worked sexy like it was a prospective investment to be acquired, and Sarah hated it. She couldn’t help falling for him at sixteen and resented that he never gave her the time of day except to pick on her unmercifully and make her life miserable. It didn’t help that the women he dated were way out of her league—model-thin, probably bulimic, definitely beautiful and sophisticated. She’d always been a horse girl, covered in dirt and hay, never dreaming of wearing a skirt or makeup unless it was to an end-of-the-year awards banquet.

  It had surprised her when Drew approached her two years ago, wanting to purchase a horse for her to ride and train. It just so happened that Sarah had half the money at the time, and Todd must have told him she was in need, because he didn’t bat an eyelash when he signed over a huge check to purchase Prima Dulce, her Grand Prix dressage prospect.

  She had wondered if Drew would look at her differently once they were business partners, but he hadn’t, and to make matters worse, Prima was now on the injured list from playing too hard in her paddock. She was laid up for another four months and needed a few months to rehabilitate before she’d be fit enough to continue with training.

  Sarah watched Drew walk in, trying not to appreciate his lean form. It hurt too much to window shop when the prize was out of reach and already taken by a ginger-haired witch. “Shouldn’t you be at work? Making the big bucks so you can support my bad habit?”

  “Hi to you, too, Sarah.” Drew tossed something at her, and she caught it.

  “What’s this?”

  His smile was almost cryptic, and it set Sarah on edge. “A demo tape.”

  “For?” She flipped the DVD over. “Festivo? This is that stallion you were talking about last week.”

  A friend of a business client of Drew’s owned this young, upcoming stallion, and it had been amusing to hear Drew, who knew so little about horses, go on and on about how beautiful this horse was and how he shook his mane like a male model from a romance cover. Drew’d been invited to the farm on a business trip, and though he had never so much as patted Prima, he was obviously head over heels for this stallion.

  It made Sarah a little jealous. Prima was part his. He at least owed her a carrot once in a while. But he stayed silent in their partnership and paid half of the bills without complaining. What Drew did was just fine in her book.

  Drew shrugged. “Yeah, it’s for Festivo. I thought you could look at the DVD and let me know what you think.”

  “I don’t need to look. He’s a gorgeous horse. Lots of potential. But I don’t have anything to breed right now.” She chucked the case back at him, and he caught it.

  “Not so fast.” He wiggled the case in his long fingers. “You can breed Prima.”

  Sarah bristled. Silent partner, indeed. “That’s not the plan, and you know it. The vet said in four months, six, tops, she’d be healed. I’m not wasting a year—heck, closer to eighteen months once the foal drops—when we could be in the ring next spring.”

  “You’ll start rehabbing her at the beginning of her pregnancy, so she’ll be fit quicker.” He shoved his hand in his pocket and turned to the TV, DVD in hand. “I think this is a great idea.”

  “Who died and made you boss?”

  He popped the DVD in the player and turned to pin her with a stern gaze. “Who signed the papers that gave me fifty-one percent ownership?”

  Sarah sucked in a breath and stared up at him. “You were supposed to be a silent partner, one that stays in New York, makes the money and doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know diddly.”

  “I’m tired of being silent, and Todd thinks this is a good idea.”

  Ugh. Her brother was a good horseperson, but really, this was her horse. Her dream. She didn’t have anything up and coming at the moment, and Prima was so close to being finished at the Grand Prix level. The closest she had in training was Tia, who was starting upper level movements and was fractious at best. “You can’t go from Wall Street to running my horse’s life.”

  “She’s my horse, too.” Drew sighed, obviously frustrated, and pointed to the TV. “Just watch the video. If you don’t like him, we’ll talk other options.”

  He sat down next to her on the couch—way too close in her book, which was odd because Drew had never pursued her romantically. His clothes were too clean, and he smelled like a citrusy light cologne and a hint of leather from his jacket. She smelled of leather, too, but reeked of horse, hoof oil, and manure. His jeans molded his thighs nicely and brushed hers ever so slightly. Her breeches and black, tall boots were covered in dust from when Tia had bucked her off earlier in the day.

  Yet he didn’t seem to mind as he glanced at her, his gaze lingering a little longer than it should, sending sparks of something very hot deep into her belly. Which was also odd, because he had a serious girlfriend. One Sarah couldn’t stand.

  A smile played about his lips. “You want to make popcorn?”

  She huffed and crossed her legs at the ankles, her boots leaving a heap of
dust on the coffee table. “This isn’t a date. Play the demo.”

  His blue eyes twinkled. “It could be a date.”

  What possessed him to act like this? Honestly. She gave him a stern look to quell the tug in her tummy. “You have a girlfriend. Play the demo.”

  The DVD played, and Sarah sat a little taller as Festivo MR, qualified PRE stallion owned by Ashling Sporthorses, filled the plasma screen. It was easy to see why Drew was smitten. The tall, muscular bay stallion was a gorgeous shade of gleaming mahogany. His black mane and tail were thick and flowing, which was sinfully wonderful since Prima’s mane had to be short to be braided. Festivo stood regally for the confirmation shots, like a king relenting to a photo opportunity with his lowly subjects, displaying impeccable form and manners.

  They moved on to riding next, and Sarah took her feet off the coffee table and slid to the edge of the couch when Festivo trotted into the ring. Divine, he was, majestic yet elegant, muscles rippling. His stride at the trot ground-covering but light, his canter lilting. His presence in the ring would be breathtaking, his movements balanced and supple.

  And though she fought it, her mind went to a tiny mahogany foal frolicking at Prima’s darker bay side, eclipsing both of his or her parents’ talent. The tape came to an end, showing Festivo again in hand, proud, magnificent. All male.

  Sarah blew out a breath and sat back on the couch. Damn it, the man had an eye for horseflesh, just as he had an eye for investment. A foal from Prima and Festivo would have the genetics to be talented beyond her wildest expectations.

  She glanced at a picture of herself on the lounge wall, taken many years ago. Her first dressage show. She’d evented, like Todd, up until their parents died when she was eighteen, which also had a dressage portion as well as jumping. It hadn’t been enough.

  She remembered her anger, her grief so enveloping that she contemplated lashing out in so many ways—running away, leaving the horse world, even suicide, though those dark thoughts didn’t linger for long. And then a friend invited to her dressage barn to take a lesson on her horse, a retired schoolmaster at the Grand Prix level. That day, her life changed. It became something worth living again.

  Drew had been there in her life during that dark period, but she doubted he would understand what Prima meant to her. He was a man of numbers and dollar signs, and happiness could be bought or sold. Right now, she felt as if her happiness was facing the guillotine, because surely selling a foal of Prima’s would be just as hard for her down the line as gracefully bowing out of the dance with her dream. She had to convince him otherwise.

  She became aware that Drew was staring at her, and it wasn’t a the usual look of impatience. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an odd expression on his handsome face. What was with him today? Perhaps it was the dirt. Tia had a way of dumping her so arena dust coated every inch. She even found sand in her bra afterward.

  Drew quit staring, raised the remote, and turned off the TV. “Well?”

  No way was she telling him he’d hit gold. “Like I said—he’s a beautiful horse. Lots of potential. Gorgeous mover, great conformation. From what I’ve heard, he has a wonderful temperament as well. If I were in the market to breed a horse, I’d want him at the top of my list. But I’m not breeding Prima right now.”

  “No?” He arched a brow, and the air around him seemed to crackle with tension. Drew wasn’t used to being told no. Not in the business world, and not in his personal life. This look she knew all too well, and even at twenty-six, she found herself wanting to tuck tail and run.

  She raised her chin and met his gaze firmly. “No.”

  “You want me to play the dominant partner card again?” His voice was soft, deceptively so.

  No, she wanted him to go back to Manhattan and leave her alone. She swallowed. “Why? Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Because Todd’s not so sure Prima is going to come back as strong after this injury.”

  “Oh, and you believe Todd on that? You want to talk to the vet? I have her on speed dial.” She extracted her phone.

  Drew ignored her and leaned a little closer, so serious. “Are you really being honest about the injury? Could make a one hundred percent comeback and will make a one hundred percent comeback are two different things.” He shifted and his eyes took on an angry glint. “And this is something you should have talked to me about. I didn’t even know the mare was injured until Todd said something.”

  Sarah inched away, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He was right on both counts—she should have called him. And there was a small chance Prima wouldn’t recover fully, but the vet had given her every indication she should make a complete comeback. Prima was talented and it was Sarah’s dream to make her horse dance at the highest level. “Why don’t we wait to breed her until after she rehabs and we see what we have?”

  Drew shook his head. “That’s a long time to ask me to wait.”

  She snorted. Time was money to him. “Go back to Wall Street, count your dollars, and you won’t even know how much time has passed.”

  He hesitated, looked as if he wanted to say something but must have changed his mind. “I quit my job, Sarah,” he said quietly. “My last day was last Friday.”

  She sucked in a breath as the blood from her face drained away, probably to her stomach which now churned madly. The Drew she knew so well didn’t do rash things, didn’t snip the lines to the very tentative framework that held together her life, leaving her terrified and dangling. Drew held her life together, made the framework stronger. Until now. “Not a smart decision, Davenport.”

  He shrugged. “I’m striking out on my own. I have clients who are willing to follow me. It’s time for a change in my life, for me to take charge. I’ve made a lot of changes in the past month. That was the first.”

  This was bad. Bad for her, for Prima. Todd always said, though, that if anyone could make money it was Drew. He knew the business world and was like a shark in seal-infested waters. He knew which investments were the fattest, the tastiest, and he never left the pool hungry. But new business ventures needed capital, and Prima was just that to Drew—capital. “Just tell me how this rash move of yours will screw up my life.”

  “Everything will stay the same. For now.”

  The for now got her.

  “That’s reassuring.” But it wasn’t. Her internal clock ticked faster, like the countdown of a bomb in a really bad B spy movie.

  Drew nodded. “I want a foal. I want something spectacular, something we can sell at a nice profit to make back what we’ve lost in vet bills and such.”

  Breeding wasn’t always lucrative, and she had warned him two years ago of the gamble horses brought to the table. The shark in him should sense he was straying into waters that were stark and lean. Sarah shook her head. “You knew going in this was less of an investment and more of a write-off.”

  “Yes, but now I need something back.”

  Of course he needed something back. He was just like everyone else. Take while the getting was good, despite what she needed in her life. “You couldn’t tell me this?”

  He clenched his jaw and turned to her, his eyes very hard, cold. The pit in her stomach grew.

  “I could have made you sell the horse two months ago, Sarah, if I wanted to be a real jerk about this. I’m asking for a foal, since the mare right now is worthless. She’s burning through money like it’s water. You can’t ride her. She may never be sound again, but I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt as long as you take into consideration my wishes. I’m not asking you to sell her. All I want is a foal.”

  “Yet.”

  “What?”

  “You’re not asking me to sell her. Yet.” The thought terrified her. Anytime in her life she’d gotten something good, someone took it from her. It didn’t matter if it was horses, business, or love. Sarah lost big, and her heart paid the penalty.

  Drew sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. He shifted closer to her on the couch,
as if wanting her to gain some comfort. His thigh pressed hers again. “She’s not worth two nickels lame. You know that, I know that. Be grateful for what I’m offering.”

  Sarah closed her eyes and counted to ten to calm the churning in her stomach. She concentrated on the length of his thigh against hers. His touch always calmed her soul while exciting other parts—parts that shouldn’t have a say. But the woman in her reminded her that this was Drew—her Drew—as crazy as he sounded right now. He wouldn’t want to hurt her, not like this. This was the business side of him talking, not the personal side.

  “Please, Sarah. Do this for me.”

  She hated him, almost as much as she loved him. She wasn’t doing this, though. She’d agree just to shut him up until she made him see it her way. “Fine.”

  She opened her eyes again to him looking very smug, very sexy. He had to be insane. Drew’s moods didn’t change as quickly as New England weather. Usually he was calm, patient. Predictable. Now…she didn’t know this man.

  Drew stood and aimed that million-watt sexy smile straight at her. “Now that that is out of the way, I want you to clear your schedule for the weekend.”

  “What? No.” The smile intensified, and her heart hammered. “I have too much to do. I have lessons, clients’ horses to ride. I have six in training.” She had a business to run, and Todd would never agree to let her just up and leave for a weekend. And as far as she was concerned, the issue of breeding Prima wasn’t out of the way. She only gave in so he’d leave her alone. They had until spring to hash this out, and it was only November.

  But Drew set his jaw, and a hint of business shark reared above the turbulent waters between them. “You can and you will clear your schedule. I’ve made arrangements to visit Festivo at a show this weekend. And you will accompany me. Todd gave his okay for the adventure. It will be fun.”

  “I doubt that.” Oh no. A weekend of Drew—car time, lunch and dinner, night time. Time she had to look at him, wanting to be more than a business partner, all the while faking her platonic smiles. She would rather have wisdom teeth removed. “How’s your girlfriend going to feel about this? The possessive witch hates me.”