‘Can’t stand the stuff.’
‘Oh.’ That took her by surprise. ‘Something else, perhaps?’
‘What have you got?’
From any other lips those words could be taken as an innocent request for a verbal menu. When they came from Dante Acosta the prompt was laden with deadly charm. ‘Whatever you like,’ she said brightly. ‘The stalls outside sell pretty much everything.’
As one corner of his mouth tugged slightly as if to say Touché, she knew he’d feel like velvet steel beneath her hands.
Had nothing changed in ten years? Was she still as reckless?
Far from it, Jess told herself firmly. She was no longer a reckless teen but a medical professional who had left a successful career at a leading London teaching hospital to come home to help her father.
‘I’m sure you want to see my father, not me,’ she said pleasantly. ‘Would you like me to take you to him?’
‘There’s no need,’ Dante said with a narrow-eyed look. ‘I’ll find my own way.’
As he turned, Jess felt as if she’d been appraised and discarded. That was fine. This wasn’t about her. She’d arranged the event with the specific intention of attracting an Acosta or the like, someone with a deep love of horses and plenty of money to bail her father out of trouble by buying up his stock. If Dante didn’t bite she’d have to find someone who would.
* * *
So, Dante mused as he wove his way through the crowd to reach the show ring—if a hastily tidied up paddock with a rickety fence could be described as such a thing—the little vixen he remembered had matured into a beautiful, understated, though rather too serious woman. He missed the mischief in Jess’s eyes, as well as the excessively impulsive nature that had prompted her, at the tender age of seventeen, to stand on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his lips.
His senses surged, remembering. He had reined in those senses then and would do so again. He wasn’t here to waste time on a serious-minded woman. He wasn’t ready to take any woman seriously. Why restrict his diet when the menu was so varied?
Leaning on the hated cane, he paused to greet some fellow polo players. Jess had attracted a motley crowd, from locals to minor royals and celebrities as well as sightseers from far and wide. Towering men in black suits with earpieces and suspicious bulges beneath their jackets followed hot on the heels of a well-known sheikh. Dante had never relied on security personnel for his safety, preferring to rely on his own skills to protect him.
One career had foundered while the other had soared, he mused, moving on when he spotted Jess walking arm in arm with her father. His team had informed him that the farm was in serious financial trouble. They were already working on the ins and outs and would advise him on the questions he’d pose before the day was out.
One thing was certain. Jess had left her job and risked her career to come here to save her father and the farm. She was unusually determined, and he admired that.
He also detested loose ends. If Jess hadn’t been seventeen ten years ago, who knew what might have happened between them?
The marquee was already crowded by the time he entered. He recognised more horse breeders, trainers and players like himself jostling to get to the front under Jim Slatehome’s nose. He wouldn’t have it all his own way today. There would be stiff competition for the better horses.
So he’d go one better.
He could offer double—triple—what anyone else could without feeling a pinch. He could easily afford it. Jim had sold him some good stock in the past, and what he’d seen of the ponies in the field so far suggested Jim had never really gone away, but had made himself invisible so he could nurse his grief.
The urge to help Jim Slatehome overwhelmed him suddenly. To fend off the competition meant putting something else in the pot. After the most recent text from his team an idea was already brewing. How would Jess take his idea, if he went ahead and bought the farm? Not well, he suspected as watched her standing like a protection officer at her father’s side. It had cost her everything to be here, financially, career-wise, every which way. His team had filled him in on the details. She’d qualified top of her class as a physiotherapist specialising in sports injuries. Her first job was at a prestigious teaching hospital in London, but she’d given that up to go freelance, which could be tricky. Rumour said she was successful. If she was as good as her reputation suggested, she could guarantee an endless stream of patients from the battleground of polo alone. The thought of those soft hands tracking right up his legs was—
Out of bounds, Dante told himself sternly. He was here for business and nothing else. He’d seen the vixen and satisfied his curiosity, and that had to be enough.
Thankfully, the Sheikh sidled up to him at that moment and as they got talking about horses Dante grew more determined than ever to win the day. He’d handle Jess’s objections. As her father mounted the podium and began his speech, Dante stared at Jess.
Copyright © 2020 by Susan Stephens
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ISBN-13: 9781488068706
Housekeeper in the Headlines
Copyright © 2020 by Chantelle Shaw
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Housekeeper in the Headlines Page 18