Latin Lovers Untamed

CHAPTER THREE

DAISY struggled to her feet, the ice bag slipping crookedly off her arm. “Kentucky Kiss isn’t for sale.”

“She’s a valuable dam.”

“No.” Her father had given her Kentucky Kiss when she turned fifteen, and for nearly two weeks after her birthday, Daisy had slept in the stable, snuggled in a sleeping bag inside the yearling’s stall.

“Surely you’ve had offers.” Dante persisted.

Daisy dropped the ice bag on the desk. “That’s not the point. She’s not for sale. Kentucky Kiss is the heart of Collingsworth Farm.” And was her heart, too.

“Daisy, we should at least discuss this.”

“I’ll consider other horses. We have a dozen dams—”

“My interest is only in Kentucky Kiss. I know her pedigree. Four foals, three to race, two winners. She’s the one I want. She’s extremely valuable. If you sold her to me, you’d erase the debt.”

Daisy couldn’t speak. Words were impossible. She simply stood there, fingertips braced on the desk, heart beating so slowly she felt the weight of every second, the pressure building inside her until she felt like a balloon about to burst.

So much had been taken away from her. Her mother. Teddy McCaw. Her father’s health. Her college education.

And now her horse.

But Kentucky Kiss was more than a horse. She’d been Daisy’s best friend. When Daisy groomed Kiss, she’d told her everything, confided everything, shared her secrets and her longing and her dreams. And maybe it sounded stupid, but Kentucky Kiss understood Daisy. Kentucky Kiss loved her, and accepted her, and just let her be herself.

Daisy took a shaky step toward the water cooler but then couldn’t take another. Her legs were too weak. She couldn’t move in either direction. “Kentucky Kiss is the heart of our breeding program.”

“Yes, now she is, but her foal, Miracle Baby, will be your future.”

She pictured Kentucky Kiss’s foal, Miracle Baby, who’d just turned twelve weeks old and was still all gawky legs. She could see him tripping about behind his mother in coltish ecstasy.

If Miracle Baby went to auction as a yearling, it had already been speculated that he’d go for at least a million dollars, probably two to three times as much if in the next year he was raised by the right trainer, handled as a champion should be handled.

Daisy knew she needed to hire a big-name trainer for the foal, but she didn’t have the money to do it. She wouldn’t be able to attract a reputable trainer if the farm continued to hover on the verge of bankruptcy. Reputation meant everything in this business. And horse people were susperstitious. You had to have a good name. You had to have wins. And you needed luck.

Which was why Daisy had told no one about her father’s illness. Collingsworth Farm would be finished if people knew her father was as sick as he was.

“We need a trainer,” she said slowly, staring out the window and yet seeing nothing.

How could she sell Kentucky Kiss? But the farm had been in the family forever, and there was Zoe’s future to think about. How could she not sell Kentucky Kiss? “You can have Kentucky Kiss for six hundred thousand. That will settle the debt and pay for a trainer for Miracle Baby.”

“Six hundred?”

“And you leave her here until Miracle Baby is weaned.”

He seemed to consider this. “You’ll put this in writing?”

“I’ll get the paperwork together later tonight. We can take it to a notary first thing tomorrow.” At least she wouldn’t have to part with Kentucky Kiss immediately. She’d have another four months. Six, if she was lucky.

And she did feel lucky, luckier than she had in a year. Keeping the farm was what mattered. Keeping her father in his own house. Keeping Zoe’s inheritance intact.

Selling Kentucky Kiss was a personal sacrifice and maybe one her father wouldn’t approve of, but she was doing it for the right reasons. She was doing it for the right people.

“I’ll meet you tomorrow downtown,” she said, naming a prominent law firm that handled transactions like this one. In Lexington, breeders and buyers left nothing to chance.

He waited outside as she locked up the office for the night. She didn’t intend to return until morning. In the evenings Daisy liked to give Zoe a break from taking care of their dad. Earlier in the year Zoe used to drive into town to meet her old high school friends. They’d catch a movie, get coffee, just hang out together. But lately Zoe didn’t go out anymore, and her friends didn’t call that often, either.

Dante opened the truck door for Daisy. “Your hand is bothering you,” he said.

“It aches,” she admitted, knowing she only had herself to blame. Losing her temper was stupid. It just made her look immature.

“Take something when you get home. It’ll help with the swelling.”

“Right.” Daisy slid behind the wheel, wanting nothing more than to escape. It was embarrassing having Dante worry about her bruised hand. She’d been the one to lose control. She’d thrown the punch.

But Dante held on to the green truck door, his foot resting on the old Chevy’s riser. He studied her for a long minute, his expression impossible to read. “I have an invitation to the Lindleys’ black-tie party tomorrow night,” he said finally. “Would you consider going with me?”

“The Lindleys?” she repeated, wrapping one hand around the steering wheel, gripping the ridges tightly.

“It’s the big horse event of the year.”

Daisy knew all about the Lindleys’ preauction party. It was an annual event, and the funds raised went to charity. Last year it was literacy. This year a women’s shelter. But this year, like last year, the Collingsworths hadn’t been invited.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She struggled to put voice to words and still came up with nothing. Peter Lindley had been her father’s best friend. Peter Lindley had dropped her father like a hot potato.

“I don’t think so,” she said at length, her voice a squeak, her throat so tight she couldn’t say more. She didn’t hate the Lindleys, but there was no love lost between the families.

But Dante didn’t take no easily. “Why not?”

“We’re not exactly popular people in Lexington.”

“Then fake it.”

He smiled, and she’d never seen him look more confident. “I … can’t. I hate those things. I hate the snobbery, the superficial small talk, the absurd money the women spend on clothes. It’s just not me.”

“You’re not a fashion darling, then?”

She felt herself blush. He was making fun of her. It was obvious she wasn’t into high fashion. She lived in her boots and jeans. They were comfortable and practical. “No.”

He reached out, touched her cheek gently. “You don’t need designer clothes to make you stand out. You’re beautiful, Daisy. You turn heads just as you are.”

His fingers scorched her skin, and heat flooded her limbs. She drew a shaky breath and was suddenly grateful she was sitting down because she didn’t think she’d have the strength to stand. “You don’t need to flatter me, Count Galván. I can live without compliments.”

His lips twisted. “We’re past the formalities, Daisy. It’s Dante now. It has to be. Once a woman hits me, there’s no going back.”

Heat surged through her. She felt herself blush yet again, the color staining higher, hotter beneath her skin. He was having the worst effect on her. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes, say you’ll go to the Lindleys’ with me.”

She looked up, and her eyes met his. His eyes were such a light toffee color, beautiful like topaz. Her heart did a strange double thump, two painful beats in one. She’d never survive an evening alone with him. She’d be tied up in knots. She’d wish for things she shouldn’t ever wish for.

Like another touch from his hands.

She loved it when he brushed her cheek just now. She loved the tingle in her skin and the clench of her belly and the heat in her veins. She loved the powerful response as much as she loved the newness of it. It was the first good thing she’d felt in so long.

In years.

“No,” she blurted. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I have obligations at home. It’s Zoe’s night out tomorrow.”

He regarded her steadily. “Switch nights with her.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“No?”

She felt like she was falling, tumbling forward into the warm gold-brown eyes, tumbling headfirst into emotion, and emotion was all wrong for her. Emotion meant trouble. “No,” she whispered, her voice faint even to her own ears.

“Then I won’t go, either.”

“No—”

“Yes. If you won’t go with me, I don’t want to be there. It’s you I want to be with. Not the Lindleys.”

Looking at him, looking into his face she almost changed her mind. It would be amazing to go to the formal party on his arm. He’d look incredible in a tuxedo. He’d break every woman’s heart.

Daisy swallowed, her throat dry as sandpaper. She needed to get out of here. She’d do something stupid soon. Say something stupid. Maybe say yes, maybe say kiss me, maybe say touch my cheek and make me feel beautiful again.

“I’ll call you when I have the paperwork in order,” she said, voice husky, heart thudding hard, too hard. She wanted to cry and she didn’t even know why. Nothing was wrong. Everything was fine. Kentucky Kiss would get them out of debt, and life would go on.

“Okay.” He smiled, and then he lifted a strand of silver-gold hair from her cheek and carefully tucked it behind her ear. “Call me when you’re ready.”

She sucked in air, her chest on fire. “I will.”

But as she drove home, wincing with each shift of the transmission, she knew she’d never call him. She’d finish the business arrangements, and that would be the end.

Daisy was smart enough to know when she was in over her head, and with Dante, she was definitely in the deep end, woefully out of depth.

Reaching the drive leading to the house, Daisy changed gears yet again. The truck’s old manual transmission required rigorous shifting, and each throw of the stick sent shooting pain through Daisy’s right hand. If you think you hurt now, she told herself, just imagine what it would be like to get involved with him. Don’t do it. Keep your distance. Focus on the business.

The sunlight was waning fast as Daisy entered the house. Warm gold light shone through the lacy dining room curtains and gilded the fading cabbage rose wallpaper. In the red-gold light the full-blown roses looked almost real. Daisy stopped to touch one dusty pink rose.

“Daddy never liked this wall paper.”

It was Zoe. She’d entered the dining room behind Daisy. Daisy turned to look at her sister. “But it was Mom’s wall paper. Mom picked it out before you were born.”

“So Daddy never changed it.”

“Dad never stopped loving Mom.” Daisy’s voice throbbed with emotions she rarely let surface. Dante had stirred something to life in her, and she was finding it difficult to stamp it back down.

Gently she traced the outline of a lavender rose. The blossom’s edge curled like lettuce. Soft, wavy, delicate. But beneath those fragile petals lay sharp dark thorns.

Just like life.

Daisy faced Zoe. “I’m selling Kentucky Kiss. Count Galván is buying her for six hundred thousand.”

“Daisy, you can’t do that.”

“We’ll be able to afford some help for Dad now,” she continued as though Zoe had never spoken. “I’ll also look for a trainer to work with Miracle Baby. Miracle Baby is the answer. If he goes high at auction—”

“Daisy, you can’t sell Kentucky Kiss.”

Daisy felt like she’d swallowed a bucket of nails. “I’m all right with this.”

“There’s got to be another way.”

“If we’d gotten the insurance settlement things might have been different, but … “ Her shoulders lifted, fell. “But we didn’t get it.”

“We still might.”

“Zoe, they think we set the fire. This will be tied up for years in court. We can’t wait. If we keep bouncing checks, if we can’t bring on another trainer, we’re dead in the water.”

Zoe shut her eyes and pressed her palms against her forehead. “This is bad,” she whispered.

“It could be worse, though. We could have no options. We could be on the streets—”

“You can’t sell Kentucky Kiss to Count Galván.”

“Of course I can. She’s my horse. It’s my decision.”

“Then get the count to wait a year. He has to wait.”

“Dante’s not going to wait. We’ve already made him wait for payment on the stud fee. He’s done waiting.”

“I don’t think he has a choice,” Zoe answered in a small voice. “I’ve promised Carter Scott he could breed his new stallion with Kentucky Kiss next year.”

Carter Scott, a former customer who’d asked Daisy to marry him once. “What?”

Daisy rarely raised her voice. She didn’t need to raise her voice, but she couldn’t help it at the moment. She was shocked. Beyond shocked. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

“Zoe, she’s not your horse. You don’t run the farm. You have no right to make arrangements for our best dam. What on earth would possess you to do such a thing?”

“Dad. I did it for Dad.” Then she explained, hesitantly reminding Daisy about the new study the university hospital was doing on Alzheimer’s.

Daisy had discovered the new treatment, one so controversial that health insurance wouldn’t touch it. But despite her best efforts to raise more cash, including getting a second mortgage on the farm property, Daisy couldn’t scrape up enough to allow him to participate.

It had been a devastating realization, and breaking the news to Zoe had been awful.

“I couldn’t accept no,” Zoe continued faintly. “I couldn’t accept that he wouldn’t get help because we didn’t have enough money.” Tears trembled on Zoe’s lashes. “I couldn’t let the opportunity slip away.”

“You entered Dad in the hospital program?”

“Carter Scott gave me the money in advance for breeding his stallion with Kentucky Kiss. He’ll own the foal, and he’s agreed to pay all boarding and medical fees.”

“How much money did he give you?”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

Daisy pressed her knuckles to the wallpaper. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars? On top of the fee they already owed Dante?

The mountain of debt staggered Daisy. For a moment she couldn’t think. She just knew she couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t keep juggling bills and problems and mistakes and keep it all together. It was too much. The stress of it was just too much.

She heard a strange low buzzing in her ears. Like static on a radio.

“I thought you’d be happy.” Zoe’s voice sounded strained. “I thought you’d be glad I found a solution.”

Daisy struggled to focus. She looked at Zoe and realized Zoe wasn’t doing very well, either. Her skin looked ashen. Her lavender-blue eyes were enormous. “I guess Dad is participating now in the hospital program?” she asked.

Zoe nodded. “He’s on new medication. We go in to the hospital once a week for follow-up and blood tests.”

Daisy didn’t speak.

Zoe’s hands clenched, nails digging into her fists. “I can’t give up on him. I want him back. I want him the way he used to be.”

Daisy’s eyes burned. It would kill Zoe to watch their dad wither away, and it would happen before their eyes. His memory would go. His control would go. His mind …

She shook her head, not wanting to think that way. This was hard on her, but it would be doubly painful for Zoe. Daisy’s sister had never got to know their mom, as she’d died just after Zoe was born. Now Zoe would lose Dad, too.

How could she blame Zoe for fighting for Dad? How could she blame her for loving him so much? “I’m glad you did it, Zo. I wish I’d done it.” Her voice broke. “Somebody should try to save Dad.”

It was a great sentiment, Daisy thought a half hour later as she stood on the farm house’s front porch, but it didn’t change the fact that they were now indebted to two people for three quarters of a million dollars. And that wasn’t including interest.

It also meant she had to talk to Dante.

She knew he carried a cell phone but she didn’t have that number so she phoned his hotel. He wasn’t in. Daisy left a message for him to call, and then she remembered that he’d mentioned a business function this evening. He’d said he was meeting someone at the Derby Club for drinks before a dinner engagement.

Daisy glanced at her watch. If she hurried, she might still be able to catch him at the Derby.

The club exuded old-world comfort and class; the walls were paneled, the furniture all large sturdy pieces upholstered in butterscotch and burgundy leather. The club provided owners and breeders with a place to gather and discuss the subject they loved best—horses.

Daisy pushed through the entrance, ignoring the discreet, suit-and-tie employee trying desperately to wave her out. “Members only, miss,” he said, stepping in front of her, his smile politely frigid.

“Yes,” she said, smiling stiffly before sidestepping him and walking past. “I know.” They used to be members. Back when they could afford luxuries.

Daisy ignored the proliferation of brass plaques mounted to the wall, plaques reading No Denim in Clubhouse, Members Only and Men Only in the Lounge.

She entered the library, her gaze roving the clusters of men and women. The suit-and-tie staff member who’d stopped Daisy at the door cornered her. “You can’t be here. This is a private club.”

“I need to see someone. I won’t be long.”

Members were watching. Even the smokers standing around the library’s brandy cart paused to see what the commotion was about.

She felt a crackle of electricity, a new hum of tension. “What’s the problem?” It was Dante.

Daisy swung around, feeling an inexplicable thrill at seeing him. She hadn’t expected to feel a ripple of excitement, but he did something to her, made her pulse race. “I need to talk to you.”

“Is she your guest, sir?” The club employee wasn’t pleased.

“Yes.”

“Denims aren’t permitted in the clubhouse, sir.”

“We’ll talk outside, then.” Dante placed a hand on her lower back.

He didn’t push her or pressure her, and yet his touch made her tense, her spine shuddering at the razor sharp sensations rippling beneath her skin. All her nerve endings were alive and connected. She felt so much. She felt too much.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said, referring to the awkward scene in the library.

“I’ve dealt with worse,” he answered as they stepped outside onto the broad front porch. “So what’s wrong? Something serious must have happened if you chased me down here.”

Daisy turned her back on the views of darkened, endless emerald-green pastures. The air smelled ripe and fresh, a welcome change after the club’s smoky interior. She might as well get this over with. “We’ll have to put off signing the sale papers tomorrow. There seems to be a small problem with some of the documents.”

“You’ve changed your mind.”

His tone sounded ominously flat. She suddenly sensed he’d be ruthless in negotiations and realized she didn’t want him as an adversary. “No,” she denied swiftly. “It’s not that at all.”

“Then what is it?”

“Just details.”

His narrowed gaze swept her face, searching for a sign of deception. “You’re not shopping her around, are you?”

“No. I promise.”

Tension emanated from him in waves. His jaw jutted, and grooves formed on either side of his mouth. “Because I won’t pay more, Daisy, and I won’t jump through hoops. We made a deal. I expect you to honor it.”

“Just as I intend to honor it,” she answered tightly.

His jaw eased. “Good.” He was smiling again. “When I saw you in the library I hoped you were here because you’d changed your mind about going to the Lindleys’ tomorrow night. You haven’t, have you?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

His smile was one of pure regret. “No, I’m sorry.”

Later that night, at home in bed, Daisy lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. The roof sloped above her head and the dormer window let in moonlight. The trees outside patterned her ceiling with the outline of leaves, and it was like a mosaic, she thought, the texture and shape of leaves and branches against the white paint.

Dante wasn’t going to let her off the hook. He wanted Kentucky Kiss and he didn’t want to be jerked around over the purchase. She didn’t blame him. He’d been jerked around enough by her family.

So if Dante wouldn’t back down, it meant Carter Scott would have to.

Daisy closed her eyes. She dreaded going to see Carter Scott, but that’s what she’d do, first thing tomorrow.

But the next morning the truck had a flat tire, and one of the stable hands never showed up for work, so Daisy tackled his feeding and grooming chores after painfully jacking up the truck to get the tire changed.

Lunch was a rushed affair at the house, and there were phone calls to return and more stable chores to finish before she could finally break away to see Carter.

It was quarter to four when she climbed in her truck. Carter Scott lived on a wide residential boulevard in an exclusive Lexington neighborhood where the houses looked remarkably alike and were blueprints for the classic Southern mansion—brick steps, stately white columns and wrought-iron gates.

Her truck sputtered as she parked in the circular driveway, and as she rang the doorbell she noticed the dust on her boots and the grime on her jeans. She was filthy. This wasn’t exactly the right approach to take with Carter. He appreciated fine things. He would have appreciated Daisy more if she were … clean.

Carter’s housekeeper ushered Daisy to the formal high-ceilinged parlor at the front of the house, and Carter appeared almost immediately. He greeted Daisy warmly, offered her iced tea, which Daisy declined, and then something stronger, which Daisy also declined.

Five minutes of small talk was the best she could stomach. At the first conversational lull, Daisy brought up the problem. “Carter, something’s happened that shouldn’t have happened, and I need your help.”

“Anything, Daisy. You know how I feel about you.”

“Yes,” she hurriedly continued, trying not to squirm. All of Lexington had dumped them, all, that is, but Mr. Scott. He’d seized on the Collingsworths’ bad fortune as an opportunity to get a young bride at an elegant price. At least that’s the way Daisy saw it. “I understand you made Zoe a very generous loan.”

“It wasn’t a loan. It was payment on a contract.”

“Unfortunately, it’s a contract I can’t honor.”

“The contract’s legal, Daisy.”

“Carter, you know you can’t go to Zoe on farm matters. I manage the farm.”

“But this was between your dad and me. Zoe was just acting as his power of attorney.” Carter shifted in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. He’d once been blond but was quickly turning gray. Even his long handlebar moustache was graying. “Your sister does have that right, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“We met at Pembroke, Pembroke and Brown, the law firm that represents your family. Everything was done in accordance with your father’s wishes.”

But my father didn’t know what he was doing. Or did he? Daisy needed an aspirin badly. “I’ve sold Kentucky Kiss. She’s not mine to breed.”

His expression didn’t change. “My contract with Collingsworth Farm supercedes any other arrangement you’ve made for Kentucky Kiss.”

“Carter, please.”

He didn’t answer. His gaze dropped, and he stared into his crystal tumbler and wrinkled his nose before taking another long drink. “Go with me to the Lindleys’ tonight and I’ll think about it.”

“Oh, Carter—”

He didn’t plead, didn’t protest, he just waited. She couldn’t believe he’d do this, but what did she expect? Other people’s vulnerabilities made Carter feel strong. “You’re not being fair,” she said at length.

“No, you’re not being fair. You know how I feel about you. You want something from me. Why shouldn’t I want something from you?” He must have noticed her stunned expression because he hurriedly added, “Not that, Daisy. I’m a gentleman.”

“Carter, you’re a friend and a nice man but I don’t love you, and I can’t marry someone I don’t love.”

“You’ve never given me a chance.”

Daisy looked at him and felt the hopelessness of her situation. She knew she’d already told Dante no about the party and it seemed wrong—no, it was wrong—to accept a date from Carter. But did she have a choice? “If I go with you, you’ll consider tearing up the contract?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“And what would it take for you to actually do it?” She couldn’t believe she put the question to him, but she might as well have it out in the open. If he wanted to barter, she needed to know what was on the table.

He swigged the rest of his whiskey. “I don’t think we need to go there … yet.”

Daisy had her answer. He’d break the contract if she married him.