by Laura Moore
He imagined kissing her now, his tongue tangling with hers in a slow, sensuous wrestle. Tasting all that dark sugary warmth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kerry’s hand sneak toward the pie plate.
“Forget, it, brat,” he warned, his hand settling on her forearm.
His kid sister screwed her face in mock outrage. “You must be out of your mind. You already had two slices. And that wasn’t counting Ty’s apple raisin cake.” Futilely, she tried to jerk her arm forward.
“Irrelevant, kid. I got plans for that pie.” Steve was thinking of Ty’s mouth, Ty’s tongue, darting out, trailing up and down.
He only wished the slice were bigger.
Reading the expression on his face, Kerry gave Steve a knowing smirk. “I’ll bet you do,” she drawled, her hand trying to reach for the pie plate again. “Think of it this way, Godzilla, I’m just saving you from your baser instincts.”
“Children,” Olivia Sheppard admonished in a tone that had both blond heads snapping guiltily. “Will you please stop bickering during Thanksgiving? Kerry,” she said firmly, “let Steve have the pie. He and Ty are only here for a few days.”
Steve grinned in triumph, and his sister shot him a look of pure scorn. “Thanks, Mom,” Steve replied, positioning the pie plate directly in front of him so it was out of Kerry’s reach.
“Don’t think I won’t say anything when your clothes are covered with pine pitch tomorrow,” Kerry whispered loudly, referring to the towering white pine outside Steve’s bedroom window. During his high school years, it had served as his private staircase on the nights he’d snuck out of the house for a midnight tryst. Though his mother had often raised her eyebrows in suspicion at the blackened streaks covering his shirts and jeans, his parents had never been able to catch him. Hearing Steve’s burst of laughter at whatever Kerry was taunting him with now had Olivia Sheppard smiling mistily. It was good to have all the family under the same roof again. She’d adamantly refused to call their celebration this evening a pre-Thanksgiving, arguing that having all her children at home was sufficient reason to push any holiday up two weeks. If this wasn’t a reason to give thanks, then what was?
Her daughter, Maggie, had outdone herself, planning this meal for a full week. And if they’d been able to make Ty feel at ease and welcome by inviting her to join in the preparations, Olivia knew that the three of them, she, Maggie, and Kerry, had also benefited. It had given them the chance to get to know this quiet and somewhat reserved woman better. Well enough to understand that Ty’s initial air of reserve was nothing more than shyness, not a snooty sense of superiority.
For that, Olivia Sheppard couldn’t be happier. Since he’d called to tell them of the accident and Jason Belmar’s drug use, the Sheppards had been worried sick. But since Steve had stubbornly refused his family’s help, there hadn’t been much they could do. Watching Ty and Steve together these past couple of days, Olivia was filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Ty Stannard had succeeded where probably anyone else would have failed.
She had made Steve whole again.
That they were desperately in love with each other was as plain as the nose on Olivia’s still lovely face. Knowing that her son had at last found love brought such joy to Olivia, tears threatened, now as they had so often during the past forty-eight hours, whenever Olivia happened to come upon Steve and Ty. Usually, she managed to turn away before they noticed her presence. An easy feat, when two people were so wrapped up in each other. They’d be touching, Steve cradling Ty in a hug, perhaps tracing a finger down the elegant line of her cheek, or simply holding her hand. Surrounding them was an aura of piercing happiness.
Olivia Sheppard knew her son too well to think, for even a minute, this relationship with Ty might be merely a fling, a physical attraction that would fade with time. He’d always been careful, protecting himself, protecting his heart. The open affection he displayed with Ty told Olivia, more than words could, that this was the real thing.
She’d be giving Steve her engagement ring before he and Ty left. It would be wonderful to plan a wedding down here in Kentucky. But those details could be worked out later. Now it was time to put the kitchen to rights. That way Steve could do whatever wonderfully naughty thing he was dreaming about with that pecan pie.
“And did you remember to give Clyde Farrell my best?” Olivia asked, standing up and reaching for the plates. “It’s a shame he couldn’t join us tonight.”
“Mom, if Clyde had come, we would have run out of food in the first five minutes.” Steve grinned, rising to help. God, he hadn’t eaten this much in at least fifteen years. “He’s great, though,” Steve continued.
“Rory Lindemann’s going to examine two of his horses for me tomorrow.” Lindemann was the veterinarian his father used. Steve carried plates behind his mother into the kitchen. “If they pass, Pop said he’d ship them north for us.”
“Two?” asked Ty, mystified. She was carrying a large woven bread basket in her arms; it had been filled with corn bread and homemade rolls. Nothing was left but a few crumbs. “I thought you’d decided on Elusive.”
Damn, he hadn’t heard her come up behind him. “Nope. Decided to take both of them,” he said casually, setting the stack on the counter.
Ty nodded, as if in understanding. “They’re both wonderful. It just seemed like you were really taken with Elusive. I think Silvermine has great potential. I can’t wait to see you work with him.”
“Actually, Ty, I’m afraid it didn’t quite click with me and Silvermine.”
“But . . .” Ty shook her head. “Then why?”
“Because he’s for you, Ty,” Steve said softly.
So this is what a surprise could do to her, make her eyes go wide with shock, her mouth open in a perfect oh. Even though she’d clearly loved the young horse, she really hadn’t expected this, the notion tugging at him.
But seeing the tears well up in her eyes, seeing them spill over and tumble down her cheeks, had him thoroughly alarmed. His fingers felt clumsy as they brushed away her tears. When it became clear they were woefully inadequate to the task, his mouth descended, lips catching warm saltiness. “Hey, don’t cry,” he murmured helplessly, racking his brain for something that would stop those crystal-sized tears.
“It’s all Bubba’s fault, really. You can blame him. He told me to buy you a present. Something beautiful. I was thinking about a new pair of shoes for you, ’cause you look really, really, um, good in them, but then I asked Lizzie how much those Manolo Blahniks went for.” He gave a slight shake of his blond head, still unable to believe the figure Lizzie’d quoted. “For that kind of money, I’d rather buy a horse, wouldn’t you?” With hands stroking her silky hair, his lips moved over her face, catching fallen tears. “Do you like him, Ty?” he whispered. “If you want something else, I’ll give it to you. Anything.”
“He’s beautiful, Steve.” Her voice was raw as if she’d been crying for hours. “But I don’t deserve such a gift.”
“Yeah, you do,” Steve contradicted, filled with elation that she liked his present. Low laughter threaded his voice. “Think of it this way, Ty. We’re in Kentucky. A place where Christmas, like Thanksgiving, comes early.”
That clinched it. With a renewed sob, Ty threw her arms around Steve’s neck, disjointed words of thanks mixed with tears, as she pressed kisses against the column of his neck, against his smiling, indulgent mouth. They stood, Steve’s lean body wrapped around hers, Ty’s soft hiccups slowly subsiding as their kisses deepened, the rest of the world forgotten. Especially the rest of the Sheppard family. Steve’s father, his index finger pressed to his lips, ushered the Sheppard women away from their posts by the kitchen’s swinging door, pulling it quietly after him. He was doing his best to pretend he wasn’t moved by the sight of Ty and Steve. The women were plenty sentimental and mushy-hearted as it was. The game was up, however, when Kerry caught him turning away to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye, his other hand fishing for his bandanna.
<
br /> “Come on, Pop, let’s break out the champagne,” his daughter said with a smile, threading her arm through his. “This is a night for celebrating! Ty’s got a new horse. And Steve’s found himself an even finer filly. But you know why we should really be celebrating?”
“No, why, Kerr?” her father asked with a smile, never knowing what to expect from his youngest child.
“From the looks of it, that kitchen is going to be occupied for quite some time. Meaning you, Maggie,
and I have gotten out of the washing up!”
31
E asy come, easy go. That’s what Steve had said, unperturbed by the huge amount of money they’d spent in one short week. The prize money Steve had won at the Garden, the insurance money he’d received for Fancy Free, even the money Ty had earmarked for this first buying trip was gone. Not a penny remained.
What she probably should have done was insist Steve back out of the deal over Silvermine. That would have been a lot of money saved right there. When she’d mentioned it, however, Steve had been outraged. “No way. He’s perfect for you, you’re keeping him. It’s only money .”
The irony of his comment was not lost on Ty.
“Money we’ll need if my trust fund gets blocked,” Ty reminded him evenly, knowing, however, that she was wasting her breath. The entire time they’d been arguing, Steve hadn’t once taken his eyes off one of the two horses he’d purchased from Five Oaks, the farm that had bred the stallion, Orion. Carlos was longeing the young gelding, Watermark, while Steve stood by the railing, now and again calling out instructions in a low voice to the groom.
It had been a futile hope that Steve might realize that discussing their finances deserved as much attention as watching Watermark being longed for the first time at Southwind.
Nothing was going to convince Steve of that. Not with a horse this beautiful. Cassie Miller’s husband, Caleb Wells, had told them that even as a young foal, Watermark’s dapple coat had blurred this way, flowing together until parts of him looked like whimsically marbled Venetian paper. Hence the name. At three years of age, Watermark was already a big horse, most likely he’d grow to be a good seventeen hands. Steve had paid handsomely for him, but Ty knew he considered every cent well spent. They weren’t the only ones who had blown some big money recently. Sam Brody’s pockets were significantly lighter these days, too. But Ty hadn’t heard a single complaint from Sam, either. Happily munching the hay in her new home, a roomy box stall in Steve’s barn, was an all-black filly, called Cassis, the yearling sister of the stallion Orion. Cassie Miller had been delighted when Steve told her Cassis’s new owner would be none other than Alex’s friend Sam Brody.
Sam had driven out to meet Cassis. Standing by her stall, his thumb rubbing his cheek reflectively,
“Lizzie’s going to be one jealous woman.”
“She still feeling all warm and fuzzy toward you?” Steve had inquired.
“I think running scared might be a better way to describe it.” Sam’s eyes taking in the clean lines of his new horse.
“I noticed, just in passing, of course, that Lizzie has really long legs.” Steve grimaced at the sharp poke he received from Ty.
“Yeah, they are,” he acknowledged, his teeth flashing in a dangerous smile. “But mine are longer. Eventually she’ll figure that out,” Sam promised. With an outstretched palm, he offered Cassis a small apple treat, which she accepted with the coy delicacy of an ingenue. “She might stop running a bit sooner, however, just to take a peek at this young mare of mine.”
“Ty, hon, why don’t you give Lizzie a call tonight,” Steve suggested blandly. Important to keep new owners happy.
“Why wait? I have some paperwork to do, anyway. And Serena’s coming by as soon as she gets out of school. We’re going over all the stuff she did for the Web site and the clinic. She said the response was great. We’ll need to sort through the applicants.”
“I’ll be in soon. Just want to check and make sure the new horses are okay.”
“Bubba and you plan to tuck them in every night?” Ty teased.
Steve angled his head, capturing her lips in a long, lazy kiss. Then, with a playful wink, “Well, I can’t speak for Bubba, but I got something much better to tuck in every night.”
“Bye, Sam. I love your new horse.”
“Thanks, Ty. I think I might, too.”
Ty had left Sam and Steve with Cassis, Steve outlining his training plans for the young mare, Sam seeming completely comfortable in his new role as expensive horse owner. Which was great, Ty thought; this was exactly what Southwind needed, enthusiastic owners who were willing to place their trust in Steve. Ty merely wished she herself could be as sanguine. Her stomach churned, tight knots of worry.
As she walked back toward the house, she drew a deep, bracing lungful of chilly November air, willing away the knot of anxiety, of tense foreboding. Everything would be fine, she said to herself. Watching her leave, Steve reached into his right-hand pocket, absently fingering the heavily creased stationery.
They’d made love through the night, falling asleep only as the sky was lightening. It was Monday, the barn’s off day, meaning the horses wouldn’t be exercised, only turned out. Steve was counting on Ty to sleep right through it. She certainly needed the rest. All the traveling of the past two weeks, along with the additional excitement of the show, had even Steve a little bleary-eyed. If one factored in the stress of meeting his family, of driving hundreds of miles cross-country, of all the work and riding Ty had been doing, it was a real testament to her strength that she could still stand. Yeah, it would simplify things beautifully if she slept right through Steve’s meeting with her father. Never learning her father had approached him, offering to buy him off. Steve could save her from that pain, at least.
After the meeting with Ty’s father, he’d destroy the letter, the proposed contract, too. Both just bursting with heart-warming sentiment. Stannard laid everything out crystal clear, an eight-year-old could have grasped the implications. Without preamble, Stannard announced the fact that he’d already instructed his lawyers to file a suit that would temporarily, if not permanently, freeze the income his daughter received from her mother’s trust. No further money from the trust could be used, not until the presiding judge heard the case and decided on it.
That hadn’t come as a huge surprise. Ty had said that’s what her father would do, and she obviously understood his twisted mind better than anyone. Sick though it was, this sort of nasty family feuding wasn’t anything new. Headlines were full of wealthy families attacking each other, one member suing the pants off another. Most did it out of greed.
But Steve didn’t believe that properly described Tyler Stannard’s flawed motivation. Was it spite? Or was it that after wielding power for so long, Stannard had actually come to believe he had the right to manipulate people’s lives—and now relished doing so?
Steve didn’t know the answer. It was almost worth meeting with the bastard just to see if he could figure it out.
What did surprise Steve, however, was the rest of the Stannard’s proposal. It made him think he’d been smart to infuriate the man—by making those statements to Vicky Grodecki, by having his and Ty’s red-hot embrace captured on film—because the proposal revealed exactly to what extent Tyler Stannard would go to remove Ty from Steve’s “evil clutches”—the words were Steve’s, not Stannard’s. Stannard, while possibly nuts, certainly evil, was no fool. His letter and the propsal, were exquisitely worded, their intent to play to Steve’s obvious weaknesses: his desire to own Southwind free and clear and his need for financial security.
Christ, Steve reflected. He’d changed so much in the last month, no longer the same person who’d sat in those law offices, engulfed in such self-pity that his principal goal had been to finagle Southwind from Ty. A woman who had cared enough to step forward and give him the help he desperately needed. Money, first, but the most important thing she’d given him was love, a love that had made him able to hope
again. That Steve’s initial schemes had come to naught was irrelevant. The unpalatable truth was that a mere month ago, his attitude hadn’t been so very different from Ty’s father’s. Given the chance, he would have manipulated Ty just as ruthlessly.
Thank God he’d fallen deeply in love with this brave and beautiful woman. A better man for it, he was determined not to disappoint her.
Tyler Stannard was prompt, that was about the only positive thing Steve had to say about Ty’s father. Come to think of it, not even his punctuality meant a whole lot to Steve. It was other people who worked their butts off to guarantee Tyler Stannard’s arrival at a precise hour. The helicopter pilot who’d flown Stannard to Easthampton, the limousine’s chauffeur, sitting in it still, cooling his heels in Steve’s driveway. No, Tyler Stannard didn’t have a damn thing that impressed Steve. Except a daughter. Stannard hadn’t bothered to hide the faint curl of his upper lip as he’d looked around Steve’s home. The king visiting the peasant’s hovel. Steve had been watching from the kitchen window, cradling the last of his coffee before he went out to intercept Ty’s father. He didn’t want the doorbell awakening Ty.
“Mr. Stannard,” Steve took the terse nod for a salutation. Tyler Stannard looked as close to apoplectic as an iceberg could be, a faint smile crossing Steve’s lips when he recalled Ty’s characterization of her father. Antarctica was probably too tropical for him.
“Mr. Stannard, I was just making some more coffee. May I offer you a cup?”
Stannard didn’t consult the slim watch peeking out beneath the cuff of his tailored suit, but merely looked at Steve with open dislike. His eyes were the same hue as Ty’s but flat, an ugly, humorless gray. “My time is extremely valuable. You indicated there were things you wanted to discuss before our lawyers met. I’m accommodating your request to come here . . .”
