Dr. Perfect: A Contemporary Romance Bundle

by Oliver, J. P.

  Maybe it had, but I knew from my research that its present owner was new to the area. Around here, that identifier would stick through a couple generations.

  I parked my truck in front of the barn, where Dailey said he would meet me. I desperately needed to make a good first impression. As I hopped from the cab, a man slightly taller than me, dressed in an impeccably cut suit with a phone plastered to his ear, stepped from the dimly lit barn aisle into the sun. The light glinted off rich, dark hair, but it was the clear, piercing quality of his gray eyes that made me catch my breath and go as still as a startled deer. Our gazes met. His eyes widened, and I wondered if he felt that same stab of yearning I had. He looked as delicious as a GQ model, and I ached to think he would be off limits, if this was indeed my boss.

  I surreptitiously wiped my palms on my jeans. His silvery eyes followed my movement and a faint smile curved generous lips as though he somehow knew what I was thinking.

  Please, God, don’t let me get a hard-on right now.

  He ended whatever call he was on and extended his right hand, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Whitt. You must be Reece.”

  “I am.” I looked around. “Nice place.”

  Whitt brushed a cobweb from the charcoal gray of his sleeve as Ripper rounded the back of the truck. His ears pricked, and he gave a short woof before trotting toward Dailey. This could be bad. He’d started to lift his leg on Jordy when they’d first met. In fact, Ripper usually greeted Jordy with a growl, as he had Jordy’s new “trainer” when he’d arrived to remove my ex-client’s horses. This time, though, Ripper stopped in front of my potential employer and gazed at him with a faint wag of his stubby tail.

  Damn. The dog liked him.

  Dailey arched a brow. “Who’s this?”

  “Ripper.”

  Whitt squatted and extended his hand for the dog to sniff. After the initial greeting, Ripper actually took a step forward.

  “He likes you.” If there was a tone of disbelief in my voice, it was simply because Ripper didn’t like many people. Me. Steffy. Now Whitt. That was it. Well, he tolerated Beanie.

  Whitt stood with that cool smile still curving his lips. He glanced at his watch. “Why don’t we go ahead and take a look around? I have to be in Alexandria in a couple hours. You tell me where you want to start.”

  I stepped forward. “Here would be great.”

  This close, I could smell the mix of citrus and spice in his cologne. I gave him a side glance and realized he was checking me out, but with such surreptitiousness that I doubted there was anything sexual to it. Too bad.

  I flicked the light switch outside what I assumed was a combination tack and feed room. Aisle lights immediately sprang on. I glanced toward the ceiling.

  “Hayloft?”

  Whitt shrugged. “I guess. Honestly can’t say I’ve spent any time in here.”

  I kept the “that’s obvious” that sprang to my lips to myself. Not appropriate, Wilder. Of course, neither were the thoughts I was having about my prospective employer. I eyed his suit.

  “You might want to stay here while I take a look. I’m guessing it’s even dustier than this part of the barn.”

  He nodded. I climbed the ladder far enough I could see the empty expanse. Dust motes hovered in the air, riding the slivers of sunlight filtering around the loft doors. I glanced down to say something to Whitt and found him staring at my ass, his lips slightly parted. I looked quickly away, feeling a throb I desperately needed to control.

  I scrambled back to the aisle and cleared my throat before opening the door to the tack room. It was large enough to accommodate saddles and bridles as well as a couple of built-in feed-bins.

  “I’d like to look at your ring, if you don’t mind.”

  He looked confused for a minute before saying, “Oh, the place where you ride. This way.”

  I squatted inside the ring and scooped a handful of the riding surface, letting out a low whistle. “Wow. Someone did this right.”

  “Sand?” Whitt asked with a trace of laughter in his voice. “Is there a way to do that wrong?”

  I picked through the material in my hand. “See these pieces here? These are little bits of rubber. It adds springiness to the footing, easier on the horse’s feet and legs.” I looked at him with a grin. “And maybe your butt, too, if you get thrown.”

  His brow arched. “I would think you’d train the horse and me well enough that won’t be an issue.”

  I laughed. “It’s always an issue. Did you learn to ride a bike without ever falling?”

  “Well, no.” He rolled his eyes. “So, is the place okay?”

  I blew out a breath. “It’s a fantastic facility. What kind of timetable are you looking at?”

  “I’d like you to start as soon as possible. You have free rein. Spend whatever you need. Do you have horses?”

  “Two. My mare, Satin. I also have an older gelding, a lesson horse I use for beginners. I’m guessing you’ll want something more than him pretty quickly, but for the first few times you’re in the saddle, Mac should be fine.”

  I glanced around at the deserted stable. While everything had been maintained, it was obvious it had been out of use for some time.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, you don’t seem to know anything about horses, so why do you want to learn to ride?”

  His expression was remote. “My doctor seems to think I spend too much time working and need something to do to help me relax. He suggested this.”

  I nodded. The facility was first class, but I still had some niggling doubts. Having just gone through Jordy’s temper tantrum, the last thing I needed or wanted was another rich asshole who would dump me right as Satin was at the point of making it big. When he decided riding was a bit more than playing tennis at the club, I didn’t need to be hung out to dry.

  Dailey glanced at his watch once more. “Why don’t we go to the house? We can talk about contracts, salary, that sort of thing.”

  I smiled, a feeling of relief flooding through me. A contract. I liked the sound of that. It implied he and I both had agreements to keep. The Maysburg Autumn Classic Horse Show was a little more than a month away. This could work.

  “That sounds good.”

  Side by side, we headed toward the house. Ripper trotted along with us, periodically dashing under the fence and into a pasture to chase a butterfly or leap at a bumble bee before racing back to us to resume his sedate trot along the drive.

  I was surprised when we reached the house that no servant opened the door. Instead, Whitt Dailey turned the knob and showed me in, not even batting an eye when Ripper followed too.

  “We’ll go to my office. There on the right.”

  I followed him into a room with a large desk near the French doors. Around the fireplace were leather chairs and a short sofa, arranged around a low coffee table. It was clean and comfortable, but it felt more like a showplace than a home.

  “Make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink?”

  “Water would be nice, Mr. Dailey.” I tended to steer away from alcohol most of the time. I’d seen too clearly what it had done to my dad.

  “Whitt. Mr. Dailey is my dad. He’s not here.” Was there an edge to his voice? I brushed it off, watching him move with a natural grace to a mini-fridge in a bar at one side of the room. He took out two water bottles and handed me one.

  “Thanks, Whitt.”

  He sat in the chair next to my end of the couch and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “As I mentioned, I would like you to start as soon as possible. When would you be available?”

  “Actually, I could start Monday. I have several kids I teach, but I normally work with them at their homes. Would that still be possible?”

  Whitt’s eyes narrowed. “I think we can work that out. As I mentioned, money is not a problem.” He named a salary that nearly made my jaw drop and followed it with, “Of course, I would like you to live here. My schedule can be a bit unpredictable, so having you here would
be more convenient.”

  Was there a hint of a blush on his lean cheeks as he said I would need to live on the farm?

  “I noticed the apartment,” I began, but he cut me off.

  “That would be for whatever barn help you decide to hire. You would live here in the house.” This time he did blush. “Sorry, I should have asked if you have a family.”

  “Just the dog.”

  “He’s welcome inside.”

  I glanced around the room. All of this sounded like a dream come true. The problem would be living in the same house as Whitt Dailey. I was far too aware of the way his tailored pants hugged his thighs, the enticing scent of his cologne, and the lock of hair that wanted to fall across his forehead.

  Whitt stood, gathered a folder from his desk, and returned. His gaze was cool, impersonal, a refutation of every inappropriate thought I’d had.

  “Here’s the contract.”

  I took it from him and read through it. Short and to the point, it laid out what services he required from me and what compensation I would receive in return.

  “I will need some time to school my mare. I’m preparing her for the Maysburg show.”

  “Not a problem. I think you’ll find I won’t overtax you. After all, this is supposed to be a way for me to relax.”

  For the first time, his slight smile had some humor behind it, apparently directed at himself.

  So, there was a crack in the rich, arrogant asshole veneer. Dangerous.

  I signed the contract anyway, hoping that with a house as huge as this one, and a schedule as busy as he claimed, I could keep my attraction under control—especially when I wasn’t getting any encouragement from his side.

  4

  Whitt

  A week after my first glimpse of Reece Wilder and I still couldn’t stop looking. I tried not to make it obvious. Easier than expected. I’d never thought much about it before, but I had a perfect view of the barn from the French doors behind my desk. I had watched him move in his horses and interview a couple of stable hands before he finally settled on one young man whose scruffy appearance in no way reflected his dogged work ethic.

  Together, Reece and his helper, had moved in all sorts of equipment. Most of it was a mystery to me. What fascinated me was the amount of hard physical labor Reece put in. I knew he was an early riser. His coffee cup was usually already washed and in the dish drainer before I entered the kitchen in the morning, but other than that sign of his presence and my glimpses of him at the barn, I scarcely saw him.

  Out of curiosity, I had awakened an hour earlier this morning. He was still already gone, but what I saw instead was him riding his horse. Man and beast moved together seamlessly as they flowed across the pasture. Sweat broke out across my brow. Seeing his thighs gripping the horse’s sides sent a shiver of anticipation through me. A sudden vision of running my hands along his muscles and gripping his ass flooded my imagination. Would he be as powerful a lover as he appeared? I had always controlled my relationships with men, but watching Reece made me think of other alternatives. My breathing had speeded up and my heart was racing…Shit. I had to stop this. The guy was here to teach me to ride a horse not him.

  He had told me last night he was ready to give me my first lesson this morning and added the instructions to wear jeans and a boot with a low heel. He’d eyed me in a critical way. “I have chaps that should fit you.”

  I had visions of some Hollywood cowboy strutting bowlegged in white and black cowhide. I had nodded, though, and wondered if I was going to want to kill Jack when this was all over with.

  I checked my watch. Eight. I was already dressed as instructed. It was time to find out exactly what I had embarked upon.

  The barn was spotless compared to my tour of it with Reece a week earlier. The dust and cobwebs were a thing of the past. The fragrance of fresh hay had replaced the odor of disuse. At my approach, Reece glanced over from where he was adjusting a saddle on a tall, placid-looking reddish-brown horse with a big white spot on his nose.

  “Good morning, Whitt. Meet Mac. He will be your new best buddy.”

  I gave the horse an awkward pat and looked at the saddle. It didn’t look like much. “Is that the whole saddle, or is there more to it?”

  Reece’s white teeth flashed in a smile that showed off the dimples in both cheeks. “That’s it. This is an English saddle. We’re starting off with what’s called a close contact saddle—less leather and padding between you and the horse.”

  I nodded, giving Mac another glance as he stood docilely in the aisle. “So, he’s nice and quiet?”

  Reece nodded, and to give him credit, didn’t laugh or even smirk. “He’s what we call bombproof. I’d trust him with my grandma.” He lowered the flap on the saddle and eyed my attire. “Let’s get some chaps on you. Follow me.”

  His calmness and confidence were a huge boost. Putting myself into situations where I wasn’t totally in control was way out of my comfort zone. Jack had known that when he suggested it. Rat Bastard.

  Reece pulled something that was plain tan leather from a hook in the tack room. “Try these.”

  I took them from his outstretched hand, then met his baby blue gaze. “I have absolutely no idea what to do with this.”

  This time, he laughed. “I’ll give you a hand.”

  I tried hard to keep my mind on business as he wrapped the wide strip of leather holding both sides together around my hips. His nearness and the clean male scent of him sent the blood rushing to my groin. Instantly, my mind returned to what I had fantasized about while watching him ride earlier. My gaze shifted to the riding crop hanging on a hook on the wall and my heartbeat went into overdrive.

  As he buckled the chaps in front below my belt, I couldn’t help sucking in a surprised breath. So fucking close to my cock that if I shifted a millimeter, his fingers would be all over me. I wanted to move, wanted to feel him glide his hands along my hips. God, I needed to get some control. What the fuck was happening to me?

  Our eyes met. His gaze shifted nervously. He had to be as freaked out as I was.

  Reece removed his hands, cleared his throat, and took a step back. A tiny pulse pounded at the base of his throat, a dead giveaway that he wasn’t nearly as calm and cool as he pretended to be. His glance slid away from mine as he instructed, “Wrap each side around your leg. Zippers are on the outside. They should fit snugly.”

  I was nervous and aroused. My hands fumbled a bit connecting the zipper. I managed the left leg finally but struggled with the right.

  “Mind if I give you a hand?” Reece asked.

  Our gazes met again in the thick silence of the tack room.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, studying his bent head with its golden-brown hair as he deftly connected the zipper and closed it. Complete control. He had it, while I was nearly shaking with need. I was acutely aware of his hand brushing against my leg and began figuring compound interest in my head to keep from focusing on Reece’s nearness.

  It was because I wasn’t used to having people close to me. That’s all it was.

  Reece handed me a black plastic helmet with a leather harness to attach it.

  “Let’s get this on you and properly fitted,” he said, his voice friendly but no-nonsense. “If you learn nothing else today, the most important lesson to remember is to always wear a helmet while riding. We use them on motorcycles and bicycles. Riding a horse is no different. No matter how much I trust Mac to take care of you, accidents can happen. You make a mistake; something can spook even the best of horses. The next thing you know, you’re on the ground.”

  This time, as he helped me adjust the helmet, I noticed he was careful not to actually touch me. Was it possible to feel relief and regret at the same time? I had too much at stake at the moment to act on the attraction I felt for Reece. Not only was he my employee, but Maitland, the client I needed to seal the deal with, had a conservative reputation. Sure, my being gay shouldn’t matter. Yet I knew from personal experience, it made a di
fference. At the very least, it could be used as an excuse. It had been by my family.

  So, Reece was off limits.

  “I’ll put the bridle on Mac today, but watch. You’ll be expected to learn how to do all of this.”

  “Can’t I hire grooms?”

  Reece gave me a cool look. “You could. But no horseman worth his salt ignores any aspect of horsemanship whether it’s in the saddle or on the ground.”

  There had been a tone in his voice that would have been interesting to explore if I weren’t beginning to feel a bit nervous. Quiet as he was, Mac was big. Reece gathered the horse’s reins in one hand and what looked like a super-long dog leash in the other.

  “What’s the leash for?” I asked as I walked beside him toward the ring.

  “It’s a long line. Since it’s your first experience on horseback, I’ll be maintaining some control of Mac while I teach you to get him to respond to your commands.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him if the trainer would respond to my commands too. Inappropriate.

  In the center of the ring, Reece stopped. While Mac stood stock still, Reece showed me how to adjust my stirrups to an approximate length to fit me, had me check the girth for the correct tightness, and showed me how to mount the horse. He swung onto the horse’s back lithely and easily, his tight ass settling softly into the saddle.

  Somehow, I had the feeling I wasn’t going to be quite so graceful. By the fifth time mounting and dismounting, I had the hang of it.

  “Okay, on your next try, stay on board. We’ll get everything adjusted so you can begin moving.

  Once I was in the saddle this time, Reece approached and shifted my foot, my lower leg, and my thigh. I knew his touch was meant to be impersonal, his expression and demeanor were nothing but professional, but the constant contact with him made my heart pound.