His Convenient Virgin Bride

by Barbara Dunlop

  Stephanie cocked her head as she gazed steadily at Royce.

  “We just saw him,” he backed Amber up.

  “But you weren’t going to tell me.”

  They didn’t deny it.

  “Was that for my own good, too?”

  When nobody immediately answered, she shook her head in disgust then paced off down the center aisle of the barn toward the hotel and the main offices.

  Alec went quickly after her. “What was that about?”

  She didn’t break her stride. “Blanchard’s Run.”

  “He’s a horse, right?”

  “He is.”

  “And you want to buy him?”

  “I do.”

  “But he’s expensive.” Alec had the full picture now.

  “He’s a bargain.”

  “A million dollars?”

  “You’re just like the rest of them.”

  “Hold up there for a second.” He snagged her arm, tugged her to a stop before she could exit the barn and join the crowds outside.

  She stopped, but turned on him, eyes blazing.

  “Is this important?” he asked.

  “Not at all,” she denied.

  “Stephanie?”

  She drew in an impatient sigh and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because I do. Because you’re not mad at me, you’re mad at them.” He jabbed his thumb back in Royce’s direction. “And because I hate it when you act like a spoiled kid.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “You’re not, you know. You’re an intelligent woman who knows what she wants and how to work for it. You want this horse, and I’m curious to know why.”

  “Fine.” She drew a breath. “I’ve been interested in Blanchard’s Run for nearly a year. I’ve studied his blood-lines and the conformation of his offspring, along with their competition records. And I think the combination of Blanchard’s Run and my retired mare, Pinnacle, would produce fast, smart, high jumpers. If science and genetics has anything to say about it, the EBVs of their offspring would be off the charts.”

  “EBVs?”

  “Estimated Breeding Value.”

  “Oh.”

  “In technical terms, they would be worth a whole lot of money.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. I can also breed him to three other mares I’ve bought this year, partly in anticipation of a future acquisition of Blanchard’s Run. Then, three, maybe five years from now, if his existing offspring prove out the way I expect them to, and if the Ryder foals show promise, we’ll be able to get top dollar for the animals.”

  Alec was impressed. “So, why don’t your brothers want you to buy the horse?”

  “Because they’ve never listened long enough to know my plan is based on concrete science. They assume I’m operating on emotion instead of intelligence.”

  “They’re wrong,” said Alec.

  “Yeah? Well, since I’m out of the will, I don’t have much of a leg to stand on anymore.”

  “There is that.” Even as Alec was agreeing with her, he was coming to a decision.

  It had nothing to do with guilt. And it had nothing to do with his feelings for Stephanie. And it wasn’t to help her feel better after yesterday’s revelations. It was a good business decision, plain and simple.

  Stephanie blinked in disbelief at Blanchard’s Run’s ownership papers. They’d been delivered to the hotel suite five minutes ago, with her name on the envelope.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head against what had to be an illusion. But, no, she wasn’t crazy. That was her name, and Ryder Equestrian Center, and Blanchard’s Run’s pedigree.

  The suite door opened.

  Alec strode in and glanced at the papers. A grin spread across his face.

  “You?” she asked in amazement.

  “I thought you made a convincing case.”

  She stared up at him, her brain grappling with the situation. “You bought Blanchard’s Run?”

  He tossed his key card on the table near the foyer. “Was it all true? The EBV thing?”

  “Of course it was.”

  “Good. ’Cause if it’s not, I just made a very big mistake.”

  “It’s all true,” she assured him with a nod, emotion stinging the backs of her eyes. Nobody had ever trusted her like this before.

  “I’ll expect him to make money,” Alec warned.

  She nodded. “He will.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  Suddenly she was. “Starved.”

  “You want to go out or stay in?”

  “Could we eat out on the balcony?” she asked, warm feelings for Alec blossoming inside her. It was a gorgeous night, and she loved the view across the grounds to the arena. She felt like celebrating. And she felt like being alone with Alec.

  “I’ll call room service,” he offered.

  “I’m going to shower.” She hugged the ownership papers to her chest, smiling all the way to her bedroom.

  Alec had made a business investment in her. He trusted her to make good decisions, to make money.

  She set the papers carefully on the bedroom desk, smoothing them out. Then she stripped off her work-worn clothes and headed for the shower.

  She scrubbed her hair and rinsed it with conditioner. Then she shaved her legs and used some of the rose scented shower gel and body lotion provided by the hotel. After blow-drying, she wrapped herself in a fluffy robe and wandered back into her bedroom.

  The windows were open, letting in the fresh night air.

  She felt light and happy, optimistic about the future for the first time in weeks. Blanchard’s Run would kick Ryder Equestrian Center to a whole new level.

  She pulled open the dresser drawers. Her choices were limited, but she was in a mood to dress up.

  She found a matching set of underwear, white lace panties and a low-cut bra. She pushed a pair of pearl earrings into her ears, fastened the matching necklace and bracelet, then crossed to the closet for the single dress she’d brought along on the trip.

  A soft, clingy knit, it had narrow straps, a low square-cut neck and crisscrossed ties decorating a tapered V back. The skirt flared over her hips, cascading softly toward her knees. She quickly realized the bra wouldn’t work and tossed it back in the drawer.

  In the bathroom, she put on a little makeup. She tied her hair up, then brushed it back down, then twisted it in a messy knot at the back of her head, letting wisps curl across her forehead and along her temples.

  She heard a knock on the suite’s outer door. Alec’s footfalls told her he was answering, and she gave the waiter a few minutes to finish setting up. Then she slipped her feet into little black sandals and left the bedroom.

  Alec wasn’t in sight, but the glow of candlelight flickered through the glass, balcony door.

  She wandered outside to find hurricane lamps decorating the patterned, white, wrought-iron tables. Linen and silverware was set out, and plump, peach colored cushions softened the chairs. Salad had been served, while a low wreath of flowers surrounded the glass chimney candle at the center of the table.

  “Madame?” came a low voice as a tuxedoed waiter appeared.

  He pulled out her chair as Alec arrived in the doorway.

  He’d also showered and shaved. He wore charcoal slacks and an open collared, white, dress shirt.

  His gaze took in her outfit. “You look very nice.” The words were reserved, but there was a burn in his eyes that warmed her from head to toe.

  She sat down, and Alec took the chair opposite.

  The waiter poured them each a glass of ice water to go with their salads, then melted away, closing the glass door behind him as a chorus of crickets ebbed and flowed from the shrubs and grass far below.

  “Do my brothers know you bought Blanchard’s Run?” She tried a bite of the fresh greens, avocado and raspberry vinaigrette salad.

  Alec shook his head, tasting the salad himself. “You can surprise them
.”

  “They’ll be very surprised.”

  Alec shrugged. “It’s your horse, your stable.”

  She took a few more bites, then dared a personal question. “How did you afford him?” She loved the horse, but she didn’t want Alec going out on a limb financially.

  He stared levelly at her.

  “I’m sorry,” she quickly apologized. “Was that too personal?”

  “No. It just hadn’t occurred to me that you didn’t know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Anything about my financial status.”

  “Or your family. Well, except for that little bit about your parents.”

  “Where I know pretty much everything about you.”

  She set down her fork. “More than me, as it turns out.”

  He gave a rueful smile.

  The waiter reappeared, removing their salad plates and replacing them with chicken and pasta before disappearing once again.

  “Financially I’m perfectly comfortable,” said Alec.

  Stephanie wasn’t sure what that meant.

  “I didn’t have to borrow money to buy Blanchard’s Run,” he elaborated.

  “So, you didn’t marry me for my money?”

  He smiled at her. “I didn’t marry you for your money.”

  She cut into the tender chicken. “You know, we never signed a prenup.”

  “Are you worried?”

  “Not anymore,” she deadpanned.

  “You could come out ahead on this,” he speculated.

  “Good to know. Since I have very expensive taste in horses.”

  Alec coughed out a laugh, and she smiled along with him. His slate eyes reflected the glint of the candlelight, and the flicker of the flame bounced off the planes and angles of his face. He was a spectacularly handsome man.

  Her gaze was drawn to his open collar, pushing her thoughts to his muscled chest and impressive shoulders. She couldn’t help but remember him naked, in the pale light of her bedroom, his touch, his scent, his taste.

  She moved on to his hands, stilled now on the silverware that rested against his plate. The things those hands had done to her.

  “Is Madame finished?” The waiter’s voice startled her.

  “Yes, please.” She drew a ragged breath, shifting in her chair as she became aware of the prickled heat chafing her skin.

  “We’ll skip dessert,” Alec told the man. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Very good, sir.” Once more, he disappeared, this time leaving the suite. They were alone.

  A full minute of silence ticked by while the breeze freshened, and candlelight flicked across the planes and angles of Alec’s face.

  “You bought me a horse,” she sighed, still not quite believing it could be true.

  He shrugged. “I know most guys go with flowers.”

  “But you’re not most guys.”

  “I guess not.”

  “Definitely not.”

  He bunched his napkin and tossed it on the table. “So, what did you get me?”

  “I was supposed to buy a gift?” She feigned alarm.

  He nodded. “It is our anniversary.”

  “What anniversary is that?”

  “Fifteen days.”

  “Ahh,” she nodded. “The little known fifteen-day horse-themed anniversary.”

  “Celebrated from Iceland to Estonia.”

  “We’re in Kentucky.”

  “So, no present for me?”

  She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I saw a ten-gallon hat in the gift shop downstairs.”

  He grinned. “Not my style.”

  “A silver, long-horn steer belt buckle?”

  He rose from his chair. “Try again.”

  “I’ve got a nice riding crop in the trailer.”

  “Did you mean that to be sexy?”

  “Noooo,” she chuckled as she shook her head.

  “Thank goodness.” He made his way around the table. “I mean, ouch.”

  “You’d prefer sexy underwear to leather?”

  He held out his hand. “Sexy underwear would definitely be my first choice for a gift.”

  She placed her hand in his, taking a deep breath and screwing up her courage. “Had to go without a bra tonight,” she confessed.

  His gaze dipped down. “Guess that saves me some unwrapping.”

  She rose to her feet, heart pounding, perspiration beginning to glow on her skin. “Yes, it does.”

  “I’ve missed you,” he said.

  “I’m right here,” she parroted.

  He smiled at the joke. “That’s not what I meant.” And his gaze did a tour of her body. His eyes darkened to pewter, going molten with desire.

  “It’s not what I meant, either,” she whispered, zeroing in on his lips, coming up on her toes, while his hand wrapped around to the small of her back and drew her close.

  She stroked her palms up the length of his chest, reveling in the play of muscles beneath the thin cotton. She curved over his shoulders, to the back of his neck, into the rough texture of his hairline, while his mouth slowly descended to hers.

  She parted her lips, her entire body softening in reaction to her nearness, his touch.

  He stopped, lips a fraction of an inch from hers. “Tell me this isn’t gratitude.”

  “Would it matter?” she couldn’t resist asking.

  “I know I should say yes.” He sucked in a breath. “But, honestly. Maybe.”

  “It’s quid pro quo,” she teased.

  “Sex with you is worth a million dollars?”

  She drew back. “Sex? I thought we were talking about a kiss.”

  “We can stop at a kiss,” he assured her, settling his arms more comfortably around her waist.

  “I think we should do that,” she responded.

  “You’re lying.”

  “Absolutely.” She inched back, pasting a sultry smile on her face and sliding one of her straps off her shoulder. Then she pushed down the other. The slinky fabric caught on her hardened nipples, clinging there in the candlelight.

  Alec glanced around, obviously confirming they had privacy. Then he drew her into the shadow of the overhang.

  “For a million dollars,” he whispered, as his lips finally came down on hers in an explosion of taste and texture. He kissed her deeply and thoroughly, and her body nearly melted when his fingers found her zipper and pushed it down.

  Her dress fell away, the breeze of the night caressing her skin. He surrounded her near naked body with his strong arms, hands roaming everywhere as he pressed her against the smooth, warm concrete wall.

  She squirmed against him.

  And his breathing rasped. “For a million dollars, I think we’re going to have to do it twice.”

  Twice turned out to be essential for Alec. Because the first time was over far too fast. And he was convinced he could make love to Stephanie all night long.

  In his bedroom now, he kissed the damp skin at the back of her neck, drawing her heated body more solidly into the cradle of his own. She fit perfectly. Everything about her fit perfectly, and he was beginning to wonder if he’d ever grow tired of holding her in his arms.

  “Tell me about your family,” she said softly, toying with the sheet he’d drawn over them both. The comforter had long since hit the floor, and most of the pillows were scattered around the room.

  “Not a good time,” he breathed. He wanted to focus on here and now, not on the past, and not on the future.

  She eased onto her back. “Why not?”

  He gazed down at her incredibly gorgeous face. There were two freckles nearly merged together on the cheekbone below her right eye. He kissed them, loving that he was close enough to observe that and so many other intimate and delightful things about her.

  “Alec?” she prompted as his hand slid over her hipbone, wandering down her thigh.

  “What?”

  “Why not?”

  He drew back a few inches. “Let me see…Maybe because I
’ve got a beautiful, naked woman in my arms?”

  “We already made love.”

  “We’re doing it twice, remember? You insisted.”

  “I need a rest.”

  “Liar.”

  She grinned but didn’t give in. “You have to tell me something about your family.”

  “I was an only child, and my father was a hard-ass.”

  “How so?”

  “He was harsh and demanding, with expectations that nobody could ever hope to meet.” Alec kissed her ear, letting his fingertips flutter over her flat stomach.

  It blew him away to think of his baby in there. It also blew him away to have her in his bed again. He’d slept with plenty of women, but he’d never felt this close to any of them. And he’d never felt so protective and so completely privileged.

  “Did he hurt you?” she asked in a small voice.

  Alec drew back again. “You mean physically?”

  She nodded.

  “Of course he did. But I was a teenager by then, and I could take it.”

  Her eyes widened in sympathy, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing tight.

  “I love the effect,” he told her, hugging her back. “But I’m not crazy about the motivation.”

  “Oh, Alec.”

  “Don’t do this, Stephanie. It was a long time ago. It wasn’t that bad, certainly nothing to turn into a movie of the week.”

  “Nobody ever hit me,” she told him.

  His hug tightened reflexively. “They’d better not have.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “Nothing’s fair. But I got the girl in the end, so I win.”

  It was her turn to draw back. “You mean me?”

  “Who else would I mean? How bad do you think I am at this?”

  That coaxed a smile out of her. “You mean pillow talk?”

  “Like I’m going to lay in bed with you and talk about some other woman.”

  She shrugged. “How should I know?”

  Her question brought a warm glow to his chest. “I love it that I was the first.”

  “You didn’t seem that thrilled at the time.”

  “I was feeling freaking guilty at the time.”

  The sympathy was gone from her eyes, and the teasing light was back. “For taking advantage of my innocence?”

  “For not having properly appreciated the privilege of being your first lover.”