I was swimming in a sea of neutral toned sheets and blankets. Silk probably. Expensive, definitely.
"I'd like to again."
I shook my head.
"Sorry babe, I gotta go."
She pouted. I rolled out of bed, looking for my clothes.
"Oh come on... Didn't we have fun together last night?"
I smiled and nodded. It's not that she was bad looking, even if she was at least a decade older than me. It was hard to tell with these rich older broads. She was toned, buffed and polished to a high shine.
Well preserved didn't even begin to cover it.
Yeah, she was hot. Not just for a cougar. But I wasn't in the mood. I didn't usually go for seconds anyway.
Hell. I never did.
Hit it and quit it was my motto. It served me well. I didn't want any entanglements and I doubted I ever would.
I looked at her, giving my best impersonation of someone who gave a shit.
"Where are my clothes?"
She smiled back and shrugged.
"I really couldn't say."
Fucking hell.
"That's great. Just great."
I looked around the room, lifting cushions and opening drawers. Nada. On the bedside table were my keys, wallet and phone. I scooped them up, thanking God for small favors.
"Have a nice day, Ma'am."
"Wait-you aren't leaving like that!"
I coyly waved bye bye to her and left. I jogged through her palatial house in the buff. The marble floors were cool under my feet. The place screamed mega bucks. But not in a tacky way. It was tastefully done, just like the lady herself.
She was chasing me through the house, becoming less composed by the second.
"Seriously, you can't! What will the neighbors think?"
I stopped at the front door of her mansion, glancing back over my shoulder.
"You should have thought of that before you hid my shit."
She screamed in frustration and threw a vase at me. I heard it shatter against the door as I closed it behind me. Just in the nick of time.
"Damn. That would have left a mark."
I made a call as I strolled down her manicured driveway to the gate.
"Joss, can you pick me up? I need a ride."
I leaned against the wrought iron gate and waved at a neighbor who was walking their dog.
"Take your time."
Bound To Me
The Delancey Brothers Trilogy
Joanna Blake
I pushed Black Jack to his limits, riding the stallion over the entire course. I did this nearly every morning now before his afternoon training session. Ever since the wild young horse had arrived.
It kept him from injuring himself or the trainers.
I was the only one the damned horse would listen to.
I rode into the paddock and dismounted, tossing the reins to McDermott, the head stable master.
"Your appointment is waiting for you Daniel."
He winked at me.
"What appointment?"
"She was supposed to be here last week, remember?"
I cursed. A rich city girl was here to breed her horse with one of ours. She'd been carefully instructed that the sooner in the mare's season she came, the better the chances that the mare would quicken.
But the prearranged date had come and gone without a word.
I'd had the staff call. I'd emailed. And then I'd written it off.
I was inclined to ignore the matter entirely. Just to teach the lady a lesson in manners. Leave the horse unbred.
But I couldn't.
Jackson had personally tasked me with this client.
Damnit.
"Personally, I'd say she was worth the wait."
I glanced at McDermott sardonically.
"The mare or the woman?"
He chuckled.
"Both!"
I smiled at his joke and patted Black Jack's flank.
"Cool him down and clean him off. It's time for him to meet his first girlfriend."
"What about you?"
He gestured to my riding clothes. I'd been out for hours, sweating in the Texas sun. I looked down at myself.
I pulled out a handkerchief and wiped my face.
"That's as good as the lady is going to get. Where is she?"
"Where else? The stables."
I nodded. Where else, indeed.
Horse people were all the same. Even if they were God awful in human company. But each and every one loved the majestic animals with an intense fervor unmatched by other hobbyists.
I strode into the massive stable building, eager to get this over with. The stables were L-shaped. She wasn't in the first corridor so I turned the corner.
And stopped in my tracks.
Leaning against one of the stable doors was a tall, slender, very, very curvy woman. Her long blond hair was artfully arranged in luxurious waves. Her outrageously perfect bottom was encased in snug fitting riding pants. Her profile was one of classic beauty, with thickly lashed eyes, high cheekbones, a delicate nose and pouty lips.
Did I mention the curves?
Her entire bearing screamed old money, privilege and pride.
And stupidity.
She was leaning against Thunderstorm's stall. The one horse who'd been known to injure anyone who rode him. Or got close to his stall. The most dangerous horse in a hundred miles.