She could sense a trap coming but didn’t know which way to jump to avoid it. “That’s correct.”
“So if I say I want you to train some ponies in Argentina?”
That wasn’t a question, it was a command, Rose sensed. Argentina? Is he serious? “I’ve got a lot of work here,” she excused, wanting to give herself time to think.
“You work for the team,” Dante reminded her evenly. “Your contract stipulates that you go wherever the team directs.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “But does the team want me in Argentina, or do you?”
“You flatter yourself, Senorita Delaney.”
Embarrassment flooded her cheeks with heat, and she was careful not to brush against him as she left Lucifer’s stall. Dante seemed more the Romani chieftain than ever in the shadows of the dimly lit stable block. Saturnine, sexually charged, and extremely dangerous hardly made for a comfortable chat.
“I start work at dawn,” she reminded him politely. “Five thirty. And there’s a lot to do before I go to bed—”
“Alone?”
That was none of his business, but for the sake of her job, she curbed her tongue in favor of a polite, “Good night, Senor Formosa. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Walking to the barn door, she held it open and stood back as he walked past.
~~o0o~~
Intuition was great sometimes—most of the time. He knew what Rose was thinking. She wanted him, but she wouldn’t risk it. She thought she’d be hurt in the process, and her flawless reputation would be gone. The odds were too high for Rose Delaney. She thought herself strong and adventurous, but she was basically a conventional, home-loving girl who lavished all her love on her ponies.
As his beach house was some distance away, he’d traveled to the party on his Harley, and he straddled it now. Gunning the engine, he glanced at the stable block, where he guessed Rose would be working for some time. This wasn’t over yet. By holding out, she kept his interest. She might be the most infuriating woman he’d ever met, but she was also the most intriguing. She was a unique challenge and certainly irreplaceable when it came to his horses.
Wheeling the bike around, he powered away, confident the next woman in his bed would be Rose. He’d never yet set a goal he hadn’t achieved. The only hurdle remaining was that as much as Rose refused to risk her job, he wouldn’t risk losing her expertise.
The moon was hidden behind a cloud when he arrived home. Parking, he stood for a moment in silence. He lived alone and preferred it that way. He was answerable to no one. In spite of that, he wanted Rose with him tonight. Her silky black hair should be spread on his pillow, and her pale, Celtic limbs wrapped around him—
She wasn’t here. Get over it. There were plenty more fish in the sea.
Not like Rose, he grudgingly conceded as he opened the front door. She stood out in every way. She’d made him laugh with the hosepipe in the stable, and impressed him on a daily basis with her work. Remaining stubbornly unresponsive to the very obvious sexual charge between them appeared to be her only flaw.
His feet echoed in the emptiness of the big house as he walked across the marble hall. Touching a switch, he opened the floor-to-ceiling windows in his great room. The deck overlooking the ocean called him over. Walking outside, he stared into the blackness. The surf rose and crashed around him. Driven by unseen forces, it reminded him of Rose. Like her, the ocean was unpredictable and always challenging. At some point, even Rose’s energy would have to be released.
Returning inside, he poured a Scotch and knocked it back. The drink warmed him. It also unlocked memories. His mother had been fearless like Rose. His father had said she was a powerful woman. A horse had brought the young Romani to his father’s attention when Dante’s mother had tried to sell him a promising foal. For his staid father, trapped in a loveless marriage, the arrival of such a wild spirit had proved life changing. Dante’s mother had rekindled his love of life, his father had explained. He had become even more besotted when he watched her work with his horses, but though he’d begged her to stay, she said that moving on was the way of her people.
His mother hadn’t returned to the estancia until just before Dante’s birth. His father was away, and his stepmother refused her all medical help. The gauchos had done their best for her, but she was dead before Dante had bellowed his first cry. When his father returned, he insisted on adopting his lusty son, which had laid the foundation stone for his stepmother’s hatred. When his father died, Dante didn’t know who was more surprised to discover that he, Dante, the Romani’s son, had inherited everything.
His stepmother had made plans to sell the estancia to oil prospectors, and with her plans thwarted, she contested the will. Loving the land and the people who lived on it more than life itself, Dante fought back. It had taken everything he had, and had cost him his personal happiness too, though that was something he tried never to think about. He had gone on to win the court case and had settled a generous sum on his stepmother to ensure they never had to see each other again. It was thanks to her and the other one that he mistrusted women. Which brought his thoughts full circle to Rose. He had no reason to mistrust Rose.
Not yet.
~~o0o~~
His first waking thought the next morning was Rose Delaney. If she was only half as good in bed as she was on horseback, he reflected an hour or so later as he watched Rose working with his horse Lucifer, she would be a welcome distraction. He leaned on the fence as Rose trotted past. Lucifer was notorious for bucking off all comers with the exception of Dante, but Rose had no problem controlling his horse. She was graceful and firm and above all unafraid, and the big pony respected her for it. Rose could be shy with people, but not with horses.
Dante wasn’t exactly the life of the party. He had no small talk and loathed pretentious gatherings. In his parallel life away from the glamor of polo, he dealt with horror on a daily basis. He believed this gave him a perspective on life not granted to many. The things he’d seen gave him little patience for the petty concerns of the so-called superrich. There had to be a happy medium, he reflected as Rose came around again. There also had to be nights without erotic dreams. He’d spent most of last night picturing Rose riding naked through the surf, followed by Rose secured by a selection of tack, awaiting his pleasure. It amused him to think how that would go down with her. He leaned in to watch as she dismounted. Bringing the big horse to lie down on the ground, she sat beside him, stroking Lucifer as if he were a pussycat.
He watched in admiration as she mounted up again. Lucifer didn’t move a muscle as she settled smoothly onto his back. Rose was riding bareback, with her limbs so relaxed and still, she didn’t appear to be moving at all, and yet she was fully in control of the big animal as she cantered past. “I hope you’re impressed,” she murmured. “Imagine what I could do with you—”
“Careful,” he murmured. His senses roared as he refocused on Rose the woman, rather than Rose the equine expert.
“You’ve certainly worked miracles,” he admitted when the session ended. “I believe you mentioned something ab
out working on me next?”