Nacho Figueras Presents (13 page)

A
lejandro pulled into the gas station in Tallahassee, and got out to check on the horses. He'd driven straight through, only stopping for coffee and to give the horses parking breaks. It was hard for the animals to balance when the truck was in motion, and they needed frequent stops to rest their legs.

Alejandro knew that he should be weary, but he felt wired, and was certain that this restlessness wasn't just from the amount of caffeine he'd been consuming. He stretched next to the truck for a moment, relishing the feeling of being on his feet after sitting for so long.

He entered the trailer to give the horses some water and check their hay. Temper nickered nervously and snorted and Alejandro scratched the high-strung stallion's neck, speaking soothingly to him. The little palomino, Sugar, huffed at him and bumped his shoulder with her nose, wanting her share of the attention.

He turned to the mare, amused. She might not be much to look at, but unlike her mate, she had a sweet and playful nature, and definitely had a calming effect on Temper. Alejandro wouldn't ever admit it to Georgia, but she had been right to insist they buy Sugar, too. He had seen horses suffer and pine when separated from their mates, and these two were definitely bonded. It would have been stupid to risk harming a pony as valuable as Temper just because Sugar wasn't pedigreed.

He patted the little horse, enjoying the feel of her rough coat beneath his hands. She turned her gaze upon him, and he smiled ruefully. Georgia had also been right about the fact that the pony's big brown eyes were rather nice.

Satisfied that the horses were comfortable, Alejandro bought himself a sandwich and got back on the road.

When he first left Lexington, he had tried hard not to think about Georgia, doing his best to shove any thoughts of her out of his head as soon as they entered. What she had said on the farm was absolutely true. He was her boss. They were working together, and they needed to be professional about things from here on out. Setting up these rules about workplace fraternization was one of the first things Alejandro had done after his father died. He had spent far too many years watching his father and his father's cronies cut a swath among the young female students and grooms, bedding whomever they wanted with no thought about the consequences—not only to the team and the barn—but to Alejandro's mother, as well.

Pilar had fought for Carlos at first. When Alejandro was a boy he remembered horrible, screaming fights between the two of them. He and Sebastian huddled together upstairs while Pilar pleaded desperately with Carlos to be faithful to her, and Carlos had denied everything, swearing that she was paranoid and crazy. But it had been almost worse when Pilar had finally lost heart and surrendered. A cold and angry silence took the place of the fights. That silence had lasted between his parents for years.

After Carlos had died, Alejandro had found that his father's
peccadillos
had not been limited to the barn. Carlos had left a large bequest in his will to a stranger—a young woman in Germany—who turned out to be Alejandro and Sebastian's half sister, Antonia. Someone they had known nothing about until the lawyers had informed them of her existence.

Fueled by the pain of this discovery, Alejandro laid out the new rules in the barn as soon as he decently could, calling together the team and telling them that things would be different now that he was in charge, that he expected no less than absolute professionalism from the people who worked for him, and that they could receive the same thing from him in return. Sebastian and Rory hadn't cared—they didn't need the barn to meet women, and they were content to do their partying on their own time—and Hendy, of course, had never been anything but absolutely upright. But a lot of the old guard had grumbled—they'd done things a certain way when Carlos was alive and didn't see why they should have to change anything now. Alejandro had swiftly given them their walking papers, firing them one by one as soon as he caught wind of any wrongdoings, secretly pleased to rid the team of these men who did nothing so much as remind him of the things he couldn't stand about his dead father.

Soon, the only man left from Carlos's original staff was Dr. Gustavo. Alejandro didn't kid himself that the old vet had any particular respect for him, or that he cared about anything other than keeping his well-paid job. Gustavo reliably showed up for what was a long day—5 a.m. to 9 p.m.—and had always kept his drinking misadventures limited to his private life.

Until recently, that is, thought Alejandro as he turned off the highway to search for another place to let the horses rest. He hoped that bringing Georgia onto the team instead of letting Dr. Gus surround himself with sycophants would help correct the course. But he'd also hoped that making her an employee would shake her from his thoughts, and then he'd been sure that this drive down from Kentucky would give him enough time to end the aching temptation she had become to him…

That was the idea, so why did his heart beat faster with every mile he got closer to home?

G
eorgia awoke to the scent of roses carried on the breeze through her open window. The sun was just beginning to set, and the room was filled with a soft, pink-gold glow. For a moment, she lay on the comfortable couch, content to watch the play of light and shadow dance across the ceiling.

Finally hunger propelled her up, and she wandered into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator. How perfect, she thought as she gazed at the bottle of milk, the small buttons of goat cheese, a bowl of eggs (Do these people have some aesthetic objection to egg cartons? she asked herself), a container of washed salad greens, a cluster of frosty red grapes, a crisper full of brightly colored lemons and limes, and a magnum of Dom Perignon Limited Edition Rosé.

She pulled out the heavy bottle and examined it. For a moment, she was tempted. The whole situation seemed celebratory, after all, and she did love champagne. This outsized bottle looked dangerously expensive, though, and once begun, it would be wrong not to finish. She imagined herself passed out on the couch, the empty bottle lying next to her…and Pilar and Alejandro discovering her the next morning.

She put the bottle back.

She thought about going out on the town—finding some dinner and looking around—but she felt shy about asking for the car and driver, even though Pilar had assured her that they were to be hers whenever she needed them. Georgia reminded herself that she needed to save her money anyway. It was better just to make herself dinner instead. She found a good loaf of bread in the pantry, smeared a slice with the goat cheese, broke off a bunch of grapes, made a little salad—and decided to leave the champagne, but help herself to some Malbec. Not bad at all, she thought as she popped a grape into her mouth and leaned against the kitchen counter.

After dinner, she poured herself a second glass of wine and took it into the bathroom, dying to try out the soaking tub. She turned on the taps, sighing happily at the extravagant gush of hot water. Back home, there was something wrong with their water pressure. She was usually lucky to get even a tepid sprinkle when she showered.

She found a jar of lavender bath salts and sprinkled them in, enjoying the sweetly floral burst of scent that arose in the steam. While she waited for the tub to fill, she turned down the lights and lit some candles, and then she slowly undressed, peeling off her shirt and bra, followed by her jeans and panties. She neatly folded her clothes, took another sip of wine, and stepped into the tub, sinking beneath the steaming water, holding her glass above the surface, giving in to the absolute glory of a hot bath and the intense red wine.

A mirror on the wall had been hung at just the right angle to reflect everything that was happening in the bath. Georgia looked away at first. She'd suffered from spending a lifetime of comparing herself to her mother, who had been a world-class beauty. Georgia always thought of herself as too short, too pale, too curvy, too soft, in comparison. But tonight, bathed in the forgiving glow of the candlelight and immersed in the sudsy water, she saw herself differently. Her skin was rosy and glowing from the steamy heat of the bath. Her hair was in tight little ringlets, springing out all over her head in a sort of halo effect. Her eyes were still dreamy from her nap, and her cheeks were flushed. Her curves, which she had always thought of as simply
too much
, now looked inviting and lush.

Pleased, she ran one damp hand along the flare of her hip, slipping her fingers down her leg and over the soft skin of her inner thigh. With the other hand, she cupped one of her breasts, slowly rolling the nipple between her fingers…

Alejandro.

Damn it.

She sat up so abruptly that the water sloshed over the edges of the tub and down onto the floor below. Of course he had popped into her head just as she was about to give herself a good time. Why wouldn't he, this man who, with just a few kisses, had made her feel things that she hadn't felt in her entire sexual life? For God's sake, he hadn't even kissed her at the barn—just pressed up against her and held her gaze, and she'd felt a rush of desire so intense that her bones turned to liquid and she thought she might climax simply from the way he was looking at her.

No, she thought, forcing herself out of the tub, she could not indulge in these dangerous fantasies. She was going to be standing right in front of the man again tomorrow morning, surrounded by grooms and horses and the other players. The last thing she needed to take to her first day of work was the memory of pleasuring herself in the bath while fantasizing about her boss.

She vigorously dried herself off and tipped the rest of her wine down the sink. Enough was enough. Time to read that damned polo book and go to sleep.

T
he house was dark and quiet when Alejandro arrived home. He had dropped off the ponies at the barn, settled them in, and then headed back to the house.

His mother had left a bowl of
carbonada
for him in the fridge, but he wasn't hungry.

Alejandro hesitated and then poured himself a glass of brandy to take back to his room. Turning out the kitchen lights, he walked through the silent house and padded softly up the stairs. He looked in on Valentina, asleep on top of the covers with her headphones on and the music still playing. Alejandro gingerly removed the headphones and pulled the covers up and over her. She groaned in her sleep, flailing one arm out at him, but then snuggled down in her bed, oblivious, as he gave her a soft kiss on the top of her head.

In his bedroom, he changed into shorts, sipped the cognac, and opened the French doors to his balcony, enjoying the night air. He liked these hot, humid nights—they reminded him of summer at home.

He stood on his balcony and watched the way the moon hung over the sky and reflected in the pool down below. He looked back at his bed and the uninviting prospect of another sleepless night—and then back at the pool.

Georgia couldn't sleep. But the bed was not to blame. In fact, it was quite possibly the most comfortable bed she had ever not slept in. The mattress was just the right shade of firm, the sheets were silky and cool, the duvet was whisper light but just warm enough, and there were more pillows than she knew what to do with. No, the bed was fine. It was just the whole place—so foreign and warm and bright. The buzz of the insects in the garden, the scant breeze rustling through the trees. Even after dark, the wavering blue light from the pool reflected on her walls, and the moonlight streamed in through all the windows, brighter than a streetlamp. It was beautiful, but it was a sensory overload and definitely not home.

She turned over and kicked her legs in frustration, and then gave up, rolling out of bed, closing the windows and turning on the AC—not bothering to turn on the lights. Wanting a glass of water, she stood at the counter in her briefs and a tank top, sipping her drink, looking at the moonlight sparkling on the pool.

She was just about to go back to bed when she saw the back gate of the pool house open and a shadowy figure emerge and walk toward the cottage.

For a moment she was terrified, imagining an intruder—but then she recognized the tall and broad-shouldered figure of Alejandro. Fear subsided to butterflies.

As he approached the window, she slunk back, her hands flying instinctively to cross her chest, but then she realized that her place was dark, and with the window closed and the light on outside, there was no way he could see her. The right thing to do, of course, was retreat from the window, to give the man his privacy. The right thing was definitely not to stay riveted to the spot.

She watched as he approached the pool, illuminated by the lights in the water and the bright moonlight pouring down. He stood at the edge of the water, sipping a glass of some amber spirit. He kicked off his shoes and touched the pool with his bare foot, sending ripples through the glowing blue liquid.

When he set his drink on the edge of the fence, Georgia's breath quickened. She knew she should stop watching—knew that something was about to happen that was out of bounds—but the voice of reason and decorum whispering in her head was very feeble indeed.

He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, and Georgia unthinkingly slid an answering hand beneath the strap of her camisole. He dropped the shirt behind him, exposing his smooth, sculpted chest and shoulders.

Georgia's breath caught as he lazily stretched, the muscles in his arms and shoulders rippling in arcs and planes. And then he unzipped his shorts and stepped out, completely naked.

Georgia's cheeks flamed. Her breath came in a gasp. Her hand, still lingering at her breast, felt her heart beat an urgent tattoo. He was incredibly sexy…beautiful really, she thought. And a man to the max. The intense eyes, the full mouth, the cords of muscle, the breadth of his shoulders, the way his skin glowed, with just the perfect amount of chest hair that tapered down to his belly and below.

With quick grace, he dove into the pool, hardly making a splash. Georgia found herself holding her breath as she waited for him to resurface. He emerged—his hair sleek and iridescent against his skull. He cut through the water with long, sure strokes, moving almost silently, his body a bronze blur under the ice blue water, turning a backward circle to change direction and power on.

He swims like he rides
, thought Georgia,
almost as if he's being pursued.
Beneath the power and precision, there was a distinct feeling of escape.

He touched one end of the pool and then turned and circled back—over and over, never breaking his stroke. And as she watched him, Georgia unthinkingly drifted closer to the windows, reaching out and touching the cool glass with her fingertips. Her body burned, every nerve ending alert.

Finally, he slowed and drifted, allowing himself a few lazy backstrokes before gripping the edge of the pool and pulling himself out. Water streamed down his body, flickering in the light, catching in glimmering drops on his skin. He shook his head like a great dog—flinging droplets of moisture from his hair—and then pulled on his shorts. He reached down to grasp his shirt and, as he straightened, looked directly into Georgia's eyes.

There was no mistaking the fact that he saw her this time. He could see all of her, standing in the floor-to-ceiling window, wearing next to nothing—but she felt petrified, unable to break his gaze.

Their eyes locked, but except for the faintest flicker of surprise, his face remained impassive, almost as if he'd been expecting this, as if he caught women in their underwear watching him skinny-dip every day. Without looking away, he dropped his shirt back to the ground and started walking toward her.

Georgia gasped and hurled herself backward—away from the window, back into the darkness of the house. But that didn't stop him. In three quick steps, he had opened her door, and then he was over the threshold, and he had her in his arms.