Her Last Chance. Deanna Talcott
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Название: Her Last Chance
Автор: Deanna Talcott
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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“Persistent little thing, aren’t you?” he said finally. “Ma’am, you don’t understand. This isn’t a bed-and-breakfast. It isn’t a resort.” He rocked back on his heel, and for a flickering instant Mallory was certain she saw him grimace. “It’s a business. I sell horses, I don’t offer a weekend getaway at a dude ranch.”
“Perfect. Because I don’t want one,” she said. “I want the perfect horse. I want something special and unique. For my father. And, from what Bob tells me, you have it. I’ll pay well for what I want, and I guarantee I’ll make this worth your while.” Mallory didn’t intend to sound haughty or pretentious. But she wanted the mare Bob told her about—and she felt driven to bring it home to Narwhal, where it belonged. Her father’s health was failing quickly and time was of the essence. “A week,” she bargained. “One week out of your life for a business deal…that’s not so difficult, is it? If I don’t see what I’m looking for I’ll be on my way. On the other hand…”
“Yes?”
“Narwhal has a wonderful summer camp for children. One of my favorite charities is to donate horses for their riding program. Maybe you’ll have something they could use. If I don’t find one thing, maybe I’ll find the other.”
Chase, his features tightening, looked away and made that fascinating whistling sound cowboys make, by crimping his lips and blowing air between his teeth.
“I don’t want to intrude. I could sleep in the bunkhouse,” she offered. Then she glanced over the assortment of barns and outbuildings. “You do have a bunkhouse, don’t you? They always have them in the movies.”
He turned back, arching a disbelieving brow at her. “Yes, and I can see it now. You, and Lewt, and the rest of the boys, hanging out and playing poker and drinking beer till midnight.” He drew a hand over his face, scowling down at her. “Listen, Mallory, I think it’s nice that you want a good-looking little pony to take home as a souvenir. For your daddy, or your projects or whatever. But I do more than sell horses. I look for a good fit. With my animals, I make a solid match with the buyer. I’ve got a reputation to protect—and that means I don’t sell to just anybody.”
Mallory stiffened, drawing back. Her pride suffered, but self-control was necessary. She had to see that animal, she had to bring it home to her father. “I understand,” she replied coolly. “But I’m not just anybody. I’m Mallory Leatrice Chevalle of Narwhal, accomplished equestrienne.” She paused for emphasis. “That’s horsewoman, to you. In Wyoming language.” The muscle along Chase’s jaw thumped, giving Mallory indescribable satisfaction. “I’m equal to any mount you offer me. And I know my horses.”
A flicker of interest sparked in his steely gaze. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay. Then you can have the guest room,” Chase grudgingly allowed. “Breakfast is on the table at 6:00 a.m. The rest of the day is catch-as-catch-can. And it’s nothing fancy. We do plain food and plain hard work. We’ll start this afternoon, because I’ve got some spirited mounts I’d like to show you. In fact, we’re working with one right now that you might want to take a look at.”
Chapter Two
Chase watched Mallory lean over and reach in the back seat of her flashy convertible. The subtle shift of her hips, the gentle swing of her breasts enticed him.
Bristling at his own human reaction, Chase strode over to the flatbed truck and yanked his hat off the bed, then jammed it on his head. Mallory effortlessly hauled out two small suitcases.
A smidgen of guilt niggled into his subconscious. He didn’t mean to treat her poorly, but he had more to do than nursemaid an heiress on holiday. Particularly in the vague hopes she’d find some little trinket—in the nature of horse-flesh—to carry back to Narwhal.
Maybe it had been memories of his daughter, Skylar, that provoked him into agreeing to this nonsense. Since she’d been gone, he’d thought a lot about what was important, what wasn’t. If this summer camp for kids was legitimate, he didn’t want any regrets.
Huh. When he got up this morning, he sure never figured he’d be discussing sleeping arrangements with some European highbrow. Imagining her sacked out on his couch was a stretch. It offered up a disturbing vision that taunted…like the innocuous vulnerability of Snow White, prone, before a bevy of rough-edged, hard-talking, tobacco-spitting cowboys. It just didn’t equate.
“Here. Let me help you with those,” he said gruffly, coming to her side.
She half turned, a protest on her smiling lips, when he reached over and snagged the suitcases from her.
A tingle of awareness immediately buzzed through his nerve endings and over his hand. Chase grimaced, and grasped the leather handles a little tighter, dismissing the sensation. Residual effect from last week, when that blasted Peggy Sue caught his hand against the manger, he told himself.
“Thank you,” Mallory said politely, stepping aside, then following him up the wide grass walkway.
Silently, he forged straight ahead. The heels of his boots made a hollow sound on each of the four steps. He jerked opened the front door and, with an elbow, propped it open.
Appearing not to notice his bad humor, Mallory stopped inside the great room, her sandals pivoting on the wide knotty-pine floorboards. “Oh, my…” She glanced up at the exposed redwood beams, then down to the fieldstone fireplace. “This is so cozy.”
Chase sent her a scathing look. “Yeah, just like your typical little hunting lodge, I suppose.”
The comment was apparently not lost on his guest.
“Narwhalians see no value in hunting for pleasure,” she replied evenly. “We are known the world over for exquisite animals, for fine horses and stables. But legend has it that our small island became invincible when a peasant, at great risk, freed a starving unicorn from its cruel master, giving the animal back his wild heart. Because of his kindness, the peasant came to know years of comfort and good health. His children, chaste and pure of heart, befriended the unicorn and came to know prosperity. For generations, people have honored his gesture. I honor it, too.”
Chase stared at her, wondering if she was putting him on. She didn’t retract a word. Not one. She simply met his gaze.
“Legends…I see,” he said uncomfortably, but not seeing at all. “Ah…well, beggin’ your pardon, ma’am. My misunderstandin’ about Narwhal and all.”
Determined to change the subject, Chase moved ahead of her and into the room. He kicked down a corner of the black-and-russet Navajo rug. The room was scattered with them. Leather furnishings, a sofa and several chairs, were arranged in front of the fireplace.
Mallory trailed a hand over the rustic willow and reed high back chairs and matching table. “Your local artisans do incredible work,” she murmured.
Chase brushed off the comment. “I got it from the local discount store. If you look, you’ll probably find a gold foil Made in China sticker.”
Mallory lifted her eyes, her gaze narrowing. “You do have a lovely home, Chase, no matter how you put it together.”
Her grace and tact made him feel СКАЧАТЬ