Millionaire Playboys. Emilie Rose

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СКАЧАТЬ have expected as much from a high-society chick who wrote five-figure checks without blinking.

      “Next time wear jeans.” Her formal riding attire was a far cry from Saturday night’s scanty, sexy dress, but her jodhpurs looked as if they’d been spray painted over the luscious curve of her butt, and her sleeveless cotton blouse conformed to the shape of her breasts like a lover’s hands. She’d pulled her shiny hair back with a clip and perched one of those prissy black velvet hard hats on her head—the kind horse-jumping folks wore. The siren-red nail polish was gone and so was most of her makeup. She looked better without the war paint. And why was he noticing? Her smooth skin had nothing to do with riding lessons.

      “The boots are okay, and I can live with the hat.”

      “Please stop. Your flattery will turn my head,” she replied with a hint of sarcasm, making him wonder if he’d read her lingering glances wrong Saturday night. “If I can find the time, I’ll buy some jeans before Thursday.”

      He paused with the saddle midair. “You don’t own a pair of jeans?”

      “No. Casual Friday at the bank never gets that casual. You certainly have a lot of requirements for this package that weren’t included in the description listed in the program.”

      “Most of it’s common sense.” He settled the saddle and saddle pad on Jelly Bean, the palomino mare he’d bought for his nieces. “Putting on a western saddle is similar to an English one. Here’s how you secure it.”

      After demonstrating, he unfastened everything and stepped back. “Your turn.”

      Juliana tackled the task, but the mare tended to be lazy on hot summer afternoons. She bloated her stomach to prevent the tightening of the cinch around her belly. Juliana lacked the strength to make Jelly Bean exhale.

      Positioning himself behind her, the way he did with the girls, he reached around to help her pull the leather strap. Having his arms around an attractive woman made his veins hum. He tried to ignore it. Unlike with his petite three- and five-year-old nieces, Juliana’s taller frame lined up against his like a spoon in a drawer. Or a lover in bed. The mare shifted, bumping Juliana and her tightly wrapped behind against him.

      Within seconds, her pants weren’t the only tight ones. Rex steadied her and then stepped back, putting several yards and the hitching post between them. “Try the bridle next.”

      Juliana definitely knew her way around a horse. She rested the mare’s muzzle against her breasts while she eased the bridle over her ears and brushed her forelock out of her eyes, and then she rewarded Jelly Bean for cooperating with a stroke down her golden neck and a scratch between her perked up ears.

      He envied the horse being pressed between Juliana’s breasts. Unacceptable. The auditor was off-limits. “Mount up.”

      She lifted her foot a couple of feet off the ground until the pull of fabric across her hips restricted her movements, and then she put her boot back down and looked at him over her shoulder. “Would you give me a leg up?”

      Was there more than a legitimate request for help in her words? A tentative smile quivered on her lips—nothing seductive about it. In fact, he’d swear he saw nervousness in her eyes.

      Get over yourself, Tanner. What does it say about your ego that you suspect every woman you meet of trying to get into your pants?

      “Sure.” As he did with the girls, he clasped Juliana’s waist and lifted. Bad move. He didn’t need to know that her waist was tiny or that her body heat would penetrate the thin fabric of her pants. He yanked his hands free so quickly Jelly Bean—the calmest horse he’d ever encountered—spooked and sidestepped. Rex lunged forward again, expecting Juliana to fall off, but she grabbed the saddle horn and managed to stay on.

      “Is this another test?” More sarcasm. Okay, he’d definitely read her wrong.

      She shifted in the saddle, and then stood in the stirrups and sank back down. She repeated the motion a couple of times. “This saddle feels odd, but comfortable.”

      Tugging at the suddenly tight collar of his T-shirt, he looked away, cleared his throat and shifted his stance to ease the pinch of his jeans. The last time he’d seen a woman move like that, she’d been riding him. How long ago had that been? Too long. And hell, he couldn’t remember her name or what she’d looked like.

      There had been a lot of nameless encounters in his past—not something he was proud of now, but at the time he’d been floating on a wave of fame, taking the women who fell at his feet for granted and using them to make himself believe he was finally somebody. He’d been somebody all right. Somebody stupid.

      His bandmates had used booze or drugs to come down from a post-performance high. Rex had used women—a practice that now disgusted him. He was damned lucky his carousing hadn’t landed him in the morgue or given him an STD the way his father had predicted. Most of Rex’s father’s lectures had gone in one ear and out the other, but thank God the safe-sex one had stuck.

      Rex had had a lucky escape, and he planned to put his sordid past behind him in a new city with a new career. He’d be the kind of brother he should have been to Kelly and an uncle Kelly’s girls would be proud to claim. With their father deployed overseas, they needed someone they could depend on when their mom needed help.

      Back to business. “The seat of a western saddle is deeper than an English one. It conforms to your shape.” And a damned fine shape it is. “Take the reins in your hand with only one finger between them.”

      She did as he instructed, but looked unsure.

      “Western horses move away from pressure and they prefer slack reins,” he explained.

      She stared down at him with a doubtful expression. “If my reins are slack how am I going to control the horse?”

      “Use a soft touch. Your fingers and wrist work the bit, and rely on leg cues more than the bridle.” Which drew his attention back to the length of her legs and the curve of her butt. If he didn’t get his brain out of his briefs, she could get hurt. That kind of publicity wouldn’t help the bar. “You know how to use leg cues?”

      “Yes.”

      “Then signal her to walk.”

      Jelly Bean started forward. Rex kept pace beside them. A light evening breeze carried Juliana’s perfume downwind, filling his lungs with her scent every time he inhaled.

      He cursed his uncharacteristic distraction. Usually, he had tunnel vision. He saw what needed doing and didn’t waver from his set course. His career and the destruction of it were perfect examples. He’d wanted to make it to the top and he had, and then, after his parents had died, he’d wanted out, but contracts had held him prisoner. Before leaving Nashville, he’d made sure he’d burned all his bridges. He shook his head to clear it. Focus.

      “What’s wrong?” she asked.

      “Your motion. You’re perching on top of the saddle instead of sinking into it, and every one of your muscles is strung as tight as a bow. Relax your upper body and your legs. Slump into the saddle.”

      “All my life I’ve been taught to sit up straight, and you’re telling me to slouch?” Her haughty tone was exactly what he needed to remind himself of the differences between them.

      “Not СКАЧАТЬ