When he first showed up, he was just a good-looking city guy. There were plenty of those in magazines and on television. And she’d never been particularly attracted to men based on looks alone.

But now she knew his business clothes masked solid muscles. Worse, she’d learned he had a quick mind and a whole lot of courage. And he’d likely saved her life—which was probably a classic aphrodisiac.

Whatever the cause, she could tell she wasn’t getting to sleep anytime soon.

She tossed off her comforter, letting the breeze cool her skin, staring out at the three-quarter moon, trying not to think about Alec in the next room. So close.

No. Not so close. So far.

It was fine for her to lay here and fantasize, she told herself. It was perfectly normal and perfectly natural. In real life, it needed to be Wesley, but here in the dark of night …

She flipped onto her stomach. Then she fluffed her pillow and searched for a comfortable position.

She couldn’t find one. She flipped back again, reaching for the water glass on her bedside table. It was empty.

Sighing in frustration, she clambered from the bed and crossed the carpet to the bathroom. Opening the door, she flicked on the light.

That exact moment, the door from Alec’s room swung open. They both froze under the revealing glare, staring at each other in shock. Her hormones burst to instant attention, and she nearly dropped the glass.

Alec’s chest was bare, the top button of his slacks undone. His hair was mussed, and his chin showed the shadow of a beard. As she’d guessed from his embrace, his shoulders were wide, his biceps bulged, and the pecs on his deep chest all but rippled under the light.

His gaze flicked down her body, stopping at her panties, and tension flicked in the corners of his mouth. “Is that from today?”

Her heart pushed hard against her ribs, knowing the skimpy outfit was very revealing.

“Did I hurt you?“ he demanded.

And then she realized he wasn’t salivating over her bare legs, her skimpy top or the high-cut panties. His gaze had zeroed in on the bruise from where she’d fallen off Rosie-Jo.

She couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved or disappointed. “It wasn’t you,” she assured him. “I fell off my horse.”

He took a step forward. “Have you seen a doctor?”

“It’s just a bruise.”

“It looks deep. Do you need some ice?”

I’m standing here nearly naked. “No.”

He moved closer still, and a hitch tightened in a band around her chest, while her hormones raced strategically around her body.

“It’ll take the swelling down,” he went on. “I can run to the kitchen and—”

“Alec!”

“What?”

“I’m standing here in my underwear.”

He blinked. “Right.” Then his eyes darkened to charcoal. “Right,” he said, his gaze skimming her from head to toe.

She wished she could tell what he was thinking, but his expression gave away nothing. After a long minute, he drew a breath. “Sorry.” He took a step back.

“Alec—”

He shook his head, holding up his palms. “Let’s just forget this ever happened.”

He was right, of course. But she couldn’t seem to stop the thick layer of disappointment that slid its way through her stomach. Did he not find her even remotely attractive?

She guessed not, since he hadn’t even noticed how she was dressed until she’d pointed it out.

He might have saved her life. He might care about her physical safety. But apparently it was in a purely platonic way.

“I wasn’t—” He took another backward step. “I didn’t—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. Then he shot through the doorway to firmly click the door shut behind him.

Stephanie was sorry, too. But she suspected it was for an entirely different reason.

Alec spent the next few days working as fast as humanly possible and avoiding Stephanie as much as he could—which didn’t turn out to be difficult, since she was an early riser, and she worked long hours.

Keeping himself from thinking about her proved a considerably tougher challenge. The picture of her in her tank top and panties was permanently seared into his brain stem.

Her face had been scrubbed and shiny, not that she ever seemed to wear makeup. Her shoulders were smooth and lightly tanned, her breasts were perfectly shaped, barely disguised under the thin, white fabric of the well-worn top. Her legs were long and toned, accented by the triangular, flat lace insets of her panties. And her waist was nipped in, stomach flat and smooth.

It had taken all of his willpower not to surge across the tiny bathroom and drag her into his arms.

He drew a shuddering breath, pulled the borrowed ranch truck transmission into fourth gear, and sped up on the final stretch of the road between Stephanie’s equestrian stable and the main cattle ranch.

Business Consulting 101, he ruthlessly reminded himself. Keep your hands off the clients’ sister. His business had been built on integrity. His clients trusted him with sensitive problems that were often high stakes and high risk. If he tossed his principles and made a pass at a client, no one would ever be able to trust him again.

In a self-preservation move, rather than talk to Stephanie face-to-face about her publicity history, he’d mentioned the scrapbooks to Amber. Amber had helpfully offered to hunt them down.

He’d already developed a comprehensive picture of the Ryder Equestrian Center from a business perspective. Not that he was under any illusion that the Ryder brothers wanted to learn the truth about their sister’s profitability.

In any event, once he finished with the scrapbooks, he’d head back to the safety of his Chicago office, away from the temptation of Stephanie. The report would stand on its merits. Jared and Royce could use it or ignore it. It was completely up to them.

The main ranch house came into view, and he geared down to control the dust, bringing the truck to a smooth stop on the circular driveway between the house, the barns and the corrals.

Like Stephanie’s place, the original ranch house was set on the Windy River. Groves of trees and lush fields stretched out in all directions. There was a row of staff cabins accessed by a small bridge across the river. Working horses were corralled near the house, while clusters of brown and white cattle dotted the nearby hillsides.

Jared Ryder appeared on the porch, coffee cup in hand, and Alec drew a bracing breath as he exited the truck.

He waved a greeting, slammed the door and paced across the driveway. “Didn’t know you were in Montana,” he said to Jared as he mounted the front steps.

“Just overnight,” Jared returned. “Melissa and I wanted to check on Amber.”

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s good. Thanks again, by the way.”

“Not a problem.”

Despite Stephanie making such a big deal about it, Alec suspected her brothers were both the kind of men who’d rescue anyone in need without a lot of fanfare.

Jared’s matter-of-fact nod told Alec he was right.

“I should be done at the Equestrian Center tomorrow,” Alec offered. With some hard work, he could wrap things up tonight.

“Glad to hear it. The sooner you get started in Chicago, the better.” Then his expression turned serious, voice going lower as he glanced around them. “I hear Royce told you about our little issue.”

Alec lowered his own voice in response. “About the blackmail?”

“Yeah.”

“He did,” Alec confirmed. “And I advised him to come clean with Stephanie.”

Jared scoffed out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

“That’s exactly what Royce told me.”

“He thought you might help?”

“If I can.”

Jared gave another considered nod. “Personally, I suggested we hunt him down and—”

“That’s not the kind of work I do,” Alec quickly put in, on the off chance Jared was serious.

“I wasn’t going to suggest we harm him. Though I can’t deny the idea has merit. I was thinking more along the lines of explaining to him in excruciating detail what each of us has to gain by ending this, and what each of us has to lose if he keeps it up.

“But it’s a moot point anyway. We can’t do anything until we find him. And, so far, we haven’t been able to find him.” Jared gave Alec a significant look.

A moment of silence passed.

“You want me to check into his whereabouts?” asked Alec.

“Amber’s friend Katie says you have contacts.”

Katie Merrick was a lawyer working for Alec’s father’s firm, Creighton Waverley Security. Where Creighton Waverley was conservative and by the book outfit, Alec had contacts who could be a little more creative.

“His name is Norman Stanton,” Jared offered. “Frank Stanton, Stephanie’s biological father, was his brother. The blackmail payments are all tied up in some off-shore company called Sagittarius Eclipse. That’s pretty much all we know.”

“That’s a start.” Alec nodded decisively. He’d be more than happy to help track down the man who had targeted Stephanie.

Stephanie needed to purge her wayward fantasies once and for all. And Wesley was the key. Across the arena, he was calling her name, making his way toward her through the soft, deep dirt.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he gasped, as he grew close enough to speak. He ducked through the rails, rising up beside her.

Stephanie was observing Brittany, one of her youngest students, in the starting area of the jumping course.

She smiled briefly at Wesley then nodded to Brittany’s trainer, Monica, where she held the bridle of Brittany’s horse. Monica stepped back and gave the start signal, and Brittany cantered her horse toward the first two-foot plank.

“How was California?” Stephanie asked Wesley, glancing his way again.

He truly was a fine looking man. His blond hair curled around his ears. He had bright blue eyes and an aristocratic nose. And his quick sense of humor and easy laugh had made him friends throughout the stable.

“It was a long three days,” he responded with a warm smile. “My sister has boyfriend trouble. My mother cooked five meals a day. And I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Stephanie told herself it wasn’t really a lie, since she wanted so much for it to be true. She rested her elbow on the second rail, tipping her head to look at him.

Truth was she hadn’t thought much about him while he was away. Her only excuse was that she’d been busy training. The Brighton competition was coming up in a few short weeks, and it was the unofficial start of qualifying for the Olympic team.

Training was important. It was hard to find time to think about anything else.

Well, except for Alec.

She clamped her jaw down hard, ordering herself to forget about Alec. He’d been skulking around the stable all week, asking questions, printing financial reports, and generally making a nuisance of himself.

Wesley did his part. He took a step closer to her, his shoulder brushing against her elbow.

Brittany turned her horse and headed for jump number four.

Wesley brushed his fingers along Stephanie’s bare forearm, easing closer still. He touched the back of her hand, turning it to feather his fingertips across her palm, before cupping her hand and giving her a squeeze.

It was a gentle touch. A pleasant touch. She forced herself to concentrate on enjoying it.

“We need to talk, Stephanie.” His blue-eyed gaze went liquid.

“About?”

His smile widened. “About us, of course. I’m dying to kiss you.” He moved her hand from the rail and turned her, tugging her toward him, voice going breathy. “I’ve been thinking about you for three long days.”

Stephanie opened her mouth, but the words she wanted to utter wouldn’t come out. She hadn’t been thinking about Wesley for three long days. And she wasn’t dying to kiss him.

Okay, she wasn’t exactly opposed to kissing him. But the rush of excitement she’d felt the last two times they’d come close was decidedly absent.

“Tell me how you feel,” he breathed.

Brittany cantered past. The clomp of her horse’s hooves tossed sprays of dirt, while the whoosh of its breathing filled the air. Stephanie used the instant to pull back.

“I really like you, Wesley,” she told him.

“That’s good.” He smiled confidently and moved in again.

“I’m …” Curious? Hopeful? Desperate to have you erase Alec from my thoughts?

“You’re what?” he prompted.

“Worried.” The word jumped out before she could censor it.

He frowned. “About what?”

“You’re my student.”

It was a lame excuse, and they both knew it.

Jessica Henderson had been her now husband Carl’s student for three years before they announced their engagement. Nobody had been remotely scandalized by the relationship. In fact, half the state horse jumping community had attending their wedding.

“You make me sound like a kid,” said Wesley.

“You’re younger than me,” Stephanie pointed out, feeling suddenly desperate to get out of the kiss she’d been planning for so long.

“Barely,” he told her, the hurt obvious in his tone.

“Still—”

“Stephanie, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she lied again.

“I missed you.”

She tried to come up with something to say.

He stepped into the silence. “You’re beautiful, funny, smart—”

“I have a business to run and a competition to train for.”

“What are you talking about? What happened while I was gone?”

“Nothing.” It was the truth.

His lips puffed out in a pout. “I don’t believe you.”

Stephanie took a breath and regrouped. “It’s just … I need to focus right now, Wesley. And so do you. Brighton is only a few weeks away.”

She sped up her words, not giving him a chance to jump back in. “And we both need to nail it. It’s your first major, senior event, and I need the ranking.”

“I still don’t see why we can’t—”

“We can’t, Wesley.”

He reached for her hand once more, squeezing down. “But we’re so good together.” With the sun slanting across his tousled hair, and the pleading tone in his voice, he suddenly struck her as very young.

“We can be friends,” she offered.

His brow furrowed. “I don’t want to be friends.”

“Yes, you do. We’re already friends. We’re going to train together and nail Brighton.”

“And then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“After Brighton? If we still feel the same way?”

She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t feel the way she wanted to feel, and she didn’t see that changing.

He grinned, obviously taking her silence for agreement. The eager, puppy-dog look was back in his eyes. “I know we have something special.”

“We have friendship and mutual respect,” she offered carefully.

“There’s more than that.”

Stephanie took a step back. “Seriously, Wesley, I can’t let you—”

“Not right now. I get it.” He gave a vigorous nod. “But we both know—”

“No, we don’t know—”

Brittany shrieked, and Monica shouted, and Stephanie whirled to see the horse shy to one side. It refused the jump and sent Brittany bouncing into the soft ground.

The girl’s breath whooshed out as she landed with a thump on her rear end.

By the time Stephanie was through the fence, Brittany had grabbed two handfuls of dirt and tossed them down in disgust.

She was obviously more angry than injured, but Stephanie rushed to assist just in case.

Stephanie was angry with herself.

But she was also angry with Alec.

What was he doing to her? Why did he have to usurp Wesley? Why couldn’t she get the bare-chested image of him out of her head. And why hadn’t he been interested in her when she was standing half naked in front of him?

All he’d noticed was her stupid bruise.

It was the end of a long, frustrating day, and she marched through the front door. She stripped off her gloves and boots then came around the corner to find the object of her frustration stationed at the dining table, stacks of papers fanned out in front of him. There were magazines, newspaper clippings, financial reports and reference books.

He glanced up, expression unreadable.

She tried to think of a clever greeting, but nothing came to mind. She stood there in silence, her heart beating faster, her hormones revving too high, and her brain tripping up over itself.

“I finished the publicity and promotion calculations,” he finally offered. He slid a piece of paper in her direction. “Amber gave me your scrapbooks.”

Stephanie ordered her feet to move forward, keeping her attention fixed squarely on the printout as she crossed the hardwood floor. She lifted the paper, scanning to the bottom where each of the past ten years were listed with a corresponding total.

“That can’t be right,” she found her voice. The numbers were ridiculously low.

“You did get quite a lot of coverage,” Alec admitted, setting down his pen and crossing his arms over his chest. “But it’s in random placements.”

She glanced at him. “Some of those magazines charge tens of thousands of dollars for a single ad. I had the cover. I had the center pages. That’s priceless. Ryder International was mentioned over and over again.”

“As a targeted placement. Sure, you’re going to pay a premium price. But the Ryder International demographic is no more likely to be reading Equine Earth as they are to be reading People Magazine.”

“That’s not true.”

Alec scraped his chair backward and came to his feet.

“Horse people have money,” she repeated her earlier assertion. “They own businesses. They rent real estate.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “But maybe not. Now, if Ryder International was in the equestrian equipment business, Equine Earth—“

“We’re in the equine breeding business.”

“Revenues from your breeding sales are a tiny fraction of the revenues from the real estate division.”

“You’re out to get me, aren’t you?”

“I’m not—”

She thrust the paper back on the table. “From the minute you walked onto this ranch, you’ve been out to prove that I’m not a valuable partner in this corporation.”

“These numbers aren’t my personal opinion—”

“The hell, they’re not.”

“They’re generally recognized calculations for determining—”

“Shut up.”

He stiffened. “Excuse me?”

She moved in. “I said shut up. I am so tired—”

“Of what?” he asked incredulously.

“Of you! Of you and your—” She ran out of words. What was she trying to say? That she was tired of being attracted to him? Of knowing that he wasn’t attracted to her? Of having his presence at the stable mess with her mind?

He waited, staring hard.

She mustered an explanation. “Of you trying to prove I have no value.”

His look turned to confusion. “Is that what you think?”

She gestured to his work with a sweep of her arm. “That’s what all this says.”

“It says you’re a financial drain on the corporation. And you are.”

“I’m an asset.”

“Not a financial one.”

Her throat closed up with emotion, and she hated it.

Why did she care what he thought? Her brothers weren’t going to accept this. What could it possibly matter that some opinionated, hired gun of a troubleshooter thought she wasn’t pulling her weight?

It shouldn’t.

And it didn’t.

But then something shifted in his expression, and he cursed under his breath. “I’m trying to be honest, Stephanie.”

She didn’t trust herself to speak, and she needed him to think it didn’t matter, so she waved her hand to tell him to forget about it. She wished he’d back off now and leave her to wallow.

But he took a step closer, then another, and another. His eyes went dark, from pewter to slate to midnight.

She stilled, unable to breathe. Her chest went tight. Her heart worked overtime to pump her thickening blood. And she found herself gazing up at him, feeling the pinpricks of longing flow over her heating skin.

Suddenly he clamped his jaw and his hands curled into fists. “We can’t.”

No, they couldn’t.

Wait a minute. Couldn’t what? Did he mean what she thought he meant?

“Stephanie. You’re my client.”

Yes, she was.

And that mattered.

At least it should matter.

Shouldn’t it?

But a kiss wouldn’t hurt. A kiss was nothing. She’d kissed a dozen men, well, boys really. A kiss didn’t have to lead anywhere. It didn’t have to mean anything.

And then at least she’d know. She’d know his touch, his scent, his taste.

She subconsciously swayed toward him.

“Stephanie.” His voice was strangled.

The world seemed to pause for breath.

And then he was reaching, pulling, engulfing her, plastering her body against his, flattening her breasts, surrounding her with his strong arms. His mouth came down on hers, open, hot, all encompassing.

Passion shot through her body, igniting every nerve ending, every fiber from her hair to her toes.

He tipped his head, deepening the kiss. She opened her mouth, shocked that these intense sensations could come from a simple kiss. Her arms stretched around his neck, and her body instinctively arched against him.

His hands slid down her spine, lower, and lower still. She gasped at the sensation, moaning when the heat of his palms cupped her bottom.

She curled her fingertips into his hairline, struggling for an anchor, her knees going weak, as the subsonic vibrations of arousal sapped the strength of her legs. She kissed him harder, her thigh relaxing, allowing his own to press between, sending shock waves through her torso.

“Stephanie,” he rasped, and she loved the breathless sound of his voice.

He groaned then, breaking away, reaching backward to unclasp her hands.

But she fought back, shaking free from his grasp, cupping his face and peppering his mouth with quick kisses. She did not want this feeling to end.

He gave a guttural groan, enveloping her again, taking over the rhythm, bending her backward and thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth while one hand slid up her rib cage, surrounding her breast.

She kissed him fervently, fists tightening, toes curling, as she struggled to get closer and closer.

Then suddenly, she was lifted from the floor, scooped into his arms. The kisses continued and sensations built as he carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. There, he set her down, and his fingers swiftly scrambled with the buttons on her blouse.

Yes. Skin to skin. They absolutely needed to be skin to skin. She fumbled with the knot in his tie, making little progress. She switched to the buttons on his white shirt.

He chuckled deep in his chest as he swooped off her blouse, removing her bra in one deft motion. “I win,” he breathed in triumph.

Then he helped her out, and tore open his shirt, discarding it on the floor.

She sighed in sublime satisfaction as his hot body came up against hers. Her breasts and belly tingled, and her skin flushed with pleasure.

He lifted her once more, sinking onto the bed full-length. His hand found her bare breast, strumming the nipple to exquisite arousal. His kisses roamed from her mouth to her neck to her shoulder, and finally to the hard beads of her sensitized nipples. She was restless, itchy, and her hands felt empty, but she didn’t know what to do with them.

She buried them in his short hair, convulsively tightening her fingertips against her scalp. Her thighs twitched apart, and he settled between them. A burst of desire rocketed through her belly. She reached for the waistband of his slacks, certain they needed less clothing between them and more heated skin.

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