The Untamed Argentinian. Susan Stephens

       Praise for Susan Stephens:

      ITALIAN BOSS, PROUD MISS PRIM

      ‘Stephens’ terrific story shows how love can be transforming. The marvellous hero looks beyond the surface and frees the heroine to open up about her biggest fears.’

      —RT Book Reviews

      ‘You can always rely on Susan Stephens to deliver a steamy, sexy, fast-paced emotional page-turner, and RULING SHEIKH, UNRULY MISTRESS certainly does not disappoint.’

      —Cataromance

       NERO CARACAS—THE ASSASSIN. POLO HERO, NATIONAL ICON, THE WORLD’S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR AND MOST BEDDABLE MAN. THE HEARTBREAKER OF ARGENTINA.

      When he dipped his head, one professional acknowledging another, she saw the steel of challenge in his eyes. Nero Caracas was hardly the most sensible enemy for a woman in Bella’s precarious financial position to make.

      But she wouldn’t fail, Bella told herself firmly, straightening up to confront this god of the game. ‘Is that everything?’

      Nero’s lips pressed down. ‘No,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘I think Misty would benefit from being ridden by a man who really appreciates her.’

      ‘I can assure you that the captain of the English team appreciates Misty—’

      ‘But does he ride her in a way that brings Misty pleasure?’

       Did Nero Caracas have to make everything sound like an invitation to bed?

      About the Author

      SUSAN STEPHENS was a professional singer before meeting her husband on the tiny Mediterranean island of Malta. In true Modern^™ Romance style they met on Monday, became engaged on Friday, and were married three months after that. Almost thirty years and three children later, they are still in love. (Susan does not advise her children to return home one day with a similar story, as she may not take the news with the same fortitude as her own mother!)

      Susan had written several non-fiction books when fate took a hand. At a charity costume ball there was an afterdinner auction. One of the lots, ‘Spend a Day with an Author’, had been donated by Mills & Boon^® author Penny Jordan. Susan’s husband bought this lot, and Penny was to become not just a great friend but a wonderful mentor, who encouraged Susan to write romance.

      Susan loves her family, her pets, her friends and her writing. She enjoys entertaining, travel, and going to the theatre. She reads, cooks, and plays the piano to relax, and can occasionally be found throwing herself off mountains on a pair of skis or galloping through the countryside. Visit Susan’s website: www.susanstephens.net.

      The Untamed

      Argentinian

      Susan Stephens

      

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘DO YOU mind if I join you?’

      A shiver of recognition ran down Bella’s back as the man with the husky Latin American voice lifted the latch on the stable door and walked in. There was only one man who could breeze through security in Her Majesty’s backyard: the Guards’ Polo Club in Windsor. Nero Caracas, known as the Assassin in polo circles, played off ten, the highest ranking a polo player could achieve, and enjoyed privileges around the world others could only dream of. Impossibly good-looking, Bella had seen Nero commanding the field of play, and had lusted after him like every other hot-blooded woman, but nothing could have prepared her to be this close to so much man.

      ‘So this is Misty,’ he said, running an experienced palm down the pony’s shoulder. ‘She looks smaller close up—’

      ‘Appearances can be deceptive.’ Racing to the defence of her favourite pony, Bella forced her hands to go on oiling the mare’s dainty hooves. She’d lived close to animals for so long she was as acutely tuned in to danger as they were and, though the mare seemed calm, Bella was on red alert.

      ‘The match starts soon—’

      And? Bella thought, still polishing. As trainer and one of the coaches of the British team, she knew only too well when the match started. Surely it was Nero, as captain of the opposing team, who should be elsewhere?

      Nero’s reputation preceded him. He had obviously thought he could drop in and his smallest wish would be granted with one eye on the timetable for a match in which he would captain the Argentinian team. No such luck. The Assassin could yield to the Ice Maiden on this occasion. And he did, but with a warning glint in his eye. ‘I need to speak to you about Misty,’ he said, running another appreciative glance over her pony.

      ‘This isn’t the time,’ Bella said coolly, realising only when their stares clashed that she was running the same type of assessing look over Nero—experience had nothing to do with it. Her points of reference were in her head. And all the better for staying there, she thought, having taken in Nero’s dark tan, close-fitting white breeches, plain dark polo shirt, wayward curls catching on his ferocious black stubble, not to mention the leather boots hugging his hard-muscled calves. It was safer, certainly.

      ‘As you wish,’ he said.

      When he dipped his head, one professional acknowledging another, she saw the steel of challenge in his eyes. Nero Caracas was hardly the most sensible enemy for a woman in Bella’s precarious financial position to make. The recession had taken a deep bite out of her resources and the polo world was too small, too incestuous to take chances. You failed in the eyes of one, you failed in the eyes of everyone. But she wouldn’t fail, Bella told herself firmly, straightening up to confront this god of the game. ‘Is that everything?’

      Nero’s lips pressed down. ‘No,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘I think Misty would benefit from being ridden by a man who really appreciates her—’

      ‘I can assure you that the captain of the English team appreciates Misty—’

      ‘But does he ride her in a way that brings Misty pleasure?’

       Did Nero Caracas have to make everything sound like an invitation to bed?

      She glanced at her watch.

      ‘Do I make you nervous, Bella?’

      She laughed. ‘Certainly not—I’m merely concerned that you’re leaving yourself dangerously short of time.’

      ‘My timing is split second,’ Nero assured her.

      Was that humour in his eyes? As the rugged Argentinian caressed Misty’s neck, Bella lost herself for a moment. All muscles and tough, virile appeal, Nero Caracas was quite a man. Another woman, another time—who knew what might come of this meeting? Bella thought wryly, dragging herself round.

      ‘En garde,’ Nero murmured when she came to stand between him and the dapple grey polo pony. ‘I would like you on my side, Isabella, not working against me for the competition.’

      Bella gave him an ironic look. ‘I’m very happy where I am, thank you.’

      ‘Maybe I can change your mind—’

      ‘I wish you joy of that—’

      ‘If that’s a gauntlet, I should warn you, Bella, I always pick them up.’

       Too much man—too close—too desperately disturbing…

      Irritated by the fact that her highly strung mare had remained calm when Nero had entered the stable, Bella demanded sharply, ‘Anything else?’

      Sensation overload, she registered