He added a file folder to the box, closed its flaps, then hefted it up with one arm. “I’ll stow this in my car on the way back to the reception.” Marcus glanced at the clock on the wall. “By now your cousin Tyler should be through performing his duties as his brother’s best man. I want to catch up with him. Find out what’s gone on at Lochlain Racing after I left Australia to work here.”
“Fine.” Hoping to heck her trembling legs continued to support her, Melanie turned and headed for the door. As she moved, she ran her tongue over her lips. Marcus’s taste churned through her blood all over again.
What if she never managed to fully rid her system of his taste?
Thank goodness, she thought as he switched off the light and closed the door to the office. Thank goodness he’d be gone by morning.
Chapter Two
“I have a good feeling about the Outback Classic, Marcus.” Pride, along with a deep Australian accent, shimmered in Tyler Preston’s voice. “You should see Lightning Chaser now. These days, he eats up the ground.”
With his mind only partly on the conversation, Marcus skimmed his gaze for what seemed the hundredth time around the conservatory brimming with music, flowers and elegantly gowned and tuxedoed guests.
Audrey Griffin Preston looked stunning in snowy white lace glimmering with pearls, her face luminous as she danced with her tall, sandy-haired husband, Shane. The newlyweds shared the dance floor with numerous family members and guests, including the groom’s parents and grandparents, who’d flown in from Australia for the wedding festivities.
A knot of people had gathered near the towering Christmas tree brimming with silver ornaments and white lights that looked like tiny stars trapped in its limbs. Other guests mingled around the room.
Since he had walked Melanie back to the reception, Marcus knew she was somewhere in the crowd. At the moment, though, he couldn’t locate her.
Which shouldn’t matter at all.
But it did.
Dammit, he might have been responsible for initiating that kiss, but he didn’t thank her for unlocking needs he had no intention of satisfying. He’d grown up watching the devastating toll love had taken on his mother, and that was enough for him to never want to go anywhere near that same path. Ever.
More and more, leaving Quest looked like a smart move. He just wished he’d get over the dragging regret that had plagued him since he gave Andrew Preston his notice. Regret that now seemed to have settled like a stone in his gut with the knowledge he’d likely never again have another taste of the woman he’d held in his arms less than an hour ago.
Dammit, why did that seem to matter so much?
“Earth to Vasquez.”
The comment had Marcus shifting his attention back to Tyler. The general manager of Lochlain Racing was tall and lanky, with dark hair and a tanned face made ruddy by hours spent under the Australian sun. At the moment, his green eyes were narrowed speculatively on Marcus.
“The way you’re taking the crowd apart makes me think you’re on the lookout for someone.” Sliding one flap of his tuxedo jacket back, Tyler slipped a hand into the pocket of his slacks while studying the crowd. “A woman, maybe?”
“I’m just checking out who came to witness your brother tie the knot,” Marcus said, avoiding a direct answer.
He sipped the scotch he’d opted for over the champagne that flowed freely. To ensure the subject veered away from the reason he’d taken up residence in a spot with a prime view of all the celebrants, he turned the conversation back to a subject close to Tyler’s heart. “As for Lightning Chaser, does he still like to make the other horses try to catch him?”
“Every time he gets on a racetrack,” Tyler answered with a wide smile. “I have high hopes for him in the upcoming Classic.”
Marcus thought about a black cloud that could mar the race. “What about Sam Whittleson?” he asked, referring to the man whose horse had beat Lightning Chaser in an Australian race several months back. After it was discovered Whittleson’s horse had been pumped full of steroids, Lightning Chaser was declared the winner. Bad blood ensued when Whittleson claimed his horse had been sabotaged. There were those who speculated Tyler could be responsible. “He might be interested in payback.”
“If Whittleson tries anything, he’ll be sorry.” The hard snap in Tyler’s voice left no doubt that his threat was anything but idle.
The music swept up into a crescendo then ended, followed by a round of applause for the bride and groom. Tyler set his drink aside. “It’s time for me to claim a dance with my new sister-in-law.”
Moments after Tyler smiled goodbye and headed for the dance floor, Marcus spotted Melanie. She was on the far side of the conservatory, leaning down to say something to her nieces, the twin daughters of her brother Brent, Quest’s head breeder. Both girls had their brown hair in braids and wore knee-length dresses made out of the same gold material as Melanie’s. Smiling, she whispered something to them, and the twins giggled.
All so innocent, Marcus thought. Far from innocent was the hunger emanating from him as he studied their aunt’s soft, angular profile. The attraction had been there from the moment he met Melanie on his first day at Quest, sitting in the stables with her boots off. But now he’d had a taste of her. No mere attraction had ever made him ache the way she was making him ache. And no sexual desire had ever made him feel as if he were inexorably sinking into hot lava.
When he caught himself imagining what it would be like to have another taste of her, he knew he was in trouble. Draining his scotch, he decided to say goodbye to the Prestons and head to his quarters for one last night at Quest. He had no idea where he would be twenty-four hours from now.
“Marcus, have you got a minute?”
He turned to find Demetri Lucas standing inches away. Earlier, Marcus had overheard someone mention that the recently retired race car driver, who was engaged to Elizabeth Innis, a Preston cousin, had missed the wedding due to business concerns. Since Demetri was dressed in a casual sweater and slacks, Marcus theorized he had just arrived.
“I have more than a minute,” Marcus said, shaking the hand Demetri offered. A native of Greece, he had a dusky Mediterranean complexion, black hair and dark eyes. It was well-known Demetri was a close friend of Hugh Preston, the family patriarch who’d built Quest from the ground up. Taking advantage of Hugh’s legendary ability to sense when a horse had the makings of a champion, Demetri had followed his mentor’s recommendations when buying a dozen Thoroughbreds over the years. Currently those horses were stabled at Quest, but unaffected by the North American and international racing ban on horses majority owned by the stables.
“Is Elizabeth here?” Marcus asked.
“Unfortunately, no. Her concert tour’s in London right now. She called earlier with news that the rest of her European tour is sold out.”
“Impressive,” Marcus said. And because he and Demetri had spent time working with the horses Demetri kept stabled at Quest, he asked, “Do you have questions about your horses?”
“Always, but they can wait. Right now, I want to talk about you.”
“Me?”
“I know today was your last working day at Quest. Do you have another job lined up?”
“Not yet. I plan to start looking in earnest after the holidays.”
“This may be my lucky day.” Demetri beamed the smile that had shown up on the covers of international racing magazines, as well as People and GQ. “Yours, too.”
“How so?”
“Have you ever wanted to own part of a Kentucky horse-racing stable?”
Marcus raised a brow. “The thought has crossed my mind.” Then had been quickly rejected, and not