“You know full well that changing facilities and trainers and jockeys all at the same time could affect Something To Talk About’s desire to win.”
Marcus lifted a brow. “Did he tell you that when you were talking to him?”
“He tells me lots of things,” Melanie countered, her chin inching up. “One being that you need to give him time to get used to his new home and new people before you expect him to race.”
“He’ll settle in just fine at Lucas Racing. I’ve got a nice stall lined with fresh hay waiting for him.”
Marcus watched Melanie’s blue eyes narrow when he stepped through the open door. “As for trainers, Something To Talk About already knows me.”
He moved farther into the stall. When he paused beside Melanie, he caught the faintest echo of her scent. Instantly, heat coiled in his gut.
Marcus set his jaw. He could feel himself falling into something with her that he couldn’t handle, didn’t want. But hell if he could stop thinking about her. Or stay away from her.
The offer he’d been considering might be crazy, but he didn’t care. Not when he still had her taste in his system. And wanted more.
He ran his palms over the colt’s head and throat, skimming, stroking, checking. “He won’t have to get used to a new jockey if you come to work for me.”
He had the satisfaction of seeing sheer astonishment in Melanie’s face. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
She shook her head. “That’s impossible. I can’t leave Quest.”
“If times were normal, I wouldn’t expect you to. But the instant questions arose about the lineage of Leopold’s Legacy, things started going downhill. I worked here, Melanie. I know how bad things are.”
The instant before she tore her gaze from his, he caught the gleam of tears in her eyes. He had to hold himself back from reaching for her.
“You’re a damn fine jockey. But right now with the ban in place, you can’t race any horses majority owned by Quest. Come to work for me, and I’ll have you back on a racetrack as soon as possible.”
“I can’t walk out on my family.” When she looked back at him, he saw she had fought back the tears. But he could hear the emotion in her voice.
“Walking out isn’t what you’ll be doing,” Marcus countered. He moved around the horse, running his hands down its flank. “Think about it this way. Your family still owns forty-nine percent of this guy. Any races you ride him in and win money, they get a portion of the purse. Seems to me that’s an important way for you to help your family.”
Marcus met her gaze over the horse’s broad back. He could see she was wavering, but still wasn’t convinced. “You said it yourself, Something To Talk About will do better if he’s around people he knows. You sign on at Lucas, he’ll have me and you. Otherwise, you’ll still be here, and he’ll be there. That happens, there’ll be some other jockey riding him. I doubt that’s going to sit well with you.”
Watching Melanie, Marcus saw clearly how loyalty to her family tugged at her. Family loyalty was something he knew little about. Instead, he knew how it felt to be cheated out of something because of blood kin. He was illegitimate, and his own father had refused to acknowledge he even existed. The almost-obsessive love his mother felt for her married lover had stolen any hope she might create a happy, fulfilling life with another man.
“Don’t talk yourself out of this opportunity, Melanie. Your grandfather, your parents, your brothers—none of them would thank you for turning it down on their account.”
She remained silent while skimming her hand along the colt’s jaw. After a moment she said, “I need time to think this over.”
“Understandable. Just to let you know, housing is a part of the package.”
“Housing?”
“It’s an hour’s drive from here to Lucas. I doubt you’d want to commute every day.” He lifted a shoulder. “For now, you’ll have a staff apartment. There’s a lot of remodeling going on in the main house, but once it’s done you may have the option to move in there if you want. Demetri is engaged to your cousin, after all.”
“I can’t even begin to make a decision until I take a look at your facility.”
“You can drive over with me now. I’ll bring you back tonight.”
She shook her head. “No, I’ll come on my own in the morning.”
“All right. This offer is a win-win situation for everyone.” And, because he couldn’t help himself, he placed his hand over hers. In an instant, electricity coursed from her fingers straight to his gut. Her hand twitched, as if she felt it, but she didn’t jerk away.
She simply kept her eyes locked with his. “I need to think about a lot of things.” She slid her hand from beneath his. “I’ll go get Joe Newcomb. He’ll load Something To Talk About in your trailer.”
“All right.”
Marcus blew out a breath as she strode off—slim legs in tight jeans and scuffed boots. He knew full well he was playing with fire. Probably destined to get singed in the process. But he didn’t care.
All he cared about was having her near.
Chapter Three
After dinner, Melanie sought out her brother Brent. As was his habit most nights, he had settled at the massive desk in the second-floor study. There, he spent hours compiling information and reviewing the spreadsheets he’d created while a fire blazed in the gray stone fireplace.
As Quest’s head breeder, it had been Brent who’d first learned that the routine recheck of Leopold’s Legacy’s DNA revealed that the Derby and Preakness winner had not been sired by Apollo’s Ice, the stallion of record. Since then, Brent had spent uncountable hours trying to find out how such a disastrous mistake could have been made. And at the same time attempting to unearth the name of the horse that had actually impregnated Leopold’s Legacy’s dam, Courtin’ Cristy.
Making Brent’s job tougher was the need to balance work with raising twin eight-year-old daughters. Cancer had killed their mother three years ago, and Melanie still questioned whether her brother would recover from the loss of the wife he considered his soul mate.
“Do you think we’ll ever find out the truth about Apollo’s Ice?” Nudging a stack of file folders aside, she slid a hip onto one edge of the paper-strewn desk.
Brent leaned back in his chair. A good-looking man, he was more rugged than refined and wore his dark hair a little longer than Robbie and Andrew. But he had the same blue eyes. And identical grim expression.
“Up until two months ago, I would have said yes,” Brent replied. “This wouldn’t have been the first time a mistake had been made at a stud farm. Most of the stallions and mares are trucked there, so the stable workers aren’t familiar enough with the horses to recognize them by sight. There are usually so many mares in heat at the same time that it’s always possible one could wind up being bred to the wrong stallion. Or a mare could get covered by the right stallion, but the paperwork on that covering shows a different stallion’s or mare’s name altogether.”
Melanie nodded. She knew that at a stud farm, all horses were required to wear head collars with their names on them. Even so, it was up to the workers to check those names against breeding lists. As in any workplace, not all employees were as conscientious as others.
Brent curled his hands into fists. “My thinking changed two months ago when Dubai happened.”
His tone had gone as hard as tempered steel. Harrison Rochester, an English baron, had also owned a horse believed to have been sired by Apollo’s Ice. Rochester’s horse