My Secret Fantasies Page 12

  When he slowed down a bit more, I brought Windchime up beside his horse, finally straightening fully for the first time.

  “What do you think?” he asked, spreading one arm wide to take in the sweeping view of hills and groves that rolled down to the Pacific in the distance.

  “Incredible.” I laughed, still giddy from the ride, the man, the afternoon.

  But as we stood there, the horses breathing a little harder while they stamped and snorted, my heart expanding with stronger feelings than Damien would ever guess, I knew I had to tell him the truth. He deserved to know that my secret was out. Fraser Farm might already be a destination on the Hollywood map of the stars, Reality TV Edition. Yes, there was such a thing.

  Yet the bigger risk came from Rick. He’d never liked it that I took off after he got engaged to Nina. I think he’d envisioned himself having both of the Cortland girls twined around his finger. I had the vague sense he’d try to do something to hurt me, or retaliate against an old perceived slight in some way.

  “Miranda?” Damien waved his hand in front of my face, Eclipse nudging Windchime. “It may be a great view, but it sure took you on a journey far, far away from me.”

  He had no idea how much further apart we were about to get once I quit running from reality and told him the truth about Violet’s visit.

  * * *

  “AND YOU SAW this message Violet said she tweeted?” Damien nudged the gelding around a sharp turn on a path down the far side of one of the hills behind his property. It was a neutral zone here. He’d probably already crossed his property line, but to preserve the natural beauty of the place, he and his olive-growing neighbor kept it free of fences.

  He’d planned a special day for Miranda, with the horseback ride and a treat he had waiting for them back at the farm. But the day had taken a slide a hell of a lot steeper than the terrain they navigated now.

  “Yes. Not that I understand a lot about Twitter. But she said she had ten thousand followers and her note had already been...I forget what she called it...copied and sent out by seventy-five of them.” Miranda’s horse shook her head in protest at crossing a small rivulet, but stayed the course.

  Damien had quit worrying about Miranda’s riding an hour ago, after seeing how well she kept her seat. She had a high comfort level around horses, a fact that Windchime seemed to have grasped early on.

  “Re-tweeted,” he replied absently, his brain working overtime to think through the implications of what that meant. How much of a following did Miranda have?

  The kind that meant photographers might camp out on his property? Or the kind that meant a few fans would troop up to his front door every other week?

  “Wow.” She gave a dry laugh. “Someone knows his social media terminology.”

  “I’m a sole proprietor with a fledgling company. I have no choice.”

  “That’s what Joelle says about the tearoom. When you own the company, you do it all. Maybe you can teach—” Miranda stopped abruptly, her jaw snapping shut.

  “I’d be happy to share what I know.” He looked her way sharply, wondering why she’d cut off the thought. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Her shoulders swayed with the motion of the horse, as did the barely there feather earrings that dangled from the delicate silver cuffs on her ear. Her full lips were pursed.

  “We both know I won’t be sticking around long enough to open that tearoom here, let alone ask for help promoting the business.”

  He noticed she didn’t say anything about the fact that her leaving meant they wouldn’t be together. His jaw tightened, but he wasn’t ready to tackle that just yet. Hell...they’d only just found each other. Only just crossed that line from strangers to a whole lot more. Why did Violet Whiteman have to show up and rob them of finding out exactly where that might have led?

  “We don’t know that at all,” he said finally. He swung down off his horse and pulled open one of the gates to return them to Fraser Farm property.

  “What do you mean?” She urged Windchime through the open gate with nothing more than a shift of her weight, her slender thighs flexing along the mare’s back. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? The secret is out. My whereabouts have been revealed. All that stuff you didn’t want to happen—star-watchers camping on your lawn, tabloid media following you with a camera lens in the hope of a good shot—all that’s going to happen now.”

  “It hasn’t happened yet.” Taking Eclipse by the reins, he led the gelding into the fenced pasture and closed the gate behind them before he re-mounted. “And who knows when it will? Sonoma is a long drive from Los Angeles.”

  “Seriously?” She shook her head as if to clear it, the feather earrings dancing just above the collar of her coat. “What happened to your concerns about a reality TV fan base detracting from the upscale ambience you’re creating here? You were ready to cart me off the property that first night—”

  “And you can’t think of any reason I might feel differently about that now?” He wanted her so badly his teeth hurt. That kiss before they began the ride had wound him up.

  “Attraction doesn’t change a fundamental divide.”

  “No.” But it was more than attraction at work. Simple chemistry didn’t explain the way he’d felt when he’d seen her take care of a newborn foal, or when she’d invited Scotty to help himself to food she’d made. “It makes me want to work harder to figure out a way around it, though. What if this mass invasion of Hollywood reality rabble doesn’t happen? What if your celebrity status fades next week and we worried about all this for nothing?”

  Neither of them mentioned Rick. Damien wasn’t sure why she didn’t bring him up. But he was already making plans to protect her from that bastard if the guy dared to show his face anywhere near here. There were benefits to being raised the son of Hollywood royalty, and one of them was that he knew a thing or two about personal security. He’d texted his brother Trey for the names of some people he could trust the second it had been obvious to him where Miranda’s story was going.

  “That’d be surprising but...” She tipped her head into the breeze, breathing deeply. Did the scents of dry grasses and horses remind her of home? “Really, really great.”

  “So let’s not borrow trouble.” He could see the barns in the distance and looked forward to the surprise waiting for her at the end of the ride. The temperature had really dipped as the sun sank, and twice he’d seen Miranda run a hand up and down her arm briskly, as if to warm up.

  He looked forward to taking on that task himself.

  “I would never have guessed you’d take that approach. I had an impression of you as a bit of a cynic.” Miranda gently tapped the slack half of the reins against her thigh, the sound of the leather—against her body—making it damn difficult to concentrate.

  The need to get her alone—and off the horse—crawled over his skin and heated him from the inside out.

  “Then you’ve got a lot to learn about me, don’t you?” He knew he wasn’t Joe Friendly. He’d been living like a hermit, trying to get his business off the ground, and the horses didn’t require a whole lot of social skills.

  But something about Miranda made him want to dust off at least a few of his finer points. And it was more than the fact that the soft tapping of leather against her thigh was driving him wild.

  “I’m trying to know you better,” she said softly, giving him a sideways glance.

  Damn, but he liked seeing her open up to him. Trust him a little
bit.

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he admitted, his voice hoarse with want. No, make that need.

  “Really?” The tap, tap, tapping of the slack reins on her thigh slowed. Stopped.

  He had to swallow hard to keep from dragging her down into the cold grass right here.

  “You see that barn on the far right?” They were close enough now to make out several of the stables and barns. Smoke curled from a handful of the stone chimneys. At least one of those fires was wood-burning, the scent a distinct sweetness in the air.

  “The one still under construction?” She squinted into the distance, her lips pursing again as she concentrated.

  “There’s no construction today. I sent the workers over to a different project, to be sure we’d have the place to ourselves.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “An empty barn?”

  “My office is completed. And private.” Probably more private than the house, where his friends and her friends dropped by unannounced.

  “Oh.” Her blue eyes took on a glow that he recognized from other times she’d been focused on him and...excited. A vein throbbed fast in her temple and he wanted to drag his tongue over that spot.

  “The surprise is in there.” He was so close to being able to do whatever he wanted with her.

  “I like surprises.” She shifted in the saddle and gave him a slow, steamy appraisal with her eyes. “Race you for it?”

  “I think I’d rather watch you as you ride away.” The sight of her splayed thighs and subtle curves was a sweet torment he wasn’t ready to quit just yet.

  “I don’t know about that.” The heightened color in her cheeks reminded him she wasn’t used to such blatant flirting. But when she leaned closer, the soft puff of her breath on his cheek was like a finger stroke across the front of his jeans. “You’re probably just afraid you can’t keep up.”

  With a flick of the reins, she took off, her mare responding instantly to a command for speed.

  Damien watched her—as promised—her lean body bent low over the animal’s back. And while she did look mighty fine from this angle, he hoped like hell he wouldn’t be watching Miranda walk away from him any time soon.

  9

  TEARING ACROSS THE FIELDS, I couldn’t help but feel just a little bit hopeful. Riding was a thrill I hadn’t experienced in so long, and Damien’s reaction to my news had been surprisingly...okay. He hadn’t gotten surly. Hadn’t insisted we turn around and go home to start preparing for the worst.

  He still treated me as if he wanted me, and that was a gift I hadn’t expected.

  I dared a look over my shoulder at one point and saw him coming for me, his horse a dark, charging blur over the green field. Another thrill shot through me and I couldn’t believe my luck. He didn’t want me to leave. At least not yet.

  I didn’t mind taking things one day at a time when I didn’t know where else to go, anyhow. I would savor every second with Damien. Because even if he couldn’t help me forge my dream of running my own business, he had given me something more important. He’d done more to heal my old phobias about men in the past few days than I’d managed in long months of counseling sessions. Even my writing hadn’t been as effective as Damien’s tenderness and his obvious desire for me.

  Last night, I’d actively pushed aside my issues to be with him. By this morning, those issues were still there, but I didn’t have to wrestle with them nearly as hard. They stood quietly in the background, nervous but out of my way. It was an amazing feeling.

  Ahead of me, I saw Scotty waving one arm by the unfinished barn, and had a moment of worry. What if he was here to tell us that reporters had arrived? That Gutsy Girl fans were at the house, waiting for us?

  “Hi,” I called as I reined in, hoping he could hear me over the music in his headphones. “Everything okay?”

  The farmhand tugged aside one earbud. “Just came over for the horses. Damien asked me to bring them in for grooming.”

  He reached for Windchime’s bridle, steadying her.

  “Oh.” That made sense. This way, we wouldn’t have to take care of the animals. I tried not to smile at the apparent planning that had gone into this day. “Thanks.”

  I slid down on my own, even though Scotty moved to help me. I was in a hurry, eager to see whatever else Damien had in store for us. Now, he trotted to a halt behind me, keeping Eclipse a good distance from Windchime until the feistier horse settled down.

  When I glanced his way, Damien was watching me with thinly veiled hunger in his eyes. Was it only me who could see that, or was it obvious to Scotty, too? My cheeks heated even as awareness flickered through me. I busied myself removing my helmet and giving it to Scotty, while Damien relayed some final instructions about farm business. My own thoughts were a tangle, my emotions clamoring so insistently that I couldn’t think straight.

  Right now, I was all hunger and instinct. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Damien.

  “Got it, boss. No problem.” Scotty nodded and clamped his headphones back over his ears. He led the horses away from the unfinished barn toward their home stables, closer to the main house.

  A young woman jogged toward Damien’s assistant. She wore a green field jacket with the Fraser Farm logo. She took one of the horses, neither she nor Scotty looking back. Leaving us alone.

  I couldn’t think of a thing to say when I met Damien’s hazel eyes. Maybe he felt the same, because he stood silently for a long moment, our gazes crawling over each other the way our hands were aching to do. At least, the way mine were.

  “Let’s go inside.” He took my hand, folding it in his. I could feel the warmth of his palm right through my thin leather riding gloves.

  We walked into the open space of the central barn, cathedral-like in its current state of half completion. Golden rays from the slowly setting sun angled through the rafters. Wide future stalls were evident from the position of the support columns.

  “We’ll have some viewing areas for the stallions over here.” He pointed out matching open spaces at either end of the barn. “The plumbing was just finished for the washing racks over here. Holding areas for the mares on the opposite end.”

  I nodded, impressed. “I knew Thoroughbred racing was a big industry, but this is incredible.” The facility was mammoth. We walked into the heart of it, the finished section in the center.

  Fine stonework covered the walls of what would one day be a receiving area—this one for people, not horses. The floor was dusty from construction, but the bones of the room were obvious. High ceilings, a huge hearth, heavy double doors between rooms all sent a subtle message of old-world elegance.

  “I’m working out here now so I can oversee construction on the days when the crew installs important features or needs quick decisions. But one day, within two years, the stallion manager will work in this facility, and I’ll move back to the original barns.” Damien opened one of the polished wood doors by the wrought-iron handle.

  “It looks like the stables from some posh British manor house. A step back in time.” The scents of milled wood and some kind of chemical glaze made everything smell brand-new. “I actually looked through a lot of architectural design books when I was thinking up plans for a tearoom.”

  “A lot about racing is a nod to old traditions.” He pointed to some ironwork detailing around built-in bookshelves inside his office. On the shelves were horseshoes in mahogany shadowboxes, and black-and-white photographs of former Triple Crown winners.

  But the central feature of the office—at least for today—was a small café table placed off to one side of the room. It was covered with a white linen cloth, and silver candlesticks held ivory candles that flickered softly in the breeze when the door shut behind us. Two place settings sat along
side covered platters and more silver dishes.

  “Wow.” I shook my head, unable to reconcile the pickup-driving horse breeder—the dusty guy who’d been surly to me that first day—with the man watching me patiently now. “This is beautiful.”

  “I thought you deserved a meal prepared for you, instead of cooking for my staff and guests.” He shrugged out of his coat and laid it on a polished wood bench near the door. “There’s a bathroom in the back if you’d like to wash up.”

  A tingling started in my chest. I couldn’t think of it as warm fuzzies, since that sounded like something a six-year-old felt for her teddy bear, and what I felt about Damien right now was a whole lot more grown-up. But there was a definite tenderness growing in the region of my heart.

  “That would be great.” I realized how overenthusiastic I sounded about an offer to use a restroom. Weird how that awkward teenager I’d once been still emerged at the oddest times. “I mean...thanks.”

  I ducked in the other direction to wash the grit of horse and leather from my hands and face. Toweling off on the thick white terry cloth that hung on a brand-new pewter dowel, I had a stern stare-down with myself in the mirror.

  Don’t read too much into this. Don’t get all mushy romantic inside because a guy treats you to dinner.

  How pathetic would I be if I fell over the first guy to do something so sweet? The fact that I’d pushed men away with both hands for years was the only reason I was such a relationship newbie. The only reason Damien’s careful plans for a date today had me dreaming about a romantic future.

  Relax.