"Buttering up never hurt," she said, leaning close so they were not heard.
She refilled his coffee. Nash stared at her bowed head, catching the scent of her perfume. Her nearness excited him beyond rational thought. She tipped her head, her dark gaze clashing with his, and he could almost feel the current crackling between them. Casually, he laid his hand on her waist and heard her indrawn breath.
It was the first time he'd touched her since they'd danced by the pool. His fingers flexed, tugging her an inch or two closer, and the memory of her bare skin beneath his hands instantly brought another time when he'd made her gasp for air. And how he'd done it. He wanted to do it again and again and could scarcely control the images colliding through his mind. He bent to whisper, "You look lovely this morning, sprite."
Her cheeks brightened becomingly. "Thanks."
His voice dropped to a sensual timbre. "Downright delectable."
A little sound, close to a whimper, escaped her. "Behave."
The temptation to touch her further, to sweep his arms around her and pull her close, nearly overcame him. He was grateful she stepped back before he did something foolish. He felt like one of the stallions in his barns, and it would not do his reputation any good if he laid his daughters' nanny across the two-hundred-year-old polished dining table and made love to her. The decadent thought made him chuckle softly, and her gaze flew to his.
As if she read his mind, she rolled her eyes and shook her head. He took a final sip of coffee, then set the cup aside. "Time to make some money," he said for her ears only, then urged the men and women outside.
For the remainder of the afternoon, Hayley kept busy cleaning up after the brunch while Nash presented his best stock. At last she realized there was nothing left to do except maybe polish silver, and she went to her room to study. She picked up a book and sat by the window, but never opened it, her attention drawn to the activity outside. And to Nash. She admitted she liked watching him work. Heck, she liked looking at him doing nothing. Her heart jumped a little when he led the black stallion out of the barn. He wasn't wearing his usual blue jeans and work shirt, but black jodhpurs and tall black boots. His white shirt was collarless with knife-edge creases on the sleeves. She ought to know—she'd ironed it. He led the stallion around the ring. The animal pranced regally for him, the representatives for the auction houses trailing him like puppies, clipboards in their hands. Nash commanded the beast and the people around him. His ranch hands brought the mares and foals out. Nash gestured for one pair to be led back into the barn. A representative questioned him, obviously admiring that mare in particular and wanting it in the auction. Nash shook his head and the objection ended there.
Her chin in her palm, elbow on the windowsill, she admired the man in his element. He dealt well with "corporates," people owning race horses or wanting to, as well as the Florida and Georgia cattle ranchers buying trained cutting horses from him. And Nash was a bit of both, refinement and rawhide.
And in the privacy of her mind she admitted that she envied him, his life. He lived hard, worked hard and had roots that went back two hundred years. He was comfortable doing the same job his ancestors had, day in and day out. It was that lineage, this life, that she couldn't be in. She didn't know about family or making a home. Stability and longevity were Nash Rayburn, not her. How could he have ever believed she was capable of being a wife and mother when she'd seen neither in her own life? Right now she was only an old lover with lingering memories. She couldn't expect more. And she wouldn't.
Hayley felt the sting of regret in the back of her throat. She'd tried giving him all she could give years ago and it hadn't been enough. She looked at the Physician's Desk Reference in her hand, then to the other books stacked on the bed. She had her plans and he had his. She didn't know a thing about his life-style other than it was beyond her. She just wouldn't fit in. It wasn't as if he'd asked her to, either, she thought. Then why am I looking at what I cannot have as if it's the last morsel of food on the table?
Just before she turned away from the window, she stole one last glance at him.
Over the distance his gaze locked with hers.
Hayley felt electrified. His lips curved and, astride the bareback horse, he had the creature dip his head and put out one gleaming hoof toward her.
She clapped silently.
He bowed, slight and elegant. Hayley just laughed to herself and shook her head.
Charming. The prince of River Willow with mud on his boots.
* * *
Seven
Nash shook Andrew's hand, smiling, then turned toward Hayley, drawing her forward. "Andrew Pike, I'd like you to meet Dr. Hayley Albright."