Nacho Figueras Presents (5 page)

A
lejandro glanced across the room at the sound of his brother laughing and tried to see whomever he was talking to. He got a glimpse of a pretty, spirited face, animated by conversation, before Rory moved to loom over her and obscure the view.

He realized his audience was waiting for a reaction and smiled and nodded at the ring of people around him, trying to concentrate on the story that the socialite in the tight turquoise dress was telling and hoping he was hiding how claustrophobic he felt.

He hated these press events. Every which way he turned, someone waited to talk to him, touch him, demanding his attention. He knew it was part of the job—and he tried his best to satisfy—but the longer he stood, grinning like a fool and saying the same polite and predictable things over and over, the more horrifically restless he became. The mandatory mingling was bad enough when his team had won; but forced jollity after a loss like today's added serious insult to injury.

Sebastian laughed even louder, and Alejandro turned his head again. His brother and Rory were pulling out all the stops, competing over their afternoon target. They crowded in front of her, jostling for attention and blocking their poor prey from his sight. He saw Sebastian break away to get a refill on his drink. Fantastic—just what he needed—Sebastian on the rampage. He sure as hell didn't want a hangover handicap hurting their odds tomorrow on top of their dismal performance this afternoon.

The blonde finished her story finally, tossing off some dirty punch line about girth, which generated a round of guffawing laughter from her audience. Alejandro took that as his cue, quickly excusing himself before he was caught up in another round of unbearably inane conversation.

He wound his way through the crowd, past women sporting spray-on dresses and customer service smiles, and sought out his teammates.

He strode over toward his brother, laid one hand on his shoulder, and took the champagne from his hand. He spoke to him in quick, low Spanish. “
Che, hermano
, I thought we agreed not to drink during the season?”

Sebastian shrugged, then smiled and answered him in English. “I think maybe you agreed to that, Jandro. Not me. I'd never let free champagne go to waste.” He plucked the drink back from Alejandro's hand and drained it.

Alejandro shook his head. Sebastian had more natural talent than any player he knew but sometimes seemed ready to piss it away with partying, and he was enabled by Rory, who never met a good time he didn't like. But after another defeat, with all eyes on them, someone had to set a standard.

Apparently Sebastian recognized the look in his brother's eyes and cut off the lecture before it began. “Before you start in on family honor, big brother, let me introduce you to some friends.” Sebastian turned toward the group. “You know Beau, of course, and this is Billy.”

Alejandro nodded as the sleek, dark-skinned man on Beau's arm shook his hand.

“And this is Billy's friend Georgia.”

Alejandro felt his breath catch in his chest. The woman smiling up at him was not Sebastian or Rory's typical stick chick. In fact, Alejandro had never seen anyone like her in Wellington before. In a room full of women working their surgically enhanced assets to the max, she stood out in her simplicity. Tawny, golden brown hair was pinned up in messy curls; warm, hazel eyes met his with intelligent curiosity. Her luminous skin appeared to be free of makeup, except for a faint hint of red on her full lips. She wore a simple tank and wide-legged trousers that showed off the strong, clean lines of her generous curves. He almost smiled to see that, instead of expensive wedge sandals or designer riding boots, she wore a pair of little red sneakers on her feet.

He had a sudden unsummoned image of what it would be like to wake up next to her, the curls tumbling down her naked back, that beautiful, creamy skin bare from head to toe…

“Hello,” she said, extending a hand. “Georgia Fellowes.” Her voice was low and appealing.

“Pleased to meet you,
Ms. Fellowes
. I am Alejandro Del Campo.” He took her small hand in his and felt his whole body tighten in response to her fingers' touch.

Her pale cheeks flushed a delicate, petal pink. He looked at her eyes, trying to decide if they were dark green or hazel. They seemed to change with the light.

“I know,” she said, and blushed even deeper.

Ugh
, thought Georgia as she snatched back her hand, rookie mistake. Could she be any more embarrassing—confusing celebrity for familiarity? Just because she knew who he was didn't mean she actually knew the man. She hoped he didn't think she was one of the countless polo groupies stalking the grounds.

God, he was good looking, though. Not in a flashy way like his brother. There was nothing flirty or boyish about him at all. He was entirely a man. He was taller and had broader shoulders than Sebastian. His skin was a slightly darker shade of gold. Sebastian was obviously athletic, but Alejandro moved with a deeply coiled strength and power, the muscles in his chest and arms straining against his form-fitting polo shirt. She couldn't help glancing down at his tight white jeans, at his long legs and taut thighs, his polished knee-high boots, the way the fabric stretched tantalizingly over the considerable bulge at his crotch. She blinked rapidly, willing herself to look back at his face. His mouth was not his brother's either, both more generous and yet more severe. But it was his eyes that were the most striking difference. While Sebastian's light green eyes were filled with rude mischief and the promise of fun, this man's ice blue gaze was unfathomable, almost haunted. He was definitely a man in some kind of pain, she thought as she studied his face.

Listen to yourself
, she thought impatiently,
presuming all this understanding. He's probably pained by my inability to make conversation, more than anything. Get a grip, girl.

Realizing that she'd done little but stare, and mortified by her awkward silence, Georgia opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, a polo groupie—who couldn't have been any more than sixteen—came crashing into the tent for an autograph. She sent Georgia's elbow flying, and her champagne nearly spilled onto the ground. In one deft move, Alejandro stepped up, grabbed her elbow, and steadied the glass.

Security arrived just after to lead the poor girl away, but Sebastian stopped them and signed the girl's napkin first, giving her a wink and a smile as well.

Alejandro stood beside Georgia, still gripping her arm. She could feel his warm breath against her temple.

Georgia swallowed nervously. “Nice reflexes.” She showed Alejandro her still almost-full glass.

He raised an eyebrow and slowly released her arm, his fingers brushing against her skin. “I should hope so,” he said dryly. “It's how I make a living.”

“Well,” she blurted out, “I hope to see you play,” and cringed inwardly at how fantastically banal she could be.

He took a step closer. “And I hope you'll see us win. You'll be here tomorrow?”

“Of course she will,” interjected Billy. “She's dying to see the ponies. She's a veterinarian, you know, specializing in equine medicine.”

“Really?” Sebastian asked. “She seems unfairly attractive for a vet.”

“Considerably easier on the eye than our Dr. Gustavo,” Rory remarked.

“Speaking of which,” said Sebastian, tipping his head meaningfully.

Alejandro glanced across the room and his face grew stony. He turned to his brother. “Why aren't those two checking the ponies?”

Georgia followed their gaze and saw, across the tent, a short, barrel-chested man jabbing a chinless Brooks Brothers type in the chest.

Sebastian nodded, amused. “Dr. Gustavo's too busy letting Dr. Evan know who's boss.”

Alejandro made a low sound of exasperation. “Excuse me,” he murmured, and brushed past Georgia to head for the unfortunate pair at the bar.

A
lejandro felt his annoyance grow as he glad-handed his way rapidly across the room. The first interesting face he'd seen since getting to Florida and immediately work intervened. He glanced back at Georgia, briefly pausing to watch the way she toyed with a stray caramel-colored curl at the base of her neck. For a moment, Alejandro was tempted to turn around and finish the conversation that had barely begun. But then he looked back at the bar and saw Dr. Gustavo, his face already flushed with drink, slam down a shot of something. Now was not the time to get distracted. There was the string to think of.

He threaded his way through the crowd, trying to ignore the fact that everyone he passed wanted his attention. Every interaction in these tents was a trap. All those bright, eager faces wanting something from him. He knew he should be grateful, these were his fans for the most part—people who only wished him well—but sometimes the unrelenting scrutiny could feel less like love and more like ownership. As if they were entitled to just about everything he had to give—not just an autograph or a quick selfie, but his heart, his soul, and when he was losing as he'd been lately, even a pound or two of his metaphorical flesh.

Alejandro could see that Gustavo was snapping his fingers at the barman for another drink. The vet's manner was really getting more and more insufferable.

The other vet, Dr. Evan, had been a problem since day one. Alejandro never should have let Gustavo make the pick. Worried that he was losing influence with the team, the older man made sure that the new vet was cringingly weak and totally biddable. And while the pathetic specimen he'd chosen did serve to make Dr. Gus look good in comparison, he did pretty much zero to benefit the team.

Alejandro gave the men a terse hello and suggested they might like to get back to the barns to check on the ponies. Gustavo colored and set down his drink as if he'd been slapped.

Alejandro resented the older man for forcing him into what had to sound like a reprimand and wished—not for the first time—that he had whatever quality would inspire his staff simply to do the right thing, sparing him the necessity of acting like an asshole.

Valentina appeared, wanting money for one of the thousands of overpriced trinkets on sale. The girl could run through cash like nothing Alejandro had ever known. Still irritated by the vets and his brother, he decided it would be easier to just give in. He reached in his pocket for a fifty. Valentina gave him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and then folded and pocketed the crisp note and turned away. He was left with the uncomfortable feeling he'd just bought his way out of a scene. One more loss of unrecoverable control.

Georgia watched as Alejandro was kissed by a stunning girl with long, dark bangs wearing the latest everything. By contrast with the blushing wreck the man had made of her, this woman looked completely fearless in his presence, tugging on his shirt and speaking to Alejandro as if they were the only two in the room. He offered her something which she snatched from his hand before kissing him and then turning on her heel. Alejandro looked for a second like his heart might break.

Georgia tried to curb her stupid disappointment. Of course, she didn't know who the young woman was to Alejandro, but the interaction between them dripped with intimate familiarity. She smiled ruefully, thinking that she had, at last, disproven Billy's faith in her ability to take the measure of a man almost as soon as she met him, because she sure as heck hadn't pegged Alejandro as being the type who dated the barely legal.

A voice over the loudspeaker announced that the grounds would be closing in thirty minutes. Sebastian suggested Beau and Billy and Georgia meet them at the Player's Club after the match tomorrow evening. Rory gave Georgia a salacious wink as he left. Sebastian swooped in for two kisses, murmuring a very private “Lovely to meet you” in Georgia's ear as he slipped away.

Beau had to return to pack up his booth so he and Billy unpeeled their fingers with a lingering look of promise. As the tent crowd moved toward the exits, Billy looked to Georgia with barely contained hope in his coffee-colored eyes. “So?” he said. “What did you think?”

Georgia smiled at her friend. “Honestly? I thought he was great. But I'm not so sure that my judgment can be trusted at the moment.”

Billy swept her up off the floor and into a bear hug. “Oh, I knew it! I knew you'd like him. He's just about perfect, right?”

Georgia laughed. “He seems to be a very nice man.”

Billy put her down, but continued to beam at her. “And didn't you have fun?” he asked. “You were a hit with Sebastian. And Rory, too, from the looks of it.”

Georgia waved that away, embarrassed. “Oh, come on. They were just being polite, is all.”

They left the shade of the tent and headed for the car. Billy was chattering happily about the evening treatments he'd booked for them both at the spa.

Georgia waited until she trusted her voice to sound casual. “So, what's the older brother's story?”

“Alejandro? Oh, total bummer, right? His wife was in a coma forever after being injured in a show-jumping accident. His father passed only a little while before they turned off her life support.” He glanced at Georgia and frowned. “Oh, wait. No. No. For God's sake, I present you with your choice of available heaven in Sebastian and Rory, and you're blowing them off for tall, dark, and gloomy? No way. He and his death wish are off-limits. What you need is fun.”

“How long ago did his wife die?” Georgia persisted as she buckled up.

“Oh my God, Georgia.” Billy laughed. “You're wondering if there's been a sufficient interval since he was widowed?”

“No!” Georgia protested hotly. “I was just curious.”

Billy snorted. “You vets are worse than doctors. Extreme rescuers. But not this time. The Del Campo situation is tragic, but, like, not sexy, easy-fix tragic. Toxic, impossible tragic. Give it up.”

Georgia shrugged, tuning him out as they merged into traffic and the stereo started to soar. She'd been right about the pain, then, losing his wife and his father in such a short amount of time. Still, she thought wryly, that raven-headed girlfriend might take the edge off his loss.