Nacho Figueras Presents (9 page)

T
he note was very formal. Alejandro requested a meeting at noon. By eleven, Beau was over, all oiled up, wearing barely anything, and stretched out alongside Billy on a sun bed by the pool. The pair had pushed the lounges close together so their hands could wander unhindered.

“I can't believe someone's finally taking Alejandro off the market,” drawled Beau from behind his glasses. “The man's a proverbial island.”

“No one's being taken off the market, Beau,” said Georgia. “It's just lunch.”

“It's not just lunch, it's a date,” said Billy as he peered up at her, “and you look sexy as all hell, Peaches.”

“I feel like I'm hanging out on both ends,” said Georgia as she tugged down the hem of her dress and tugged up her neckline. She'd let Billy dress her again—and this time he'd presented her with a tank dress made of butter-soft, rose-colored jersey. It flowed over her curves and dipped precariously low in the front. He'd twisted her hair up, letting a few soft curls spring free at her neck and temples, and finished her off with thin gold hoops and matching flat gold sandals.

Billy grinned. “You kind of are. But in the best possible way. Trust. You're the hottest thing in town.”

Beau trailed a lazy finger down Billy's chest. “Well, maybe not
the
hottest.”

Billy smiled at him. “Smooth as Southern silk,” he said, and then he was kissing Beau on the back of the neck and they seemed to forget all about Georgia and her lunch date.

“Oh God. Are you going to drop me off or what?” Georgia said, fighting her nerves by telling herself that it was no big deal.

Billy sighed and stretched languidly before rolling off his lounge and slipping a tee over his trunks. “Yes, yes. Let's go.”

“I'll wait here,” Beau said, slapping Billy's butt as he passed.

“I wish we weren't going to the club,” she said to Billy as they buckled into his little convertible. “What if I use the wrong fork or something?”

“No one's going to be looking at your fork, Georgia.”

She ignored him, tugging at her dress, “Are you sure this isn't too short?” She looked longingly back at the house. “I could still change into jeans.”

“Not a chance,” said Billy as he screeched out of the driveway. “You look great.”

“I feel ridiculous. I don't even know if I like this guy. Why am I so nervous?”

“Well, you know that you like kissing him, what more do you need? You're leaving tomorrow, Peaches. There are zero stakes here. Just take advantage of the man, use him for your pleasure, and then you'll always have the memory of his gorgeous Argentine body to keep you warm on those cold, snowy nights.”

Georgia couldn't help laughing. Billy was right. What was she fussing over? She had only one more day of freedom before going back north, and she was not going to waste that day worrying about what fork to use or if her dress was too short. She was going to enjoy her date—and it was a
date
, she admitted—with the best-looking man she had ever seen. And then, remembering the rough timbre of his voice the night before when he had looked her in the eyes and said, “
Show me
,” she felt a little shiver of anticipation. Maybe she would use him for her pleasure. Just a little bit anyway.

She leaned back in her seat, determined to have a good time.

Billy pulled up to the club. “Have fun, darling. And call me if you need a ride home.” He arched a brow. “Though I cannot imagine why you would.”

The interior of the club was cool and quiet. Distant sounds came from the kitchen. Everywhere she looked, there were thick white table linens and sparkling glass, an army of waiters tending to their well-heeled clientele. A friendly maître d' in white tie showed her to an upholstered mahogany booth where she was told Alejandro would meet her. Out on the deck, a couple of older women in wide-brimmed straw hats sat in wicker furniture sipping mimosas.

The waiter asked if she'd like a drink while she waited, and still resolute about having some fun, Georgia ordered a glass of expensive pinot gris, which was swiftly brought to her. She sipped the refreshing, slightly fruity wine, and had just started perusing the menu, widening her eyes at the astronomical prices, when Alejandro appeared beside her table.

“
Doctora
,” he murmured as he slid into the booth across from her. He smiled briefly, and Georgia felt a sharp sense of disappointment that he had not kissed her in greeting. It seemed he hadn't shaved that morning, and as Georgia eyed the dark shadow of stubble along his strong jaw, she longed to know exactly how it would feel against her skin.

He looked magnificent. He was wearing a perfectly cut charcoal suit with a crisp white shirt and a dark red tie. The top button of his shirt was undone, and the tie slightly loosened as the only nod to the tropical Florida weather. The suit acted like armor, only making his powerful, athletic strength seem even more impressive than usual. He was carrying an expensive-looking leather briefcase, which he carelessly placed on the seat next to him.

Perhaps he was coming from a meeting, thought Georgia to herself.

“A cranberry and soda,
por favor
,” he said to the waiter.

“Oh,” said Georgia, feeling bold, “have a glass of wine. It's not too early, is it?”

For a moment, she felt his eyes linger over her. His gaze was so intense that it was almost as if he had reached out and touched her. She could trace his path as he looked at her: starting at her eyes, drifting to her mouth, and then trailing down over her neck and shoulders, pausing with a sharp intake of breath at her décolletage. She suddenly remembered the feel of his hand on her breast, his thumb brushing so tantalizingly over her nipple, and it was all she could do not to suggest that he follow her to the bathroom and have his way with her right then and there at the club.

He broke his gaze, a look of regret on his face. “The wine looks very good, but it's not usually wise to mix business with pleasure, no?”

Business?
Georgia blinked. “I'm sorry?”

Alejandro took a deep breath, seeming to steel himself a bit. “Dr. Fellowes—”

“Georgia.”

“Okay, yes, Georgia. I'm afraid I owe you an apology.”

“For last night? No, I think I owe you an apology—you see, I didn't realize that Valentina was your daughter and—”

He shook his head. “No, no. Please, you do not have to explain. You were quite right. Everything that had happened was, as you put it, a mistake.”

The smile froze on Georgia's face.

He ran his hand through his hair, frowning. “You see, I have not been myself, exactly, these past few days. Normally, I never would have placed you in such a compromising position, but I was thrown off, I think, by MacKenzie's accident and…” He stopped for a moment, at a loss for words. “I don't imagine you have a daughter, do you?”

She shook her head. “No. No children.”

Alejandro shrugged helplessly. “Since her mother died…the shock. It has flung us so far apart.” His hands mimed a blast, and then he rested them on the table. She continued to look at his fingers as he said, “I can hardly reach her anymore.”

He met her eyes with an appeal so direct she had to forcibly quell the urge to reach across the table and take his hand in hers to comfort him. Instead, she rapidly smoothed the thick, soft tablecloth under her palms.

“I understand,” she said softly. “I lost my mother. I mean, she's alive. It's very different, but it's been a long time since I've seen her. She left when I was a teenager. So I think I might have some idea what…”

She faltered and nervously took a drink of water. This kind of conversation was new territory between them—and it somehow felt even more intimate than their kisses. She risked a glance up at him, and the look in his eyes encouraged her to go on.

“I was lost for a while,” she said, “but I came back. And I bet Valentina will, too. You'll just have to be patient. With time and care, she'll start to trust again.”

Alejandro cleared his throat. “Thank you. That means more to me than you can imagine.” He took a sip of his drink, silent for a moment, and then clapped his hands together. “But I'm afraid that we have wandered a bit off track. So, what I was trying to say is that I have a business offer for you.”

She nodded slowly, wondering where all this was leading.

“I do not know if you follow polo, but for our team…well, let's just say it has been a disappointing season so far. But I mean to turn this around. To make a new beginning. What you did for MacKenzie, you have proved yourself to be a remarkable veterinarian. I have a gut feeling about your judgment, your courage. And I think you might be able to help us. I am not a vengeful man, but our deputy vet's negligence was unforgivable. He won't be getting work for a while here in Wellington.”

Georgia dropped her eyes tactfully.

“So, you see, we are in need of a new number two.”

Alejandro paused for a moment, looking out over the water, running his hand through his thick hair. He was anxious, she realized, and it was endearing to see.

“Georgia, I think that hiring you to assist Gustavo, as our American vet—just for the remainder of the season, of course—six weeks—would be an excellent idea.”

She stared, not sure she could have heard him right.

“I know you'll need to think about it. I understand that you have responsibilities. Obligations. But I believe the job offers an interesting experience and a manageable challenge for a vet at your level.”

Her mind ran rapidly, trying to accept the fact this was not, as it turned out, a date at all. This was a business meeting. That, actually, she had just been offered a job…and a rather dazzling job. But there was no way she could be apart from her father and the farm for over a month, was there? And what about her work at the clinic? But then she thought of that incredible fleet of ponies needing so much time and care, and the amazing, adrenaline-filled rush she had experienced watching the game in full swing…

And of course, there was Alejandro himself. She stole a look at him as he rummaged through his briefcase. His eyes were downcast, his long, spiky lashes feathering over the taut, tan skin of his high cheekbones. His wavy, coal black hair just barely touched the collar of his shirt. She didn't think she had ever met a man so infernally sexy, and just now, he'd shown her a vulnerable side of himself that made her ache. She wanted more. In every sense of the word.

He pulled a piece of paper out of his briefcase. “Sebastian has gathered from his friend Beau that you're very valuable to your practice in New York, so I know that you will have to be well compensated. Lord Henderson, our team
patrón
, was very impressed with you as well. We are prepared to be quite generous.”

He slid the piece of paper across the table. Georgia unfolded it, and she almost laughed aloud. The sheer size of the number made it hard for her to keep a poker face. It was more than she'd make in a year at the vet practice back home. She thought of all the things she could fix around the farm with this money—how much it would mean to have a little cushion left each month for the first time. But she also thought of her father and what he'd think and say.

Alejandro leaned toward her across the table. She hoped for a moment that he might take her hand, but instead he ran his finger along the edge of his glass.

“Georgia,” he said quietly, “I want to assure you that this would be a purely professional relationship. I do not want you to worry that what has already passed between us had anything at all to do with my offer. As I said, I have not been myself the last few days. Normally, I would have never…We have very strict policies about fraternization in our organization. You would be
la doctora
, and I would be your boss. Nothing more complicated than that.”

Georgia swallowed her sudden disappointment. He was absolutely correct, she reminded herself. Obviously, she couldn't take a new job while being romantically involved with her future boss. She forced herself to smile. “Of course.”

He smiled back. “So you accept?”

“Yes,” she said, surprising herself as the word came out of her mouth. “I do.”

He offered his hand to shake on the deal. She took it, and prayed he wouldn't notice the powerful rush of heat that surged through her entire body at the touch of his fingers.

For a moment, Alejandro's smile faded. He looked almost regretful, and his hand lingered on hers perhaps a shade too long. Then he broke contact and lifted his glass.

“
Salud
,” he said softly. “I have a very good feeling about this.”

L
eaving the club and putting his Tesla Roadster into gear, Alejandro was annoyed with himself. It was stupid, really. He'd gotten exactly what he wanted from Georgia Fellowes—the team needed a decent vet, and like magic, an incredible one had appeared. But when he told her that they would be strictly professional—and she had so readily agreed—he'd experienced a sharp pang of what could only be described as loss. It was as if, by giving him what he asked for, she had taken away something much more valuable.

He'd decided to offer Georgia the job last night, after his horrible fight with Valentina. It had been humiliating, all those people privy to his family's problems. His daughter hadn't held back—howling that he was a terrible father, that she hated Wellington, and that she hated him. He had finally sent her to her room, and she had slammed and stomped all the way upstairs, making sure that everyone knew exactly what an unfair beast she felt her father to be.

He knew, rationally, that she was just being a teenager—a teenager who had lost her mother, no less—but her fierce defiance had felt like just one more thing that proved how out of control everything had become. First, all the lost games, then missing MacKenzie's injury until it was almost too late, and then his rash behavior with Dr. Fellowes…Jesus, where had that come from? When he'd found her out there on the veranda, half-drunk in the twilight, wearing that skimpy blue dress that looked as if it had been poured over her, he'd instantly gone rock hard—no matter that a mere fifteen minutes before he had exhausted himself in the shower. She'd looked up at him with those changeable eyes, and every reasonable thought had flown out of his mind. He'd wanted nothing so much as he'd wanted to take her right there; kiss her, lick her, bite her, strip her, and have his way with every inch of her luscious body, party be damned. And he would have done it, too, if Valentina hadn't interrupted them.

Offering her the job was his way of proving that he could control himself. He knew that it would have been easier had he simply waited it out, let her go back to New York, probably never seeing her again. But the team needed a vet and she was a damned good one. It would have been ridiculous for him not to take advantage of such an opportunity. If he had let her slip away, it would have been proof that he was putting his needs ahead of the team.

And so he had deliberately placed her firmly out of reach. She was an employee now, and there were iron-fast rules about fraternization on his team. Alejandro had made those rules himself, in fact. And the last thing he was going to do was break them.

This was exactly the kind of thing he needed to get back on track, he told himself. He had corrected one bad decision and replaced it with a good one. He'd tackle each element of his home life and the team that needed fixing in turn. One task at a time until he restored order and championship form. Discipline. Self-control. A singular focus on winning. These things would fix it all. He was sure of it.