Leaping Hearts(5)

“Peter, trust me. I can turn him around. I’m going to work with him, one-on-one.”

“Not if I refuse to pay for him, you won’t.”

She turned her focus on Peter. “You can’t be serious.”

“One phone call to the office here and you’re off the charge account.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Try me.”

“Well, then I’ll just write a check from my personal account.”

Peter paused, weighing his next move. “Your father isn’t going to let you ride that stallion.”

“He never interferes with my training.”

“I’ll bet that changes when I tell him all about your little friend’s reputation for throwing riders. Not to mention his skills at crowd control.”

“Look, you don’t have to blow this out of proportion.” A.J. let the stone fall back against the skin of her throat. “He’ll be one horse out of fifty at the stables. You’ll barely know he’s there.”

“It’s not the ratio that bothers me. This animal is malevolent and dangerous. I don’t want a mass exodus out of the barns. I have to protect my business.”

“Let me remind you: Sutherland Stables is half mine.”

“You do the riding part. I handle the business. And that’s thirty thousand dollars of money I’m in charge of that you just threw out a window.”

“In stud fees alone, this stallion will make thirty grand look like couch change.”

“For what? The dubious pleasure of his company? I doubt it.”

“When he’s a champion, you can bet he’ll be profitable.”

“You don’t know if that horse can compete in anything other than a bowling tournament. Knocking down people seems to be his forte, not jumping fences.”

“He’s been shown before.”

“Only to be a horror in the ring. That’s hardly a recommendation for a stud.”

“It’s in him.”

“She’s right.”

A J. turned to see who had agreed with her and found herself looking at a legend.

Her breath caught in her throat as her body temperature soared. With her cap in one hand, Devlin McCloud was standing close enough for her to see the flecks of green in his hazel eyes. Her heart started to pound as she responded to an electric current that flared when they looked at each other.

Although she knew his face well from all the press he’d received throughout his career, it was the first time she’d ever been up close to the man, and she was stunned. If the champion was devastatingly handsome staring out of the cover of a magazine, he was downright mesmerizing in person. Her body began to tingle.

My God, he’s beautiful, she thought.

The man was just over six feet tall, with broad shoulders, strong arms and a stance that was tough and confident. He looked out on the world from a pair of deep-set, highly intelligent eyes which were at the moment trained on her like searchlights. His hair was dark and brushed off his forehead, thanks to a cowlick that was in just the right place, and his skin was tanned from time in the sun. Unlike Peter, he was dressed as she was, in blue jeans and a work shirt, but with the command he held himself, he could have been wearing a dishrag and he’d have looked like he owned the place.

It really was the Devlin McCloud.

There were few in the equestrian world who didn’t know him. He was a maverick, a national sports presence, the former captain of the Olympic Equestrian Team, a multiple gold medal winner and one of the best show jumpers the country had ever produced. And if he hadn’t been known because of his accomplishments, his tragedy would have sealed the buzz on him. A.J.’s eyes flickered over his legs and she saw his flash of annoyance as he caught the glance.

“I believe this is yours.” He held out her cap.

His voice was deep and sensuous and had a kind of gravel in it that reverberated through her ears and down into her spine. Although he’d been interviewed on national TV and radio numerous times, it was the first time she’d heard him speak live. Even though she knew so much about him, and his private stable was not far from the Sutherland compound, she’d never spoken with him before. That wasn’t unusual. The man let few people get near him.

Aware she was staring, A.J. took the hat and confronted Peter. “You see? If anyone is likely to know a champion, it’s him.”

“I didn’t say he was going to be a champion.”

She turned back around in surprise. “But you agreed with me.”

“I think he’s got jumping in his blood. Being a champion is something else entirely.”

That voice of his sounded delicious and she found herself preoccupied with the way his lips moved over the words. They were perfectly molded lips, she decided, the lower one more full, the upper curling over straight white teeth. She struggled to keep her train of thought.

“Er—but if he has the innate talent, then he can win.”

“What’s the use of the best foundation in the world if you can’t raise the roof because the walls are unsteady?”

“My point exactly,” Peter said.

“Well, you’re both wrong. I’m going to turn him into a champion.”

“You’d have a better result if you turned him into dog food,” Peter muttered.