Chapter One #2
She didn’t like the look of him, Keeley thought as she sipped her champagne.
He was just a little too much of everything.
His eyes were green, a sharper tone than her mother’s.
She imagined he could use them to slice his opponent in two with one glance.
And she had a feeling he’d enjoy it. His hair was brown, but anything but a quiet shade, with all those gilded streaks rioting through it, and he wore it too long, so that it waved past his collar and around a face of planes and angles.
A sharp face, like his eyes, one with a faint shadow of a cleft in the chin and a well-defined mouth that struck her as being just a little too sensuous.
She thought he was built like a cowboy—long-legged and rangy, and looking entirely too rough-and-ready for his suit and tie.
She didn’t care for the way he stared at her, either. Even when he wasn’t looking at her it felt as if he were staring. And as if he’d read her thoughts, he shifted his eyes to hers again. His smile was slow, unmistakably insolent, and made her want to bare her teeth in a snarl.
Rather than give him the satisfaction, Keeley rose and walked unhurriedly to the ladies’ lounge.
She hadn’t gotten all the way through the door when Sarah bulleted in behind her. “God! Isn’t he gorgeous?”
“Who?”
“Come on, Keel.” Rolling her eyes, Sarah plopped down on one of the padded stools at the vanity counter and prepared to enjoy a chat.
“Brian. I mean he is so hot. Did you see his eyes? Amazing. And that mouth—makes you just want to lap at it or something. Plus, he’s got a terrific butt.
I know because I made sure I walked behind him to check it out. ”
With a laugh, Keeley sat down beside her. “First, you’re so predictable. Second, if Dad hears you talk that way, he’ll shove the man on the first plane back to Ireland. And third, I didn’t notice his butt, or anything else about him, particularly.”
“Liar.” Sarah propped her elbow on the counter as her sister took out a lipstick. “I saw you give him the Keeley Grant once-over.”
Amused, Keeley passed the lipstick to Sarah. “Then let’s say I didn’t much like what I saw. The rough-edged and proud-of-it type just doesn’t do it for me.”
“It sure works for me. If I wasn’t leaving for college next week, I’d—”
“But you are,” Keeley interrupted, and part of her was torn at the upcoming separation. “Besides that, he’s much too old for you.”
“It never hurts to flirt.”
“And you’ve made a career of it.”
“That’s just to balance your ice princess routine. ‘Oh hello, Chad.’” Sarah put a distant look in her eye and gracefully lifted a hand.
Keeley’s comment was short and rude and made Sarah giggle. “Dignity isn’t a flaw,” Keeley insisted, even as her own lips twitched. “You could use a little.”
“You’ve got plenty for both of us.” Sarah hopped up. “Now I’m going to go out and see if I can lure the Irish hunk onto the dance floor. I just bet he’s got great moves.”
“Oh, yeah,” Keeley muttered when her sister swung out the door. “I bet he does.”
Not, of course, that she was the least bit interested.
At the moment she wasn’t particularly interested in men, period.
She had her work, she had the farm, she had her family.
The combination kept her busy, involved and happy.
Socializing was fine, she mused. An interesting companion over dinner, great.
An occasional date for the theater or a function, dandy.
Anything more, well, she was just too busy to bother. If that made her an ice princess, so what? She’d leave the heart melting to Sarah. But, she decided as she rose, if their father hired Donnelly, she was keeping an eye on him and her guileless sister over the next week.
She’d barely taken two steps out of the lounge when Chad appeared at her side again, asking for a dance. Because the ice princess crack was still on her mind, she offered him a smile warm enough to dazzle his eyes and let him draw her into his arms.
Brian didn’t mind dancing with Sarah. It would be a pitiful man who couldn’t enjoy a few moments of holding a pretty young girl in his arms and listening to her bubble over about whatever came into her head.
She was a sweetheart as far as he was concerned, miraculously unspoiled and friendly as a puppy. After ten minutes, he knew she intended to study equine medicine, loved Irish music, broke her arm falling out of a tree when she was eight, and that she was an innate and charming flirt.
It was a pure pleasure to dance with Adelia Grant, to hear his own country in her voice and feel the easy welcome of it.
He’d heard the stories, of course, of how she’d come to America, and Royal Meadows, to stay with her uncle Patrick Cunnane, who was trainer in those days for Travis Grant. It was said she’d been hired on as a groom as she had her uncle’s gift with horses.
But guiding the small, elegant woman around the dance floor, Brian dismissed the stories as so much pixie dust. He couldn’t imagine this woman ever mucking out a stall—any more than he could picture her pretty daughters doing so.
The socializing hadn’t been so bad, he acknowledged, and he couldn’t say he minded the food, though a man would do better with a good beef sandwich. Still it was plentiful, even if you did have to pick your way through half of it to get to something recognizable.
But despite the evening not being quite the ordeal he’d imagined it would be, he was glad when Travis suggested they get some air.
“You’ve a lovely family, Mr. Grant.”
“Yes, I do. And a loud one. I hope you still have your hearing left after dancing with Sarah.”
Brian grinned, but he was cautious. “She’s charming—and ambitious. Veterinary medicine’s a challenging field, and especially when you specialize in horses.”
“She’s never wanted anything else. She went through stages, of course,” Travis continued as they walked down a wide white stone path.
“Ballerina, astronaut, rock star. But under it all, she always wanted to be a vet. I’m going to miss her, and Patrick, when they leave for college next week.
Your family will miss you, I imagine, if you stay in America. ”
“I’ve been coming and going for some time. If I settle in America, it won’t be a problem.”
“My wife misses Ireland,” Travis murmured. “A part of her’s still there, no matter how deep she’s dug her roots here. I understand that. But...” He paused and in the backwash of light studied Brian’s face. “When I take on a trainer, I expect his mind, and his heart, to be in Royal Meadows.”
“That’s understood, Mr. Grant.”
“You’ve moved around quite a bit, Brian,” Travis added. “Two years, occasionally three at one organization, then you switch.”
“True enough.” Eyes level, Brian nodded. “You could say I haven’t found the place that wants to hold me longer than that. But while I’m where I am, that farm, those horses, have all my attention and loyalty.”
“So I’m told. The boots I’m looking to fill are big. No one’s managed to fill them to my satisfaction since Paddy Cunnane retired. He suggested I take a look at you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“You should be.” Travis was pleased to see nothing more than mild interest on Brian’s face. He appreciated a man who could hold his own thoughts. “I’d like you to come by the farm when you’re settled.”
“I’m settled enough. I prefer moving right along if it’s all the same to you.”
“It is.”
“Fine. I’ll come ’round tomorrow, for the morning workout, and have a look at how you do things, Mr. Grant. After I’ve seen what you have, and you’ve heard what I’d have in mind to do about it, we’ll know if it works for both of us. Will that suit you?”
Cocky young son of a bitch, Travis thought, but didn’t smile. He, too, knew how to hold his thoughts. “It suits me fine. Come on back inside. I’ll buy you a beer.”
“Thanks just the same, but I think I’ll go on back to my hotel. Dawn comes early.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Travis held out a hand, shook Brian’s briskly. “I’ll look forward to it.”
“So will I.”
Alone, Brian took out a slim cigar, lighted it, then blew out a long stream of smoke.
Paddy Cunnane had recommended him? The idea of it had both nerves and pleasure stirring in his gut. He’d told Travis he’d been flattered, but in truth, he’d been staggered. In the racing world, that was a name spoken of with reverence.
Paddy Cunnane trained champions the way others ate breakfast—with habitual regularity.
He’d seen the man a few times over the course of years, and had spoken to him once. But even with a well-fed ego, Brian had never thought that Paddy Cunnane had taken notice of him.
Travis Grant wanted someone to fill Paddy’s boots. Well, Brian Donnelly couldn’t and wouldn’t do that. But he’d damn well make his mark with his own, and he’d make sure that would be good enough for anyone.
Tomorrow morning they would see what they would see.
He started down the path again when the light and shadows in front of him shifted briefly. Glancing over, he saw Keeley come out of the glass doors and walk across a flagstone terrace.
Look at her, Brian thought, so cool and solitary and perfect.
She was made for moonlight, he decided. Or perhaps it was made for her.
What breeze there was fluttered the layers of the filmy blue dress she wore as she crossed over to sniff at the flowers that grew out of a big stone urn in colors of rust and butter.
On impulse, he snapped off one of the late-blooming roses from its bush, and strode onto the terrace.
She turned at the sound of his footsteps.
Irritation flickered first in her eyes, so quickly here and gone he might have missed it if he hadn’t been so focused on her.
Then it was smoothed away, coated over with a thin sheen of cool politeness.
“Mr. Donnelly.”
“Miss Grant,” he said in the same formal tone, then held out the rose. “Those there are a bit too humble for the likes of you. This suits better.”