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“Didn’t you just say you planned to buy her?”

“Only if you’re willing to sell! I might consider making an offer on her,ifI like what I see.” He stopped his tirade to take in a deep breath. “Look, Rebecca, I don’t know what problems you’ve been having with your brother, and frankly I don’t want to get involved in family disputes. If it’s too much trouble for me to look at your filly, then forget it. I think I can find my way back to civilization.”

He turned on his heel and began to return to the car. “Wait,” Becca called. Brig stopped. “If you want to see Sentimental Lady, I’ll take you to her.” He followed her to the largest of the buildings surrounding the paddocks.

The door creaked when she opened it and there was a restless stirring when Becca flicked on the lights. A few disgruntled snorts greeted her as she passed by the stalls of the awakened horses. Becca murmured soothing words to the animals and stopped at Sentimental Lady’s stall. “Come here, girl,” she called to the dark filly and made soft clucking sounds in the back of her throat.

Sentimental Lady’s nostrils flared and she backed up distrustfully as she eyed Brig. She stamped her foot impatiently and flattened her dark ears against her head. “She doesn’t like strangers,” Becca explained to Brig before softly coaxing the highspirited horse to come forward.

Brig’s gray eyes never left the horse. He studied the filly from the tip of her velvet-soft nose to her tail. Lady tossed her near-black head and snorted her contempt for the man appraising her.

“Is she as fast as she looks?” Brig asked.

“She’s fast.” Becca found it impossible to put into words how effortlessly Sentimental Lady ran, how rhythmically her black legs raced, or how fluidly her muscles worked. The horse was a study in grace when she lengthened into her stride.

“Is she strong?”

Becca snapped off the lights and closed the door. “She’s strong.”

“And big,” Brig murmured. He rubbed his thumb pensively over his jawline. “She’s one of the tallest fillies I’ve ever seen. What’s her girth?”

“Seventy-five inches.”

Brig shook his head and scowled. “Have you had any trouble with her legs?”

Becca was a little defensive. “We’ve had to watch her ankles.”

“She’s too big,” was Brig’s flat, emotionless statement. “Her legs won’t be able to carry her the distance.”

“Because she’s a filly?” Becca shot back.

“Because she’s abigfilly. Her girth is over an inch larger than Winsome’s and his legs are stronger.”

“You haven’t seen her run,” Becca whispered as they walked toward the house.

“I’d like to.”

“Why? I told you she wasn’t for sale.”

Becca placed her hand on the doorknob, but Brig took hold of her arm, catching the warm flesh and forcing her to turn and look at him. “I came all this way; I’d like to see her run.” His eyes touched hers and in the darkness she could read more than interest for a horse in his gaze. Passion burned deep within him, Becca saw it as clearly as if he had whispered, “I want you.” Becca managed to unlock the door and it swung open, inviting them both into the comfort inside.

Her pulse was racing and her lips desert dry. She tried to think calmly, but found it impossible. Her smile trembled with the confusion that was overtaking her. “Sentimental Lady has a workout scheduled for tomorrow morning . . .” Was he listening? He was looking at her lips, but Becca doubted if he had heard a word she said. “You could come and see her then.” She began to retreat into the house, but felt the muscles in her back press up against the doorjamb. “She . . . runs at six.”

His hands captured her bare shoulders. His face was only inches from hers and his clean scent filled her nostrils. “It’s already after two.”

“I know . . .”

His lips pressed hotly against hers and the delicious pressure of his fingers on her shoulders increased. His warm breath fanned her face as he pulled his head away from hers to look into her eyes. “I can’t go back to the city tonight. It will be nearly dawn when I get there,” he pointed out.

Becca’s senses were swimming and she found it impossible to think clearly. “But . . .”What was he asking?

His fingers touched the hollow of her throat and her pulse jumped. He gazed down upon her through heavy-lidded eyes. “Let me stay with you,” he suggested throatily, and softly nuzzled the inviting column of her neck. She had to fight the urge to collapse into him.

She pressed her palms against his chest. Her eyes searched his face. “I find you very attractive,” she admitted.

“Why do I expect the wordbutto preface the rest of your response?” He smiled, and in the pale light from an uneven smattering of stars, Becca returned his grin.

“Because I don’t know you . . .”