Nacho Figueras Presents (18 page)

Georgia took a large bite of bread to hide her surprise.
What about Alejandro?
she wondered. Did he get an opinion on these things?

“I mean, actually, everyone wants me and Jandro together for good,” continued Cricket casually once the waiter had left. “Our families have known each other forever. And you can see there'd be a certain symmetry. My show jumping profile. His polo. We're just like bread and butter, really. So, probably,” she concluded. “Eventually. Once he comes out of mourning.”

“Oh,” said Georgia, her heart sinking a little, though she hadn't realized it had farther to go.

She tried to pull herself together. It was ridiculous to think she had the right to feel anything approaching disappointment about any of this. She'd had her little fling. It was over. And now she should be having the time of her life. It was all so outlandish, lunch with a famous show jumper gossiping about men from a legendary sporting dynasty. If she were home, she'd be splitting an eggplant parm with the receptionist at the clinic and making sure they were stocked up on flea spray.

They ordered their meals. Cricket insisted that Georgia try the soft-shell crab, even though Georgia assured her she was not a fan of shellfish.

“He needs a first lady,” Cricket said as Georgia stared at the alarming bottom feeders now on her plate. “All these high-level polo players do. He can't stand the buttering up of the sponsors he has to do. He's much more old school, to the manor born. That was why Olivia was such good news. Enough money so he didn't really have to engage with all that.”

“Oh,” Georgia said. “I hadn't realized she had money.”

Cricket shrugged like rich was a given. “It's all in trust for Valentina now. Overhead like his, he'll have to take all the rich wives he can get and still keep winning. Anyway, enough about my love life. What about you? Anyone special back home, Georgia?”

Georgia hesitated. She felt like she had to come up with something to avoid total humiliation.

“I mean, kind of. There's an ex who wants to go into business with me. We'll see when I get back…”

Georgia turned her attention to dismantling her meal, trying to hide the faint tug of depression that crept down her spine. She chided herself. They had both agreed. He was her boss. Nothing more. And she'd better make that her mantra.

Cricket drained the last of the wine. “I have to get ready for a party. And you probably have to be ready for work in the morning, right? Don't want to be out too late.” She snapped her fingers for the check.

“I think Pilar will be pleased with what we achieved here,” she said.

The check came, and Georgia reached for her purse, expecting they'd split. Cricket didn't move. Seeing Georgia open her wallet, she said, “Thank you! My treat next time.”

That, Georgia thought wryly, was how the rich stayed rich.

She felt depleted as Cricket finally dropped her off and drove away, and not just financially.

A
lejandro saw Cricket out that night at the club. He'd had dinner with Hendy and lingered to avoid his sleepless bed. She looked ravishing in an ivory shift, all cream and gold.

She had a habit of materializing just as he was feeling dangerously susceptible. He'd succumbed to her once, too soon after Olivia's accident, something he had immediately regretted. And now he always had the feeling she'd been waiting ever since.

She would run his life for him if he'd let her, he knew. The parties, the people, the staff. She'd relieve him of at least fifty percent of his current load and allow him to give Valentina the sort of household he'd been raised in himself. Plus, neither of them would have any illusions about it being a love match. She would understand that polo always came first.

And she was discreet. Even though he'd declared any liaison among the staff out of bounds, being seen with Cricket wouldn't break any rules.

Cricket bought him a drink.

“I had a fun time with your new hire earlier,” she said casually.

“Who, Georgia?”

“Yes, she played a little hooky from work and joined me for a girls' afternoon out at the mall.”

He frowned. “And so, what did you make of her?”

Cricket put her head to one side. “She seems lovely. A little bit of a fish out of water, homesick, I think. She's very inquisitive. Wanted to know all about Noni. Awfully interested in how much money everyone else has got. Asked about Olivia, too—how much she'd brought to the marriage.”

Alejandro shook his head. This didn't sound like Georgia.

“I know, right? Felt kind of impertinent. She admitted to a flirtation with Sebastian. Reading between the lines, she seemed to feel a bit bad about it because there's a guy waiting back home. Otherwise, the usual. It was all about wanting to pick up makeup and clothes—make the most of her time here before she's gone.”

Alejandro nodded, circumspect. He was quite aware that Cricket was capable of being malicious, but still, he almost wished he could believe her. He needed reasons to stay on the straight and narrow, to banish Georgia from his dreams. How nice it would be if she was actually not the woman he thought she was.

Cricket got a text. “Have to be going, darling.” She kissed his cheek, brushing her breasts against his arms as she leaned over.

He watched her as she winked and sashayed to the exit, tight little ass twitching in sheer silk, turning heads all the way.

Most nights since arriving, Georgia had fallen into bed, half comatose with exhaustion, and slept all the way through.

After the dinner with Cricket, though, Georgia couldn't relax. Her head swam with restless thoughts. Billy had not been wrong—this family was complicated and difficult and apparently had so many secrets that she'd probably never understand the relationships between them all.

She flung herself over, willing herself to think of something simpler. She tried going over the rules of polo that she could remember, hoping that trying to learn them by heart might work like counting sheep.

But if she wasn't thinking of the Del Campo family, that just gave her mind the chance to revert to the same old grooves of worry and loss. Her father. The house in New York. Sam. Her mother. She felt something tighten in her chest. Being here in Wellington brought her back to Georgia so vividly.

It was strange to feel herself pulled by the same forces that had played on her mother. Strange that for all she felt out of her league in Florida, and in many ways longed to go home, there was no avoiding the fact that professionally she was excited by Wellington, and it was hard to think of returning to regular rural practice having worked with the fine specimens and high stakes she was dealing with here. In a way, Georgia thought, getting the picture about Cricket and Alejandro, however hurtful, had been liberating. Because now she knew she didn't have a hope in hell of ever winning the man and she was free to be her best professional self.

She turned her mind determinedly back to her duties at the stables. There was so much to learn and perfect, so many accidents to prevent, and it felt as if her responsibilities needed round-the-clock watch.

Finally around four, she figured she'd do more good getting up than stewing. If she was awake, she might as well enjoy the balmy Florida temperatures while she could. She decided she'd go see the horses in person, maybe get an early start on her day. Slipping on her boots and jeans, she wandered down to the stables.

She was startled to realize that there was someone riding in the covered ring with the lights off. Another insomniac, she figured, as she stole closer to see who was there. Georgia felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw the elegant figure wheeling around in the dark, bareback on a pony, mallet aloft in her arms. There was something about her father in the way she rode, but Valentina had an unmistakable style all her own.

Georgia had a strong sense she was trespassing on the girl's secret dance, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. The performance was so balletic that, when it finally ended, Georgia was tempted to clap, but as Valentina leaned over her pony and hugged its neck, Georgia clasped her hands in silence and backed away. The moment felt too intimate to intrude upon.

Alejandro was in the tack room cleaning his bridle. Though he could easily push this kind of work off on the grooms, he enjoyed the mindless ritual of it. Brushing down his pony, taking care of his own gear—it was pretty much the only meditation he was patient enough to attempt.

The door opened, and Georgia stuck her head in. He smiled at the way she blew a haphazard curl out of her eyes before speaking to him.

“Hey there, boss, you got a minute?”

He raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “Let me guess, you have another radical change you want to make in my barn.”

At first, he had been surprised by the way she had taken a running dive into things these past couple of weeks. Of course, he had trusted and assumed that she would be a good, competent vet, but the way she immediately set to task questioning the reasons behind policy and looking for better solutions to old problems had been a bit of a shock.

She had started with simple health-related areas. She made several suggestions for diet and exercise and advocated for acupuncture for an old horse where it would never have occurred to him.

Wanting to show that he had full confidence in her, he'd given her the go-ahead. And more often than not, she'd returned with the results she had promised and then some.

So when she branched out a bit, making suggestions to help get the grooms to feel more invested in the team or ways to get the local townies more involved in the sport, he felt it worth his while to listen. She had shown herself to be both thoughtful and realistic, and had yet to overreach.

“Not so very radical,” she said with a laugh. “But I just heard about this program in Philadelphia. There's a polo club that targets at-risk youth…”

He nodded as he listened to her newest idea, loving her infectious enthusiasm and open, easy curiosity. Cricket had been lying, he realized. The woman she had described was in no way related to the woman standing in front of him. This woman was smart, and kind, and caring. This woman, he thought, as he found himself watching her more than listening, was also ridiculously beautiful. He became distracted by her animated face and expressive hands—the way that same honey-touched curl kept creeping back into her eyes, no matter how many times she impatiently pushed it away…It was all he could do not to reach over and brush it back himself.

It was like some terrible cosmic joke, the way that she'd come into his life. She worked for him, she had a life elsewhere to return to, and he realized that he couldn't stand the idea of hurting another woman the same way he had hurt Olivia. He told himself it was better this way. Better to keep it on the up-and-up, and reap the rewards of her professionalism and knowledge rather than muddy it with anything more complicated.

Still, having given her the go-ahead to pursue her latest project, he couldn't help allowing himself a quick, greedy look as she turned and left the room. If any woman had ever looked better in jeans, he had yet to meet her.

Later, as he and Hendy were standing in the covered arena watching Enzo and some grooms put a string of ponies through their paces, Gustavo came huffing up to them, a look of annoyance on his florid face. He didn't bother with formalities. “Do you two know what that girl is up to now?”

Hendy shot a look at Alejandro. With every new suggestion of Georgia's that had been implemented, Gustavo had become increasingly resentful and belligerent.

“I assume that by ‘that girl,' you are referring to Dr. Fellowes?” Alejandro asked.

“She's planning on bringing some hoodlum teenagers to our barn. Let them work and be trained, she said. Can you imagine?”

“Yes,” said Hendy. “Alejandro was just telling me about that. A rather successful program, apparently.”

Gustavo turned to Alejandro. “Surely you didn't sign off on this? It's pure idealistic nonsense. These
ladrones
will rob us blind!”

“Oh, come now, Gus,” said Hendy. “That's quite a broad assumption.”

“No, it's common sense. This girl—she knows nothing about our customs, our history. She charges in here, insists on upturning generations of strategic thinking based on her random whims—”

“Gustavo, she's just trying to help,” said Alejandro.

“She has no sense of hierarchy! She's been treating grooms like equals! She needs to understand here we have low staff, and we have high staff…” He was ranting now, a film of sweat forming on his upper lip, his face getting redder and redder.

“Stop, please. You're being ridiculous. This is not a serfdom,” said Alejandro. “Dr. Fellowes is acting perfectly within the bounds of the team.”

“Oh, you'll always land on her side, won't you?” sneered Gustavo. “She's nothing but your
compañera
, your pretty little
novia
. You're just like your father with his playthings—bringing your
putas sucias
to the barn.”

Alejandro lunged forward, ready to strike the man, but Hendy was faster, grabbing Alejandro around the shoulders and forcefully holding him back.

“I'd leave right now if I were you, Gus,” gritted Hendy, struggling to keep Alejandro away.

Gus looked at them for a moment. “I am simply speaking the truth,” he said. “What a pity that you two won't hear it.”

A
s much as he hated to do it, Alejandro knew that he had to let things slide with Gustavo for the moment. The final and most important game of the season, one particularly personal for Alejandro and Sebastian—the Carlos Del Campo Memorial Cup—was rapidly approaching.

Alejandro knew that they needed to throw all their concentration toward preparation. This was not a game they could afford to lose if they wanted to hold their heads up in the polo world. Apart from the time that would be lost replacing their lead vet this late, it felt impossible to fire the man his father had anointed before the cup being given in his name.

And their luck had shifted on the fields lately. Something had changed. They had been winning. Alejandro—for all his missed practices, his occasional glasses of wine, his mind on a woman's body instead of the ball—was playing better than he'd ever played in his life. And unlike his prior relentless perfectionism, this new joy on the field was contagious. His teammates were playing at his level, and they could not be stopped. Alejandro loved to glance at the sidelines and see Georgia there, tending the horses, cheering the team on, the pride on her face when they brought in another victory. He had to admit to himself that he was starting to play for different reasons now, not just to win, but to win for her.

Tonight, they had pulled out ahead at the very last second, and the game had been so exciting, so filled with adrenaline, that when he had swung off Temper after the last goal, he had wanted nothing so much as to sweep Georgia up into his arms and ride away with her, but Sebastian had ridden in between them and asked Georgia to take a look at his mount's back hoof, which the horse had been favoring.

After they unloaded the ponies, Georgia and Sebastian's horse followed Alejandro and Temper to the barn. They tied up the horses in side-by-side grooming stalls.

“You make it seem so easy,” she said as she lifted the saddle onto her arm. “Does it feel easy?”

Alejandro slipped the halter from his horse. “What, polo? No.” He smiled. “Though I'm glad to hear that's not too obvious.”

“I hope this doesn't sound ignorant but are players trained differently in Argentina than here or England? I just mean, you and Sebastian seem to ride in a way that's more…elegant maybe?”

Alejandro laughed. “We were put on horses before we could walk.”

“So early exposure, and perhaps some genetics, at play. How about something in the water there?” she teased.

He shook his head. “They're just different kinds of players. The others have strengths I don't.” He scratched Temper behind the ears. “Training, luck, hard work…I suppose it helps if you have an innate bloodthirsty competitiveness.”

“But you guys just seem like you're in your element in a way that Hendy and Rory don't.”

“The only time I feel in my element is when I'm home—in Argentina.”

“I'd like to see that,” she said, and blushed. “I only mean, you already ride so wonderfully. I can't imagine what you must be like back home, on the
pampas
, isn't that what they're called?”

Alejandro smiled, amused. “Yes,
las pampas
is the correct word, but riding those grassy plains is more about
gauchos
—our cowboys—than polo.”

Georgia ducked to examine her horse's hoof. “That's what I get for trying to sound like I have any idea what I'm talking about,” she said laughingly. “Well, Valentina certainly looked like she's got all the Del Campo talent and then some. I mean, no offense to her old man, but from what I saw, she might just give you a run for your money on the field.”

Alejandro suddenly went cold. He stopped brushing his horse and turned to look at her. “What do you mean?”

“The other night, I saw her riding—”

“Valentina hasn't ridden since her mother's death,” he said quietly.

Georgia looked taken aback. “Oh, I—” she stuttered.

Alejandro clenched his fists. “How many times?” he asked.

“Only once that I've seen—”

“Which horse?” He felt sick.

She bit her lip. “Well, perhaps there was some mistake. I mean, I can't be sure—”

“Which horse?” he repeated in a cracked voice.

“Storm. I'm sorry. I didn't know it was a secret. Honestly. I mean, everyone rides here. And Valentina—she rides so well, it never occurred to me anything might be wrong.”

Alejandro felt the moment grow very still. “Georgia, I'm sorry, but you don't know what the hell you are talking about.”

“Don't punish her.” She stepped in front of him.

“Please excuse me,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice low. Georgia looked at him and then moved aside.

He stormed from the stall and left her to settle the horses.