Teach Me To Ride (3 page)

She swallowed. “I am not trembling because of you.”

“Then why?” The soft timbre of his voice was laced with torment.

She glared. “I’m embarrassed, okay? It’s not every day I get caught watching people…do what they were doing.”

“I see.” He flashed a wry smile. “You usually don’t get caught. Is that what you’re saying?” He reached out and ran the backs of his fingers slowly down the curve of her neck, leaving them to linger against her pounding pulse.

Bastard. “Funny.”

He smile stretched to a grin. “I thought a serious journalist, such as yourself, wouldn’t be so easily embarrassed.”

His condescension lit her up like a spark to a flint. Caroline scowled and pushed him away with her hand flat against his chest. Her fingers burned with the urge to explore, but she would not give him the satisfaction. “How does catching me watching some guy bang a groupie have any bearing on how good a journalist I am?”

He stared into her eyes a moment longer, before his gaze trailed to her lips. “Did it turn you on?” he growled.

She pulled her hand away and pressed it to the wall behind her, resisting the temptation of him. There was no mistaking the arousal in his voice. Why did she suddenly feel like the prey rather than the predator? “No.”

He lifted an eyebrow. Another wolverine smile. “No?”

She glared, her heart racing. “No.”

“Not even if I tell you the guy fucking the groupie is none other than Steve Marlon, married father of two?” He lifted an eyebrow.

Caroline stared as her center pulsed. God damn her inability to remain cool and aloof when the scent of a new and possibly lurid story wafted its potency like an aphrodisiac under her nose.

“Fine.” She smiled. Time to take some control back. “You have my attention. The question is, Mr. Big Shot trainer, what are you going to do about it?”

His lips came down hard on hers, his teeth grazing, his mouth taking. Caroline sank into his heat. The man gave her an opening into a new and scandalous story. What else was a girl to do?

Chapter Four

He hadn’t meant to lose control. Hadn’t meant to kiss her and reveal his attraction to her. He’d wanted to torment her. Tease her. Let her come to him, not fall on her like she was a fountain and he was dying of thirst. But he was. For her. Her eyes would be the undoing of any man and watching them widen with curiosity and arousal was more than Michael could stand.

His lips and tongue explored her mouth as a whimper escaped deep from inside her. His hands moved to her waist and hitched her closer. Her breasts, full and lush, pressed against his chest and he slipped one hand down to grip her ass, pressing her against his erection. The whimper turned into an exhaled moan into his mouth.

Christ, her ass was hot. A fuckable ass. Those skinny, flat-chested cover models could never compare to Caroline James’ curvaceous and entirely fuckable body. She was gorgeous. She had the figure of a nineteen fifties movie star, and he wanted to fuck her in a stable.

He jerked back from her. What the hell was he doing? Since when did he behave like his father? He would not stoop to that asshole’s level.

Their eyes locked, hers wide with shock and her pulse beating hard in her neck. He wanted to press his tongue to it. Michael cleared his throat and steeled himself against the urge to walk away. He would not walk away from her—but he wouldn’t fuck her in a damn stable either. He wanted her in his bed. One way or another, he’d have her hot and wet pussy clamped around his cock. But not right then.

As their breathing slowed, she narrowed her eyes. “So…you’ve kissed me and you’ve named the guy showing that woman a good time. What’s next? Because neither is worth a lot on its own.” She paused, her eyes challenging.

Michael smiled. Oh, she was good. Acting as though he was some kind of pervert and she was unaffected by his kiss and touch. The woman trembled and he would bet two hundred bucks that if he slid his hand between her thighs, her panties would be damp with her juices.

He quirked an eyebrow. “You want more?”

She swallowed, a faint blush staining her cheeks. “I want more.”

Michael drifted his gaze over her face, enjoying every aspect of it. From the arch of her pretty eyebrows to the flush of pink at her cheeks, to the full rosy red and perfectly bowed lips. He willed his libido under control.

“Then I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition.”

He nodded. “You want a story and I want my father silenced once and for all.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Your father?”

Michael stared. Did she really not know anything about the horse world? She’d been sent into the arena like a lamb to the slaughter? He swallowed back the ball of protectiveness that rose and lodged like a rock in his throat. He needed her. He’d guide her through the gauntlet.

“My father, Lewis Canton. He’s a bully, a manipulator, and a user. I want him away from the Trials, away from me. For good.” His words strained from between his clenched teeth.

She studied him. Her gaze alert and intense. “Why?”

“One step at a time. Can I trust you?”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “I should be asking that of you under the circumstances, don’t you think?”

The teasing, confident purr of her voice slid over his chest and down to his cock like he imagined the wet, slip of her tongue would. He took a step closer and, without thinking, cupped one of her ample breasts in his hand, the thumb circling the nipple. Her intake of breath whispered between them but she didn’t slap his hand away or demand he release her.

“You’re intelligent, sexy, and as ambitious as I am. That turns me on. We could make a good team.”

Her cheeks darkened once more as her body ever so slightly trembled beneath his fingers. “Maybe we could.” She tilted her chin.

He slipped his hand from her breast and stepped back. Her released breath sounded loud in the silence and satisfaction rose in his chest. He’d spooked her. Had her wanting him. A lethal combination.

“Then let’s get started.” He gestured toward the stable door. “After you.”

She hesitated before drawing in a shaky breath. “Great.”

As she brushed past him, Michael couldn’t help but stare at her ass, mentally patting himself on the back for not spinning her around and ramming his rock-hard cock into it. Self-control was paramount—what his reputation was built on. He’d make sure Caroline James realized that too.

Whether she acknowledged it or not, he sensed the same low hum of self-deprecation in her that his father brought out in him. On the outside, they both were self-assured and strong. Hers showed in the sway of her hips, the lick of her lips, and the unwavering stare of her phenomenal eyes. Her weakness showed in the occasional nervous flit of her eyes and the shift of the smooth skin at her throat. For Michael, it was the tension that rippled through his blood like poison whenever anyone mentioned his father.

His jaw tightened. The man who would be there the day after tomorrow.

He stopped a few paces across the yard. “Caroline.”

She stopped and turned, her brow furrowed. “What?”

“You don’t really know who I am, do you?”

Her brow smoothed as a smile curved her sinful lips. She slowly closed the space between them and tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “You need to give me a little credit or we might as well go our separate ways right now.”

Her husky, intimate tone slid over his skin, pinching at his dick. He lifted an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, I went home last night and did a little research on you.” Her eyes were alight with self-satisfaction. A soft gleam that couldn’t compete with the heavy-lidded lust he’d witness in her gaze after he kissed her. This was one woman to be wary of…to possibly avoid at all costs. Yet, Michael knew there wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening.

A lump of foreboding dropped heavy and unwelcome into his stomach. Irritation heated the skin on his arms, making it itch. “And?”

“And I couldn’t care less who bangs who at these Trials but I do care that the famous show jumper, Lewis Canton, is on his way for a possible reconciliation with the son he disinherited five years ago.”

Michael’s heartbeat picked up speed and his stomach quivered. “There will be no reconciliation.”

Her gaze wandered over his face. “You seem pretty sure about that.”

“I am,” he growled. “I don’t want him near me.”

“Why?”

Anger and frustration simmered like a fireball in his chest. He wasn’t prepared to have this conversation with her there. Anything that happened from here on in would be on his agenda, not hers.

“Have dinner with me.” It was more of a demand than a question.

Her smiled faltered for an almost imperceptible second before it slid confidently back into place. “And then you’ll tell me?” Her gaze into bored his.

Michael glared. “Yes or no?”

“When?”

“Tomorrow night. My place.”

She smiled wryly. “You cook, too? Wow.”

“Seven o’clock. I’m guessing you know where I live.”

She nodded. “Of course. See you tomorrow. Seven o’clock.”

****

Caroline stared at her phone and then her notepad. Lewis Canton’s personal assistant’s number stared back at her in all its dangerous glory. The temptation to make initial contact with Michael’s father was driving her crazy. The scales were tipping—and not in a good way. For the first time, she doubted her involvement in a story. A story that could be a push in the right direction toward a place at one of the UK’s biggest newspapers. The problem was, if she made this call there would be no going back. Pandora’s Box would open up and she had lifted the lid. She worried her bottom lip and stared blindly out of her living room window at the night skyline.

“Yes or no? Yes or no?” She mumbled the words over and over.

Fayre Mead was a beautiful English town—a popular destination for visiting Europeans and Americans alike. Tiny hamlets and butter-colored buildings drew visitors from every corner but Caroline longed to swap it for the chrome, glass, and glitter of London. The place of opportunity. But now…Michael Canton and his story lay heavy on her conscience.

His separation from his father wasn’t giving her the buzz she’d anticipated. Instead, it felt dangerous, impassioned, and downright out of bounds. The rage and fire in Michael’s gaze when he’d held her in the stable was such a turn on, she would’ve sucked the guy’s cock there and then, if he’d asked.

Her smile dissolved and Caroline shook her head to clear it. Concentrate. She looked back to her phone. She had to do this. She could not go to see Michael at his place, sit at his table, and rely on him to give her the truth. She needed the other side of the story and then she’d make up her mind what to do about it.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Caroline dialed Lewis Canton’s assistant’s number. With each ring, her heart beat a little faster until it stopped when someone picked up.

“Canton.”

Oh, my God, it’s him.
Caroline pulled back her shoulders and cleared her throat. “I do apologize Mr. Canton. I was expecting to speak with your PA.”

“She’s left for the evening. Who’s speaking?”

She gripped the phone, her stomach tight with adrenaline. “I’m Caroline James of the
Fayre Mead Gazette
and wondered if you might spare a few minutes to talk with me.”

A second or two passed with nothing but the rasp of Lewis’ shallow breaths. Then he coughed. “Sure. Why not? I like to give the local journalists as much access to me as the nationals. Mere mortals are what this world is built on, after all.”

Caroline scowled. She could hear the smile in his voice. His tone was cocky and self-assured. Like he was already playing her. All sense of guilt and doubt vanished. “Great.” She grinned. “I understand you are due to arrive at the Lakedale Horse Trials on Tuesday. Is that still the case?”

“It is. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

His tone dripped with malice and Caroline stopped her pacing. “Does your enthusiasm have more to do with your son than the horses, Mr. Canton?”

“Oooh, straight for the jugular. What did you say your name was again, little lady?”

Little lady? Caroline glared.
You’re going down, Mister
. She forced her smile to stay put. “Caroline James, sir.”

“Right. Caroline. Sweet Caroline. Well, yes, it is more about my son. You probably haven’t heard of him before now—”

The dismissive tone of his voice fanned the flames of irritation simmering inside her a little higher. “I’ve heard of him.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” She glared blindly across the room. “I’ve spent most of today talking to him and his colleagues. He’s a phenomenal trainer…but I guess you already knew that.”

Another few beats of silence. “Are you involved with my son, Miss James? I assume you’re a Miss?”

“Yes, I’m a miss and no, I’m not involved with your son.”
Yet
. Caroline flinched.
Where the hell had the “yet” come from?

He laughed. “I see.”

Caroline frowned as ice struck her blood. His voice had turned colder than steel. “Excuse me?”

“A little newsflash for you, Miss James. I know who you are. In fact, I was expecting your call. You’re the girl that was following Michael around the stable yard yesterday.”

Caroline was struck entirely dumb. Gathering her senses, she blinked and then glared. “How would you know who I was speaking to yesterday?”

“I know everything that goes on in Michael’s world. Not that he knows it, of course.”

“You’re spying on your own son?” Her eyes widened.

“Oh, yes. He walked away from his family. Anything that interests my son, interests me. And I mean,
everything
.”

The insinuation was rife and Caroline’s stomach lurched. Her heart picked up speed along with her irritation. If this up-his-own-ass equestrian superstar thought he could intimidate her…

“You’re clearly a man who knows where his interests lie, Mr. Canton. It’s interesting that you still have such a keen interest in Michael when he clearly has no regard for you.”