Her Tycoon to Tame (4 page)

“He got a call to euthanize, but he decided to give you a look first. He's down at the barn.”

Those big blue eyes rounded. “He's
here
instead of calling for a consult?”

“Yep. It's that critical. He hightailed it off the property as soon as the authorities gave him the okay. He says this one will be a real test of your skills.”

“He's assuming I'll say yes.”

The redhead chuckled. “Hannah, you never say no.”

Wyatt tried to make sense of their conversation and couldn't, but he seriously doubted the twentysomething guy meant the words in a sexual context—which was exactly where Wyatt's brain headed when he heard a woman couldn't say no.

He shut down that mental detour and cursed his traitorous libido. Hannah Sutherland might have a rockin' body and a damned sexy pout, but there would be nothing remotely intimate between him and his temporary employee.

“I'm Wyatt Jacobs. And you are?” His question brought both sets of eyes in his direction.

Hannah grimaced. “I'm sorry. Jeb Jones, our veterinary assistant. Wyatt is the new owner.”

Wyatt shook Jeb's hand. “Who is Doc Will?”

Hannah ripped off her lab coat and hung it on the hook by the door. “Will is one of our county veterinarians. Your tour will have to wait.”

“Are you willing to risk the consequences of refusing my request?” He didn't need to elaborate that she'd be fired, but her quick gasp told him she received his unspoken message loud and clear.

Her defiant gaze drilled him. “You didn't request, Mr. Jacobs. You ordered. And I'm not refusing. I'm postponing your tour until after I've handled this emergency.”

Her exasperation came across loud and clear despite the pretty-please smile punctuating her sentence. No doubt that smile worked on most men. Not him.

“Let's go, Jeb.” Hannah rushed from the lab.

The kid hesitated, as if trying to decide who was in charge, but then he mistakenly fell in behind his cohort. Taken aback by Hannah's insubordination and the kid's loyalty, Wyatt rocked on his heels. Then he reconsidered. This wasn't the case of a woman standing up for her convictions. Hannah was a spoiled daddy's girl who believed the rules didn't apply to her. He'd teach her and her flunky differently.

He followed the pair, intent on firing Hannah, giving her follower a warning and informing the veterinarian that Sutherland Farm was no longer a dumping ground for unwanted animals of any kind. Hannah might not be able to say no, but Wyatt had no such problem.

Ahead of him Hannah and Jeb raced down the driveway heedless of the rain. They veered off the paved surface and onto a gravel track leading to a building set behind a copse of trees several hundred yards from the main barn. Wyatt climbed into his Mercedes and drove the distance rather than get soaked.

Once he pulled off the asphalt, the uneven ground tested his car's suspension. Considering the pristine condition of the rest of the property, the neglect surprised him. He made a mental note to speak to the manager about ordering a load of gravel to fill the potholes.

A pickup truck with a horse trailer attached had backed through the barn's open doors. He parked beside it and surveyed the stone building through the rain streaming down his windshield. The smaller barn had the same architecturally attractive design as the other barns, but the structure, like the driveway hadn't been as well-maintained as the rest of the farm. Odd.

He climbed from his car, then squeezed between the trailer and doorjamb. While the outside of the building lacked sparkle, the interior was as spotless as a barn could be. The combined scents of fresh shavings, hay and oats ambushed him with memories of happier times with Sam.

The trailer's rear ramp had been lowered into the center hallway. Inside the metal enclosure a horse danced restlessly in the right compartment, its feet thumping hollowly on the rubberized mat covering the steel floor.

Hannah occupied the left half of the trailer, a rib-high divider separating her from the agitated creature. She stroked the animal's withers and back, and spoke calmly. “It's okay, girl. You have nothing to fear. We're going to take good care of you.”

Her quiet, soothing tone contrasted with the impatient one she'd used with him each time he'd asked a question this morning.

The horse responded with a panicked sound that raised the fine hairs on Wyatt's body. It had been almost fifteen years since he'd been around horses, but even he recognized the animal's terror.

Firing Hannah would have to wait until she wasn't in physical danger. Distraction in the workplace was an invitation to disaster. “Get out of there.”

“In a minute,” she replied without raising her voice. “Okay boys, let's ease her out and see what we have.”

“You're not gonna like it,” an older gentleman wearing muddy jeans and a battered field jacket said as he came from behind the trailer and clapped Wyatt on the shoulder. “Best not to get behind this one, son.”

Wyatt flashed back to his teens. He'd heard the same warning from Sam too many times to count when Sam had been at the top of his game and lucid all the time and not just intermittently.

Hannah scowled at Wyatt across the distance. “I'll call you when I'm done.”

“I'm not leaving.”

“If you stay, you'll end up getting in the way or getting hurt.”

“I worked on a thoroughbred farm from the time I was
fourteen until I went to college. But don't unload that horse. It needs to go back to wherever it came from.”

Her expression turned belligerent. “That's not an option—a fact the police will confirm if you pick up the phone and ask for Officer—”

“Harris,” the veterinarian supplied when Hannah arched an eyebrow.

Her continued defiance rasped against Wyatt's last nerve. “I don't want that animal on this property.”

Hannah descended the ramp and didn't stop until they were toe-to-toe, chest to chest—so close he could taste the mint on her breath and feel the heat steaming from her rain-dampened clothing.

He fought to keep his attention from the way her white polo shirt had turned almost transparent. Fought and failed. The wet fabric clung to her hard-nippled breasts and outlined her thin white bra. His hormones reacted the way a healthy man's would and, try as he might, he could not control the sudden increase in his pulse rate. “Mr. Jacobs,
Wyatt,
if you feel the same way after I've examined her, we'll discuss other arrangements. But for now, please step aside, and let me do my job.”

“I thought you were the breeding specialist.”

“I only work a half day on Saturdays. In my off hours I wear a different hat.”

“Have you forgotten who pays your salary?”

“You're not likely to let that happen. Give me an hour to examine the mare and see what we're dealing with. This could be a matter of life and death. I'm not ready to take a life without just cause. Are you?”

“Are you always so melodramatic?”

“Hardly ever,” she answered deadpan.

Her determination impressed him. “Make it quick.”

“Thank you.” She returned to the trailer, apparently undaunted by the agitated creature's dancing.

Under her direction the trio coaxed the horse down the ramp
in fits and spurts. The mare's hesitant steps alternated with nervous hops and skips, then in a sudden backward lunge the horse launched from the trailer kicking up a spray of shavings. Once the dust settled the wild-eyed animal quivered in the hall, its terror-widened eyes taking in the scene.

Then Wyatt saw what the shadowy trailer had concealed. Open sores and scars crisscrossed the emaciated back, haunches and muzzle. Bloody rings circled the mare's back legs just above the hooves.

She'd been abused. His gut muscles seized and rage blazed within him. “Who did this?”

The vet shook his head without taking his eyes from the animal. “Mean SOB who owned her. I hope the cops give him a taste of his own medicine. A billy club upside his head would be a nice touch.”

Hannah handed the lead rope to Jeb then eased around the horse without ever lifting her palm from the animal's dull, scarred hide. Wyatt recognized the trick as one Sam had employed. By never losing contact, the horse always knew where you were and wouldn't be startled.

“You know animal abusers get a slap on the wrist at best, Will.” Her frustration came through loud and clear even though she kept her tone low and even. “She doesn't look good.”

“Nope. Not much to work with,” the vet replied. “She wouldn't have lasted another week in that hellhole.”

Wyatt focused on the deep gouges and bloody fetlocks. Now that the fight had drained out of the mare her head hung low as if she were resigned to whatever came next and fighting took more energy than she possessed. She'd probably been a beauty once, but now she was nothing more than a broken shell. She looked ready to collapse. Her spirit seemed broken, her usefulness in doubt.

Like Sam.

The parallel was so strong it blindsided Wyatt. He hated to see anything or anyone turned into a victim trapped in a
body that could no longer function or fight back. He turned to the vet who'd brought the animal. “You should have put her down.”

“Maybe. That's Hannah's call now.”

“Why prolong her misery? Ending her suffering would be more humane.”

Hannah bristled, agitating the mare into a side step. “Just because the owner is worthless doesn't mean the animal is. Every life has value, including hers. Her teeth indicate she's less than ten years old. There could be a lot of good years in her yet.”

“She's debilitated, terrified and in pain,” Wyatt countered, his fists curling in frustration.

“If anyone can pull her through, Hannah can,” the vet said.

A muscle jumped in Wyatt's jaw. The horse had been through hell, and someone had to find the compassion and make the executive decision to end her suffering. That someone was him, apparently.

“She's probably disease-ridden and could infect the other horses. And after being abused this severely, her trust in man has likely been irrevocably broken.”

Hannah planted herself between Wyatt and the mare. She didn't look like a spoiled daddy's girl now. She resembled a mama grizzly passionately defending her cub. “You can't write her off without giving her a chance.”

Her stormy gaze hit Wyatt with a fireball of pain, anger and frustration, the same emotions rumbling through him. The fight in her eyes would cause a lesser man to back down.

“Giving horses second chances is what I do, Wyatt. And if you'd done your research on the farm before you tossed around your money, you would realize it's what you do now, too.”

Wyatt stiffened as the barb hit home. He couldn't argue with facts. He'd delegated his research. The agent's report hadn't included anything about Sutherland Farm being a dumping ground for damaged animals, or Hannah Sutherland, who was going to make damned sure he paid for delegating.

“That right rear leg could be broken.”

Hannah didn't even glance at it. “It's cut deep from the hobbles. It looks like the brute bound her back legs so she couldn't defend herself when he beat her. But from the way she's bearing weight on it, it's most likely superficial. I'll run X-rays to confirm.”

“You mean you'll run up expenses on a lost cause.”

She glared at him. “This isn't about money. Find Your Center saves lives. It doesn't destroy them unnecessarily.”

“What in the hell is Find Your Center?”

Irritation darkened her eyes to storm cloud gray and tightened the tendons running the length of her neck as she stuck out her chin, making the diamonds in her ears sparkle in the barn's overhead lighting. If she'd been a guy, she probably would have punched him.

“Illustrating once again, Mr. Jacobs, you should have done your homework before your underhanded purchase.”

“There was nothing devious about my purchasing this farm. It was for sale. I bought it.”

She visibly reined in her temper, taking a deep breath then relaxing her tense muscles. “Sutherland Farm specializes in birth
and
rebirth.”

A bird swooped through the open barn door. The horse spooked and jumped sideways, its haunches knocking into Hannah. She stumbled. Wyatt instinctively sprang forward to catch her. His muscles bunched as he banded his arms around her and braced his thighs to keep them both from going down under the ragged, dancing hooves.

Her feet tangled with his as she scrambled for traction and shifted against him in ways that made him excruciatingly aware of the surprising firmness and strength beneath her curves.

“Are you all right?” he asked through a knotted jaw.

Her wary gaze locked with his. Her cheeks flushed and her lips parted. His pulse spiked and heat flooded him, proving
he shared something he wanted no part of with the pampered princess.

Chemistry.

“I'm fine. Thank you. Release me. Please.” She planted her palms on his chest and pushed, broke his hold and backed away. Keeping an equally watchful eye on him, she circled to the opposite side of the horse.

“I'm sorry, Hannah,” Jeb said. “I have her now.”

“It's okay, Jeb. My mistake,” she offered. “I know better than to turn my back on an unfamiliar animal.”

She flashed a brief look at Wyatt as if he were the animal in question, then she bent to reexamine the mare's fetlock the way she'd done everything this morning—with a methodical thoroughness and attention to detail that had frustrated him in the lab because he'd suspected her of deliberately stalling as she checked and rechecked each sample and then meticulously packaged and charted each vial. Slow and steady was very likely her modus operandi and not just a passive-aggressive ploy to get under his skin.

She finally stepped away from the mare and, ignoring Wyatt, approached the vet, who'd been watching Wyatt as much as he had the horse. “I'll keep her.”