Her Tycoon to Tame (6 page)

“Why don't you ride, Hannah?” he repeated, his voice as deep and rough as a rock quarry. His gaze roamed over her chest before returning to hold hers.

“To borrow your phrase, my personal life is none of your business.”

“True, as long as it doesn't interfere with your work. But until you convince me Find Your Center is more than an expensive hobby, my checkbook and I are free to leave.”

Her heart sank as she stared into that hard face.

“Let me give you a little incentive to talk, doc. From my position it looks like you're a bleeding heart who wastes money, time and valuable land that could be better and more profitably allocated. Your little operation is a high-risk, low-return venture. Convince me I'm wrong—if you can.”

His challenge stirred her ire. She'd wipe that superior expression off his face. “My mother died as the result of a riding accident when I was ten. So you'll have to forgive me if I choose to love my horses with both feet firmly planted on the ground.”

Instead of scaring him off, interest sharpened his eyes. “How?”

Her throat tightened as the hated movie reel replayed in her brain. “She was showing me how to tackle a water jump. We'd been at it for a while because I couldn't get it right. We were all tired. Her mount—
my
horse—misstepped and they went down. Neither got up.”

The one time she'd been determined to win no matter what
the cost, the two loves of her life had paid the price. From that moment on, her life had changed forever.

She struggled to gather her composure. When she dared to look at Wyatt, the empathy and understanding in his eyes—two emotions she would never have expected from him—shook her. He cupped her shoulder. “I'm sorry, Hannah.”

As it had in the barn, the warmth of his hand seeped through her shirt and her skin tingled beneath his touch. She tried to shake off the unwelcome response. “It was a long time ago.”

“Sometimes the losses of our childhood are the hardest to forget.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience.”

“We all go through tough times.” His fingers squeezed her shoulder, and the air between them changed, becoming charged and thick. His pupils expanded and his lips parted on a slowly indrawn breath.

There was no denying or misnaming the tension expanding inside her until it almost crushed her lungs. Desire. For her boss. Her enemy.

This can't be happening. Not with him.

Wyatt lowered his head. Every cell in her body screamed,
Run.

But she couldn't.

 

Mistake.

The word reverberated through Wyatt's head even before his mouth touched Hannah's, but the damned overwhelming compulsion that had steamed through him from the moment they'd met propelled him forward. Then the satiny warmth of her lips snagged him. Stopping wasn't an option.

She stiffened, but before he could react her mouth opened beneath his—whether in surprise or welcome he neither knew nor cared—then she relaxed against him, her soft breasts nudging his chest. He sipped from her lips, but it wasn't enough to satisfy his craving.

Greedy for a taste of her, he stroked his tongue across the lush, moist curve of her bottom lip. Her flavor hit him with the punch of a straight shot of single malt whiskey, making his head spin and his body temperature spike.

Why her? Why did this woman who stood for everything he despised get to him? Hadn't he been burned by her type often enough to learn his lesson? Before he could make sense of her strange magnetism or get his fill of her, she jerked back, eyes wide and wary, and slapped her fingers over her mouth.

“You can't do that. You're my boss.”

Reality slammed into him like an oncoming train.

Stupid move, Jacobs.

There was no room for physical attraction in business. His life, work and home were in Asheville. He'd never intended Sutherland Farm to be anything more than a safe place for Sam to live out whatever lucid time he had remaining.

Hannah's presence had already forced Wyatt to spend more time here than he'd intended. But the haunted look in her eyes and the tragic story of her mother's death had resurrected old baggage about losing his father. The difference was his father hadn't died. He'd voluntarily walked away.

“You're right. A personal involvement would be unwise.”

But even as he spoke the words he registered her heavy-lidded eyes, flushed cheeks and erect nipples—sure signs that her hormones were pumping as rampantly as his. And as impractical and ill-advised as it might be, he wanted her. He locked his muscles against the urge to reach for her again.

As if she'd read the desire in his eyes, she hitched a breath and retreated. “I won't sleep with you, Wyatt. Not even to save my horses.”

Oh, hell. “The survival of your rescue operation depends solely on the balance sheet. We're mature enough to ignore any chemistry between us.”

Her expression turned militant, that delicious bottom lip poking out. “There is no chemistry.”

A blatant lie. The urge to prove her wrong charged through
him. It would be so easy to take her into his arms, cover that mouth and coerce her into acquiescence. Easy. But not smart.

Fisting his hands and gritting his teeth, he resisted. “Show me your records.”

The color drained from her face but determination firmed her chin. “Find Your Center is about so much more than profit and loss.”

“Spoken like someone trying to justify a losing proposition.”

She pointed to a shelf packed with periodicals. “Our program has been written up in almost every horse magazine on the market, giving the stable free positive advertising globally. You can't put a value on that. You should read the articles.”

“Hannah—” He growled her name in warning.

“People relocate entire families to North Carolina to take advantage of our services.” Desperation rushed her words.

“I want to be certain you're not taking advantage of my deep pockets to fund an underperforming segment of your operation.”

She took a deep breath and stared him down, looking more resolute than ever. “I'm sure you're aware Sutherland Farm makes a lot of money. The farm needs our charitable organization as a tax shelter.”

Her evasion was beginning to irritate and strangely, intrigue him. She wasn't afraid to fight for what she believed in, but she didn't do so by throwing a tantrum as he would have expected a pampered princess to do. She argued with nearly logical data.

While a part of him respected and admired her tenacity because he shared the same trait, another part of him wanted the matter settled so he could walk away from her and the unwanted attraction, and from the involvement with suffering horses that reminded him too much of Sam's losing battle.

“An interesting argument, but not my concern.”

“Did you know we've been the blueprint for other stables to start similar programs? We've actually trained their managers.
Unfortunately, there are not enough programs around to meet the needs of the special popul—”

“Hannah.” He grabbed her shoulders. Her deltoids bunched beneath his fingers, revealing more strength than her slender build implied. His desire instantly resurfaced, simmering through him like thick, hot lava. “Stop with the sales pitch and bring out the financials or you're fired.”

She paled, then shrugged off his hold. “I will if you promise to come out and see us in action tomorrow.”

Her audacity shocked a laugh from him. “You're in no position to make demands.”

“You asked for a tour. FYC is part of the farm. Stop by and watch us work our magic. Interview our students and their families and let them tell you how we've improved their lives. We even have doctors' testimonials—”

“I have other commitments tomorrow. And I'm out of patience
now.
Give me the damned books.”

Resignation settled over her features. “I'll print the spreadsheets for you, but I'll need to explain them.”

“Excuse them, you mean. I run a multimillion-dollar company. I can decipher a profit and loss statement.”

“But—”

“
Hannah.
Stop. Stalling.”

She radiated frustration. “You can't waltz in here and strip away everything good about Sutherland Farm. There's more to the business than assets and debits. You're not taking the people into account—the people who work here and the ones whose lives we change for the better with our services.”

Give the stubborn woman kudos for being an articulate opponent. If he wanted a spokesperson selling his product, he wanted one with her conviction. Too bad they were on opposing teams. “Who owns the rescue horses?”

She bit her lip and he instantly recalled her taste and the texture of her soft flesh against his. “Once we get all the legalities taken care of, my name goes on the registration papers.”

“Not Sutherland Farm?”

Silence pulsed between them and worry darkened her eyes, turning them more smoky than blue. “No.”

Interesting.
“Why is that?”

She shifted her weight on her feet. “My father didn't want our operation connected to the Sutherland Farm purebreds.”

“I share your father's view, and if you don't give me the records now, then I'll get a court order to have your animals evicted from my property.”

She sighed heavily. “Fine. But you haven't heard the last of this. Find Your Center is critical to Sutherland Farm's reputation and I intend to prove it.”

A threat like that he could handle. It was this crazy desire for her and his admiration for her dedication to the worthless animals that he wanted no part of.

First and foremost, he had to come up with a plan to get rid of Hannah Sutherland and her nags before he did something stupid such as take her to bed to see if she was as passionate between the sheets as she was about her horses.

“M
y office. Now.” Wyatt's clipped command for Hannah's presence via cell phone made her heart skip a beat.

Not a promising start to her Monday.

“I'll be right there.” She disconnected the call, slipped her phone into her pocket and trudged toward the house, feeling a bit like a horse traveling down the chute to the slaughterhouse. She'd been dreading this summons since handing over Find Your Center's financials Saturday night. Apparently, Wyatt had taken a look at her files.

And while his kiss might be hotter than a branding iron, she didn't doubt for one moment that the coldhearted bottom-line bastard was going to try to close Find Your Center. If her sales pitch hadn't changed his mind, then she had to come up with something else that would. Too many people depended on her. She couldn't let the students or their families down. And then there were her animals…

She wished her cousin were here. Megan was a brilliant strategist. She knew how to research her Grand Prix opponents
and use their strengths and weaknesses against them. But Megan had chosen to ride the European Grand Prix circuit because she avoided anything that would cause her to cross paths with her uncle, and Hannah didn't dare call Megan to ask for help because her cousin would drop everything and race to Hannah's rescue, leaving her horses, her career and her hunky lover behind.

Megan had a chance at success and true happiness that Hannah refused to screw up. She squared her shoulders. If she wanted this situation resolved with the least collateral damage to the people and horses she cared about, she had to win over Wyatt.

The kitchen door opened the moment she set foot on the patio, revealing Nellie. “Good gracious, child, you've lost weight. Can't you feed yourself when I'm away?”

Hannah forced a smile and wrapped Nellie's substantial frame in a hug. “You know I forget to eat when I'm busy, and it is that time of year. How was your vacation?”

“I've discovered Caribbean Island cruises aren't my cup of tea, but I had to try it once especially since the boss was footing the bill.”

Wyatt had paid for Nellie's trip? Why? Hannah couldn't believe he'd done so out of the goodness of his black heart.

“Come in, child. I made your favorite raspberry muffins. I'll wrap some for you to take back with you. You need a man to help you remember to eat—a handsome rich one like the boss.”

“Don't play matchmaker, Nellie.” She couldn't handle it—especially with the memory of that kiss cauterizing a hole in her brain.

“Why not? This is your home. You should be living here, not out in that old house filled with antiques. And it ain't like he's hard on the eyes.”

Or the lips.

“Not interested,” Hannah denied, averting her face from the eagle-eyed Nellie as she entered the kitchen. The shock
of seeing a large Mission-style table in the breakfast nook instead of her mother's elegant dining set—the one where Hannah had spent countless hours doing her homework and eating meals—stalled her steps. She scanned the rest of the room.

The kitchen remained architecturally the same and yet appeared totally different because Wyatt's Southwestern paint scheme stood out jarringly in the once-familiar classic Wedgwood-blue environment. Even the appliances had been replaced with shiny stainless ones.

“You ended your engagement fifteen months ago.”

“Doesn't matter. I don't have time for men or the complications that seem to be encoded on their DNA.”

Nellie patted Hannah's hand. “The changes take some getting used to, but Wyatt went top of the line on everything while I was away. I 'bout had a stroke when I saw he'd repainted the whole house and replaced my ol' stove.”

Nellie's words reminded Hannah that she wasn't the only one facing changes. “Is he being good to you?”

“He is. Doesn't make a mess. Doesn't complain. Keeps to himself for the most part and knows what he wants. He always says thank you. He claims he has no intention of entertaining like your father did, and that's a shame, because this house needs to be filled with people. But maybe that'll come once he stops all his traveling an' settles in. I miss cooking fancy dinners and seeing you all prettied up.”

“You're assuming Wyatt would want me to act as his hostess.”

“Why wouldn't he? I've seen no sign of a significant other.”

Hannah filed that away while she searched Nellie's lined and now tanned face and strained for sounds of the boss. “You'd tell me if he gave you any trouble, wouldn't you?”

Nellie smiled. “Hannah, if you'd fight half as hard for yourself as you do for your causes, you'd be a force to be reckoned with. But I've had no problems with the new boss.” She indicated a tray on the table holding coffee and a plate
of muffins. “Take that with you to the office when you go, please.”

The idea of eating while Wyatt dissected Find Your Center's budget made Hannah's stomach churn. Between his pending verdict and the kiss that should never have happened she had no appetite whatsoever, even though she'd skipped breakfast. That blasted kiss had haunted her for the past thirty-six hours.

She'd forgotten what a man's lips felt like, forgotten how the flesh could be soft and yet firm at the same time, commanding and yet giving. Forgotten the electrical charge—

Check that. She hadn't
forgotten
the electricity. She'd never experienced a jolt that strong before Wyatt.

“How are you and your horses making out?”

She blinked at Nellie's question. “That's what I'm here to find out. That bottom-line bastard wants to shut us down.”

“I'm sure you'll find a solution. You're quite resourceful when it comes to your animals.”

“Hannah.” Wyatt's deep voice from behind her smashed into her. “I'm waiting.”

Her skin caught fire. How much had he overheard? She turned and found his eyes focused on her in that laser-like, unwavering and unnerving way of his. His foreboding expression twisted her nerves like hay in a baler.

She tried not to look at his mouth, tried not to recall the texture and warmth of his lips against hers or the strength of his chest against her breasts. But she couldn't help herself. If Wyatt remembered the kiss, he didn't show it by so much as a flicker of his short, spiky eyelashes.

Moot point. The kiss wouldn't be repeated. She wouldn't let it. Wyatt made her want to take risks and she'd learned a long time ago that risks should be avoided at all costs.

“Boss, I made muffins and fresh coffee. Take them with you, and make this girl eat something. She's wasting away.”

Wyatt's dark gaze skimmed Hannah from her braided hair to her booted feet, plowing up a wave of goose bumps. Her stomach quivered and her heart banged in her rib cage. Not
fair. How could he rattle her with nothing more than one slow inspection?

Surprisingly, Wyatt reached for the tray, then turned for her father's—
his
study. Wishing she could retreat to the comfort of her lab rather than have this confrontation, Hannah followed him. His office presented yet another reminder that this wasn't her home anymore. His taste for clean, sharp lines and his obvious passion for electronic gadgets contrasted sharply with her father's traditional, Old World furnishings.

Wyatt set the refreshments on a square table between the two leather cushioned chairs facing his desk, then snatched up a muffin and circled to fold into his high-backed leather desk chair. “Sit down.”

She hesitated. The vertical wooden slats of the Mission chairs reminded her of a cage, making her feel trapped, but she sank onto a chair anyway.

You catch more flies with honey, child,
she could all but hear Nellie saying, and dredged her mind for something nice to say. “Nellie tells me you paid for her vacation. That was kind of you. But why would you?”

He bit into his muffin and took his time chewing, obviously not suffering from the same nerves that cramped her stomach. If his goal was to irritate her by making her wait for his answer, he succeeded, but she'd be damned if she'd let on. She folded her hands in her lap and deliberately relaxed her fisted fingers while she noted he had very few personal items on his shelves.

He leaned back in his chair. “I wanted her out of the way while I set up.”

“You've made a lot of changes.”

“I've only just begun.”

That sounded ominous. “If you have big plans, perhaps you should clue in the rest of us.”

“The only change that concerns you is that I'm shutting down Find Your Center and ending the free board for your
rescue animals. Sell them. Give them away. I don't care how you get them off the premises. Just do it.”

The speech hit her like a blow regardless of his words being exactly what she'd expected to hear. “You can't make that kind of decision without having seen us in action. We do too much good to—”

“You lose too much money and your liability is too high. The insurance premiums alone are exorbitant. The barn could be used more advantageously by paying customers. Right now, it's an eyesore.”

“That's because my father wouldn't spend money on upkeep.”

“You'll pay the standard boarding fees or move your horses.”

Panic swelled within her. Her salary wouldn't cover that expense. “Give me three months to change your mind.”

“I want the operation off the property by the end of the month.”

Dismay raced through her, quickly followed by outrage. “I can't place thirty horses and find a new location for Find Your Center in three weeks.”

“Not my problem.”

She shot to her feet. Her legs wobbled weakly beneath her. “You're asking the impossible.”

The arrogant jerk looked confident that his demands would be met. She had to find a way to fix this.

“I'll give you more time on one condition.”

She knew a trap when she heard one, but what choice did she have except to hear him out? “Name it.”

He wrote something on a slip of paper, then slid it across the desk before lacing his fingers across his flat abdomen. “Sell me the house and land your father deeded to you. My offer is quite generous. With this amount you can buy your own stable.”

Shock stole her breath when she counted the number of zeros. But the amount was irrelevant. She wasn't going to
let him drive her away. “My grandparents built that cottage and the wall surrounding it stone by stone from rocks they collected from their fields. This is my home, my heritage. So as generous as your offer is, no thanks.”

Surprise flickered in his eyes then his jaw hardened. “Sell me the property and I'll allow you live in the cottage rent-free for twelve months, and I'll continue funding your money-pit operation for the duration. A year will give you plenty of time to find alternative accommodations for you and your animals.”

The man had mastered bribery. And while his offer tempted her simply because of the fiscal logic behind it, for the first time in her life a strong competitive urge pulsed through her. She wanted to win—to best this heartless bastard. Failing meant losing everything that mattered.

Searching her mind for alternatives, she tucked her hair behind her ear. The post of her mother's earring scraped her fingertip, reminding her that Sutherland Farm and rescuing horses had been her mother's dream, too. This fight wasn't just about her. This was her mother's legacy and Hannah's way to leave her mark in the world.

“No thanks.”

“That's my deal, Hannah. Take it or leave it.”

She had to get him physically involved with the students. Seeing the joy and sense of accomplishment on those faces hooked everyone.

Everyone except her father, a voice in her head warned.

And if converting Wyatt to a believer failed, she had to find another way. All of that required time and money—neither of which she had a surplus.

Think, Hannah. What would Megan do?

She'd buy time and strategize.

“I'll consider your offer—”
over my dead body
“—on one condition.” She threw his words back at him.

He dipped his head, indicating she continue.

“Give me ninety days to search for a comparable property close enough for our students to continue using our services…
and you have to spend time with us. Watch us in action. Talk to our clients and their families. See the miracles we accomplish.”

His eyes narrowed, but not so much that she couldn't see that being backed into a corner had annoyed him. Well, too bad. She wasn't whistling a happy tune, either.

“You're in no position to make demands.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Jacobs. I have something you want. That gives me leverage.”

A nerve in his jaw twitched. “I could simply evict your horses and outwait you. At the end of the year my contractual obligation to employ you and the other Sutherland employees will be over.”

The implied threat against the rest of the staff shocked her, but she held her ground. “You don't seem like the waiting type.”

“You're mistaken. I can be very patient when I want something bad enough.” Silence stretched between them. “I'll give you sixty days to find a new location. In the meantime, you'll accept no more rescue animals. And you will start covering the expenses for your operation. Is that clear?”

Jerk. She forced a conciliatory smile. “As Waterford crystal.”

Before he could change his mind, she pivoted on her heel and bolted through the patio door for the safety and order of her lab. She'd won a brief reprieve of sorts. But that was only the beginning. She had a lot of work to do and very little money to do it with.

 

“Pretty gal. Your wife?”

Sam's question jolted Wyatt from an unexpected and unwanted attack of lust. His stepfather climbed the stairs from the south lawn to the patio.
Alone.
Where was his nurse?