Bittersweet. Laura Browning

was human. As soon as the thought popped into her head, she shook herself. No, not bloody likely. “Thank you.”

      Stevenson looked anywhere but at her as he led the way to his office. It was spacious and furnished for comfort rather than style, with a large antique desk and a couple easy chairs in addition to the leather chair behind the desk.

      “Make yourself comfortable,” he murmured with an automatic kind of politeness she was sure had been drummed into him, but the words cut off on a choked cough as Anna sat. The receiving blanket slipped, giving him a clear view of the baby nursing at her breast. She pulled the blanket back in place. Anna had long ago lost any embarrassment about feeding her child, and though she didn’t push her breast-feeding on people, she wasn’t going to apologize for it.

      The door shut with a hasty click. Anna leaned back in the chair and sighed with relief. The pressure eased, at least on one side. Now Stevenson had disappeared, she removed the blanket, burped the baby and switched her to the other breast to get some relief there too. If there was one thing she had learned, her daughter had no problems nursing. The baby was strong and efficient. She had finished burping her again and put her own clothing to rights when he knocked on the door.

      “Are you… Is the baby through…uh, nursing? Bart’s waking, and none too happy.”

      The impatience was back in his voice, and it hit her the wrong way. Anna stood. The weariness of the long day was catching up with her, and she lost patience as well. As much as she wished to keep him at a distance, sometimes options ran out. “I can’t juggle him and my daughter. If you’ll hold Becca for a minute, I’ll get him settled and in his stall.”

      Chris looked almost as if she had instructed–“here, take this large, poisonous snake and give it mouth to mouth.” To give him credit, he recovered in an instant and held out his arms, uncertainty plain on his face. Anna hesitated a moment before she put the baby on his shoulder, her gut clenching as she gazed at his sun-bronzed forearms and work-toughened hands that rose to cradle the infant. He hadn’t recognized her, so it should be safe to let him hold the baby this once. Beyond that, though, she didn’t want him near her daughter. She settled Becca’s bottom on his muscular forearm and placed his other hand at the back of the baby’s head.

      “There you go.” She left him standing in the middle of the office, a nervous, almost frightened look on his face. Serves you right, Anna thought with a small spark of vindictive satisfaction as she walked away. The only thing that would make it better would be for Becca to either spit up or poop, both things she excelled at doing. Imagining such a scenario made Anna smile.

      The horse’s ears swiveled forward when he saw her. He quit stomping once again and this time blew at her enough to make a small nicker. Anna’s smile widened. She loved horses—always had, and somehow they knew it. Without hesitation, she walked to the muscular animal, stroked his head before clipping on a lead shank, and unhooked the cross ties. To make sure he was steady on his feet and the stitches weren’t pulling, she walked him the length of the aisle a couple times before leading him to his own stall. The horse followed her and munched the hay in the feeder as soon as she escorted him inside the stall. After unclipping the lead and looping it in her hand, she shut the door and watched him for a couple more minutes. Finally glancing at her wristwatch, she hurried up the aisle to the office.

      Chris stood rooted where she’d left him, as if he were afraid any movement might startle the tiny person in his arms. Curiosity had replaced his earlier frightened expression. Becca had her face turned toward him and watched him from her big, blue-gray eyes. Anna swallowed. The baby had a reputation for not liking strangers, so her daughter’s quiet observation of the man made Anna uneasy in a way she did not want to examine. Part of her had hoped Becca would scream bloody murder the moment he touched her, and at least her daughter could have covered him in spit up. Traitor.

      “Thank you,” she said, reaching for her. “I can take her now.”

      “I’ve never held a baby before.” Stevenson’s deep voice was rough, and he sounded a little embarrassed. He handed her the infant.

      His awe made Anna drop her hostility. For just a moment, she felt like she glimpsed the man behind the public persona–and he appealed to her. When she smiled, she saw Stevenson’s eyes widen, then narrow with speculation. Her smile turned to a chuckle. “I know.”

      His gaze swiveled from her to the baby and back. “That obvious?”

      Anna pursed her lips. “Yes, but at least you were brave enough to take her.” She laughed again before quieting at the curious look he gave her.

      Time to go. Right now. Curiosity was not good. The last thing she wanted to do was make Chris curious about her in any way. They had nothing in common, nor should they. She would not take such a risk.

      She kept her tone cool. “I’ll stop by in the morning to check on your stallion. Good night, Mr. Stevenson.”

      “Good night, Dr. Barlow.”

      He turned back to the barn, and she gathered Becca and the rest of her things and headed toward the truck. That was it. He hadn’t recognized her. She was relieved. Of course she was relieved. It was the best thing. Her lip trembled and she clamped on it with her teeth until it hurt. He was a despicable human being, which she knew better than most people ever would. The farther she and Becca stayed away from him the better.

       Chapter 2

      Chris watched as the tiny woman vet reversed the clinic’s pickup truck and drove away until her taillights had all but disappeared. Where the hell did he know her from? Had Jim brought her around to introduce her? Maybe that was the case and it had just slipped his mind, but that scenario didn’t feel right. He wouldn’t have forgotten her, not with her attitude and looks. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t place what. With a shake of his head, he strode back to check on Bart one more time before closing for the night.

      He would have rather had Jim, but on a weekend night, he couldn’t afford to be choosy no matter how much business his farm brought the clinic. He was a lot more comfortable with the clinic’s senior vet. Hell, he’d known the guy since he was a kid. Jim was almost a surrogate dad. To be fair, though, Barlow had done a good job.

      Chris stopped in front of the stallion’s stall. He had fired the groom responsible for the stallion’s accident. Had it been the first time Rafael had been involved in something, he might have been a bit more understanding, but the man did not pay attention to the horses the way he needed to. Most of the animals in this barn were worth five or six figures, and he couldn’t afford carelessness. Staying in town this weekend instead of flying out to watch some of his horses had turned out to be a wise decision. Bart was the best stallion on the place, and Chris had high hopes for what he would contribute to the future of the farm.

      The stallion munched hay. At the sound of Chris’s approach, the big horse raised his head, pinned his ears and tossed his muzzle as if to say “Back off, I’m not in the mood.”

      Chris chuckled and turned off the light switch next to the stall. After closing the barn for the night, he walked the quarter mile along the narrow gravel drive to his house. Fincastle Farm had been there for two hundred years, and the large stone house in which he lived was the oldest building on the farm. It contained part of the original log structure, but had been added onto over the generations. His mother had never cared for the house, though, so his father built her a more modern home even deeper on the property. Chris often saw those lights from the veranda of his house.

      After grabbing a beer from the refrigerator in his study, he returned to the veranda and settled in one of the rocking chairs there. He lit a cigarette and sighed as he leaned back, studying the glowing ember while he let his thoughts wander. He had needed a break. That’s why he was home. After showing all winter in Florida, Chris had decided to spend the spring and summer working with the younger horses on the farm and leave the showing to his assistant trainer and a couple of talented younger riders. On top of that, there was Bess, his favorite mare. After two years, she had finally settled late last breeding season and was due to foal any time.

      Those