Who's Cheatin' Who?. Maggie Price

new on the Thoroughbred Registry’s computer tech who suddenly quit?” she asked, then furrowed her brow. “I don’t remember his name.”

      “Ross Ingliss, and I still haven’t been able to track him down. All I know for sure is he entered the corrupted data about Leopold’s Legacy’s DNA into the registry’s computer system. And that his financials show he’s got a lot more money than his salary brought in.”

      Too antsy to sit still, Melanie pushed off the edge of the desk and wandered to one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

      The scent of the fire mixed with the aged sweet aroma of leather-bound books sent her back in time. As a little girl, she had loved dashing into this room to sit on her grandfather’s lap at the big desk. He would spend hours regaling her with stories about horses and the daring men who rode them. Listening to him, Melanie had fallen in love with the sport of racing and set her heart on becoming a jockey. She had never been prouder than the day she first wore Quest’s colors.

      Now, it seemed that everything around her was slipping away. Only to herself would she admit that her heart ached with the possibility that she might never again ride for Quest Stables.

      She took in Brent’s bent head and the tight line of his shoulders while a sick dread rose inside her. If he couldn’t find Leopold’s Legacy’s true sire, or if he did and that sire was not a registered Thoroughbred, the winner of two Triple Crown races would no longer be considered a Thoroughbred. Her parents would then be forced to forfeit the millions the stallion had won racing. And they would have no way to recoup that loss because his stud value would be zero.

      Marcus was right, she thought. Her staying at Quest would be the equivalent of doing nothing to try to plug a ship that had sprung a huge leak. If she went to work at Lucas Racing, she could put everything she had into riding Something To Talk About to wins. Wins that would put money into Quest’s anemic bank accounts.

      Doing so would be a comforting solution, if she hadn’t spent so much time engaging in wanton fantasies about the man poised to become her new boss.

      Maybe if she hadn’t purposely stayed celibate for the past two years, Marcus’s kiss wouldn’t have hit her like a kick from a ticked off half-ton horse. As it was, the instant he’d touched her, desires, too long untapped, had risen to the surface, drawing her into a world of steamy, potent passion. Melanie knew she could easily get lost in that world. Too fast. Too easily.

      She couldn’t let that happen. Refused to get involved again with a man about whom she knew so little, and who didn’t seem to be willing to open up to her.

      “You want to tell me what’s on your mind?”

      She turned, discovered Brent watching her with unwavering curiosity. “A few things.”

      Moving back to the desk, she leaned a hip against it. “Christmas being one. Katie and Rhea came down to the stables yesterday after school. The entire time the twins filled feed bins they chattered about the gift lists they gave you two weeks ago. Apparently they’re expecting Santa—meaning you—to bring them everything on those lists.”

      When Brent puffed out a breath, Melanie sent him her best withering look. “You haven’t even thought about shopping yet, have you?”

      “I’ve been busy.” He waved a hand toward the computer’s monitor. “Things on my mind. I’ll get to the shopping.”

      “Yeah, right.” It was well-known around Quest that all three Preston brothers would rather have teeth pulled without the benefit of anesthetic than venture into a mall.

      Melanie held out her hand. “Give me their lists. I’ve got Christmas shopping of my own to finish. I’ll do yours while I’m at it.”

      Looking like a man who’d just received a reprieve from death row, Brent dug into one of the desk’s drawers, pulled out the lists and handed them to her. “You’re a lifesaver, sis. I owe you.”

      “Big-time. And I already know how you can repay me.”

      Brent’s eyes turned wary. “How?”

      “E-mail me all the information you’ve compiled since Legacy’s DNA discrepancy first came up.”

      “Why? You think I’ve missed something?”

      “No. It’s just that up to now, all we’ve done is talk about things as they’ve come up. I’d like to read the reports you’ve made on all the interviews you conducted. Get a better idea of the big picture.”

      Brent lifted a shoulder. “Couldn’t hurt to have another set of eyes look over everything.”

      “That’s the idea.” When she started to turn away, her brother snagged her arm.

      “You doing okay with Something To Talk About being gone? I know he’s special to you.”

      “I miss him.” Just saying the words put a lump in Melanie’s throat. She put her hand over Brent’s and squeezed. “Right before I came up here, I found myself in the kitchen choosing a pear for him, like I’ve done every night for months. I had to remind myself that Something To Talk About wasn’t out in his box, waiting for me.”

      “I’m sorry, Melanie. The silver lining to all this is that you know he’s in good hands with Marcus.”

      “True.” Just the mention of Marcus’s name had her feeling a prick of disloyalty. “He’s offered me a job.”

      Brent’s eyes widened. “Marcus?”

      “Yes. I don’t want to leave Quest, but…”

      “You’re a jockey, who right now can’t race.”

      Melanie nodded. “I can’t believe I’m even considering going to work at Lucas Racing.”

      “When will you make a decision?”

      “Tomorrow. I’m going there to take a look at the place.” She dipped her head. “For now, this is between you and me. If I decide to take the job, I’ll get the entire family together and tell everyone at the same time.”

      “Damn.” Brent leaned back in his chair. The strain he felt from months of digging to get at the truth showed clearly in the dark circles under his eyes. “If you decide working there is the best thing for you to do right now, then that’s what you should do.”

      “Problem is, I don’t know if it will be the best thing for our family.”

      Brent shook his head. “Us Prestons are a tough lot, just ask Grandpa. We’ll get through this, no matter what. And, in my opinion, you can’t go wrong working for a trainer like Marcus. He’s a natural-born horseman. The animals respond to him in that indefinable way they do to someone they feel comfortable with. Marcus’ll produce champions, and you’ll be there to ride them.”

      “Sounds like we’ll make a great team,” Melanie murmured. It was beyond ironic that the sum total she knew about the man who’d kissed her senseless was how he handled and treated horses. And here she was, seriously considering uprooting herself from her family’s stables and going to work for him.

      How, she wondered, could a job offer seem both tempting and threatening at the same time?

      THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Melanie steered her vintage turquoise Thunderbird convertible over rolling hills caught in the gray haze of winter. In the distance, horses grazed, manes ruffling in the cool December breeze.

      Her hands tightened on the wheel when she spotted the two stone posts Marcus had noted in the directions he e-mailed her. Squaring her shoulders, she turned and drove up the gravel lane.

      When she saw the house, she braked the car to give herself time to study the structure.

      In the summer the house would be shielded by the tall, massive maples that now sported only winter-bare branches. Through gnarly limbs she could see the white columns rising up from a wide covered porch and the fluid curves of the two-story redbrick