Rescued: Mother-To-Be. Trish Wylie

and that had fulfilled all of Colleen’s romantic notions. In her adolescent mind she had been going to be the one to tame him, to tease out his smile and put a spark in his eyes. She had even been encouraged by how he’d been in her company—how he had laughed, teased her, ruffled her hair. If he’d just once opened his eyes and noticed her the way she’d dreamed he would…

      But she’d been a child and he’d been a mature eighteen-year-old, ready to leave the small hamlet they lived in to take on the world. And he’d left her behind.

      Now, as he walked around the office, lifting breeding books and feed invoices and flicking them over, she knew she’d lived several lifetimes since then. She wasn’t some doe-eyed teenager any more—wasn’t a romantic dreamer. A kick or two in the teeth had that effect on a person over time.

      He stopped and turned around, leaning back on one of the counters that were attached to three of the four walls and crossing his feet at the ankles before he folded his arms across his broad chest. ‘I have to say I’m a bit surprised. The old place looks like hell. I take it Dad wasn’t up to much the last few years?’

      The American twang to his accent distracted her momentarily from his actual words. But when she caught them she automatically straightened her spine in her chair, words in defence of his father immediately jumping out of her mouth. ‘Blaming it on Declan is hardly fair. He wasn’t exactly fit for a lot of the heavy stuff after the second heart attack. You wouldn’t even wonder about that if you’d seen him the way he was.’

      Eamonn stared at her for a long moment, his gaze steady and impassive. ‘This place was his pride and joy. It would have had to be something major to keep him from tending to it.’

      ‘I’d say a couple of heart attacks was major, wouldn’t you?’

      There was a minute narrowing of his eyes. Then he blinked thick dark lashes at her. And said nothing.

      Colleen suddenly felt like a bug under a microscope. It wasn’t as if she had any right to criticise. All he had done was make an observation. But then, she knew inside that her defensiveness was less to do with Declan and more to do with her own part in the property’s run-down appearance.

      She pressed her lips together and released them with a small popping noise before taking a breath. ‘Are you planning on staying long?’

      ‘Depends.’

      ‘Well, you’ll be staying the night at least?’

      ‘At least.’

      Her blue eyes studied his impassive face for a few long seconds, and then she leaned forward again and smiled more genuinely. ‘You were always hard work conversation-wise. I should have remembered that.’

      One dark brow quirked at her candid statement, the corners of his sensual mouth twitching momentarily to hint at a single dimple on one cheek. ‘Cut to the chase, don’t you?’

      ‘Well, I could play some kind of verbal game of chess with you, but I doubt I’d win. Life’s too short for that sort of hard work, and I’m not really that smart. I like to try and believe people still mean what they say when they say it. Even when I still get reminded that’s not always true. A girl can live in hope.’

      ‘An optimist?’

      She had to be. If she wasn’t optimistic then there wouldn’t be too much in her life to celebrate. ‘I try to be. You only live the once—bit bloody pointless being depressed every day.’

      His mouth quirked again.

      Folding her slender arms across the top of the desk, she tilted forwards and bent her head to one side, her arched brows lifting in silent challenge.

      Eamonn rewarded her with a burst of masculine laughter, the sound seeming to echo around the room. ‘And to think you used to be shy.’

      ‘I outgrew it.’

      ‘Obviously. You outgrew a lot of things, from what I can see. And not too badly either.’

      His eyes sparkled across at her, and for a moment her heart caught. Ah, no. He couldn’t just waltz in looking all gorgeous and flirt with her. He was a decade and a half too late for that. And he had as much reliability as an ice cube on a summer’s day.

      Colleen had enough problems, thank you.

      There was the sound of approaching hooves on the cobbled yard outside, and Eamonn’s head turned towards the sound. He pushed off the counter and walked to the windows in a couple of long strides, looking out at each horse as it went by.

      Tempting as it was to just sit and study his profile, all lit up from the window as it was, Colleen knew better than to let herself. So, her eyes on his curls, turning a dark chocolate in the sunlight, she pushed back from the desk and wandered across to stand a little behind him.

      Her expert eyes glanced over each of the large animals as they walked by outside the window, taking in their conformation, their condition, the evenness of stride, assessing each one with an all-encompassing glance that took a matter of seconds. The rest of Inisfree Stud might look tatty round the edges, but the horses were still top class. It was the only point of pride she had left.

      She glanced up at the side of his head. ‘So, can you still not stand the sight of them?’

      Eamonn turned his face towards hers and locked eyes once again, this time up close and personal. There wasn’t the tiniest flicker in the hazel depths, or on his face. Not a hint of humour or regret. Just a simple blinking of his dark lashes as he took a moment or two longer than necessary to answer. ‘Can’t say I want to run out there and feed them carrots.’

      So close to him for the first time in years, Colleen was suddenly overwhelmed by his masculine scent. In the company of horses most of the time, as she was, she wasn’t used to such sensual tones. It was musky, spice with an underlying hint of sweetness, and it clung to her nose and pervaded her throat, almost as if she could taste him. And while she still had her head tilted up to look into his eyes the combination of awareness and proximity did things to her nerve-endings that hadn’t been done for a long, long time. If ever.

      It just wasn’t fair. Someone somewhere really hated her, didn’t they? Bringing him back now.

      ‘My dad’s biggest disappointment.’

      The words caught her unawares, and for a split second she gaped up at him in open surprise. ‘Eamonn, that wasn’t your dad’s biggest disappointment. Don’t be daft. You couldn’t force yourself to like them when you didn’t.’

      ‘I should have, though. It was in my genetic make-up.’

      ‘Not everyone loves horses like—’

      ‘Like you do?’

      Colleen smiled then. ‘I was going to say like your dad did. But I guess it’s true of me too. It’s just something that’s in me.’

      ‘Then you’ll not understand how I feel any better than my dad did.’

      Now, where had that come from? Why would he care what she thought? She was about to open her mouth and quiz him when he turned and, underestimating the space he needed to give her, brushed his arm against her stomach. Frowning, he dropped his gaze in surprise. Then his head shot back up, his eyes wide.

      Colleen smiled ruefully. ‘Don’t worry—I bump things all the time now. It’s not your fault. Just comes with the territory.’

      ‘I didn’t know.’

      ‘No, well, it’s not like I took an ad out in the paper in Outer Mongolia, or wherever it was you were.’ She felt her cheeks warming, suddenly embarrassed by her condition. Well, at least under the scrutiny of someone she had once dreamed would have helped get her into that condition.

      ‘Peru.’

      ‘Peru, then.’ She stepped back, her hand going to the small of her back as she made her way back to the desk.

      ‘I didn’t know you were