Latin Lovers Untamed. Jane Porter

looked momentarily confused. “Daisy, did you want champagne?”

      Daisy shot Dante a dark glance. What was he doing? Why did he want to cause trouble? “This is wonderful. I’m happy with a cocktail.”

      “I can get you champagne,” Carter said more forcefully. “I didn’t know you wanted champagne.”

      “I don’t want champagne. I like my cocktail. Really.” She could happily dump her drink over Dante. He was standing there enjoying Carter’s discomfiture. Well, to hell with him. “Carter, would you like to dance?”

      She caught the lift of Dante’s eyebrows and was grateful when Carter moved forward, blocking Dante from her view. “Yes, let’s. It’s a nice slow song.”

      A slow song. Not what she wanted, but if it gave her some distance from Dante, then it was a good thing.

      “Goodbye, Count,” Carter said with a nod of his head.

      “I’ll catch up with you soon,” Dante answered, still smiling, still looking infuriatingly amused.

      Carter held her hand and led her through the enormous white party tent. A band played on a wooden stage, and white twinkling lights were strung from the tent poles.

      They still held their drink glasses, and at the edge of the dance floor Carter faced her. “Let’s toast the start of something wonderful.”

      Her hand shook slightly. “And what is that, Carter?”

      “A great future.”

      Daisy felt like she was losing control. This wasn’t working out the way she’d imagined. She shouldn’t have come here tonight with Carter. This wasn’t business. He was making the contract personal.

      She set her glass down without drinking. “What about Kentucky Kiss?”

      “Let’s not ruin a lovely evening—”

      “That’s why I’m here, Carter. This is about Kentucky Kiss. This is about contracts and negotiations.” She broke off as Peter Lindley bore down on them.

      “Carter, hello,” Mr. Lindley greeted. “Enjoying yourself?”

      “It’s a beautiful party. You couldn’t ask for nicer weather. Peter, you know Daisy Collingsworth, I believe?”

      Peter’s smile faded perceptibly. His guard was instantly up, and he shifted away. “We’ve met.”

      Oh, yes, they’d met, Daisy thought, only about a thousand times. He’d been her father’s best friend for nearly twenty years. “Good evening, Mr. Lindley.”

      “How are things?” he asked stiffly.

      “Dad’s doing fine.”

      Peter’s jaw tensed, lips compressing. “I meant with regards to the farm.”

      “The stable’s rebuilt,” Carter interjected. “A state-of-the-art facility. Thirty-six stalls, and they’re developing their stallion barn next.”

      Peter’s forehead creased. “Is that true?”

      Daisy opened her mouth, but Carter answered first again. “I’m considering moving my stallion to their barn.” He shot Daisy a swift glance. “If things continue to improve as they have.”

      “What about trainers?” Peter rubbed his chin as he glanced from Daisy to Carter and back again. “Since McCaw passed on, you haven’t had any big name on board. You need one. While there is considerable interest in your foal, no one will pay top dollar for a yearling that hasn’t been started right.”

      McCaw meaning Teddy, who’d died in the fire. A lump filled her throat. “I’m aware of that.” She was grateful she could keep her tone calm even if it was just an illusion, because right now on the inside she was miserable.

      Peter nodded brusquely. “Fine. Best of luck.” He turned to Carter. “May I have a word with you?”

      Carter excused himself, and Daisy stood alone on the edge of the dance floor wondering yet again what she was doing at the Lindleys’.

      “Your friend Carter could be a little more attentive.”

      Daisy turned and smiled. “Dante Galván, what a surprise.”

      “If you were my date, I’d never leave you alone.”

      Her smile stretched. “I’m not your date, and you haven’t left me alone.”

      “Touché.” A light shone in his eyes. His grin looked careless, devilish, relaxed. “Sequins and spurs, Daisy Collingsworth. You’re a very intriguing woman.”

      “Kentucky Kiss can’t mean all that much to you.”

      “Kentucky Kiss has nothing to do with this. I happen to like you.”

      His deep voice rumbled through her, rich and intoxicating, and she felt herself grow warm and weak. “The Collingsworths are trouble,” she retorted, fighting for the right flippant note.

      “I’ve always liked trouble.” He lightly touched the small of her back. “Dance with me.”

      His hand burned through her sequin and mesh top. She felt herself grow impossibly warm. “Carter wouldn’t like it.”

      “I’m not asking Carter to dance. I’m asking you.” His palm slid down, coming to rest on her hip, his fingertips just brushing her bottom. “Would Daisy like it?”

      She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His hand felt incredible, and her body felt wildly sensitive. Suddenly she wanted to be daring and dangerous. She wanted to be all the things she’d never allowed herself to be.

      A waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes passed by. Dante reached out and lifted a glass from the tray and handed it to her. “If you’re going to drink, you should drink champagne. The color suits you.”

      “The color?” Her voice was all but inaudible.

      “Pale gold, crisp, not too sweet and yet full and ripe in the mouth.” He lifted the glass, with her hand still on it, and drank.

      She blushed at the intimacy of the gesture, and her skin glowed, taut and warm all over. “I think you’re projecting, Count Galván.”

      “Call me count again and I’ll kiss you here, in front of all these nice people.”

      Her blush deepened. “A promise, or a threat?”

      His head dipped, and his lips brushed her cheek and then the curve of her ear. “You’d like it, Daisy.”

      She ought to be outraged. Instead she was captivated by the warmth of his breath against her ear and the feel of his lips against her cheek.

      The crowd disappeared and the band faded to the background. Her head tipped and she gazed at him, momentarily lost in his intensely expressive eyes.

      He was beautiful. Everything about him was hard and sensual. His face was a canvas of gorgeous lines and planes. Even his mouth had the perfect shape, the lower lip slightly thrust out with a small flat indentation.

      She wanted him to kiss her, wanted to feel his mouth against hers.

      Dante could see in her eyes that she wanted him to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her. He’d wanted to kiss her since he first confronted her at the track two days ago.

      He flattened his palm against the curve of her bottom and urged her closer. Bending his head, he covered her lips with his and heard her inhale, an involuntary gasp at the burst of heat flaring between them. It wasn’t his imagination. Daisy felt electric.

      Her lips trembled beneath his, and he drew her closer, more fully against him even as he parted her lips to explore the inside of her mouth.

      Daisy tasted warm and sweet, like clover honey, and gradually she curved into him until she fit him perfectly. He kissed