Bedroom Bargains of Revenge: Bought for Revenge, Bedded for Pleasure / Bedded and Wedded for Revenge / The Italian Boss's Mistress of Revenge. Trish Morey
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the approach to the triple, ahead of the previous rider on the clock. The lift and the landing for the first two jumps had to be right, the paces in between perfectly measured. His heart was pumping hard as he watched Midnight Magic soar over all three cleanly, then gallop to the finish line.
She’d done it!
Beaten every other rider so far.
He clapped so hard his hands hurt. She looked up at the grandstand, saw him. He gave her a high five and she returned it, her lovely face lighting up with a brilliant smile. She rode out of the ring and he sat down again, smiling himself over the shared moment of exhilaration. There were two more riders to go but she’d done well and he was happy for her.
The winner!
Joyful triumph was thumping through Sally’s heart as the judge hung the blue ribbon around Midnight Magic’s neck. She scanned the grandstand for Jack but couldn’t spot him. He’d moved from where he had been, probably coming to congratulate her. She’d achieved a couple of thirds at this level, but never a first, and it wouldn’t have been possible without Jack’s support. She wanted to thank him, wanted … oh, she was filled with so many wants, her body was buzzing with them.
He was waiting for her just beyond the gate, chatting with Tim Fogarty, both of them grinning their delight in her success. She virtually leapt off her horse in her eagerness to join them. Tim came forward to take the reins and lead Midnight Magic away.
“Great riding, Sally. Mr. Maguire’s just been telling me he’s taking you off for a celebratory dinner and I got to say you deserve it. Leave the horses to me. I’ll take care of them and get them home. You go and enjoy yourself.”
“Thanks, Tim. I’ll have to change my clothes in the truck first.”
“I’ll be here for a while. No hurry. Give me your helmet and I’ll put it away.”
She quickly unclipped it, handed it over, then, still brimming over with excitement, she turned to Jack. He spread his arms as though saying, “Look at you—a blue ribbon winner!” and she couldn’t stop herself from hurtling into a hug. He lifted her up and swung her around, laughing at her happy exuberance, sharing it.
“That’s the best I’ve ever done!” she cried as he set her on her feet again. “Thank you for making it possible, Jack.”
“I’m glad I did,” he said, his vivid blue eyes sparkling with warm pleasure.
“I felt you watching me. I had to do well, show you I was worth supporting,” she babbled on.
“I was willing you over every jump.”
“It was like I had wings.”
He laughed, the sparkle in his eyes gathering a wicked tease. “You had a dark angel riding on your shoulder.”
She sighed, frowning at his description of himself. “I don’t want you to be dark, Jack.”
His mouth quirked into a musing little smile as he surveyed the earnestness on her face. “Maybe I need your sunshine in my life, Sally Maguire.”
“Yes,” she agreed, happy with the idea that she could answer a need in him that had nothing to do with sex. Somehow it helped to even out all he was giving her and made their connection more important. Though, having her breasts pressed to the hard wall of his chest and her thighs brushing up against the strong muscularity of his was making her very sexually aware of him. She slid her hands down from his shoulders, easing back from his embrace as she voiced her thought. “I’d like to think I could make a difference to all that’s gone before. I’m sorry you were left so … so alone. It must have made you feel very dark.”
“At times,” he admitted. “But not right now. This is definitely a champagne moment.” He dropped his embrace, took one of her arms and tucked it snugly around his. “Let’s get on our way and have ourselves a fine dinner.”
It was the best evening of Sally’s life.
Jack had driven up to Maitland in his BMW convertible and he put the hood down before they took off for the Hunter Valley vineyards where there were dozens of fine restaurants. It felt great, zooming along the road in his beautiful car, her hair fluttering in the lovely cooling breeze, Jack tossing her amused smiles as she rattled off a whole lot of showjumping stories, continually prompting her to tell him more, enjoying her company, exciting her with the warm interest in his eyes.
He handled the powerful car with brilliant ease. She couldn’t help watching his hands moving on the steering wheel, controlling the gearstick—so competent, confident—and wondered what it would feel like to have them touching her. Her gaze was drawn again and again to his powerful thighs flexing against the stretch denim of his jeans as he braked or accelerated. He oozed a maleness that had her stomach clenching over the thought of seeing him naked, feeling him naked.
Wicked thoughts.
Dangerous thoughts.
Yet she couldn’t stop them from sliding into her mind, no matter how sternly she told herself that love and marriage was not on his agenda and it would be foolish to succumb to a physical affair where she would most probably end up craving more than he was prepared to give of himself. Not only that, it would change their current arrangement, maybe spoil it. On the other hand, it was impossible to ignore what she was feeling with him.
They stopped at Kirkton Park, a beautiful holiday resort in the middle of vineyard country. Having collected glasses of champagne from the bar, they strolled out to the rose garden—all red roses, scenting the air. They sat on one of the garden benches, enjoying the delightful ambience as they sipped the celebratory drink in the twilight of this wonderful day.
Sally queried Jack on the work that was occupying his business life and he talked openly of the problems he was sorting out in the transport industry, revising the truck drivers’ schedules so that none of them had to take drugs to stay awake on unreasonably long hauls. “My father cut too many corners in his drive for maximum profits, always intent on expanding his empire. He didn’t care about his people,” he explained, and suddenly the darkness was back, brooding behind his eyes.
Impulsively Sally reached over and squeezed the hand resting on his thigh. “I’m glad you care, Jack.”
He turned his hand to take hers, his strong fingers lacing through her fingers, gripping, transmitting a heat that ran up her arm and spread through her entire body. “It’s easier not to,” he said mockingly. “Caring eats into you.”
Like the caring that had brought him back to Australia, the caring that had driven him to command his father’s attention, the caring that had demanded retribution for how he had been treated. Sally understood exactly what he meant.
“It’s in your nature to care,” she said quietly, certain it was true. “You’re not like your father. Nor my mother,” she added ironically, lifting her gaze to show her empathy for all he had felt.
He shook his head, regarding her curiously. “How did the person you are survive in that household, Sally?”
She shrugged. “I learnt to play the role expected of me. Until you changed everything.”
His grimace expressed a sudden burst of intense distaste. “When I fly in next time, you don’t have to meet me with a martini,” he said gruffly. “Just be yourself. Okay?”
“Okay.”
She smiled.
Then abruptly he was on his feet, drawing her up from the garden bench, his voice a low burr, announcing, “I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.”
He held on to her hand. Sally’s feet wanted to dance all the way inside to the restaurant. She could barely keep a lid on the coiled springs in her legs. He liked the person she was. He wanted her in his life. Her mind bubbled with a wild happiness. She wanted him in her life, too. It felt right.
They ordered a meal and ate it, washing it down with a glass of fine chardonnay. Everything tasted delicious. Jack talked