Dressed in faded jeans and boots, she was even lovelier today. Well-worn denim hugged her thighs while a flowy pink blouse rippled in the breeze around her shoulders. A buff-colored hat kept the sun from her delicate features, long blond waves trailing down her back. She rode with ease that went beyond good horsemanship that was common enough around this part of Texas. The animal’s gait was one of the toughest to sit gracefully, especially on such a huge draft horse that would have a powerful trot. Yet her hips moved with practiced grace, the rest of her body still, a feat that spoke of long hours of training and muscles attuned to the work.

  Damned if that display didn’t jolt him right back into wayward imaginings about the woman he’d thought of far too often since their meeting the day before.

  “Good morning,” she greeted him on a breathless laugh as she swung down from the mare, her cheeks flushed with color. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting. Sapphire has taken a few days to settle in here, and she was in such good spirits on our morning run that I found it hard to turn her around.”

  Another woman—a ranch hand, he guessed—approached to take the mare’s reins from her. But Valencia took an extra moment to tip her head to the Belgian’s neck and croon softly at her before handing them over. Her compassion was obvious. After Lorenzo had been taken in by a false-faced woman in the past, he liked to think he had a better radar for deceit now. Valencia’s love of the horses definitely wasn’t fake.

  “Sapphire is one of your rescues?” he asked, forcing himself to think like an investor in her foundation and not a man wildly enamored by a woman.

  He really needed to start dating more. He didn’t normally get sidetracked this way.

  “Yes.” Valencia’s gaze followed the Belgian for a long moment before turning her pretty brown eyes to him. “Her owner died a few weeks ago and the man’s nephew contacted me about taking her in. Some animals have ended up here because of neglect or unsuitable living conditions, but Sapphire has been well cared for.” She gestured toward a stable he’d noticed when he drove in. “Would you like to see the facilities we have so far?”

  “Very much.” The more they kept the focus on the rescue, the less attention he’d pay to the woman herself. “It looks like you’ve recently upgraded the outbuildings.”

  “I have.” She headed in the direction of the stable. “I saved every cent from my job in the corporate world to put toward start-up costs for the rescue. My plan began with the right facilities that could expand as we grow.”

  “I read your three-phase business model.” He’d been more than a little impressed with the level of detail. She’d anticipated every potential expense. “You should be able to afford the adjoining parcel of land next.”

  She needed more space before she could move into the next phase—an immersive equine therapy camp for troubled kids. The end goal had made him all the more curious about the unknown portion of her background—her birth parents and early home life. What struggles had she faced before her adoptive parents came into the picture?

  “Yes. If the ticket sales to Soiree on the Bay are as robust as we all hope they will be, I’ll be able to buy the land at the end of the month.” As they passed the stone house, she excused herself long enough to dash up the front steps and open the front door so a black-and-tan dog—a border collie mix was his guess—could bolt down the stairs and run ahead of them. “That’s Barkis, by the way.”

  “Barkis?” he laughed. “A funny name for a dog when he didn’t even make a sound at seeing me.”

  “Barkis was a package deal along with the first horse I rescued.” Her smile faltered a little as she spoke. “I learned about the animals from an eleven-year-old girl living next door to them. She’d drawn a crayon sketch of the horse and the dog and walked into a gas station to post it on their community notice board while I was buying a bag of chips for a road trip.”

  He heard the echo of some painful memories in the story, and felt a new wave of admiration for this beautiful, caring woman who not only abhorred suffering, but who felt called to help in a deeply personal way.

  “You intercepted her sign?” he guessed.

  “I was still working at my job full-time, even though I’d already started the business plan. I was on the road that day to see one of our more remote equipment dealers. But when I spoke to the little girl about the animals who needed help—neglected, hungry animals she petted and consoled through a rusted barbed wire fence every day—I recognized that moment was going to be my beginning.” Her voice had gone fierce during the story, but she paused now to draw a breath as they reached the stable. “She didn’t know the animals’ names, but privately called the dog Barkis and the horse Tuxedo. I still give her updates about them.”

  Valencia nodded toward the stable door as she preceded him inside. It took him a moment to regain his composure after the story, though, envisioning her dressed in her business suit and heels in some ramshackle gas station, taking the time to listen to a passionate kid with a crayon drawing.

  She’d somehow ditched her job and saved the animals, no doubt earning hero status in the kid’s eyes. He followed her into the stable, his gaze drawn to the sway of her hips before he remembered himself.

  If Valencia Donovan was putting on an act to entice funds out of the Cortez-Williams family, it was a damned good show. But with every moment he spent in her presence, even the most cynical part of himself found it tougher to believe. Which meant he’d have to try twice as hard to stick to his guns and avoid the potent temptation that dogged him every moment he spent with Valencia.

  Two

  Determined to prove her ambitions for Donovan Horse Rescue were very real, Valencia took Lorenzo through each building and introduced him to every horse on her property over the next two hours. She refrained from sharing more personal stories after accidentally confiding the way she’d leaped into the rescue work that first time. After that slipup, she stuck to the scripted details that were available on the rescue’s website, unwilling to give a potential investor any reason to think she led with her heart and not her brain.

  She could share heart-tugging stories. Just not the details that crawled under her skin and made her care on a deep level. Those dark eyes of his saw too much already.

  As they turned away from Buttercup, the last of the horses in the new stable, they left the second stable building and skirted the paddock. The sun had risen to its zenith, making her aware how much time she’d spent showing him around.

  “Your operation is impressive,” he observed, reaching to give Barkis a scratch around the ears since the dog was circling him, tail wagging in double time. “And the website does an effective job of making the animals sound appealing to potential supporters and adopters.”

  Lorenzo straightened from where he’d pet the pup. He was dressed more informally today in dark jeans and a more casual button-down, but his boots were still hand-tooled leather, the kind that rarely saw ranch work. And why did he have to look even more appealing to her this way than he had over their business lunch? Yesterday, she’d met the businessman. Today, she was seeing the rancher, and yes, she liked that side of him.

  She’d read more about his family after their lunch meeting, and learned that Lorenzo was not only the third to bear the name, but also the oldest of his siblings. It made her wonder how he felt about being the heir to the family legacy.

  “Thank you. I’m hoping Soiree on the Bay not only brings added funds, but also more public visibility and traffic to the site.”

  “I’m sure it will.” He slowed his pace as they neared his pickup truck, a beast of a model with a turbo-charged diesel engine, built-in winch and all the extra features that were still on Valencia’s wish list. “But once you start your summer camp, will you keep some horses stabled here permanently? When you find animals who are a good fit to work with camp goers, I assume you’d want to keep them here.”

  Pleasantly surprised he’d given that much thought to her expansion project, she hoped that meant he was seriously considering financial support.

  “Absolutely. And even though the campers would only ride trusted mounts under the guidance of a certified instructor, I hope the attendees could be involved with caring for the rescues.” She’d been certified after working with an equine therapy center during college, and she missed it. For that matter, she missed the atmosphere of healing and community that went hand in hand with an equine center, much like the one her adoptive parents had sent her to as a child. “Giving troubled kids another creature to care for allows them to feel rewarded and accepted for simple acts of kindness.”

  He nodded while she spoke, as if her words had affirmed something he’d been thinking. Had she somehow revealed too much again?

  “Your passion for the project is clear,” he said gruffly, tipping his head toward her and making her realize how close they stood.

  Her heart beat faster and she wondered if she’d been the one to venture so near to him, or if he’d been the one to trespass on the businesslike boundaries they’d silently agreed on. Swallowing a flash of nervousness, she folded her arms around herself to add a barrier between her and the dark, masculine appeal of the man in front of her.

  “May I ask what drew you to this kind of work?” he prompted when she remained silent.

  Normally, she had a scripted answer, but she wondered how much he already knew about her personal history. How well had he researched her and her organization? She didn’t like the idea of anyone circling around the wounded parts of her past, and it bothered her all the more to think of this successful, formidable man seeing that side of her.

  “Barkis wasn’t incentive enough?” She raised an eyebrow, allowing her lips to quirk, and hoped he’d give her a pass on sharing anything more personal. He knew her business plan. She shouldn’t have to bleed on the proposal, too.

  “He’s a damned fine dog,” Lorenzo agreed a moment later, taking a step backward with a laugh and effectively breaking the tension of the moment.

  She breathed a relieved sigh that he’d let her off the hook. Before she could reply, he continued speaking.

  “Thank you for taking so much time to speak with me today, Valencia. I enjoyed the tour and wish you well with the rescue either way, but I’ll speak to my family about your project and get back to you within the week.”

  She forced a smile, hoping she hadn’t blown her chances to sell Lorenzo on the idea of her horse rescue with her need for privacy. Already a pang of regret twisted inside her that she hadn’t been more forthcoming about her past. But then again, sharing those darker details could have come across as too much.

  Too needy.

  And she had to keep those vulnerabilities hidden at all costs. Especially when her feelings were already so complicated when it came to him.

  “The pleasure was all mine,” she assured him, her eyes darting to his as the word pleasure tripped off her lips accidentally. Perhaps she’d spent too much time in close proximity to him to be second-guessing her language choices and cherry-picking what details to share with him. Valencia sighed. Why couldn’t she have met with his gray-haired grandfather about the donation? Because Lorenzo the third was a temptation she did not need in her life right now. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

  With a tip of his hat, he walked away, his broad shoulders holding her gaze. For all his wealth and refined manners, Lorenzo had an ease around the ranch that had made it easy for her to talk to him today. And yes, she could admit she admired that in a man.

  As he drove off, her canine woofed a goodbye. For her part, Valencia knew she’d have only herself to blame if the Cortez-Williams family wasn’t ready to invest. The only good part about that? At least she wouldn’t have to blush and stammer her way through any more parting words with the gorgeous rancher. Pressing a cooling hand to her still-warm cheek, she was heading back to the house for a bite to eat when the sound of tires crunching through the gravel on her driveway made her turn around again.

  Her pulse quickened at the thought of Lorenzo returning, but the vehicle that rounded the bend could never be mistaken for a pickup truck. The sleek Aston Martin could belong only to an Edmond, one of Royal’s wealthiest families.

  And, sure enough, as the sports car drew nearer she could see the oldest of Rusty Edmond’s sons behind the wheel. The Edmond siblings, Ross, Asher and Gina, together with Ross’s friend Billy Holmes, were the driving force behind Soiree on the Bay. The Edmond family also owned Appaloosa Island, the site of the festival. Normally, Asher was Valencia’s contact when she had festival questions, so she was a little surprised to see Ross here today.

  Even more so to see him heft a toddler from a car seat in the back of the coupe, carrying the curly-haired boy in his arms as he ambled toward her. They were an appealing pair. No matter that Lorenzo was the only man who turned her head lately, she couldn’t deny that seeing handsome Ross with his chubby-cheeked son in his arms was enough to make any woman’s ovaries hum.

  “Hello, Ross,” she called, striding closer. “And hello to this adorable young gentleman you’ve brought with you.”

  She’d heard that Ross had a child with Charlotte Jarrett, his fiancée and the executive chef of Sheen, a popular restaurant in Royal. But she hadn’t met the little one before. She opened and closed her fist in a baby-wave she thought most toddlers would recognize.

  “My son, Ben,” he announced, the pride shining in his blue eyes as he looked down at the boy. Ben smiled shyly at Valencia before bouncing in his father’s arms with toddler joy. “I was just on my way to Sheen to see Charlotte, and since we were driving past your place, I thought I should drop by to share an update on the food and wine festival.”

  His tone grew serious as he spoke, drawing Valencia’s attention from Ben to his father’s face.

  “I hope everything is still on track for the event at the end of the month.” Valencia had attended all the meetings of the festival advisory board. She and Charlotte were both members, along with Lila Jones, who worked for the Royal Chamber of Commerce. Rancher Brett Harston had initially been on the board, too, but he’d been booted off by Rusty for having the audacity to sweep Rusty’s ex-wife Sarabeth off her feet. “I know at the last meeting, we talked about some funds that were unaccounted for—”

  “It’s a bigger problem than I first realized.” Ross hitched Ben higher against his chest to combat the boy’s wiggling. “A more significant amount of money is gone than what I initially believed.”

  Valencia stilled, a chill running through her in spite of the July heat. “But there’s a chance it’s a mistake, right? A bookkeeping error?”

  Ross shook his head, but seemed to hedge answering the question directly. “I just thought you should know since you were counting on those funds for your horse rescue.”

  It took a moment for her to absorb the full import of his words. When she did, she felt her dreams rumble unsteadily. She’d worked so hard to make the summer camp a reality. To create the equine therapy component that would give troubled kids the chance to bond with animals the same way she once had.

  “Are you saying that the ticket money is gone?” Her voice didn’t sound like her own.

  How could it be possible? The people involved with the festival were some of the town’s most upstanding citizens. She’d enjoyed working with them to make Soiree on the Bay a reality.

  “I’m saying we can’t account for all of the income, and it’s a significant amount.” He scrubbed a free hand through his hair, looking weary. “I hope we’ll get this figured out. But just in case, it’s only fair that you know.”

  “I understand. And I—” She nodded, her movements jerky and abrupt since it still felt like someone had pulled a rug out from under her feet. “Thank you, Ross.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t have better news, but I’ll stay in touch.” He turned to leave, little Ben waving bye-bye at Valencia over his father’s shoulder as he walked away. Valencia waved back at him, smiling at the boy in spite of her inner turmoil.

  She’d pinned so many hopes on the ticket sales from Soiree on the Bay. If Ross’s fears were realized and she didn’t receive any supporting funds for the horse rescue as promised, how could she possibly support the next phase of making the equine therapy camp a reality?

  One thing was certain. She needed the help of the Cortez-Williams family—most especially its darkly cynical heir—now more than ever.

  * * *

  Seated on a leather couch inside the Cortez-Williams ranch office, Lorenzo cross-checked the information on his tablet screen, reviewing files from three different agencies on Donovan Horse Rescue.

  Occasionally, while scrolling through the text, he’d pass a photo of Valencia—her pretty face smiling out at him from the screen—and feel a jolt of lust. Along with a surge of guilt about how thoroughly he’d had her investigated.

  But he suppressed the guilt each time, more than bolstered by the reminder of Lindsey’s faithlessness. If anything, he needed to exercise all the more caution when reviewing Valencia’s horse rescue because of the pull of sizzling attraction he felt toward her. His ex-fiancée’s treachery had forced him to be more careful with anyone who stirred the kind of response that Valencia had. Considering how much Valencia affected him, triple-checking the references was hardly overkill.

  But he’d already floated the files past an overseeing committee earlier in the week, and they’d given her project a unanimous thumbs-up, so it wasn’t just his say-so that would result in a donation. Impartial outsiders had been consulted, too.