I follow her, flipping through my calendar on my phone. “How about Thursday at eleven a.m. at my office in Frankfort?”

  When Kat opens the door, I see the rain has stopped. She turns to me, hands on her hips. “That won’t work for me. You see, I actually work very hard at my job, sunup to sundown.”

  “As do I,” I point out. “I just happen to wear a suit and you wear grubby clothes, but that doesn’t make you a harder worker or have less time than me.”

  She shrugs. “I can meet in the evenings, after eight, since I usually eat dinner with my family.”

  “Are you being obstinate just to be obstinate?” I ask, genuinely curious, slightly annoyed and again… a little amused.

  Kat snorts and I swear I see her lips twitch in what threatens to break into a smile, but she smothers it. “Like I said, any time after eight p.m.” She then considers something else. “Except tomorrow. Not free at all.”

  I nod in understanding. “The Spirits and Saddles Gala?”

  It’s a charity event where all the bourbon distilleries in the area—and there are a lot—pair up with the horse industry to raise money. It’s held at the state fairgrounds in Louisville and there are loads of activities throughout the day but most significantly, bourbon-tasting tents and equine demonstrations inside the indoor arena. Typically, the distilleries each pair up with a farm—usually thoroughbred breeders, but there’s a large saddlebred community too—and work together to compete for the most money raised.

  She nods. “We’re paired up with Bluegrass Barrel Company.”

  “Hmm,” I murmur.

  Mardraggon Enterprises is joining with Crescent Meadow, which is the largest horse farm in Kentucky. They breed, train and sell thoroughbreds and have a storied history in the racing community. They’ve produced numerous successful racehorses that sell for millions of dollars.

  Obviously, the best bourbon manufacturer got paired with the best horse farm, but I keep that opinion to myself. I’m not in the mood to have the Hell Kat come out and slice me up with that sharp tongue of hers.

  “Let me guess,” she drawls, a condescending tone in her voice. “You’re paired with Crescent Meadow.”

  “I’m not sure,” I say vaguely, pocketing my phone and pulling out my keys. “Not my bailiwick.”

  Which is absolutely true. The bailiwick part, although I do know about Crescent Meadows.

  My parents typically handled all the social events that Mardraggon Enterprises was involved in. However, times have changed and no one wants to see Lionel Mardraggon at a fundraising function. The board of directors made it clear I need to be in attendance this year.

  “Well, figure a time you can meet in the evening again,” Kat says as she gestures toward the doorway, a nonverbal cue she really wants me to go.

  I step over the threshold and as she starts to shut the door, I put my hand on it to halt her. “Can I see Sylvie when I come back?”

  Kat’s expression softens slightly. “Yeah… if she’s not busy with something else.”

  “How about day after tomorrow? I’ll rearrange my schedule so I can come back, same time.”

  “Not before eight,” she reminds me. “I’ve still got work to do and I’ll be doing lessons or training up until at least six. I cut lessons short today to accommodate you but I can’t do that all the time.”

  “I’ll come over to the barn then,” I suggest. “Sylvie and I can hang out there under your watchful eye.”

  “I’ll be watching the horses,” she replies blandly. “But let me check with Ethan and find out what Sylvie’s schedule is day after tomorrow and I’ll let you know.”

  Inclining my head, I hope she hears how grateful I am. No matter what, getting to see Sylvie is paramount. “Thank you. And thanks for dinner too.”

  “That won’t happen again,” she asserts with her chin lifted.

  Chuckling, I turn away from Kat and trot down the stairs. No, I don’t imagine she will invite me to dine with her anytime soon. Despite the moments of levity tonight and our ability to keep things civil as we discussed business, I don’t ever forget that she hates my guts and will never forgive me for what I did.

  CHAPTER 11

  Kat

  The Kentucky Exposition Center in Louisville sometimes feels like a home away from home. I’ve been competing in Freedom Hall at the World Championship Horse Show since I was five. While there aren’t green shavings in the arena tonight—a hallmark of the world championships—I still get a thrill standing in this building.

  The Spirits and Saddles Gala has been around far longer than I have and usually it’s an event my whole family attends. But my parents left for Ireland to visit Mom’s family and Wade is at home nursing a spring head cold. Ethan’s opting for a quiet night with Marcie and Sylvie and he deserves it. I don’t know how the man does it all and I’ve never been more in awe of my brother than I am now. Just trying to do my regular job of lessons and horse training plus the medical oversight I took off his plate is brutal in terms of time consumption. Add on that I’m now trying to learn about Sylvie’s winery and the number of hours I can sleep are dwindling.

  But I am getting better at multitasking and managing my day. I’ve learned how to save my administrative work for evenings at home, rather than trying to cram it into fifteen-minute chunks between lessons. I’m compacting my training sessions to work more efficiently and have even passed some of the lessons on to other instructors. I managed myself so well today, I actually had time to tackle Shadow again and we made three walking laps around the arena with no issues.

  It was a job well done and now I’m here to celebrate. Tonight it’s just me and Trey, though I haven’t seen my brother since we arrived. He’s probably off getting busy with Becca Caudill and I’m sure he’ll surface at some point.

  The gala raises money for local community services across multiple counties, such as volunteer fire departments, libraries and animal shelters. It’s held here at the expo center because it’s a huge event and there is an obscene amount of money within the bourbon and equine industries. Combined, they account for a $15.5 billion total economic impact with over a billion dollars generated in state and local taxes. To say that this state would flounder without these two powerhouse commercial enterprises is an understatement. The people gathered here tonight to raise money could probably support small, underdeveloped countries on their own.

  It’s a formal affair and I’m nearly blinded by the glittering jewels dripping off the women. While I’m normally at home in a pair of riding jods and a T-shirt, I do like to dress up on occasion. Tonight I’m wearing a formfitting, full-length gown with a mermaid silhouette. It’s adorned with an intricate pattern of leaves in a glossy black finish against a shimmering deep pink background. The bodice is cut asymmetrically with a swath of fabric that drapes over my left shoulder and hangs down my back, which is nearly bare to my tailbone. It’s sexy, sophisticated and makes me feel like a different woman, which I don’t think is necessarily a bad thing.

  I watch the horses being shown in the arena. We have a few of ours on display here, including some yearlings, but the grooms are handling that, leading them around so the folks can appreciate their fancy gaits and elegant necks with heads held high. Part of me is working as I scope out the saddlebreds from other farms coming in. My riders and I will be competing against a number of them over the summer.

  After a while, I decide to hit the north wing lobby where the bourbon is displayed. A maze of tasting booths has been set up throughout, some extravagantly decorated to look like old-time speakeasies or elegant bars. The place is packed and I see several people I know in the saddlebred business.

  But bourbon and thoroughbreds are king in this state, two enterprises I know very little about. I do, however, like the taste of bourbon so I meander through the booths, deciding to sample from a few smaller distilleries. I have no clue where Mardraggon Enterprises is set up, but I know I’ll stay clear of it when I spot it.

  For the next half hour, I mingle, taking tiny sips of craft liquor and catching up with old friends. I see Trey and Becca walking around and note she has a piece of hay stuck in her hair, so I’m sure they got down to business in either a horse trailer or stall.

  I make my way out of the lobby and down a hallway to a set of bathrooms. I’ve been diligently drinking water to dilute the alcohol and am not looking forward to wrestling this tight dress up and over my hips.

  It is indeed a struggle but I manage to do my business. As I’m washing my hands, I hear the announcer over the speakers calling everyone into Freedom Hall so the final tally of money raised can be reported, followed by boring speeches from some of the richer benefactors. It’s their chance to shine and primp under their halo of wealth.

  I dry my hands and check my makeup, not in any real hurry. I have no interest in going into the hall to listen to that drivel and will instead take advantage of the distinct lack of lines to try a few more sips of bourbon.

  Stepping out of the restroom alcove, I pause a moment to consider where I want to go. The north wing lobby is almost empty, only a few people remaining. I imagine in about half an hour, it will be bustling again and this will turn into a party that won’t stop for hours.

  “Are you purposely avoiding the Mardraggon booth or avoiding me?” My skin prickles as I recognize Gabe’s voice. He’s so close, I can feel his breath across my bare shoulder. I turn to see him for the first time tonight and it’s unfair how beautiful he is. I’m sure the custom-tailored tuxedo lends a bit of posh to his entire being, but it’s his charisma that is enthralling. His honey-colored eyes are without an ounce of shame as he lets his gaze drift down my body and back up again. “And I must say… you clean up well.”

  I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or a put-down, but I’m going with the latter since he’s a Mardraggon. “Yes, well, not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth.”

  Gabe tips his head back and laughs. “Oh, come on, Kat. The Blackburns are filthy rich, same as the Mardraggons.”

  “Except we break our backs for that wealth. We don’t sit on gilded thrones and have minions do our work.”

  “Is that what you think I do?” Gabe asks pensively, tucking his hands into his pockets.

  “I really don’t care what you do,” I say primly. “You don’t interest me at all.”

  Gabe’s eyes flash and darken, and I wonder why that offends him so much. “I imagine being a lowly stable hand makes it nearly impossible for you to comprehend the intricacies of finance and business.”

  A flush of fury wells within me, because I’m pretty sure he just called me stupid. I have no good comeback to prove my intelligence since I did, in fact, drop out of college and before that, Gabe had to tutor me in math. So I hit him below the belt instead. “Big words coming from someone with a little dick.”

  The minute the words are out, I’d sell my soul to the devil to pull them back. They’re stupid, trite and nowhere near the truth. Gabe Mardraggon is a well-proportioned man in all ways and I just sounded like a toddler hurling nonsensical insults.

  I expect him to laugh at me or possibly walk away. I am wholly unprepared for his hands to come to my shoulders before he’s pulling me into him and mashing his mouth against mine. I’m so stunned that for a moment, I can’t even react and then I’m horrified when my mouth opens and accepts his kiss.

  It seems as if flames are licking at my tongue, and oh my God, a tiny moan slips out of my mouth. I feel completely powerless to stop the free fall and that’s because this isn’t the nineteen-year-old boy who I used to kiss on the down low but rather a powerful man who has learned a thing or two over the years. One hand cups my face, the other grazes down my bare back before latching hard onto my hip to pull me against his tall frame.

  His lips leave mine and move to my ear. “Feel that?”

  Oh yes… I feel it. As I said, it was an out-and-out lie that he has a small dick. I can’t answer him though because his mouth is on my neck and I’m nearly incapacitated by the swiftness of the lust he’s induced. An ache between my legs forms and I press against him.

  Gabe nibbles his way up to my jaw, feathers his mouth across mine and then lifts his head to peer down at me. “Next time you insult my dick, I’m going to do the same thing to you. So choose your words carefully.”

  I blink at him stupidly. “What?”

  His grin is evil and triumphant. “I didn’t realize I could hold such power over you still.”

  Power over me?

  Because…?

  It dawns on me what he just said and while the kiss didn’t bother me in the slightest, I’m beyond offended that he thinks he can control me. I slap my hands against his chest and shove him hard. While he’s got several inches in height and many more pounds of muscle, he’s unprepared for my anger or my strength and takes two stumbling steps before he rights himself.

  I dramatically wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, snarling, “That was gross.”

  “You were practically humping my leg,” he says dryly. “But if it makes you feel better to say that, you do you.”

  “Kiss my ass,” I snap, again unable to come up with anything to put him in his place. But Gabe isn’t a man who’s easily knocked down a peg.

  I start to turn away, but his hand is on my arm, halting me. It’s not tight but gentle. “Kat…”

  Glancing back at him, I tug my arm away. “What?”

  “I actually have something important to talk about regarding Sylvie.”

  The kiss is forgotten as is my anger—not just at him, but at myself for responding—because I hear the hesitation in his voice. And as powerful, intelligent and confident as this man is, he sounds near to begging. “What is it?” I ask.

  “Sylvie’s getting out of school for the summer soon. She told me she doesn’t have any major plans, just hanging around the farm, and that your parents might take her to France in August. I was wondering if perhaps I could take her when she gets out of school. I need to check on some things with the winery, and I know she’d like to go back and see her friends—”

  “Ethan won’t allow it,” I say, stopping his speech. It doesn’t matter how sweet that offer is, I know my brother.

  “I didn’t think he’d just let me take her. I was thinking maybe you could come, see the operations, and that will give you the best picture of the winery. You’ll understand far more than I could ever teach you.”

  The idea has merit on so many levels. I’m sure it would help me and ultimately Ethan when making decisions if I knew what we were actually working so hard for but more than anything, Sylvie has been missing her homeland so much and she’s been so brave with all the horrible things that have happened to her.

  “I’m so busy, Gabe. I don’t know that I can take the time—”

  “Will you just think about it and talk to Ethan? I don’t know what it would take to turn your duties over to someone else, but if you could manage that, we could do a five-day trip. We’ll take one of the Mardraggon jets—”

  “We have our own jet,” I feel the need to say, which is something he already knows.

  “Not as fast as ours though,” he replies with a smirk.

  I have to force myself not to respond. It’s that boyish smile that made me realize back in college that he wasn’t the horrible monster we thought all Mardraggons were bred to be.

  “I’ll talk to Ethan. It might be that someone else has to go other than me.” Although I’m not sure who that would be. Trey and Wade are as busy as I am.

  “Okay… thank you for considering it.” His eyes move over me one more long, luxurious time and he nods. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  Gabe steps out from the alcove and disappears around the corner, presumably heading to Freedom Hall.

  I lean back against the wall, touching my fingertips to my lips that still tingle from his kiss.

  CHAPTER 12

  Gabe

  I cut away from Freedom Hall, having no desire to be around people or listen to boring speeches. I’m feeling edgy, out of control, and nothing settles those feelings like alcohol. It’s a good thing I know just where to get such a commodity.

  The Mardraggon booth is a large U-shaped bar made of hand-carved cherrywood with attached swivel stools along the three sides. There’s a top overhang with pendant lighting at the back of the bar, in front of which stands a bartender in an elegant tuxedo. Upon a single shelf sits a bottle of every brand of bourbon we currently produce, each one with its own light shining from underneath to accentuate the bourbon’s rich amber hues, making the liquid within the bottles shimmer enticingly.

  I believe I saw a report come across my email about the cost of constructing this temporary bar for the Spirits and Saddles Gala, and it was close to fifty thousand dollars. It’s going to be disassembled after this event and put into storage, probably never to be used again. Next year, for the same charity event, Mardraggon Enterprises will do something different but no less costly. It’s a fine example of just how much money we have and how much is acceptable to spend to market our product.

  Technically, the event is just for people to sample the variety of Kentucky bourbons available, but you can also get a full drink—one or two fingers, whichever you prefer.

  The bartender sees me, knows exactly who I am, and moves my way as soon as I take a stool at the middle of the bar. There’s no one else here and very few people linger in the lobby, since everyone made their way into Freedom Hall for the speeches.

  I expect that’s where Kat has gone and then hate myself for even spending a moment of thought on her. She’s the current reason I’m here and saying to the bartender, “Give me the Copper Still Reserve, neat.”

  He nods and bows slightly, as if I’m royalty. “Right away, Mr. Mardraggon.”

  I drum my fingers on the polished wood surface and when the crystal glass slides into my line of sight, I mutter my thanks.