Remi swallowed. Heat rushed to her face.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice neutral. “The Capital farm has been in the Brite family for 150 years.”

  “The parents are out since they’re probably in on this, whatever it is,” Merrick said. “And we can’t talk to the daughters. I banged two out of three of them and didn’t call after.”

  “Wait. When did that happen?”

  “What was that thing with the big hats you dragged me to in May?”

  “The Kentucky Derby?”

  “That.”

  “You had a threesome with two of the Brite daughters at the Kentucky Derby?”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “This is why I can’t take you anywhere. Okay, so the sisters are out.”

  “Two out of three are. Anyone else?” Merrick asked. “A trainer maybe? Maybe we can find a stable boy you can bat your tits and flash your eyelashes at.”

  “I doubt a groom would know anything.”

  “A higher up then? A secretary?”

  Remi shifted uncomfortably as her parents smiled for the dozens of cameras in the winner’s circle. Even Shenanigans seemed to be smiling.

  “Well…I guess we can talk to Julien Brite,” Remi said and a tiny tremor passed through her body as his name passed her lips.

  “Which one’s Julien?”

  “Julien is the son. He’s the youngest in the family.”

  “Never heard of him,” Merrick said.

  “He’s not in the business,” Remi said. “Not sure why. I don’t even know where he lives now.”

  “You know him?”

  “Sort of.”

  Merrick narrowed his eyes at her.

  “You sort of know him? Can you trust him?”

  “He’s the only member of the Brite family who doesn’t hate me,” Remi said, hoping that was true.

  “He sounds like our guy then. You want to find him and go talk to him about this stupid rivalry?”

  “Oh, he already knows about the rivalry,” Remi said with a heavy sigh. “But yes, he’s probably the only one in the Brite family we can talk to.”

  Remi stepped away from the rails and headed toward the clubhouse.

  “You said Julien isn’t involved in the business. How do you know he knows all about the rivalry?” Merrick asked as the crowd ahead parted for them. The grandstand might not know who she and Merrick were, but the clubhouse crowd certainly did. Tyson Balt, the owner of Verona Downs, eyed her warily. The feeling was entirely mutual. And up in the boxes she saw Mr. and Mrs. Brite giving an interview to a reporter as a camera recorded their every word. She glanced up at them. They glared down at her with unmistakable abject loathing.

  “Because,” Remi sighed. “Four years ago, Julien and I accidentally started it.”

  Vive La France

  On Friday morning, Remi and Merrick boarded an airplane to take them to Julien Brite. Halfway through the flight Remi realized she’d been digging her hand into Merrick’s knee for the past two hours. Flying didn’t scare her. She’d spent too many years on the back of high-jumping horses to be afraid of a little altitude. But even after four hours of smooth-sailing, Remi remained a rapidly fraying knot of tension.

  “Boss? You okay?” Merrick asked as he signaled the flight attendant for another drink. He was having way too much fun in first class, much more fun than she was. “I mean, I don’t mind that you’re squeezing my knee so hard I can’t feel my calf, but there are other body parts I could direct your attention to, if you’re interested.”

  “Steady as she goes.” Remi took his vodka out of his hand and chugged it.

  “Whoa, Nellie.” Merrick grabbed it back. “We’ve got five hours left on this flight.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “Take it. I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, you seem real fucking fine. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re the world’s worst liar?” Merrick asked. “You’re stressed about seeing this Julien guy again. Yes?”

  “A smidge,” she said. “A skosh. ”

  “Are you going to tell me why?”

  She shook her head.

  “Not if you won’t let me have your vodka.”

  He gave her the vodka.

  “Sip it and talk. You can’t say something like ‘Julien and I started this rivalry’ and sashay off all dramatic-like without telling me the story.”

  “It’s a humiliating story,” Remi said.

  “Miss?” Merrick addressed the passing flight attendant. “I’m going to need some popcorn.”

  “Merrick.”

  “Talk,” he said. “And don’t leave out any juicy details.”

  “I’m leaving out all the juicy details,” she said. “You get the bare bones.”

  “Is there boning involved in the bare bones?”

  “Almost,” she said, wincing. She took a steadying breath and focused her attention a moment on the hum of the airplane engines. It comforted her, the sound of the engines reminding her she was thousands of miles and years away from the time and place of her greatest humiliation.

  “Go on…” Merrick said.

  “This was back when I was in college. I’d come home for Christmas, and Mom and Dad dragged me to a big Christmas party at The Rails.”

  “That’s that huge horse farm in Versailles, yes?”

  “Yes, bigger than Capital Hills and Arden put together.”

  “Got it. So it’s Christmas. It’s a party. You’re what? Twenty?” Merrick asked.

  “Twenty-two,” she said. “It was a formal party so I had an excuse to buy an awesome dress. Jade strappy thing.”

  “Did it make your tits look good?”

  “Spectacular,” she said.

  “Continue, please.”

  “Anyway,” she said and paused to sip Merrick’s vodka. She hated the stuff but needed a little liquid fortification. “I was there about an hour before I saw this gorgeous guy. He was standing on other side of the room talking to a big hotshot Kentucky basketball player. So I assumed he was a Kentucky student, probably a freshman. He looked about eighteen, and he was drinking a glass of white wine. And he looked handsome in his tuxedo. He had messy red hair. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.”

  “Gross. Don’t touch people with your eyeballs.”

  “Figuratively couldn’t take my eyes off him,” Remi continued. “The truth was he took my breath away. He was so beautiful that I had to chug a whole glass of wine just to work up the courage to go talk to him.”

  “And you did, and he was smart and funny and nice and all that boring shit women love?”

  “All that and more,” Remi said. “We walked through the house together. Gorgeous house. Every room decorated in a different Christmas theme. It was like something out of a fairy tale or a movie. I’d never seen anything like it, never felt anything like it. The night was perfect. Ever have a moment so perfect that you know you’ll remember it the rest of your life while you’re still living in the moment?”

  Remi closed her eyes and found herself once more back in that house on that night. She and Julien stood by the fireplace mantel that was lined with a dozen yellow candles in antique brass candleholders. The room was filled with antique toys and a tree that soared all the way to the cathedral ceiling. The silver and gold stars on the tree reflected the dancing light from the fireplace. The moment was everything she’d ever wanted for Christmas but hadn’t known to ask for.

  “This guy must have been special,” Merrick said.

  “He was.” Remi knew she was the world’s worst liar. Might as well tell the truth. “I didn’t know how special he was because he only told me his first name—Julien. We talked about everything and nothing. I don’t even remember what we talked about. I just remember him telling me he thought I looked beautiful. Before I knew it, there we were, standing under the mistletoe.”

  “Best kiss ever?” Merrick asked.

  “Best kiss ever,” she agreed, remembering how Julien’s lips had shivered lightly at the first gentle contact. The gentleness quickly turned to passion and before she knew it, her arms were around his back and his mouth was on her neck, at her ear, at her throat. The kiss was like a gift she hadn’t even thought to ask for. Every Christmas since then she’d thought of Julien. The lights, the tree, the scent of pine and candles brought the memories back. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t imagine spending Christmas with Brian Roseland. Christmas was already claimed by Julien.

  “I’m guessing the inevitable happened,” Merrick said.

  “We found an empty guest room. I thought I remembered locking the door behind us.”

  Merrick cringed. “I see where this is going…”

  Remi nodded, her face flushing hot at the memory.

  “We kissed for a long time. Julien seemed a little nervous, and I didn’t want to rush things. But then he unzipped the back of my dress and I unbuttoned his shirt…and his pants…and then.”

  “And then?”

  “And then while I was touching him, he said something weird and I stopped.”

  “Weird? What? Did he deny the Holocaust or something?”

  “He said…’This feels better than I ever dreamed it would.’”

  Merrick cocked his head to the side.

  “Ever dreamed it would? You mean he’d never had a girl’s hand on his cock before?”

  “Exactly,” she said. “So I immediately sobered up and asked him how old he was.”

  “Oh fuck,” Merrick said.

  “Merrick, I was half-naked on a bed with the barely seventeen-year-old son of one of the most powerful families in Thoroughbred racing.”

  “Oops.”

  “Two seconds after I told him we had to stop, the door opened. My dress was down, his jacket was off, his shirt was open, his pants were unzipped…and his mother saw it all.”

  Merrick’s eyes went comically wide. Remi would have laughed but for the pain the memory still caused her.

  “How bad was it?” Merrick asked. She appreciated that he seemed to understand the gravity of the situation instead of making Mrs. Robinson jokes.

  “Bad. Julien’s mom had had a little too much Christmas punch. It turned into a screaming match that everyone at the party heard.”

  “Oh, that’s bad.”

  “Very bad. My parents showed up and started defending me. His parents called me every ugly name in the book. My father told Julien’s father, ‘Sir, control your wife.’ And five minutes later, my father and his father were fighting. Like physically fighting. Dad gave Mr. Brite a black eye and Mr. Brite gave Dad a bloody nose. It’s a miracle no one called the cops.”

  “Damn.”

  “The moms pulled the dads off each other but that almost turned into a cat fight until Mr. and Mrs. Railey showed up and calmed every down. Poor Julien was begging everyone to just shut up and leave us alone so he and I could talk. Instead his parents dragged him bodily from the room, and he’s apologizing to me the entire time. ‘I’m so sorry, Remi. I should have told you. I’m so sorry…’”

  She could still hear his hurt, humiliated words ringing in her ears.

  “And that started the feud?” Merrick asked.

  “That was the beginning. My parents were furious at the Brites for making a scene at the party and accusing me of seducing their baby boy. The Brites were furious at my parents because my parents blamed Julien for lying to me about his age. He didn’t lie, for the record. I didn’t ask him his age. Never occurred to me to ask until it was almost too late. And I just stood there in shock, saying nothing and feeling like I was going to puke and trying to get my dad not to kill his dad. I didn’t get to talk to him, tell him I was sorry, tell him goodbye even. It was awful.”

  “You didn’t do anything illegal,” Merrick said. “You were only twenty-two. And legal age in Kentucky is sixteen.”

  “Do I want to know why you have that legal factoid memorized?”

  “Nope,” he said. “So you never saw Julien again?”

  “My parents forbade me from contacting Julien. I haven’t seen him since that night. Not even at any of the races.” And she’d looked. At every race she’d looked. When their families had ripped them apart that night, it had left an open wound on her heart.

  “Where did he go?”

  She shrugged and tried not to care that she hadn’t seen or heard from him in four years.

  “He disappeared. And that was that. Except his family still hasn’t forgiven me for almost seducing their son, and my family still hasn’t forgiven them for publicly humiliating me at the party.”

  “Have you forgiven him?” Merrick asked.

  Remi smiled. “Julien didn’t do anything wrong. And while his mom was going batshit crazy on me calling me every possible variation of slut, whore, and harlot, he stood up to her and his dad and defended me.”

  “Harlot?”

  “I believe the words ‘blonde Jezebel’ were also employed. Julien told her off. He told everyone off.”

  “Like a man. I approve.”

  “He’s twenty-one now. I keep thinking I should…but it doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”

  Merrick looked at her with searching serious eyes.

  “You miss him,” he said. Remi didn’t bother to deny it.

  “I had a perfect moment with him. You don’t get many of those in your life.”

  “This was four years ago? You’d think your families would be over it after four fucking years.”

  “Judging by all the smack talk in the news, they aren’t. In that SI interview, Mrs. Brite called us the ‘white trash’ farm.”

  “Classy.”

  “Dad called the Brites ‘stuck-up snobs.’ I’m really hoping Julien hasn’t read that article.”

  “So what are you going to do when you see Julien again? Jump him?”

  Remi laughed at the ludicrousness of the suggestion. She hadn’t seen him in four years and the only reason she was seeing him now was to tell him their parents might be fixing races? Hardly cause for an erotic reunion.

  “I’ll do what I should have done years ago. I’ll tell him I’m sorry.”

  After what felt like a year in the air, the plane landed. They checked into their hotel and Remi gave Merrick the night off. It was Saturday after all. And all she wanted to do was sleep and recover from the flight. Merrick, however, had other plans.

  “Vive la France, remember?” Merrick grabbed her by the upper arms and forced a kiss on each of her cheeks. “When in Paris, do as the Parisians do.”

  “What do the Parisians do?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m hoping it involves getting Parisian drunk and getting Parisian laid. Not necessarily in that Parisian order.”

  “I’m not drinking with you. Or any of the other options.”

  “We need to find this Brite boy of yours. My sources tell me he’s a short Parisian cab ride away.”

  “Are you going to put ‘Parisian’ in front of every noun until we leave?” Remi asked as Merrick hailed a taxi.

  “That would be a Parisian yes. I mean ‘oui.’”

  Remi managed not to murder him during the ten minutes between their hotel and Julien’s building.

  “I think this is it.” Merrick said when the cab stopped in front of a nondescript three-story building. He paid the driver, which Remi thought was an unusually gallant gesture until she noticed Merrick was using her credit card. They stepped out onto a side street off the Rue de Furstemberg.

  Merrick half-escorted, half-dragged her to the door.

  “I think this is it. My sources tell me this is it,” he said. “And by ‘sources’ I mean the Brite family housekeeper.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “I can’t imagine any of the Brite family staying in someplace so normal. Well, normal for Paris, I mean.”

  “This has to be it. I paid ten whole dollars for his address.”

  “Your sources are cheap dates,” Remi said. “Let’s hope we got your money’s worth.”

  She rang the buzzer and dusted off her high school French.

  “Bonjour?” came a woman’s voice through the speaker. Woman? At Julien’s house on a Saturday night?

  “Bonjour,” Remi said, trying not to be bothered by the elegant voice. “Julien Brite, s’il vous plait?”

  “Your accent is terrible,” the woman answered in English.

  Remi laughed. “It’s French by way of a Kentucky high school. Is Julien in?”

  “He might be,” the woman said in a clipped tone. She had something of an accent too but neither French nor Kentuckian. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Remi Montgomery of Arden Farms. And-”

  “Come up please,” the woman said before Remi could even finish her speech.

  She looked at Merrick who smiled at her in return.

  “Look at you, Boss,” he said. “You’re famous.”

  The door buzzed and she headed up the stairs to an apartment on the third floor.

  Remi knocked and a woman answered the door. She looked about mid-thirties and was clearly of Indian descent even though her clothes—a boat neck shirt, white scarf, and stylish slacks—were pure Parisian chic. And she was beautiful beyond words. So beautiful even Merrick had gone speechless—something of a miracle.

  “Oh, holy Parisian shit,” Merrick finally said. So much for speechless.

  “Excuse me?” the woman asked.

  “You’ll have to forgive Merrick here,” Remi said, slapping Merrick on the back—hard. “You’re beautiful, and he’s a horrible person. Bad combination.”

  “Forgiven,” she said. “Salena Kar. I work for Julien. You’re Remi Montgomery?”

  “She is,” Merrick said. “And I’m Merrick Dearborn. I work for Remi. It’s like destiny, isn’t it?”

  “What is?” Salena asked as she waved them into the apartment. Remi noticed Salena was barefoot so she slipped off her own shoes and set them by the door.

  “I work for her. You work for Julien. It’s like we belong together, right?” Merrick asked.

  “Are you in love with me?” Salena asked, seemingly nonplussed by Merrick’s enthusiasm.