Home > The Billionaire's Unexpected Heir (Illegitimate Heirs #6)(19)

The Billionaire's Unexpected Heir (Illegitimate Heirs #6)(19)
Author: Kathie DeNosky

She stared at him for several long seconds before her stormy expression began to ease a bit. “Honestly, I really wasn’t in as much danger as it might have seemed, Jake.”

He crushed her to him. “Even the slightest chance of you being hurt in any way is one chance too many, honey.”

As his heart slowly returned to a more normal beat, he couldn’t get over the fear that had coursed through him when he saw the horse come so close to kicking her. It had rivaled the feeling he’d experienced a few days ago when he’d awakened to find his napping daughter missing from where she’d fallen asleep on his chest.

Before he could analyze what that might mean, he lowered his head to cover Heather’s mouth with his. He told himself that he needed to reassure himself that she was indeed all right. Yet the truth of the matter was he’d become quite good at looking for reasons to kiss her.

Soft and pliant, her lips immediately fused with his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. But when she used the tip of her tongue to invite him to deepen the kiss, her eager response to the caress sent blood surging through his veins and his body hardened so fast it made him dizzy.

As he slipped inside and teased, he slid his hands from her back to her delightful little blue jeans-clad bottom and tried to pull her even closer. But an insistent nudge against his legs had him breaking the kiss to look down at the big dog trying to work his way between them.

“Thank God Nemo came along when he did.” Heather’s cheeks colored a pretty pink as she glanced down the wide aisle to see if anyone had been watching.

“I thought you were supposed to be man’s best friend,” Jake groused when he bent to pick up his discarded coffee cup. He scratched behind the big dog’s ears. “How would you like it if I interrupted you and one of your female friends?”

“Since he’s been neutered, I doubt he’d care,” she said dryly.

“Nemo, buddy, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Jake said sympathetically.

She looked confused. “Why are you sorry he’s been neutered?”

“It’s a guy thing.” Jake shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“The vet just arrived,” Tony called from the opposite end of the stable, drawing their attention back to the matter at hand.

“Heather and I are going back up to the house,” Jake said before she could answer or find an excuse to stick around. “You assist him with whatever he needs.”

“No problem, boss.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she stated. “My job is to stay right here and see to Stormy Magic’s welfare.”

“Dr. Pennington has arrived and Tony will see that he takes good care of whatever treatment the animal needs.” Turning her, Jake put his arm around her shoulders and started walking them from the stable. “Besides, if you’ll remember, we have a dinner meeting with a couple of the other owners and then the Southern Oaks Ball to attend this evening.”

“You could go without me.”

“Nope. You agreed to be my date for these things. It’s too late to back out now.”

She shook her head. “It was more like you pulled rank and told me I was going.”

He chuckled. “Whatever. You’ll need to start getting ready early.”

“Why? We’re not meeting the other owners until seven this evening.”

“I was contacted this morning by the television network carrying the race. They want to interview us before dinner and get some footage for their Meet the Owners pre-race segment.”

“I don’t own Dancer. You do. There’s no reason for me to be included in that.” She shrugged from beneath his arm and stopping, glared at him. “Right after he was named the favorite to win the Classic, they showed up here to tape his daily exercises and grooming. They interviewed me then and I told them everything there is to know about Dancer.” She shook her head. “This particular fifteen minutes of fame is all yours.”

When Jake helped her out of the back of the limousine, Heather felt as if she’d stepped right into the middle of a three-ring circus. Cameras whirred and reporters called out questions as they walked along the carpeted runway toward the entrance of one of the oldest and most prestigious hotels in Louisville.

“This is just like a Hollywood premiere,” Jake said, placing his hand to her back to guide her.

“And the very reason I would have preferred staying at home,” she muttered. They’d spent an hour and a half before dinner being interviewed by the television network as well as a couple of reporters from the print media. She was more than ready to escape the spotlight.

“What was that, honey?” he asked, leaning close.

“It’s not important.” She wasn’t surprised he hadn’t been able to hear her. The noise was almost deafening.

Thankfully they left most of the chaos behind as they crossed the lobby to enter the Grand Ballroom. She waited while Jake presented the doorman with his invitation, then walking into the ornate room, looked around. The light from the massive crystal chandeliers caused the gold accents on the pristine white walls to take on a rich glow and complemented the heavy floor-to-ceiling red velvet drapes. As she continued to scan the room, she spotted a few of the same guests that had attended the Wainwrights’ reception along with several well-known celebrities and foreign dignitaries.

“Is that who I think it is?” Jake asked as a sheikh and his entourage strolled past them.

She nodded. “That’s Sheikh Kalid Al-Kahra. He owns Dancer’s biggest competition.”

“Do you think we have anything to worry about?” Jake asked.

“Not a chance.” She couldn’t stop her smug smile. “The sheikh’s jockey has a tendency to take the horses he’s riding to the lead right out of the gate and doesn’t let up. By the time they reach the home stretch, the horse has nothing left for the sprint to the finish.”

“I’m glad that jockey is riding the sheikh’s horse and not ours,” Jake said, grinning.

“The previous owner of Hickory Hills demanded the best. That’s why we have Miguel Santana wearing our silks.” She nodded toward a group standing off to the side of the orchestra. “See that distinguished-looking gentleman over there with all the medals and ribbons? He’s the Crown Prince of Marunda. He owns the long shot.”

“The Wainwright affair was small potatoes compared to the company we’re keeping this evening,” Jake said, accepting champagne for both of them from a passing waiter. “There are some very impressive pedigrees here this evening.”

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