‘It’s hot in here, isn’t it?’ she said, finding it hard to breathe suddenly.
‘Not overly so,’ Chico replied. ‘The temperature in here is controlled.’
Unlike her heart, she thought, feeling the effects of being trapped in a small stall with so much undiluted sex. Chico’s physical presence was overwhelming. Shoulders broad enough to hoist an ox, stomach flat, waist slim, from all his exercise on horseback—and, when he was hunkered down like this, a grandstand view of the tightest butt on earth. Added to which, a heavy-duty leather belt was drawing her gaze where it definitely shouldn’t wander. And his face—if Helen of Troy could launch a thousand ships, Chico Fernandez could launch a thousand erotic fantasies. He looked so stern, but his mouth was the mouth of a sensualist, and she loved his sharp black stubble. She had always loved his thick, wild black hair—
What was she thinking? She wasn’t a naïve girl now, daydreaming in the stables at Rottingdean. She was a woman with a goal, who had won a scholarship to Brazil, and who couldn’t afford to be distracted. What must she look like to Chico? Hot, sweaty, and grubby— Quite suddenly, she didn’t have confidence in anything—not in herself, or her work, or in her future. This wasn’t the youth she had made a friend of all those years ago. This was Chico Fernandez, acknowledged equine expert—and expert between the sheets too, she had no doubt; a man with testosterone flying off him like white-hot shards that pierced her body with sensation until she couldn’t think. Chico was said to be a man’s man; a lone wolf who ruled his territory like a feudal lord. Was she here to take him on? Was she going to suck him dry?
‘Not a bad job,’ he remarked, glancing up at her.
‘Really?’ The last thing she had been expecting from him was words of praise.
‘But not good enough for the standards we set here. That’s why you’ve come to train at Fazenda Fernandez, isn’t it, Lizzie?’
There was a flash of suspicion in his eyes, and for a moment she had no idea why she was here, only that she was mad to have come. Echoes from the past came back to haunt her—snatches of conversation, that she had barely understood as a young teen.
‘Are you listening, Lizzie? If you don’t pay attention, you’ll learn nothing.’
She shook herself round. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘If you intend to stay on here and complete the training—’
‘I will complete the training.’
Chico’s eyes sparked as he sprang up to confront her. A clash of wills was the last thing she had intended, but she had never learned how to admit defeat, and she was determined to achieve all her goals here, including keeping Chico Fernandez at arm’s length.
She regretted her outburst when she saw Chico’s expression turn cold. She would have to keep her feelings closely guarded in future.
‘You will attend my tutorial here, tomorrow morning, at six a.m. sharp,’ he said without a hint of warmth.
‘Yes. Of course.’
Her best guess was, Chico didn’t think she’d last the course, and he was notorious for failing students who didn’t make the grade. There were no second chances—except for Danny, who had somehow managed to get her heart broken by a polo player, and had been allowed to go home and restart this year.
From confronting him, she was thrown back into pleading her cause. ‘I just want to do my best for every horse.’