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Chapter One

"I won't let anything hurt you." Daisy Matthews finished wrapping the ankles of the chestnut mare and sat back on her haunches to evaluate her work. The mare's ankles were cooler than they had been two hours earlier.

It wasn't easy to convince a horse to stand in buckets of ice, but after three years of being a groom and an exercise rider she could do it about as well as anybody at Arlington Park. At least that's what her boss had said when he promoted her to assistant trainer.

Daisy grinned. There wasn't much prestige associated with being an assistant trainer for a fellow with a string of only twenty-some claimers and allowances horses, but it was something, particularly for a girl from the wrong side of the tracks.

RainbowBlaze took a step forward. "I know." Daisy groaned. "Step one: pay attention. Sorry, I got lost daydreaming. You're right. Taking care of you is an important job." She chuckled. "I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing."

"Hey kid, do you always talk to horses?"

The horse reared and pawed. "It's okay, girl." Daisy kept her voice soft and ran her hand slowly along the mare's neck.

When the mare had stopped trembling, Daisy stepped out of the stall, shaded her eyes from the sun and faced the interloper. She scowled at the man's new sneakers, monogrammed shirt and neatly pressed slacks. He looked liked he'd be more at home on a sailboat than in a barn.

The man peered over wire-rimmed glasses like he knew something she didn't. Or was he appraising her? Why? His dark hair set off a chiseled face; it was difficult to guess his age, but she could see a few gray hairs at his temples. He was money. Understated, but money. Probably the stock market. What was he doing in her barn?

She thrust her jaw at him. "So who the hell are you? Don't you know better than to sneak up on someone who's working with a horse?"

The man frowned and sputtered before speaking. "Sorry kid, I didn't mean to put you in danger. Don't know a damn thing about horses. I'll be the first to admit that."

Daisy exhaled slowly. "Okay, so why are you here?" She shifted her weight from foot to foot. An odd sensation swept over her--one she didn't like. This man, although ignorant as hell about horses and barn etiquette, had an air of confidence that suggested he knew he belonged--whether in the board room, on a sailboat, or even in her barn. His staring made her uncomfortable, and she didn't like being uncomfortable.

She knew how to protect herself from males; she'd been doing that for years. That wasn't the problem. The guy was probably old enough to be her father. But he was dangerous; she just didn't know how, yet. "And do you have a name? Who let you in here? You know you got to have a pass to be back here."

"Good God kid, do you always welcome people by putting your dukes up first?" The man dug a visitor's badge out of his pocket. "Will this help?" he asked, handing it to her. "The name's Nicholas Underwood. My friends call me Nick."

Daisy examined the badge as if it contained the stranger's DNA. She handed it back. "You should wear it so it shows."

* * *

Underwood grunted an expletive under his breath. He studied the combative young woman. If only his employees were as protective of his plant as this woman was of her horse.

How old was she? Maybe twenty-four, twenty-five. Too young. He scanned her tight, willowy frame. Damn, was she blushing?

Who would have guessed that a slight overbite could be so attractive? It set off an angular face and a slightly oversized nose; yet all was in balance as if sculpted by a skilled craftsman. Strawberry blond hair fell to her shoulders and swept across her forehead. She stood tall and lanky with medium breasts.

Not the kind of woman that usually appealed to him. He'd never been attracted to younger women, preferring women with experience.

So why was this willowy kid with straw sticking in her hair leaving him tongue-tied like some damn adolescent? Maybe the overly pungent horse odors clogged his good sense.

Nick breathed deeply and clipped the identification badge to his shirt pocket. "If that satisfies you, maybe you can help me. I don't think I'm lost. The guy at the gate said Barn D. By the way, what's your name?"

She pursed her lips as if he'd just asked for her most closely guarded secret.

"You know my name and have me at an advantage, kid. So who are you and what were you doing with that horse? I didn't know horses wore socks."

The young woman giggled. It was a low pitched sound that did nothing to soothe Nick's nerves. He'd obviously said something funny.

Willow, he decided he'd call her Willow.

She brushed hair away from her eyes before responding. "I'm Daisy. Daisy Matthews. I'm assistant trainer for Sam Gallagher." She crossed her arms across her mid-section. "They're not socks. I just finished wrapping her ankles to help bring some heat down."

Nick nodded. There was a lot to learn if he wanted to take horseracing seriously, which he wasn't convinced was desirable. He wouldn't be here at all, if it wasn't for Michael Barnes going belly up on him. Daisy Matthews. He shook his head. All he had to do was locate the damn horse, arrange for its sale and get the hell out of here. No more horses. No more Willow.

This niggling indecisiveness was bad and so out of character for him. Cool. Collected. Poised. Skilled. Powerful. That's how he saw himself, and it'd better be the way others saw him.

He plopped down on a bale of hay in the shadow of the stable. The woman frowned at him. Wasn't that why the bales were there? He'd seen people sitting on them once at the state fair.

"I think I should have worn a hat," he said in way of explanation. "It must be ten degrees cooler here in the shade."

"It gets hot and muggy in July in Chicago. A hat would've been a good idea. And if you ever come back, shoes or boots are better than sneakers. On shedrow you never know when you'll be in a position for a horse to step on you."

"I'll try to remember--if there is a next time. So tell me, where can I find a horse named RainbowBlaze?"

"RainbowBlaze!" Daisy gasped and glared at him again. "Why? What do you want with her?"

"Damn, you've got to be the most protective woman I've ever encountered. If you must know, she's my horse."

Daisy opened her mouth as if to speak. She glanced quickly at the chestnut mare. "There must be a mistake," she stammered. "RainbowBlaze belongs to Michael Barnes."

Nick crossed his legs and leaned against the stable wall, giving Daisy Matthews a slow satisfied smile. He'd found his horse. And he had a new employee. This could be more interesting than he'd imagined.

Furthermore, being his employee made Matthews safe to be around. He had a firm rule against personal involvements with employees. He flashed a look at the slender woman's nipples that showed faintly through an orange tank top. Didn't she know what she looked like?

Too young. He closed his eyes. He might be old enough to be her father. His eyes sprang open and he appraised her again. Maybe, maybe not.

"The horse did belong to Michael Barnes." Fright flickered across the blonde's face and quickly disappeared behind a steely gaze. "Mike's fallen on bad economic times. Turned out he couldn't pay his debts. Showed up at my office with a bill of sale for some damn race horse and begged me to take it to clear what he owed me. Against my better judgment, I agreed." Nick raised his open palms upward. "So, here I am."

Daisy's hands, resting at her sides, curled into fists.

"You look like you'd like to slaughter me for your supper." Nick stood. Ignoring the woman, he pointed at the horse with the oversized socks. "So I take it this is RainbowBlaze." He glanced back over his shoulder at the woman. She gulped and nodded. "Is the horse any good? How much can I get for her?"

Daisy sputtered and Nick suppressed a laugh.

"She's a damn good mare. She'll run her heart out for you, if you treat her right. But she won't work just for anyone."

"Sounds like you've got a thing for my horse, kid."

"Suppose so." Daisy studied the dirt at her feet. "I've known her since she was foaled. Was there to help her mother give birth. I've been there every step of the way when Rainbow was with Cassie Travers, and then when Michael Barnes bought her it was with the understanding that she'd come to Sam's barn and be with me."

When the woman stopped to catch her breath, Nick said, "You didn't answer my question. How much is she worth?"

Daisy shrugged. "Maybe," her voice quaked, "fifty thousand. Maybe more."

"Hmm. Michael said a hundred grand."

He watched the spirit flow out of the young woman. Her glistening eyes grabbed at something inside him that he hadn't experienced for a long time. Not thinking, he reached for her chin.

"That horse," he said softly, "means a lot more to you than a hundred grand, doesn't it?"

Daisy nodded, pulling away from his fingers and rubbing her eyes with her knuckles. "She's family," she mumbled. Then her watery eyes hardened. "But she's your horse, your property to sell or do with whatever you want."

"Exactly." So why did he feel like some kind of lowlife because he wanted to sell his own horse?

He glanced up and down the barn area where men and women were brushing, bathing or walking horses. The place was alive; he liked that. He kept his eyes on the strawberry blonde fighting desperately to maintain her composure. He wondered what it would feel like to be loved as much as she loved that four legged beast.

Hell, he'd always prided himself on being a risk-taker. He didn't have that much to lose, really. And maybe he could have some fun and learn a few things at the same time. He already liked teasing his newest employee--that was worth something. She tried so hard to be tough, yet he bet she had a heart the size of Texas. He smiled. Wasn't that a horsey thought?

Meeting Daisy eye to eye, he said, "Okay kid, I've got a deal for you."

"I couldn't come close to buying Rainbow if I lived to be a hundred."

Nick let his chin fall against his chest. "That's not the kind of deal I had in mind."

Daisy rolled her eyes and reached for a pitchfork sticking out of a nearby hay bale. "I'm not that kind of woman, old man. You're old enough to be my father."

"What!?" Nick wrenched the fork away. "That's not what I had in mind either." He let out a ragged breath. "I might be old, but I wasn't that precocious."

He scowled at her. He half expected her to stick her tongue out at him. "What I had in mind was this kind of deal. If you can convince me why I should get involved in horseracing as a serious venture, then I won't sell Blaze and you can keep her in your care."

Daisy bristled. "Her name is Rainbow."

"Her name is RainbowBlaze. You call her what you want. I'm calling her Blaze. If she takes after her trainer at all, then I think that name is quite appropriate."

Daisy shrugged. "So what do I have to do?"

"Don't sound so excited. I don't know. How would you sell me on horseracing? Show me the place."

"Haven't you ever been to a race track?"

He shook his head.

Daisy rolled her eyes skyward. "Then you haven't lived."

Nick laughed. "Apparently I've lived many more years than you, according to your own assessment."

Blushing, Daisy asked, "How long do I have? If I accept your deal."

"By the end of the day."

"What? That's not possible."

"I'm a busy fellow."

"Right. The races will start in another two hours. A quick barn tour will have to do." She gave him a quirky smile. "Soon we have to get you a hat or you'll be fried."

Nick smiled and reached for her hand. "Good idea. Come on, I'll buy you lunch. They must have a gift shop over there somewhere. We can do the barn tour later."

Jerking her hand out of his, Daisy cried, "Wait! I've got responsibilities here. I can't just run off. I've got to tell Sam what's up. If he's not around, then I'll leave a message with a groom. Besides, you should meet Sam."

"Not yet. Nope, the deal is with you, not with Sam. You do what you have to do and I'll wait for you here in the shade."

The lanky woman scurried down the length of the barn and around a corner. Even flustered she moved with an unpretentious grace. She had to stand nearly six feet; he was six foot two and he didn't have to look down at her at all. She was a lot of woman. He didn't consider himself a betting man, but he'd bet a ton of money that Daisy Matthews could be quite convincing. So what kind of future did he have in horseracing?

* * *

Leaning against the barn for much needed support, Daisy pressed her throbbing temples. What in the hell had she gotten into now? Deal. Bullshit. The man already planned to sell Rainbow; he just enjoyed torturing women.

What choice did she have? She'd do most anything to stay with Rainbow. They'd been together since she moved out of the group home to live with Cassie and Clint Travers. Taking a kid from the inner city of Chicago to a quiet horse farm in McHenry County had been quite a reach. But it had worked. From that moment on, horses had become her lifeblood. And RainbowBlaze stood above all others. Rainbow was the first foal she'd helped birth.

Now she had to deal with Nicholas Underwood. What a pretentious name! She'd wanted to rip his glasses off and stomp on them. But she hadn't. Cassie would say that she was learning to live within herself, within her emotions. Sounded like just so much social work bullshit. But Cassie had been a good social worker when she worked at the group home and she was now one of the best horse trainers in the Chicago area. And Daisy owed her a lot--even her life.

No, she could handle the Nicholas Underwoods of the world. She'd seen a lot worse. She'd survived a lot worse.

* * *

Daisy couldn't stop grinning at Underwood who was stuffing half a hotdog overflowing with mustard and relish into his mouth. Mustard oozed out across his lips. His tongue flicked out to retrieve the yellow goo. He might be wealthy, but he certainly didn't act like how she thought rich folks behaved. At this moment he seemed more like a kid than she did.

"Haven't you ever seen a man eat a hotdog before?" he growled at her.

Daisy glanced down at her food and laughed. "I never paid that much attention, but you do put on quite a show."

"One of my mottos is that life ought to be enjoyed. I don't eat just to survive; I eat to have pleasure."

"The Buddhists claim that you ought to take time and enjoy each bite of food."

Reaching for a second hotdog, Nick muttered, "To each his own."

Daisy picked up a potato chip. "Maybe it's the hat. It makes you look younger."

Nick pulled on the brim of the long billed Arlington Park cap. "Well, in that case, it was the best purchase of the day." His eyes sparkled. "I wouldn't want you to start calling me Gramps."

Daisy ignored his humor and began explaining how to read the racing program. Later, on their way to the stands, she'd stop at the windows and show him how to place bets.

Underwood was a good listener. He seemed quite interested in horseracing. That was good; that increased the chances of holding on to RainbowBlaze.

"So how do you know so much about Buddhists?"

"What?" Hadn't he been listening at all?

"You said the Buddhists think you should take time to enjoy each bite. Are you Buddhist?"

"No. I read a lot."

"On religion." She heard the incredulity in his voice.

"Among other things. Shakespeare. Chaucer. Wolfe. Twain. Contemporary romance. Westerns. And of course anything to do with horses and horseracing. I like to read."

"Sounds like an English major."

Daisy blinked. "I'm majoring in English, at the U."

She smiled at Underwood's raised eyebrows. Now why did she enjoy surprising him?

"You go to college and work here full-time?"

Daisy sipped her Coke. Did he think she was just a kid off the street? "The track is full-time. I try to take a course a semester. In the winter, I can squeeze in a little more, since things are slower at the track."

"So what do you plan to do with your degree?"

"Do I have to do something with it?" She handed him a napkin. "You missed some."

"Where?"

"There." She pointed to the right corner of his mouth.

He wiped the left corner.

"No," she said, grimacing. She picked up a second napkin and leaned across the table to wipe off the remaining mustard. He gave her a wicked grin and a laugh bubbled from his lips.

"You! You knew what I meant all along. Why do you enjoy teasing me so?"

"Because you react so spontaneously."

She gave him her best pout.

"Seriously, what do you expect to do with your degree?"

"Train horses. What else? I like to read. Cassie told me college wouldn't hurt if I never did anything particular with the degree or even if I never finished."

"That's twice you mentioned this Cassie person. Sounds pretty important to you."

"You bet." Daisy dropped her gaze momentarily. "I lived with her and her family for a few years. And she taught me just about everything I know about horses."

"Sounds like she taught you a few things about life too."

Daisy nodded. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Maybe I'll meet her, if I hang around the track or around you long enough."

What would Cassie Travers make of the man under the long billed cap? "Be careful, Daisy, girl," she'd say.

"My mother would agree with you and Cassie, by the way."

"Huh?"

"You don't listen too great, Matthews," Nick responded, draining his second cup of coffee. "I said my mother would agree with you. She's an English professor at the University of Minnesota."

"Really?"

Nick nodded. "She thinks people ought to read the classics and contemporary stuff and just about anything written in order to be well rounded."

Daisy glanced at her watch and then started clearing the table. "We better go. It's a half hour til post time. I hope you'll like the races."

"What I've seen of the track so far is impressive. Very clean. Staff seems welcoming and professional. And there's a pulse about the place that's appealing. Lead on, fair lady, and your eager protégé shall follow."

* * *

"So in this first race, which horse do you like best? I rather like the sound of MoonofGold." Nicholas sat next to her in the Arlington Park grandstands.

Daisy gave him a shocked look. He looked completely serious. She giggled. The man knew absolutely nothing about horses or horseracing. She hadn't been able to show him the barn area--that would have to wait for another day. She hoped there'd be another day. He couldn't sell RainbowBlaze; she wouldn't let him.

"I don't think he has much of a chance. He hasn't won a race in three years," she said, pointing to the Daily Racing Form spread across her lap. "He's only cheap speed. He'll run flat out for about four furlongs and then start going backward."

"How do you know all of that?"

"By going over this information on the horses' past performances. There's not enough time to teach you now, but trust me, if you want to be successful at the track over the long haul you'll have to arm yourself with a lot of data, wade through it and then make your best judgment."

He leaned over to get a closer look. Goosebumps. Daisy cocked her head at the man. She didn't get goosebumps unless it was in the winner's circle, or maybe very early when the sun was rising over the track. She did not get goosebumps because of a man, and particularly an older man. Although he did look younger as the afternoon wore on. Must be the hat.

Nick shook his head. "You're right, there's not enough time. But I definitely want to learn, if I decide to stay in this game." He stared blankly at Daisy. "Who has the best chance in your judgment?"

"MisterJames is the six to five favorite and on paper looks like the horse to beat."

"But you don't think he'll win."

"Nope. He's a speed horse, and there are three other speed horses who will be battling for the lead. I think the winner will be a patient horse who can come from behind--like the ten horse, BreezySurprise. I also saw the favorite during his last workout. He ran too fast. The exercise rider couldn't control him. I don't think he saved enough for the race."

"You're talking in a language I don't fully understand, but I'm getting the gist of it. So what would you bet?"

"If I give you the winner, it's only right to split the winnings," she kidded, wrinkling up her nose. "I'd put two on the ten to win. He's eight to one so will give you a nice return, if he wins."

"You're not certain?"

"Of course not. This is horseracing."

"Okay. Sounds like the stock market, but what the hell. I'll go make the wager."

* * *

Daisy tried not to stare at Underwood. The man must have an iron stomach; he had returned with a salty pretzel and a box of popcorn. "You must really like junk food."

"Not my typical fare," he responded, offering her some popcorn. "But I like to pig out now and then, particularly when I'm nervous. I'll work it off tomorrow."

She didn't doubt that. She hadn't seen any spare fat on the guy. "They're entering the gate," she said, pointing across the infield.

The starting bell clanged and the race was off. Daisy kept one eye on the horses and the other on her enthralled student. The muscles in his neck tightened and his eyes narrowed. He stood when every one else stood to get a better view of the horses coming down the homestretch. Unlike most fans, he said nothing. His mouth fell open when the number ten horse swept past the favorite in the final sixteenth to win easily. At least he wasn't going to be one of those gushy fans who screamed at their favorite horse when he got stuck in the middle of the pack. Daisy liked that.

He turned and caught her up in a bear hug; his lips brushed her cheek. Before she had a chance to pound his shoulder she was back on her feet. His grin split his face in two.

"That was spectacular," he hollered, leaving his arm around her shoulders. "I've never seen anything like it. Such power. Determination. Guts. My God, why didn't somebody tell me about this before?"

She watched Underwood nod at the horse standing in the winners circle as if he were acknowledging a champion. What did the man really see in the horse? Certainly, more than the casual fan. Whatever, she was thrilled and it didn't even bother her that he hadn't let her go.

"And you," he said, staring at her with bright shining eyes, "you're a guru. You had that race pegged."

Flushed by his admiration, Daisy countered, "Just don't count on that happening. We lose more often than we win."

"Yeah, but what a thrill it is to win. I couldn't believe how that horse was straining to get ahead. So do I collect our winnings now?"

"Sure. I don't see another worthwhile bet until the fifth race. I'll handicap that one while you're gone."

* * *

Daisy glanced up from the Form when Nick returned. He sat down looking quite pleased with himself. Once she'd finished her handicapping, she set the papers down and sipped her drink. She leaned back and swept her eyes across the tote board, the pond, and the horses coming onto the track.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was about as good as it got. She didn't spend enough time sitting in the stands and appreciating the races. Usually, there wasn't enough opportunity.

Clearly, Underwood was enjoying his first day at the races. The odds of keeping RainbowBlaze had rocketed. Daisy's skin warmed.

"Oh," Underwood said, reaching into his pocket. "I forgot. Your share of the winnings."

Daisy held out her palm and he placed in it a stack of bills. Her mouth went dry. Her eyebrows narrowed. "What's this?" she managed to say.

"There you go, kid. Not listening again. I said it's your share of the winnings. You said two hundred on the ten to win. I thought that was a little light. So I put four hundred on him to win. There should be a little less than two thousand there. Not bad, I'd say."

"I can't take this," Daisy stammered, shrinking into the chair. "I meant two dollars, not two hundred. Good grief! I'd never bet two hundred dollars on a horse."

She shoved the money toward him. He closed her fingers over the bills and pushed her hand back on her lap. "It's yours, fair and square. You said yourself that if the horse wins we split the winnings."

"But I meant a two dollar bet," she squeaked.

"So, I misunderstood." He squinted and thinned his lips. "Of course, you wouldn't want to make me feel too stupid and utterly terrible about this whole horseracing thing."

Daisy shook her head. "I think I'm going to be sick," she mumbled.

She didn't resist when Nick grabbed her by the hand and helped her up the stairs to an inner lobby. Leaning against a cool marble wall, she slid to the floor. She held her head between her knees while he rubbed her taut neck muscles.

Two thousand dollars. She'd never held that much money in her hand. At least her stomach was settling some. It must have been a bad hotdog. She was about ready to float. She tried to open her eyes, but couldn't. It was his fingers. What were they doing to her neck? To her body? Good grief, what was happening to her?

"Why don't we get you outside," he said. His words were soothing, like a cool cloth on a hot forehead. "Maybe back to the barn. Do you think you can stand?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to form a single word. He held her firmly as they made their way back toward shedrow. By the time they got halfway there, she could breathe again.

"Sorry about that back there," she said, gruffly. "I'm not the swooning type."

Nick leaned back and laughed. "I never thought you were, kid. Anything but. You probably had some bad food."

She looked quickly at him and knew he was teasing her again. Without forethought, she punched his bicep. Her fist met rock-hard muscle.

"So how do you make all of this money?" she asked, not attempting to hide the accusation.

Again, Nick laughed. "It's all legitimate, kid; you haven't fallen into the hands of the crime syndicate." He sobered. "Most of it was made investing in the stock market--my money and other folks' money. Lately, I've gotten out of that line of work." He glanced at Daisy. "I own a canoe factory."

"Really?"

"Yep, handcrafted, very expensive canoes. You ever canoed?"

"Nope. I've hardly been out of the Chicago area. I don't imagine there's a big demand for canoes here."

"Actually, there is. A lot of our buyers vacation in Northern Minnesota or maybe Wisconsin or Michigan. You really should try canoeing."

"Why? I'm too clumsy for that."

"Nonsense. You carry yourself with the grace of a tall woman who is comfortable with her body. You must drive the young studs up the wall. I suspect anyone who can be so at ease with horses can manage a canoe. And I think you'd love the serenity of it. Hang around me long enough and you'll find yourself in a canoe. You can count on that."

Daisy smiled to herself. She knew about as much about young studs as she did about canoeing, but she wasn't going to tell Nicholas Underwood that. Did he find her appealing?

* * *

Daisy lengthened her stride until she and Nick came to a halt in front of RainbowBlaze's stall. The horse stepped forward, obviously expecting a treat; Daisy didn't disappoint her.

"So," she said, not meeting Nick's eyes, "what's your plan? Are you going to keep RainbowBlaze?"

A slow grin crossed Nick's lips. "I'm not sure I got a whole day's tour."

The blood seeped from the lanky woman's face. "Okay," he said, "I won't leave you hanging. Yeah, you've done a very convincing job. Two things stood out, really. First, listening to you talk to that horse earlier today before you knew I was standing here. I'm envious of that kind of relationship. Second, watching that number ten horse strive to win was something I'll never forget. I appreciate that desire."

"So you'll keep Rainbow?"

"I'll make a deal with you. I'll keep Blaze on two conditions."

Now why was she frowning? Would the woman ever learn to trust him? But then maybe she shouldn't. "First, you will continue to educate me regarding horses. How to be a heads-up owner. I'll likely want to expand. Don't look so shocked. You'll learn, kid, I never do anything half way. When I decide I want something, I go after it."

So why was she blushing again? "Second, you will teach me how to read that newspaper you were reading today--that form that looked like a jumble of numbers and letters to me. Do you agree?"

"Of course. I can do all of that, if you have the time. And it will take much of my time, too."

"Good. To cement the deal, when I draw up the papers on RainbowBlaze you will appear as twenty percent owner."

"What?" Daisy gasped. "You can't..."

"Listen, kid, I'm beginning to think you're a slow learner. Don't tell me what I can't do." Nick took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the dust from his glasses; he studied the woman to see if she was again in danger of fainting.

"It's only good business. You know the horse business. I don't. But I do know that if someone owns a piece of the action, they'll likely make the wisest possible decisions about their investments."

"Do the people who build your canoes own part of the business?" Her brow furrowed.

"You don't miss much--but in fact, they do. I'm a firm believer in that principle. So is it a deal?"

Daisy stared into the stall at RainbowBlaze for the longest time. Was she afraid of him or of something else? A full two minutes passed before she responded.

"Okay," she said, quietly. "What choice do I have? I still don't understand any of this. I don't know what you're really after."

"There is one stipulation I make with all my employees."

"What's that?"

"If they sell out, they have to sell to me. I don't want strangers owning any part of my businesses."

Nick glanced at his watch and shook his head. "I've got to get going. I'll catch up with you later, kid. Since we have a deal, you just go ahead and do what you were doing with Blaze. I'll have the papers ready for you to sign before the end of the week. Then we can work out a schedule for my equine education."

Uneasy with his own bravado and sudden awkwardness, he stared at Daisy. "This was one of the most enjoyable days I've had in a long time, kid. Keep up the good work."

Daisy waved in response, slumped down on a bale of hay and watched the strange man--no, her new partner--disappear down the alleyway and into the parking lot.

Had she been dreaming? She touched the wad of money in her pocket. It was there. She didn't have to count it. That would cover a good amount of tuition and books. She scratched her head with both hands. Did she believe in fairy godmothers or godfathers? Not hardly.

Holy Moses, she owned part of RainbowBlaze. She gawked at the sleek animal. Rainbow's large brown eyes had a special gleam in them as if she knew what had transpired. Daisy began to giggle. This had been an incredible day.

She sobered, remembering his fingers massaging her strained neck muscles and her breasts crushing into his chest after their horse won. The man might be a businessman, but he was powerfully built. And he walked like he knew where he was going but was in no particular hurry to get there. Had he been as aware of her body as she had been of his?

She recalled his gentle touch. Heat raced through her veins. Her nipples tightened. Daisy closed her eyes and shook her head. It couldn't be. She couldn't be attracted to Nicholas Underwood. He was too...

She didn't know what it'd feel like being attracted to a man. A slow grin worked its way across her lips. If this tingling was part of the attraction, then it wasn't all bad.

Chapter Two

"Why can't I think straight?" Daisy sprang off her living room loveseat and headed for the tiny kitchen in her first floor Cicero apartment. It was an eat-in kitchen only because she ate on a card table. She pried open a can of pop and swallowed deeply.

How many times had she rerun the events of the day? They still seemed beyond her wildest dreams. She owned part of Rainbow. And she'd tucked two thousand dollars away in the bank.

She wandered back through the small dining room. The room served as an office with a desk, computer, lo-tech sound system, and several bookcases. No space remained for dining, but then she seldom had visitors. She plopped back down on the off-white loveseat only to immediately jump up and move to the matching wing chair.

Then there was the man. Nicholas Underwood. Brash. Gentle. Demanding. Laid back. Old, yet maybe not too old. He was a paradox.

She chewed her lower lip. Could he be the one?

Not in a romantic mushy sort of way. But in a practical way. Somehow, sometime she wanted to learn about those things that could happen between a man and a woman. She'd batted away every male, young or old, who had noticed her since she was ten. She intimidated males. For the most part that was good. Her grandmother would be proud.

The fact that their worlds were so different made a man like Nicholas Underwood safe. They couldn't share any long term future. She could help him out; maybe he'd be able to help her out.

Her birthday wasn't far off. She'd probably be the only twenty-one year old virgin in Cicero if not all of Chicago. She wanted to experience being a woman before her birthday.

She'd studied several educational sex videos again and again. They'd been helpful, but only to a point. She'd have to decide fairly soon what to do with Nicholas Underwood. For now he made an intriguing horseracing partner. She hugged herself. Would he make an equally intriguing partner in bed?

Yes or no, at least he'd be experienced. She wasn't about to give what her grandmother had called her most "prized treasure" to some bumbling kid or some horny macho man. She'd learned enough from those videos to know she was looking for a gentle, skilled lover. Maybe she'd finally found him.

What would Specs think of her small abode? It would probably look like a cell compared to his palatial surroundings. He never had said where he lived, but then neither had she.

The apartment buzzer rang. Daisy walked to the entry and peeked through the peephole. She groaned. Maxine and Reggie. Her brother-in-law had a nose for money; thank goodness she'd stopped at the bank and deposited her cash before coming home.

Daisy opened the door and Maxine led the way in. Reggie Lassiter followed her sister like a dog on a fresh scent.

"How are you, baby?" Maxine said, her voice only slightly slurred. It was still early in the evening. "We were nearby and thought we'd check in on my little sister."

"Right."

"Get me one of my beers." Reggie looked like a dark-haired, overweight nose tackle for the Chicago Bears. In his dreams, Daisy chuckled to herself on her way to the kitchen for his beer. She kept her fridge stocked for just such occasions. It didn't pay to get Reggie angry at her--or at her sister.

She retraced her steps and handed each of her guests a beer.

Maxine took three swallows from the bottle before asking, "So have you been keeping busy?"

"There's plenty of work at the track and there's always homework."

Her petite sister twisted the loops of her purse nervously. Perspiration shone under the dark ringlets on her forehead. This wasn't just a social visit. Daisy knew the signs by now. They wanted something.

Maxine was her half sister; even then it was difficult to think of her as kin. She was older. She'd hit the streets right after their grandmother's funeral when Daisy was twelve. Social services had taken Daisy to a group home.

Maxine and Reggie had never wanted anything to do with her even after they married. Not until she'd gotten a steady job working for Sam Gallagher. Reggie Lassiter seldom inspired confidence. After meeting Reggie, Cassie Travers refused to let the man on her property.

Daisy scowled. Why couldn't Maxine get her life together? Why couldn't she dump Reggie and move on? She was hooked, that was why. On booze, on drugs, on Reggie Lassiter.

"You're giving me that condescending look again," Maxine complained. "Why do you always have to look like you think you're better than me?"

Daisy blinked. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to do that. So what have you guys been up to?"

"Hanging." Reggie snickered.

"My Reggie lost his job again. Thought maybe you could help us out," Maxine purred. "Winchel's won't give me an advance. Said I already owe them. Don't remember getting the advance before. They treat their waitresses like shit anyway. So will you help?"

"How much do you need?"

"How much you got?" Reggie ran his eyes up and down her body like he was undressing her. Daisy flinched. She was sure Reggie ogled her to make Maxine jealous.

"Not enough, I'm sure. I can loan you twenty-five until you get paid," Daisy said to Maxine.

"That's chicken shit," Reggie growled, lurching to his feet. "Look at this place. You make more money in a week than we see in a month. Thought you took family responsibilities seriously. You're always talking about family. So do something about it."

Daisy didn't stir. "I've got twenty-five dollars. You're welcome to borrow it or not. Maxine, will that help?"

"Yes darling, that will help a lot. Reggie," she said, pulling him back down beside her, "we've got to be grateful that Daisy wants to help at all. Your family certainly doesn't."

"What family?" He spat the words out. "All right, it's better than nothing, but not by much. How about some tips?" His voice turned sugary. "You're an insider now, Daisy Matthews. You gotta see some hot horses."

Daisy shook her head. How many times had they been around this one? She knew Reggie. If she gave him betting tips, he'd hold her responsible for how the horses ran and expect even more.

Reggie glared at Maxine for support.

"Daisy, he's not asking for money. Just for some help, some advice. He can make his own bets. Can't you honey?" She rested her head on Reggie's shoulder.

Daisy tried not to gag.

"I'll get the bets down. Just tell me who to bet on."

"Like I've said before, horseracing isn't that predictable."

"He knows that," Maxine replied, squeezing Reggie's hand. "My man knows how things go down. Don't you dear?"

"That I do." He glared at Daisy. "This time I expect results, or someone may get hurt."

"Ouch," Maxine yelped, "don't squeeze my hand that hard."

"Sorry," he said, looking directly at Daisy. "Sometimes a guy just doesn't know his own strength."

Daisy closed her eyes. The man didn't have a subtle bone in his body. Either give Reggie some possible winners, or her sister would be hurt. Not that it would be a new experience for Maxine. Against her better judgment, she caved in.

"Okay, I'll give you three to five runners a week that appear ready to win. You know that doesn't mean they'll win."

Both Reggie and Maxine nodded. "You make your own bets, however you manage that, but not through me. I could get in trouble with my boss for that. I don't have time to run to the betting windows on race day."

"No problem. I can handle that." Reggie stood. "I'll drop by and get the picks Wednesdays."

"No!" Daisy jumped to her feet, towering over her beefy brother-in-law. "I'll leave messages on your answering machine. My work is so erratic I'm never certain when I'll be home."

"That'll be just fine, Daisy." Maxine rose and hugged Daisy loosely. She stood back and looked up at Daisy. "I never will understand how you got so tall and me so short. Mama was average height, but daddy was short."

Daisy snorted. "At least you know who your daddy was."

"Yours must have been a pro basketball player." Reggie laughed. "I hear your mother was a professional too."

"Reggie!" Maxine pulled her husband toward the door.

Daisy clenched her teeth and kept her hands to herself.

"Don't mind him," Maxine said. "Mama loved both of us. You know that. She did the best she could."

The door shut quietly. Daisy laid her forehead against the door jamb and let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. She ran her fingers through her hair and walked back into the living room. Giving up on studying, she picked up the trash, turned off the lights and headed for her bedroom. A good novel might help remove the foul taste her sister and brother-in-law so often left in her mouth.

She changed into a sleeping shirt and pulled back the futon covers. Daisy smiled and drank in the warmth of her bedroom. She'd had a choice of a rental with two small bedrooms or one large. She'd opted for the latter.

It was her favorite room in the apartment. From her bed she could see her reflection in the mirrored closet doors at the end of the futon. In a corner near it stood a stuffed chair and a reading lamp. A small TV and VCR sat on a dresser in the opposite corner. Someday she'd break down and buy a proper bed, but she liked her simple futon floor mattress. It didn't require much upkeep. Another reading lamp stood between the bed and a four shelf bookcase.

The bedroom was light and breezy. She'd wallpapered the room with a simple floral design of daisies--her favorite flower. They made her feel special, like someone loved her.

She crawled under the covers and hugged Bear to her chest. Maxine was right. She knew their mother had loved them. There were good memories from when she was quite young. Times when her mother would read a children's story at bedtime.

And then everything had gone wrong. Her mother began working nights. Too many men came to visit. Most ignored the gangly string bean of a girl, yet they still managed to scare her.

She'd only been seven when she found her mother lying naked on the kitchen floor. The woman who had read bedtime stories to her was no longer breathing.

Grandmother Matthews loved her. She knew that to be true. Daisy hugged Bear tighter. Her grandmother had been a solid rock and had taught her basic values. While Maxine had given their grandmother a difficult time, Daisy had listened and wanted to please. Grandmother Matthews was family.

Tears stung her eyes as she remembered her grandmother's death--another death that turned her life upside down.

Raul and Cassie loved her. Raul Hernandez would love any stranded dog. He was the nicest man, and she was lucky that it was his group home where she'd been sent. That's where she met Cassie Travers, her social worker, foster mother and mentor.

Yes, she'd grown up hard and had to defend herself from an early age, but she did know something about love. And then there were the horses; they knew how to love. And there was Bear, a gift from her mother so many years before. Things could have been much worse.

She drifted off to sleep. The image of a tall dark-haired man with glasses offered his hand. She reached for it, but sleep overcame her before she could feel his skin touching hers.

* * *

By Saturday night, Daisy was beginning to wonder if she'd imagined Nicholas Underwood. She sat at her desk; the words on the book she'd been studying blurred. Underwood intruded into her thoughts far too often.

The phone rang; she let the answering machine take it.

"Hey kid, you still alive?"

Daisy laughed at the voice. Should she pick up the phone? She didn't want to appear too eager, but then she didn't want to seem irresponsible either.

She lifted the receiver. "I'm here." Her voice felt more husky than normal. "How did you get my number?"

"Ah, you are there. Hoped you hadn't gone to bed yet. Figured mornings wouldn't be a good time to catch you at home. Hell, you're my employee. I know all your numbers."

"Do I get yours?"

"Didn't know you could be coy, kid. Of course. I'll give you a list. There may be occasions when one of us will have to cancel. I don't have a lot of time to waste with missed appointments and I don't imagine you do either."

Daisy listened to his breathing; her own lungs strained.

"Are you phone shy? You were more talkative the other day."

"No, I don't think so."

"Am I interrupting something? It is Saturday night. You don't have a passionate date going on there do you?"

"No. Not hardly. I thought you'd call at the barn."

"I'll call you when I can wherever you are. I've got Blaze's papers drawn up waiting for your signature. You'll have to fill out owner forms for the track before she can race again. I sent mine in yesterday. They already have a security check done on you, so it shouldn't take but a day or two. I've got to run over to the Twin Cities for business Monday so will leave tomorrow to say hi to the folks. Should be back Wednesday. I'd like to get with you sooner, but can't. God, I feel like I'm rattling on like a teenager."

Daisy chuckled. "You are." She looped the phone cord around her elbow, carried the phone into the living room, plopped down on the loveseat and draped her long legs over its arm. "Do you still want me to teach you stuff about horses and handicapping?"

"Sure do, teach. I'm sure you have your hands full in the mornings. How about Thursday...?"

She heard him rummaging, probably through his appointment book. "How about two o'clock? I've got the rest of the day open. How's that for you?"

Daisy didn't have to check her book. "It looks good for me. Why don't you come to Barn D? We can start from there."

"Great. I'm going to have a messenger bring by Blaze's papers for you to sign. The sooner we get the paperwork completed the quicker she can race again."

"You know where I live?"

"It doesn't take a private investigator to determine that. Most of your personal information has to go on the ownership papers. As well as your Assistant Trainers License. Right?"

"Right. I didn't think about that."

"Besides, I make a point of knowing everything I can about my employees and partners."

"I'm not your employee, Mr. Underwood." She knew she must sound harsh, but she couldn't help it. Sometimes the man really galled her. Like right now. "We may be partners by some strange circumstance, but I work for Sam Gallagher."

"Whoa there, kid. The lady has a temper. I like that. Shows fire and will." He paused. "I'll have to think on that. You may be right. You may complicate my life yet."

Daisy frowned. "Well, you sure as hell have complicated mine."

"Yeah, but aren't they nice complications? A week ago you didn't even know I existed. You didn't own a race horse. And you were probably planning to waste time you could spend educating me playing around with some college guy."

Brushing hair off her brow, Daisy chewed on her lip. She wasn't experienced at this kind of repartee. She only knew how to tell guys no, not how to give them a let's-wait-and-see signal.

"Cat got your tongue, kid? Am I really going to complicate your life that much?"

He sounded far too pleased with himself. "I don't know. Depends on how much time you require, I suppose. I not only have my job, I do have to study too."

"Will I be imposing on your social life? Do you have a steady man in your life?"

"Not hardly. Well, I mean," she stammered, "not one."

"Still playing the field, huh. Well, I shouldn't get in the way too much, then. If you're a good teacher, this may not require a lot of time."

"You mean if you're a good student, don't you?"

"Now, that's more like the woman I remember with straw in her hair. Do you realize that you are drop dead gorgeous with a half dozen pieces of straw sticking out of your hair? The guys must be lined up around your block with their tongues hanging out. I'm sure they won't like my intruding on their time, but I won't let that deter me. Are you still there?"

"I'm here." Daisy tried to keep her voice steady while her heart raced wildly.

"Maybe you'll just have to put some of the guys on ice for a while. I can be quite demanding and I make no apologies for that. There never is enough time to do everything I want to do. But this horse thing is now at the top of my to-do list. And that includes you. Remember, you've been paid in advance."

"I remember. Owning a part of Rainbow far exceeds any of my dreams."

"Listen kid, if you hang around me much you'll have to get used to expanding your dreams. I don't dream small. It doesn't take any more time to dream big than small."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"What do you mean maybe? Weren't you listening to what I just said?"

"I heard you. It's just that some folks can dream all they want to, work as hard as they can and still nothing happens."

She heard Underwood swallow. "Guess you're right," he said, "sometimes I get so wrapped up in what I'm doing that I forget where I've come from and what I've seen."

"What?"

"Some other time. Good to hear your voice, kid. There's a quality about it that I can't quite name. Maybe its youthful exuberance. Anyway, I'll see you next Thursday at two o'clock. Don't be late."

"I'll be there."

* * *

Nicholas Underwood sat staring at the cell phone long after he'd set it on the massive oak desk at the center of his study in his fourteen room Kenwood house. The woman stuck to his hide like a sandbur. "Sultry" described her voice. She probably didn't have a clue how sexy she sounded or looked.

He leaned back in his swivel chair and propped his feet on the desk. She had to be his employee. It was safer that way. But she might be right. He hired Sam Gallagher and Sam hired Daisy Matthews. So what did that make Willow to him? One could probably cut it either way.

Who was he kidding? He didn't want to regard the tall, slender woman with the deep smoky voice as an employee. He closed his eyes: twenty-five from forty-two equals seventeen. Shit. He slammed his feet back to the carpet and strolled over to one of the floor to ceiling bookcases that nearly ringed his study. He reached for a slim volume and turned the pages until words leapt out at him. "Let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger." It was from Taming of the Shrew.

Would that he could. What he really wished was that he could forget how Daisy Matthews' soft breasts crushed against his chest or how her gray eyes rounded in pools of pain and then turned iridescent in the delight of banter and the unexpectedness of surprise. She possessed a vitality that he found intoxicating and difficult to shake.

If he was a smart man, he'd go to the Twin Cities, conduct his business and arrange for the sale of RainbowBlaze while out of town. But that would be too much like the coward's way out. No, he'd stay the course. He wasn't about to cheat destiny. Certainly a man of his experience and talent could best a woman who'd probably lived no more than a quarter century.

But why even bother to enter the contest? He could simply flee. No one was watching.

He could no more flee than sprout wings. There was something about Daisy Matthews that drew him like the sorrowful call of the loon. He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to listen to her story. He wanted to have some excuse to hug her again. Given her youthfulness, she might not be good for his pride, but she seemed good for his soul.

A rap on his office door jolted Nick from his reverie. "Yes, come in." Mary Brown entered and Nick tried not to smile.

Other than his bedroom, his office was the only room in the house where she knocked before entering. How often had he felt like an intruder in his own home before the inquisitive eyes of Mrs. B.?

Maybe it was because he'd inherited her; well, sort of. She came with the house. The eighty-something bent black woman had been taking care of residents in this house since she was a teenager. And she had an uncanny sense of showing up when he least wanted to talk. He often threatened to fire her, but they both knew that he cared for her like a favorite aunt. And if he didn't watch out she could easily smother him with love. She'd outlived her family and her friends. She hardly had anyone else to irritate or to love.

"So Mister Nick, I was worried when you didn't come home for supper. You usually call." Mrs. Brown stood in front of his desk peering at him with large dark questioning eyes.

He waved his hand dismissing her concern. "Sorry, I must have gotten overly involved at work."

"Harumph. That usually don't make you forget your manners." Mary Brown bent over and straightened two stacks of papers on Nick's desk.

Nick scowled. She backed away abruptly. "Oh, I forgot. Don't touch a thing in the master's office," she chided.

"I'm not your master," Nick responded quickly. "But you're right about not touching things in here."

"Sounds to me like you're the one who's touchy."

Nick always found it hard to ignore Mrs. Brown, but he tried his best.

"My, my," she said, "how many years has it been since you've had a woman throw you off stride?"

"What?" Nick nearly shouted.

"A woman. You know. You remember what they are."

"I know what a woman is."

"Good." Mrs. Brown gave him a toothless grin. "I was hoping you wouldn't forget. She must be something."

Nick closed his eyes, took a deep breath and reopened them. The housekeeper was still there. "What do you mean by that?"

"For the last several days you've been moping around here like a tomcat returning from the street who had no luck. There's no bounce in your step. Indecision about a woman will do that, you know."

"I didn't know that," Nick responded sharply. "And don't you have something better to do than worry about my love life?"

"No need to get huffy." Mrs. Brown took another step back from the desk. "If you ask me, you could use some good loving. This old house could use a good woman. It's getting to be more than I can manage alone. And I'd like to hear the sounds of children again in these walls before I die."

"Go to the park and rent a kid or two. Bring them here and let them scream their heads off. Just as long as I'm gone." He glanced at the papers on his desk. "Now, Mrs. B., if you have nothing further, I do need to get back to work."

"Didn't look like you were working before. Looked like you were staring off into space."

Nick raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat.

"Okay, Mr. Nick, I can take a hint. I just want you to know that you can bring a woman here anytime. It won't bother me none. I may be old, but I know how things are with you young people these days. Even my old Andrew thought we should test out the equipment before we got married."

"Mrs. B.!"

"I'll leave you now, Mr. Nick. Maybe you'll get a skip in your walk soon enough."

Nick shook his head and watched Mrs. B. leave the room. A skip indeed.

He turned more pages of the Taming of the Shrew. The words blurred. Gray sultry eyes stared back at him. A long elegant nose and narrow chin emerged. Then there were full lips and a slight overbite. The mouth turned upward in a shy grin. Nick frowned. The only thing that skipped was his heartbeat.

* * *

Ten miles away, Daisy hugged Bear and drifted off to sleep. Words from Twelfth Night teased her mind: "Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, youth's a stuff will not endure." She wet her lips. The image of his face sharpened. His lips parted, inviting. She leaned forward. His image swirled, fading into the night.

* * *

"Underwood checks out. Clean as a whistle, according to the guys in the Racing Office." Sam Gallagher sat at the desk in his tiny track office and chewed on the stem of a crusty pipe. He hadn't lit it in years. "Not to worry. He's legit."

Daisy nodded and grinned at him. "Thanks for checking him out for me." Gallagher had taken off his University of Maryland ball cap, exposing his gleaming white bald crown. She respected Sam's skill with horses and his judgments regarding people. "So what do you think of him?"

"Hard to know. Only talked with him twice by phone. He's a businessman. That's clear. And he's honest. At least he admits to knowing nothing about horses." Gallagher idly scraped caked mud from his boots with a ball point pen. "You sure got him hooked. He's ready to get involved with racing, and apparently he has a checkbook that can back him up."

"That's not surprising." Daisy took a seat on the straight-backed wooden chair. "So do we work with him?"

Gallagher smiled. "Do you work with him? I think that's the question. Oh, Underwood was respectful enough toward me. But he clearly sees himself as somehow sponsoring you in this training business. Every trainer needs to find an owner who will provide enough financial backing to carry him through the bad times as well as the good."

"But I'm not ready to go out on my own." Daisy shuddered. "I like working for you. And there's so much more to learn."

"Underwood has good business sense. He seems to know that. Talked to me about being your coach and that I'd continue getting my training fees with any horses he might purchase." Gallagher eyed Daisy. "Frankly, you'll get a raise for bringing in a fair amount of business. Sounds like I'll be picking up a small piece of the next horse he buys.

"A lot of owners want to do business that way. Makes them feel like the trainer will be more committed to their horses. Maybe it's true. I've done it both ways. And either works all right. There's more potential profit when you own a share of the horse and there's more potential for loss." He shrugged. "Like horses, each owner is different and you have to kind of read their cues and shape the game for them without losing your own integrity."

Daisy sighed. "There's so much to learn."

"You'll do fine." Gallagher glanced away. "I know I'm old enough to be your grandfather and you're a young woman on your own." He stopped talking and then looked back at her. "I just want you to be careful with Underwood. He's a legitimate businessman, but he's still a man. He's smitten by racing. And he may be smitten by you. That's neither good nor bad. Depends on what you want. My only suggestion is be careful and sort out what you really want. Being business partners is one thing, being something else--well, that's something else."

Daisy blushed. "Thanks, Sam. I'll try. You've been like the grandfather I've never known. Right now my head is spinning in ways I never knew possible. But I've got street smarts. I won't get easily hurt."

"I know. I should be giving the same advice to Underwood. He may be at more risk than you. Doubt if he has any real grasp of the tenaciousness of the woman he's selected for a partner." Gallagher chuckled. "But it's the right of grandfather types to worry some. Sort of like on the day before a big race."

* * *

Nicholas Underwood proved an able student. Daisy watched him pouring over the past performances for the next day's races at Arlington, his broad shoulders slumping forward. They'd spent two hours a day together for the past four days. It was always two to four, like clockwork.

She vaguely wondered what he did after he left the track. He talked very little about himself. He was brooding about something. Hopefully, there weren't any problems with his business. Or with his women. Good grief, she didn't even know if the man was married.

Daisy cleared her throat, setting down Chaucer's Canterbury Tales on which she had a paper due the following week. He hadn't heard her. They sat in a corner of the track kitchen; half chilled coffee and crumbs remained from their study break.

"Mr. Underwood."

Across the small table, Nicholas Underwood glanced up sharply. "How often do I have to ask you to call me Nick? We're partners. Strangers call me Mr. Underwood. Partners and friends call me Nick."

Daisy frowned.

"So what did you want?"

She had to know. "Are you married?"

That ridiculous, lazy smiled worked across Spec's lips. She was going to die. Her toes curled.

"Shouldn't the question be are you married...?"

Her head pounded. "Okay, damn it. Are you married, Nick?"

"Ah, I've heard my name roll off a woman's lips more smoothly and with more passion than that. But that will have to do for now." He folded the paper and laid it down beside his empty plate. "To answer your question and unasked questions. First, I am not married. Second, I was married to a beautiful woman with a lot of class and money. She wanted more class and money than I did. We parted amicably and still greet each other now and then. The marriage has been over for fifteen years, probably when you were still in training bras.

"With all her makeup and designer clothes, Ashley couldn't hold a candle to your natural beauty. Third, there have been many women, but none currently. I'm finding that you cramp my style in that way. You keep me studying these forms and the horse books so much, there's no time for women. Even if I were so inclined. Does that about answer your questions?"

Daisy nodded. She chewed her lower lip. How could he read her mind? She felt like such a neophyte.

"So how about you, Matthews? Ever been married?"

Her eyes rounded. Underwood was dead serious. His crack about the training bra sank into her awareness. Good grief, he thought she was considerably older than she was. "No," she stammered. "Never."

"No live-in boyfriend?"

She shook her head.

"Current men?"

"None," she mumbled. "There's no time."

"Good." Nicholas leaned back and graced her with a satisfied grin. "Maybe I'm cramping your style, too." He unfolded the newspaper and redirected his attention to the Saturday races.

Daisy picked up her book and blew air through pursed lips. She'd learned what she had to know. How fast would he run when he discovered she wasn't even of legal drinking age?

Chapter Three

The sputtering sounds of the apartment buzzer penetrated Daisy's sleep. She rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head. The buzzer continued ringing sporadically. "Go away," she grumbled. "It's Monday. It's my day off."

Scrambling off the futon, she grabbed her robe and poked her arms through the armholes as she strode angrily toward the entry. She'd have to remember to get the landlord to fix that damn buzzer. Maybe she should just snip its wires.

Daisy peered through the peephole and grew deathly still. Why had he come? She didn't want him to know this part of her world. With fingers trembling slightly, she turned the knob and opened the door.

"Morning, kid. Damn, you look quite fetching with sleep still in those lovely smoky eyes of yours." Nicholas Underwood strolled into her living room like he'd been there many times before, like he belonged. "Come on, girl. Get your butt in gear; hell, it's mid-morning. It's your day off. We're going to do Wrigley today. Enough of the books and pedigrees. I need a break; we need a break."

Daisy stood in the entryway as if her feet were poured in cement and she was still waiting for it to dry.

"You got any coffee here? I'll make it while you get into some clothes." Nick licked his lips. "Don't know why you bothered to put that robe on; it doesn't hide a damn thing unless you tie it."

Daisy's hands flew to her ears. "Stop. Stop talking, please. How did you get here? Why are you here? My robe!" She pulled the robe tight around her body and knotted the sash. Her cheeks must be scarlet.

"Damn, I hope you don't go answering the door like that for just any guy who happens by."

"Guys don't happen by without calling first. Now that you're here you might as well make yourself useful. The coffee is on the counter in the kitchen. Two scoops for eight cups. I'm going to get dressed."

Daisy padded toward her bedroom with as much grace as she could muster and then slammed the door behind her so hard the hinges rattled.

The nerve of the man getting her out of bed. Was he checking up on her? A boyfriend could have slept over. Right! Well, it was possible. Yeah, and sewer rats can sprout wings.

Had he said something about the Cubs? Wrigley. The Cubs. What did you wear to a baseball game? Probably no different than the track. She tugged on a pair of white shorts and wiggled into a yellow spaghetti-string tank top. Under the tank top was a sheer bra that held things in place, but didn't cover much up. She touched each nipple playfully until they were on full alert. Looking in the mirror, she chuckled softly. Underwood had come to her uninvited; she wasn't about to run away and hide. He might think of her as a kid, but someday he'd realize she was more than enough woman for him to handle.

She entered the kitchen running a brush through her tangled hair. Underwood sat at the card table sipping coffee. He took one brief look at her and spewed coffee from his lips. Quickly, he grabbed a paper towel to clean up the mess. Daisy continued brushing her hair, ignoring his discomfort.

"Geez, kid, if you're going to put on a show, save it for a guy your own age. Can't you find anything that'd cover up your belly button? I'm not sure I'll be able to keep all the guys from pawing you, if you go out like that."

"I'm used to taking care of myself." Daisy set the hairbrush down and poured herself a cup of coffee. She hid her smile. She had his attention. Was Nicholas Underwood as aware of his arousal as she was? "I didn't ask you here. If I'm too ugly for your taste, you can leave now."

"Holy shit. I never meant to imply that you're ugly. You're too damn gorgeous for my heart."

She sat down and crossed her long legs and followed his eyes as they took in the view. Nonchalantly, she wiggled her toes. He gasped.

Thank God for those tapes on seduction. Nicholas Underwood was going to be easier than she'd thought. If he got any hotter, his glasses would steam over. But not yet. No, there were still things to be done. She wasn't ready for the momentous event. Soon, but not now.

"So, I take it you're a Cubs fan."

He nodded, shook his head and seemed to regain his equilibrium. "My neighbors think I'm a traitor. If you live on the South Side you're traditionally a White Sox fan; if you live on the North Side then you root for the Cubs."

"But you're not a traditionalist."

"Hardly."

"So where do you live?"

"Kenwood."

"Ah."

Nick frowned. "I believe I detected a little reverse classism. Yes, I have a lot of money. Yes, I live in a big house. Yes, I give to a lot of good causes. Yes, I'm hooked on...race horses, for the moment. I want to talk to you about how I go about buying some more, but not today. That sounds too much like work. This is your day off. It's the Cubs."

"How do you know I didn't have other plans?"

"I guessed. Maybe it was a hope more than a guess." He scowled. "But maybe it was a mistake. You look different here in your own space. More domestic. More at home. More..."

"More woman, maybe?"

Nick blew out air and coughed. "Oh, I've not missed that fact." He righted his glasses on his nose. "I've got to use the head and then we better think about driving to the ballpark. It'll be good to be in a crowd. You've got a nice pad here, kid. Nice library. You could use a better computer though. The one in your office area is ancient."

"It's what I can afford." She stood and placed their cups in the sink.

"Didn't mean to make you defensive."

Daisy rinsed the dishes while Underwood used her bathroom. Did Underwood have a maid? He probably did, as well as a gardener. Well, her space was adequate for her needs. She hadn't invited him here. That would never have occurred to her.

"Only one toothbrush," he said, coming up behind her.

She spun around to face him. "What did you expect?"

"There you go getting your back up again. I wasn't expecting anything. I was just commenting. One toothbrush looked lonely, but I liked it that way."

"I guess I'm pleased I didn't disappoint you." He was standing too close. She could hardly breathe.

He brushed a lock of hair back off her forehead and ran an index finger down the length of her nose before pressing it against her lips. His eyes flared with passion and then immediately cooled. He backed away. "We'd best be going," he said, gruffly. "Before I make a fool of myself," she heard him whisper under his breath. "Put shoes on, grab a bag or whatever. I'll wait for you outside. I need some air."

Tingling from toe to crown, Daisy hurried to find her best sneakers. She wet her lips, avoiding where his finger had been. Even the videos couldn't do justice to the kinds of electrical charges that'd coursed through her body when his finger had made its way slowly down her nose to settle on her lips.

She'd thought he was going to kiss her. She was more than a little disappointed that he hadn't. But there was no question that he now regarded her as a woman. He was probably still hung up on age, but age didn't matter for her purposes.

* * *

"Jones is the man," Nick declared. "He carries this team when he has to. And he's a team player when that's needed. He's the kind of person I like on my team."

Daisy nodded, biting down on a soft pretzel. The batter Nick pointed out didn't look any different than any other player, but he must be. At that moment, Nick's player swung. The bat made a cracking sound that surprised Daisy. She watched the ball sail over the leftfield bleachers onto Waveland Avenue. Now that was power. It was like watching a horse determined to get to the wire first over any and all challengers. And Nick Underwood clearly loved the game of baseball.

"Okay, that was the power game. Now watch this next batter. He needs to get a hit. One out. He may even try to bunt to get on."

"Ball one," cried the ump.

"Did you see that?" Nick asked, without taking his eyes off the batter. "He faked the bunt. Now the third baseman and first baseman are edging in toward home plate. The infield is getting smaller making it easier for him to hit away."

Daisy wasn't certain she understood everything Nick was telling her but she enjoyed watching the tension rise. They sat in the third row between home plate and first base. She could see the batter trying not to give away what he was going to do.

On the next pitch he swung and lined a ball over the third baseman's head. Nick stood and cheered wildly. For a man who was reasonably quiet at the race track, he sure made a lot of noise at a ballgame. As if sensing her question, he sat back down. "Hope I'm not embarrassing you. This is different. Money is involved with the horses. This is pure and simple recreation. Nothing is on the line for me."

"I didn't realize there was so much strategy involved in baseball. Games were on the TV at the group home, but I never bothered to watch. Looked too boring."

"Boring! There's as much strategy in baseball as in horse racing. Hell, there's strategy in anything worth pursuing."

Daisy grinned broadly, reached over and squeezed his thigh and placed her other hand on his neck and her lips close to his ear. "Old man, you overwhelm me with wisdom far beyond my years. I'll bet there's a lot more you could share, if you wanted to."

Covering her hand with his, Nick lifted it and returned it to her lap. His fingers brushed her inner thigh; he jerked away as if he'd been singed by a blazing fire.

He awkwardly rose from his seat. "I've got to make a call. You want anything more to eat?"

"No, I'm fine. You're not going to leave me here alone for long are you?"

Nick sighed; his shoulders slouched. "Kid, I don't have the faintest idea what I'm going to do with you."

* * *

Stomping up the stairs toward the restrooms, Nick hoped his erection wasn't too damned obvious. What the hell had gotten into Willow today? There was no question what she was after. At least he didn't think there was. Though the only truth about women he'd learned was that not one of them was predictable.

She was too young. But dammit, he was a man. Why would she want to risk their partnership with romance? The only place romance ended up was broken hearts or strained goodbyes.

It wasn't that he didn't find her attractive. She was damn sexy. There was no difficulty imagining her body entangled with his. Earlier, at her apartment, he'd wanted to run his tongue over her lips and explore the interior of her mouth. That slight overbite intrigued him. It had possibilities that only made him grow harder.

So what was holding him back? Age. Pure and simple. But if it didn't matter to her, why should it matter to him? He had no answer. When he looked at her, he only saw Willow: vibrant, bright, captivating. What did she see when she looked at him?

Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to drop by her apartment. He'd wanted to see her laugh. He chewed a fingernail. Damn, the track was a safer place.

* * *

"You better stand aside unless you want to get soaked." Daisy, up to her armpits in soap suds, sprayed water over the bay gelding's back and down his flanks. He'd just run second in a claiming race for horses who had not won three races in their lifetime.

Nick moved away from the splattering water. "So should we try to claim a horse like him?"

Daisy straightened and assessed the horse as if for the first time. Without glancing at Nick, she returned to her task of bathing the animal. "Depends on how much you want to spend and at what level you want to compete. This guy is a twenty thousand dollar claimer who is earning his keep, barely."

"What if I wanted to buy four more horses to go along with Blaze? Using her as the foundation, lets think of two horses better than she is and two maybe not as good. Diversification is the key to the stock market; I don't know about the horse business."

Daisy walked over to the spigot and turned off the water. Returning, she began scraping excess water from Rocky's coat. "Probably as good as any strategy. You'd be competing at different levels, maybe trying to find your niche."

"How do I start?"

"You already have. You've been studying pedigrees and watching horses work on the track. I imagine you wouldn't want to go below thirty-five thousand dollar claimers. A horse will go up or down the claiming ranks. He may become an allowance horse or he may wind up running for a five thousand dollar tag and we'll hope someone claims him. But...."

"That's horseracing."

"Exactly. As far as the upper end goes, it really depends on how much you want to spend. I would recommend easing into the game. If Rainbow is worth a hundred thousand, maybe you could double that."

"Or triple it. Remember you always bet a little light from my perspective."

Daisy dropped the scraper in a bucket and glared at Underwood. "Don't count on that."

Nick pursed his lips and squinted at her.

Aware of his confusion, Daisy smiled inwardly and wondered if maybe she was learning a few things about seductive repartee. He'd certainly been quiet when they'd returned from the Cubs game. He hadn't even bothered to come in her apartment but begged off, saying he had to get back to his factory. No matter. She was beginning to enjoy this game. She'd heard people tell stories about landing a big fish. Maybe Underwood was her big fish.

"I need to get back over trackside," she said, drying her hands and arms on a towel. "Cassie has a contender running in the seventh. Do you have time to come along?"

"Sure. Is Travers a possible source for buying some horses?"

"Maybe. Her husband certainly is. That's pretty much what Clint does full time. He buys yearlings, trains them and then sells them as two-year-olds or three-year-olds."

"Sounds like a guy I need to meet."

* * *

"Hurry," Daisy shouted, grabbing Nick's hand, nearly dragging him through a throng of people. "We don't want to be late for the picture."

"Do you always go to the winner's circle when your friends have a horse that wins?"

"Of course," she said, over her shoulder. "And they'll come when Rainbow wins. That's the way it is. It's family."

They both were covering a lot of ground with long strides when Daisy pulled him through the winner's circle gate.

Cassie Travers, her auburn hair glistening in the sunshine and her smile as wide as possible, waved. "Hi there," she said, beaming at Daisy. The woman's eyes lowered to take in Daisy clutching a strange man's hand. Her smiled turned pasty.

Daisy dropped Nick's hand and stammered, "Cassie, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. Nicholas Underwood. Nick, this is Cassie Travers."

Nick pumped Cassie's hand. "Heard a lot of great things about you. Congratulations on your win."

"Everybody, look this way," the photographer said.

On cue, everyone in the winner's circle smiled. Then the groom led the winner toward the test barn. Cassie joined Daisy and Nick as they walked back toward shedrow. "You've been a stranger, girl. Why don't you drop by when you're not busy?" She cast a meaningful look at Nicholas Underwood.

"I'm sorry. There's so much to tell you. I'll try to catch up with you later in the week."

"All right." Cassie scowled. "Nice meeting you, Mr. Underwood."

"Same here," Nick replied.

As Cassie returned to her barn, Nick stuffed his hands in his front pockets. "Why do I get the feeling that woman doesn't like me?"

Daisy put her arm through his and tugged him toward her barn. "Don't worry about Cassie. She can be overprotective, particularly of me or her kids."

"Guess I can understand that. Is that why you don't work for her anymore?"

"In part. We both knew it was important for me to try out my wings with another trainer. I've learned a lot from Cassie, and she was a big help in my landing the job with Sam."

"But."

"But she can be smothering. And she'll readily admit it. She can't quite believe I'm grown up and on my own now. Even though that's what she wants for me." Daisy stopped walking and turned to face Nick. "Cassie and Clint are terrific. Once they get to know you, they'll love you, and they have horse people contacts all over the country."

"Hope you're right." Nick ran the back of his hand across his mouth. "First impressions can be quite misleading."

* * *

"What do you mean you know what you're doing?" Cassie Travers pursed her lips, pacing rapidly back and forth in front of Daisy who was lounging on a hay bale in Cassie's shedrow area. "The man's old enough to be..." She threw up her hands.

Daisy gave Cassie a lazy smile that she knew drove her up the wall. This brought back group home memories; she knew how to play that game well. Passive disinterest. That was the face she'd put on, and Cassie's Irish temper was in danger of raging out of control.

"I know what you're trying to pull. If you get me torqued off enough, you think I'll apologize and give you credit for having more brains than you actually have."

The small spitfire of a woman was about ready to wear down. At last she came to a halt in front of her. Cassie tried to glare and then a broad smile overtook her ire. "You say the man has made you part owner of RainbowBlaze."

Daisy nodded.

"He's not showering you with all kinds of other gifts?"

"Nope."

"I know how much Rainbow means to you; you must be walking on air."

"I am." Daisy crossed her legs at the ankles. "Being part owner puts a new perspective on the whole business."

Cassie nodded. "I just worry for you, girl. I know how much family means to you. Every time you think you're getting close to someone, they die or kick you in the groin."

Daisy shuttered her eyes.

"Don't try to hide from me, Daisy Ann Matthews. I know you better than anyone on this earth. You're up to something. And I'm not sure I like it. I saw how you looked at him and how he looked at you. If you're not in the sack with him yet, it won't be long."

Daisy blushed, but remained silent.

"I just don't want to see you hurt again. Okay. Enough social work and mom stuff. I can see I'm not making a dent. What is it that you like about him?"

Drawing her knees up under her chin, Daisy shrugged. "I'm not totally sure."

"He must have a lot of money."

"Yes, but that's not it. I don't see us having a future, if that's what you mean. I'm taking care of my emotions."

Cassie's eyebrows shot up. "If that's true, it will be the first time."

"He's fun. He treats me like I know something. I think he respects me for who I am."

"You sure he's not just trying to get into your pants?"

Daisy wrinkled her nose. "I wish he was. He's too bothered by our age difference."

"As he should be. Does he know how old you are?"

Daisy shook her head. "And don't you dare tell him. If you do, I'll never forgive you."

Cassie leaned against her tack room doorway. "I might like to interfere, but I won't. You know that. I guess there's some big lesson for you to learn in all of this; I just hope it's not the same old one."

"Which is?"

"You can't make family out of a mirage."

"I'm not looking at him as family." Daisy stood. Her fingers curled into fists and rested rigidly on her hips. "Nicholas Underwood is a nice man. He's experienced. He's too old, and that makes him safe."

Cassie studied Daisy for a long moment and then she glowed. "Well, I'll be damned. Do you mean you're looking at Nicholas Underwood as a sex object? Why you calculating girl, you!" She paused. "You may be right. If he's as gentle and good as you think." Cassie pushed away from the doorway and resumed pacing.

Again, she stopped in front of Daisy. "Just be careful, Daisy. You're dealing with a lot of emotions that you haven't ever touched. And you're dealing with another human being. I don't want you hurt, but you don't want to hurt him, either."

"Are you telling me that you didn't have relationships with men without assuming they would lead to wedding bells?"

Cassie folded her arms across her chest. "Okay, you win. You're right. It's hard for me to let you go. But you will whether I want you to or not. Just be careful. Practice safe sex. Give me a call if he turns out to be a louse. Clint will take care of him if it comes to that."

"Cassie!" Daisy scolded. "I'm hoping that you and Clint will help Nick find some good horses to buy."

"Humph. Not until I know he's treating you like a lady."

"Then I might have to move up my time schedule a little." Daisy gave Cassie a little smile.

"Shit." Cassie turned and stomped into the tack room.

Daisy laughed softly and walked back to her barn.

* * *

"Look what the cat drug in. Thought maybe you forgot the address of your office."

Nick shot an exaggerated grimace at his partner and plant manager, Thomas Harrison. Bald as a billiard ball, with skin as dark as walnut and teeth as white as fresh snow, Tom matched Nick's height but outweighed him by another fifty pounds. Not fat, just muscle. The man's smile was infectious.

"Had to come by and make sure everyone wasn't loafing. So how's it going?" Nick moved through the lobby to his office and sat down at his desk. Harrison slouched on the leather couch.

"We're on schedule. Should have two model X-Tens finished by the weekend and two T-Nines by the end of the following week."

"Good. Our buyers don't like to wait."

"Anyone who can afford these high priced canoes isn't used to waiting." Harrison leaned back and smiled. "But maybe waiting would be good for them."

"Right. How's the experimental model coming?"

"Another three weeks or so. You going to test it out, or do you want me to line up somebody else?"

"No. I'll do it." Nick fiddled with a pencil. He'd always taken pride in testing each of the prototypes before giving the go-ahead to craft more of them for sale. Manufacturing handmade precision canoes required a lot of time and labor. His business would never be high volume, but it would be top quality. That's why he'd be the first to take the experimental canoe to the Boundary Waters of Minnesota and paddle it through its paces.

Nick frowned at the circles and squares he'd been drawing on the notepad. It would seem odd being away from her for that long. He brightened. Maybe he should take her along.

"So who's the woman?"

Nick slammed the pencil on the desk. "What?" He glared at his best friend.

Tom Harrison rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Come on Nick, we've known each other since we were eighteen. You don't get this way unless there's a woman problem."

"What way?"

"Ignoring your business. Ignoring your friends. You were like this before you asked Ashley to marry you and then again when you were mulling over the divorce. It's like you avoid everything else to focus on a woman that matters. For fifteen years you've been hot footing around with the ladies now and then but you've been able to concentrate on business. Now look at you. You walk in here like a randy dog with his tail between his legs. So who is she? And when do I get to meet her?"

Nick raked fingers through his hair and stared blankly at his inquisitor. "How many times have I threatened to fire you?"

"Countless. Don't matter. You won't. We owe each other. Besides, I'm the best damn manager you'll ever find."

Nodding, Nick admitted, "That's the truth. Do you ever wonder what might have happened between us if we hadn't been thrown together in Special Forces?"

"This is old ground, Nick. You're trying to avoid my question. We would've never met and you know it. So who's the damn woman?"

Nick balled a fist and examined his curled fingers. He loosened and flexed them. He blinked. "Her name is Daisy Matthews. She trains horses at Arlington Park."

"Horses. You mean race horses?" Tom cocked his head. "You mean you're getting into the ponies?"

"You remember Mike Barnes?"

Tom nodded. "Sure, he bought several of the last X-Tens and a half dozen T-Nines for some kind of resort he was buying in northern Wisconsin."

"When it came time to pay, he didn't have the cash. Instead, he talked me into accepting a race horse in payment."

Tom shoved back and laughed. "You are such a soft touch, man. It's amazing we make any profit. So the woman came with the horse?"

"Sort of. She's quite attached to the mare. If I sold the animal, she'd lose the horse too. There was something in her eyes that I saw. Don't know. Anyway, I couldn't sell the damn horse, so now I'm in the horse racing business."

"And in her pants?"

"No, she's too young. She can't even be thirty."

"Is she too young? Or are you too old?"

Nick glowered at him.

"Can't be too old if you can still get it up. She can't be too young if she's over eighteen."

"Harrison, sometimes you're beyond explanation." Nick folded his arms across his chest. "Willow is different. She's had a tough life. She grew up on the streets, the best I can figure out, and has pulled herself up with a little help from others. Courage, man, she's determined and she's got guts."

"Sounds good. If what you say is true, she's probably a hell of a lot more experienced than her age would suggest."

Nick nodded. "No doubt about that. I wish she wouldn't dress so provocatively. She must draw guys like fresh honey attracts bears."

"Must be nice to look at."

"Oh yeah. Tall, willowy, strawberry blond hair, legs that go on forever, and nipples that pout as much as she does."

"You sound hooked."

Nick flinched. "Nah, she's too young for an old guy like me."

"Can't get it up any more, huh? I've heard of a remedy or two."

"Cut the bullshit. You know that's not it."

"Well, you're not planning on marrying her are you? So why should age matter this much?"

"Of course not. Why would I want to marry her?"

The phone rang and Nick grabbed it after one ring. He closed his eyes and breathed. It was a buyer checking on a delivery date. Who had he expected to call? During the past several weeks, she'd never once called him. He'd always called her. As he talked with the buyer, Nick watched Tom get up, wave and leave. Marriage? Not likely. Once was enough.

* * *

Holding the phone out away from her ear, Daisy cussed herself for not letting the answering machine take a message. But a call late at night often meant a problem at the stable.

"Every time you fuck up I lose money!"

Daisy shivered at Reggie's rage. He must be on something. But then he always was.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, bitch? Five losers in a row. And I really laid on them heavy. After three winners last week, I thought you were hot."

Screwing up her courage, Daisy replied, "You can't count on horses winning. Too many things can go wrong."

"Not if you get your facts right. I know how it is."

Daisy winced at Reggie's slurred words.

"Are you giving me bad information, bitch?"

"No, of course not."

"You better not. If I ever found out you were..."

Withdrawing into a shell she knew well from her younger days, Daisy whispered, "I didn't ask you to bet on those horses. Maybe you should stop betting."

"No! You just give me some better tips. We're depending on you. Maxine is depending on you. We're the only family you got, bitch. Don't forget it."

She heard his phone slam, and then there was blessed quiet. Daisy hung up and grimaced. She'd continue trying, for Maxine's sake, but there was no surefire way of guaranteeing winners.

Daisy rolled over and hugged Bear. Reggie would never be satisfied with sporadic winners. When would his patience snap? And then what?

* * *

"That's a no-brainer." Nick stretched his long legs out in front of him in Sam Gallagher's shedrow office. Sam sat in his desk chair chewing on his unlit pipe. Daisy sprawled atop an upside down empty feed bucket.

Sam nodded. "So where do you want to race?"

Daisy watched Nick. She'd come to know his moods fairly well during the past six weeks. She knew what his decision would be. They had a choice of running RainbowBlaze in a mid-level allowance race at Arlington, a low end stakes race at Iowa's Prairie Meadows, or a similar race at Canterbury. The Canterbury purse was smallest, but money wouldn't be the key for Nicholas Underwood. He'd want to take Rainbow to Minnesota to share his newest passion with his family.

"We'll do Canterbury," Nick said. "Shakopee is just a short drive from Saint Paul where my folks live. It'll be good for them to see the Blaze. What do you think, kid?"

Daisy smiled in agreement. "Why not? It'll give me an excuse to see some new country. It won't be a long haul. Rainbow trailers well and should handle the trip fine."

"When do we leave?"

"I'll call ahead and take care of entry fees and stall arrangements," Gallagher said, making a note on a large desk calendar. "It would be good to give the horse a day or two to acclimate. The race is next Sunday. That gives you a couple days to prepare before you have to pull out."

* * *

"Ouch!" Daisy glared at herself in the full length closet door mirror. Why didn't anyone write clear instructions any more?

She read the folded instructions for the fourth time. The wax was certainly hot enough. Burning skin attested to that.

"Okay, again," she said, looking in the mirror. "Bend your knee and pull it towards your chest," she read aloud. She sat on a towel in the chair she'd placed before the mirrors. Maybe looking at her reflection was confusing things. But how else could she see what she was doing?

In that now familiar cramped position, she applied the wax. The roller seemed to turn more smoothly this time. She relaxed, a trifle. Maybe this would work after all.

"Now comes the difficult part," she mumbled, glancing over at the mirror. She'd never be a very good contortionist. "Okay, remember pull vertical, not parallel. Parallel hurts like hell."

With a quick jerk of the wrist, Daisy pulled on the wax remover strip.

"Shit, shit, shit!" she shouted, hopping about on one foot. "Whoever wrote that this might tingle a little bit never tried it." She glanced down at the removal strip and counted six hairs. "Damn! Nicholas Underwood, you'd better damn well appreciate what I'm doing."

Daisy sat back down and examined herself. She looked like she had a rash of pimples in a most unusual place. She slumped back and closed her eyes. Was this really worth it?

A bikini line was supposed to be a simple thing to accomplish. She didn't even own a bikini, but she loved the trim look of the women in the instructional videos. They looked sexy and she wanted to look sexy. Hell, thousands if not millions of women had a bikini wax line. So what if it was painful? it was a small sacrifice to make.

She grabbed the box and went over the instructions again. Half an hour later, perspiration poured off Daisy's brow. She raised her head and looked in the mirror. She stood.

"Done. That'll have to do. I can't take any more." The hairline looked quite fine, really. But where there had been hair before, now there were so many red bumps and ridges she looked like a war zone. She felt like a war zone. And women went through this every month or so? Whoever said women were the weaker sex?

Daisy groaned. She couldn't go to him looking like this; he'd puke. Would he put his tongue down there? She sure hoped so. She watched as her fingers tested the red dots. They didn't hurt as bad now. She admired the trim hair. It seemed to frame the target nicely, not that Nick wouldn't know where to find what he was looking for.

But how long would she have to wait for her skin to clear up? A couple days? Two weeks? Certainly it would clear before she had to go through this procedure again.

They'd be staying at a hotel in Shakopee. Those red pimples had better be history by the time they got to Canterbury or she was going to be one unhappy girl. She'd put too much planning into her coming out party not to come out.

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