She felt an instant rush of emotion, suspense, though she wasn't precisely sure what caused it. The prospect of watching him mount that surly two-year-old? Watching Streak throw him? Or was it the deep timbre of his voice when he said, Stay a little while...

"Just for a couple of minutes," she said. "I hope he's in the mood. I don't have much time today and I want to check on Blue."

"It won't take long. I'll know right away if he's going to cooperate. Any interest in Blue from your notice on the bulletin board?"

"Not yet, but it hasn't been up that long..."

"Longer than you asked for," Clay reminded her. "Lots more than a few days. We'll have to do something with her soon. This isn't Club Med."

"I'm bringing her feed free," Lilly said. "Have you noticed that?"

"I have," he said with a smile. "It's appreciated. Thank you."

And then he took off with the feed bags, depositing them and heading for the tack room to get ready for his horse.

Stay a little while... Oh, boy. Lilly hadn't realized she'd been longing to hear a man breathe that in her ear. That was nice.

"Your girlfriend is here," Clay said to the horse as he slipped the bit in his mouth and bridle over his head. "Would be nice if you showed her you're somewhat domesticated. She could be proud of you. How about that?"

She's so young, he thought. It wasn't like him to be attracted to a mere girl, a girl who looked more suited to his son, but he couldn't help how he felt. He thought about her when she wasn't around, and when she was around his heart picked up speed and he felt warm all over. She was just so damn cute in her torn jeans and denim jacket. She had herself some fine-looking boots--eel skin, if he wasn't mistaken. She pretended not to care all that much about riding, but she was clearly attached to the horses and those boots were too nice for just delivering feed.

And when he wasn't thinking about how cute she was, he was breathing heavy at how hot she was. Tiny, fit, sexy. That silky black hair, cut along her jawline and swinging with each movement, he could almost feel it against his fingers, against his bare chest. Her eyes were so large and blue and he had an overwhelming urge to cause them to roll back in her head.

But the last thing he needed right now was trouble from some ancient Hopi grandfather. The old man would probably not relish the idea of his very young granddaughter messing with a thirty-four-year-old Navajo. Not that he really stood a chance...there was a boyfriend in the picture. Some young buck? he wondered. Someone the grandfather would prefer? Someone the grandfather chose?

He tried to force all this from his mind as he led Streak from his stall. There was a blanket already draped over the gate rail. He led the horse to the far side of the corral, draped the blanket over his back and one last thought slipped through, directed at Streak. Maybe you could try to not make me look like a fool.

He put a right foot on the middle rung of the fence, threw the left leg over and sat on Streak's back. Clay stroked his neck and murmured in Navajo that all was well. And the horse seemed fine. Still. He didn't even prance. Clay was impressed and leaned down to his ear. "Yeah, not so bad. You're plenty strong enough for a big guy like me." Then he let up on the reins, gave the horse a gentle nudge with his heel and moved him forward. He pulled left on the bit and the horse followed. Then right. Then slowed him to a stop. "You're showing off," he whispered to the horse. "You get an A."

Clay took the horse around the pen again, nice and easy, pleased as much with himself as with Streak because timing was everything. He brought him up to an easy canter and took a couple of laps, then slowed him down.

Lilly had moved from her position behind the fence to a seat on top of the uppermost rail. She lifted her hand, beckoned, kissed the air and hummed, and damned if Streak didn't turn toward her. Clay relaxed his control of the reins; he wanted to see what the horse would do. Streak moved toward her. When he was near enough, he let Lilly touch him without pulling him away.

"Be careful, Lilly," Clay warned. "This guy is unpredictable."

"So you say," she said softly. "Let me have a turn. Come on."

"You're not serious.... I haven't even seen you on a horse yet."

"You're about to. Off," she demanded. "He'd rather have me anyway."

"I can't take that kind of chance. I--"

"I've been on unbroke colts before," she said. "It's been a long time, but I know what I'm doing."

"You could land on your ass, break your back."

"I'm not going to let him do that," she said. "Can't you see he doesn't want to do that to me?"

"Bad idea," he muttered to himself. "Bad, bad, bad idea," he said while he dismounted.

He had barely cleared the horse's back, his feet hardly on the ground a second when the heel of Lilly's boot boosted her from the top rung up onto the horse. She grabbed the reins and seated herself securely on the blanket. She clicked, barely moved the reins, gave a gentle nudge with her thighs and Streak was in motion. He was trotting around the pen in a neat circle. His cadence was perfect. He was balanced, level, his gait stunning!

Clay perched himself on the top rail and watched. She didn't pull on the reins, barely touched them; her boot heels didn't even nudge the horse, but he could see the hard muscles of her thighs and the pressure from her knees working to direct him. She shifted her weight to guide him in a flawless dressage. She was brilliant. There was one perfect tear in each knee of her jeans and something about that turned him on. Her lips were moving, but he couldn't hear anything. Streak moved in a perfect, obedient trot around the pen, commanded by this small woman's sheer will.

Clay jumped off the fence and into the pen, but Streak didn't even seem to notice. The horse was completely under Lilly's spell. Clay moved stealthily toward horse and rider, let them pass and finally stood in the center of the pen. He let her go around a couple more times, then held up his hand.

Lilly brought the horse up easily, stopping him on a dime. For someone not into riding, she was an expert. Gifted. He wondered if Annie was even aware of her skills.

She stroked the horse's mane. "You're the best," she told Streak. "The best."

The horse? Clay thought. She was magnificent. No relationship or training with this troubled animal and she worked him like he was her lapdog! The damn horse would walk off a cliff for her! She had chemistry with him, an intimacy that Clay had only seen in special relationships between horse and rider.

Lilly threw her left leg over just as Clay reached up to help her down. She didn't need his assistance, but he wanted to touch her, however briefly. He had his hands on her waist as she slid off the horse, but he held her in place. Then he slid her very, very slowly down the length of his body. When her face was even with his, he stopped her descent for a moment, just long enough to look deeply into those blue eyes. Their faces were close and he wanted to kiss her, but he didn't dare. He had no idea how she'd react.

He let her down the rest of the way. "All right," he said. "Either you're lying and you've been on a horse every day for the past ten years or you've made a terrible mistake in being away from it."

"I used to ride every day," she said with a shrug. "Then everything changed and we moved and... I think this horse and I have a thing going on."

"Is that the true meaning of Winning Streak?" he asked hoarsely.

"It is what it is," she whispered. "I sure didn't plan it."

He couldn't help himself. "You and I should have a thing going on and you know it. Tomorrow night, Lilly. You and me. Dinner. Or something...anything. We really have to talk about horses and other things."

She shook her head. "Sorry," she said, wriggling free of his hands. "I have plans." Then she pulled the blanket off Streak's back, handed it to Clay and walked the horse into the barn.

This restlessness was not good, Lilly thought as she led Streak back into the stable. She'd been so content with her life, with her friends and her grandpa and no confusion about the opposite sex. Dane had so often warned her that someone would come along to shake her up eventually, but Lilly hadn't been worried. She frankly never believed it for a second.

Being lifted off the horse by Clay had weakened her, left her all wobbly, and she honestly couldn't remember feeling like that since... Oh, God, since her first love, so long ago--arrogant, sexy, Native boy who'd made her crazy, made her hurt, took her virginity and dumped her. She had been so young, and she'd vowed to never again be involved with his kind--young Navajo men full of hormones trying to prove how virile they were.

Clay made her feel unsafe. Vulnerable. Something she hadn't allowed herself to feel since she was thirteen! And even though she was older and supposedly wiser, feelings like that still had the power to overcome her.

She secured the horse and grabbed a brush; when you ride, you take care of your horse. He hadn't been worked hard; he didn't need much. But Clay had said he was getting used to the brush and...

"You don't have to do that, Lilly," Clay said. "You said you didn't have a lot of time today."

Well, of course he followed her into the stable. Where else was he going to go? She was the one a bit out of place; this was where he belonged. She began brushing the horse. "How old are you?" she asked him.

"Thirty-four," he said, staying on the other side of the horse. "And you?"

Rather than answering the question, she asked, "Is there a woman somewhere? Women?"

"Why would you ask that?"

She put the brush aside and walked around the horse, ducking under his secured lead, until she was on the same side as Clay. "Because you flirt and try to make a date with me in spite of the fact you've been told I'm committed elsewhere. So, who are you cheating on? Because you Navajo men have a sense of entitlement that I experienced growing up and I really don't feel like playing these games with you. I like the horse. I know your kind and I--"

He had a patient smile on his lips as he gripped her upper arm with one large hand. He lifted her chin with a finger and planted a quick kiss on her mouth. She didn't fight him. He knew he was supposed to be insulted by her little tirade, but he also sensed it was all an act, meant to keep him at a distance. "We might have grown up around all the same canyons, Lilly, and you might have known your share of Navajos, but I think you're talking about boys, not men. The idiocy of boys supersedes all tribe and race connections. I know this from experience, believe me. Boys of all races are universally stupid about women. And you obviously didn't know any Tahoma men. We don't treat women that way. My mother would come out here and beat me if she caught wind of me using or disrespecting a woman. Now, are you over twenty-one?"

Shock settled over her face for a moment, then she burst into laughter. "Over twenty-one? For God's sake," she said, shaking her head. "I have a degree! I'm twenty-seven."

He lifted one black brow and peered at her. Then he pulled her hands toward his chest, placed them there and lowered his lips to hers a second time. But this time it was not a little peck; this time he had a much more serious kiss in mind. He put his arms around her waist, pulled her closer and leaned way down--she was so small--and moved over her lips.

She tasted like berries. Or her lip gloss tasted like berries. Her hair smelled like Ivory soap, a clean, pure smell. And even after moving hay and feed all day, her skin smelled like fresh, sweet grass. He tightened his arms around her and could have stayed that way all day. But she pushed him away and Streak began to get restless. He let her go and smiled at her. "Twenty-seven is good," he said.

"Get a grip," she snapped. "Not gonna happen!"

"Oh, I hope you're wrong," he said, unable to hide a little laughter from his voice.

"I might have to tell my grandfather to have one of the guys from the store deliver here."

"And not check on the horses?" he asked.

"It's a sacrifice I'd be willing to make."

But she hadn't pushed him away immediately. She'd given it some thought and indulged for a while. He'd definitely felt her kissing him back. So he said, "That would be a tragedy."

"Never do that again," she warned. She picked up the brush and put it in his hand. "I mean it."

"If that's what you want," he said with a nod.

"It is."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

It seemed as though she thought through her words before speaking. "Listen to me carefully. We have some things in common. A culture, for one thing. A couple of horses, for another. Nathaniel wouldn't be going to all this trouble if Streak was an ordinary horse. If you do things like this--grabbing and kissing me--we can't even be friends. Do you hear me?"

He gave his head a tilt. "Can we be friends?"

"If I can trust you."

He put his hands up, palms toward her. "You can trust me. And I want to be friends. I want you to come back, mix it up with the horses. I think you have something important to offer. I want to watch and learn."

A silent huff of laughter escaped her. She put her hands on her hips. "Learn from me? You're the one with all the experience."

"I'm not so sure about that," he said. "So--I'm very sorry. It won't happen again. And you can trust me. Come back as soon as you can."

"I'll think about it." And with that, she left the stable. But she was immediately back. "Tell Nathaniel I'm going to pay for Blue's board until I can find someone for her. Tell him not to move her out of Club Med. I'll bring a check." Then she disappeared again.