Izzy had always been raised to believe that “please” was a magic word. She’d been misled. Apparently, the magic word was “dinner.

Forgive me for speaking frankly, but after the past quarter-hour's conversation, I am unconvinced that any of you possess the sense or sensitivity to impart the news in any respectful fashion

Proper handling of a horse like this is no simple matter. He was trained to race, from birth. Not only to race, but to be the best. Once a champion, he was spoiled with attention and permissive handling. Add to that, he's an ungelded male, with a strong natural mating drive. It all adds up to a horse with a mile-wide streak of arrogance, bloody bored out of his mind. Without proper exercise and opportunities to mate, all that aggressive energy festers. He becomes moody, intractable, withdrawn, destructive."

Ashworth raised an eyebrow at Bellamy. "Is it just me, or is this conversation becoming uncomfortably personal?"

Spencer fumed. "I'm not referring to myself, you ass.

He laced his hands behind his neck and propped his boots on the opposite arm of the sofa. If an artist were to capture this image, it would have been labeled,Smugness: A Portrait. She wanted to shake him.

Mr. Sand, do you think it's possible to fall in love in the space of a single day?"

He smiled. "I wouldn't know. I only fall in love at night. Never lasts beyond breakfast, though.

Her chin lifted. "Very well. Here is my best offer. Half of my nakedness for all of yours."

He pretended to think on it. " It's a bargain.