The Untamed Argentinian

‘Dungarees—I thought, settling kids in, carrying cases…’

He shrugged.

‘You don’t agree?’

‘There are others here who can carry cases. Wasn’t it you who said we’re the inspiration? And, as in this instance, I agree you’re right, and so I dressed the part.’ Nero ran a hand down his black polo shirt with the team emblem—The Assassin’s skull and crossbones boldly embroidered in white on black over his heart. His hand moved on down his close-fitting breeches, tough riding boots and the knee protectors he customarily wore during a match. ‘This is all about first appearances, you said—give the kids something to remember?’

‘I see what you mean…’ She frowned, but swiftly rallied. ‘I suppose none of them would have a clue who you were if you were waiting for them wearing jeans.’

He met the innocent look with the faintest of smiles. ‘You’re probably right,’ he agreed mildly.

‘So, as I’m short of a Hammer House of Horrors polo shirt, what do you suggest I wear?’ she asked.

Holding the concerned gaze, he put a curb on his amusement. ‘What would you think if you were greeted by a woman in dungarees?’

Bella shrugged. ‘The grooms were too busy caring for the horses to hang around waiting for my coach?’ she suggested, reasoning that the grooms were all young—and, however scruffy they got in the course of their work, all attractive. The kids would only think an older woman in dungarees a poor substitute who probably knew nothing about horses, anyway.

‘And?’ Nero pressed, dipping his head to stare her in the eyes.

‘The owners and trainers had better things to do?’

‘And how would that make you feel?’

‘Okay,’ she agreed. ‘You’ve made your point.’

‘As you made yours,’ Nero pointed out wryly.

He was right. If Bella had been one of the kids arriving on the coach she would like to think her arrival counted for something—enough, at least, for the people who ran the course to be waiting to greet her. ‘I’ll go and put something else on.’

Nero glanced at his watch. There was just enough time for Bella to change her clothes. He watched her return to the house, straight-backed, with a brisk stride. He anticipated the transformation with interest.

‘Much better,’ he approved when she cocked a brow before mutely running her hands down her neatly packaged frame.

Much, much better, he thought as his body responded with indecent enthusiasm to Bella’s transformation. This was far better than dungarees, and a vast improvement on her working breeches. It was even better than Bella in a straight-laced evening dress.

‘Would you like me to do a twirl?’ she asked with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

‘I’ve seen you dance, remember? So I know twirls aren’t your strength.’ He held her gaze. He loved holding her gaze. And so they stared at each other—staring into each other’s eyes, neither one of them prepared to back down.

Until the sound of a coach approaching forced them both to glance away. But even as he stood ready to welcome the children he was keenly aware of the extremely attractive woman standing at his side dressed in no-nonsense breeches and a crisp white tailored shirt.

The children were settling in, but there was no time to relax. While his team of gauchos took the children through safety procedures and introduced them to the ponies, it was time for Nero and Bella to turn their thoughts towards the polo match. ‘Let’s get started, shall we?’ he said, heading off towards the stables.

Bella pulled a wry face as she tucked a strand of rebellious hair back into position. ‘I hope you don’t live to regret involving me in this.’

He did too.

‘Are you sure you’re not going to find this too much? Teaching reckless kids and even wilder ponies?’ He stared into her eyes, wanting to study Bella more deeply. He was a practical man. Sometimes lust intruded. Usually he would take a practical view of what was on offer—make his decision—yes or no, and then move on. Bella was too vulnerable for that. She might be acting the role but, like any actress, Bella’s woman-of-the-world façade came off with the costume.

‘I’m sure,’ she said, meeting his gaze confidently. ‘I have some experience of…coping.’

She spoke without emotion, and then he remembered Bella had three younger siblings—brothers, none of whom were interested in horses or their father’s yard, and all of whom had gone on to university, thanks to Bella’s riding boot up their backside. The children had lost their mother at an early age, and when their father had gone to pieces it had been left to Bella to set things on an even keel. There was more to this I

ce Maiden than most people even guessed at and, remembering what he’d seen of her other side on the dance floor, he said, ‘I hope you’ll make time for your tango lessons. Or will they have to be put on hold for now?’

Her timing was perfect. There was a short pause, and then, ‘Why should they be put on hold?’ she asked, ‘Ignacio has promised to hone my technique, so the next time you and I hit the dance floor, I’ll be ready for you.’

‘Oh, will you?’ he said.