Finding the Dream (Dream Trilogy 3)

"The point is, the building should be looked after. Right now it's just sitting there empty. You could use the rent, since you refuse to dip into Templeton capital to run this place."

"I'm not going over that ground again."

"Fine." He recognized that set to her mouth and didn't bother. "The rent from a building you're not using would help you out. Right?"

"Yes, but-"

He held up a hand. He would cut through the logic and practicalities first. "You could use someone around here, in the short term, to do some heavy work, to put the stables back in shape. That's something you simply can't do yourself."

"That's true, but-"

Now, Josh thought, for the clincher. "And I have an old friend whose home has been washed out from under him. I'd consider it a personal favor."

"Low blow," she muttered.

"They're always the most effective." Knowing he'd scored, he gave her hair a quick, affectionate tug. "Look, it should work out for everyone, but give it a couple of weeks. If it's not working, I'll find an alternative."

"All right. But if he starts having drunken poker parties or orgies-"

"We'll try to keep them discreet," Josh finished and grinned. "Thanks." He kissed her and took the baby. "He's a good man, Laura. One you can count on in tight squeezes."

Laura wrinkled her nose at his back as he carried J. T. out of the room. "I don't intend to count on Michael Fury, particularly in a tight squeeze."

Chapter Three

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The last place Michael Fury had expected to take up residence, however temporarily, was on the great Templeton estate. Oh, he'd visited there often enough in the past, under the subtly watchful eyes of Thomas and Susan Templeton and the not so subtly watchful eye of Ann Sullivan.

He was well aware that the Templeton housekeeper had considered him a mongrel let loose among her purebreds. And he assumed that she'd been worried about his intentions toward her daughter.

She could have rested easy there. As lip smackingly gorgeous as Margo was, and always had been, she and Michael had never been more than casual friends.

Maybe he'd kissed her a couple of times. How was a red-blooded man supposed to resist that mouth? But that had been the beginning and end of it. She'd been for Josh. Even that long ago and despite the shortsightedness of youth, he'd realized that.

Michael Fury didn't poach on a pal.

Despite their different backgrounds, they had been friends. Real friends. Michael didn't consider many people real friends. He would, and had, gone to the wall for Josh, and he knew he could depend on the same.

Still, he would never have asked for the favor and would likely have refused it but for his horses. He didn't want them boarded any longer than necessary in a public facility. He'd gotten sentimental over them, and he wasn't ashamed of it. In the last few years they'd been one of the few constants in his life.

He'd tried a number of things. He'd drifted. He liked to drift. Joining the merchant marine had been an escape, he'd reveled in it. He'd seen a lot of the world, and he liked some of it.

It had been cars for a time. He still had an affection for them, liked to drive full out. He'd had some success on the race circuit in Europe, but it hadn't satisfied him in the long term.

In between the sea and the cars, there had been a brief stint as a mercenary, during which he'd learned too much about killing and warring for profit. And maybe he'd been afraid he was too good at it, afraid it would satisfy him too well. It had fattened his wallet but scarred his heart.

He'd been married once also, only briefly, and could claim no success from that experience either.

It was during his stuntman stage that he fell for horses. He'd learned that craft, gained a reputation, broken several bones. He jumped out of buildings, rioted in staged bar fights, was shot off roofs, set on fire. And he tumbled off of countless horses.

Michael Fury knew how to take a fall. But he wasn't able to roll when he fell in love with horses.

So he bought them, and bred them, and tr

ained them. He had put down a sick horse and labored through the birth of a foal.

Though he knew the odds were long, he thought he'd found what he'd been looking for.