“I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care.” A small nugget of peace bloomed in her soul while she repeated that mantra, feeling the powerful muscles beneath her, the wind whipping at her own hair, which she’d let loose to match Zelda’s. When she realized they’d been gone for more than an hour, she turned Zelda toward home, figuring by now her mama had alerted her daddy to their wayward daughter’s sassy attitude.

While she was glancing around for one of the stable boys to take her horse so she could sneak up to the house, her feet got tangled up, and she lurched forward, letting go of Zelda’s reins and dropping to her hands and knees in the dust and hay. Her face burned hot as forbidden words rose to her lips. Both her brothers cursed —outside their mother’s hearing—like sailors on leave, and she’d picked up a few of their habits. The words felt so good coming out of her mouth, she couldn’t help but use them whenever she was in the barns, a place her mother rarely graced with her presence.

“Shit. God damn it.” She flinched when a very warm, very masculine hand took hold of her arm. Thinking it must be one of her brothers, she yanked herself away. “I can get up my own self.”

“Sorry, miss. Only trying to help.”

She scrambled to her feet in a sort of slow motion. That voice had been a new one—gravelly, gruff, and low. It reverberated in her chest, making her both tingly and mad. The man who belonged to the voice stood touching Zelda’s flank, his deep brown eyes boring into Lindsay’s. She tried not to stare, but couldn’t help herself.

He had thick, coal-black hair, olive skin, and shoulders as wide as any man’s she’d ever seen, even though he wasn’t tall, which she’d always preferred. But if she had to conjure a sultry Italian star for a Hollywood movie, this stranger would be a shoo-in, with his incredible voice, dark jeans, and Halloran Farms chambray work shirt worn so tight she could discern every muscle in his torso.

His utter foreignness, not simply his appearance and voice, but the very fact of his presence in her family’s barn, heated every inch of her skin. She kept retreating from him, embarrassing herself even more, and then compounding it by whamming her bottom into a stack of metal buckets in the cleaning area, sending them clattering down and deafening everyone in the vicinity. Another curse burst out of her mouth.

The man didn’t move, other than to keep stroking Zelda so she wouldn’t skitter away from the terrifying clamor. Then he pushed his hat up and tilted his head, looking confused, or amused at her abject clumsiness and idiocy. Lindsay sensed something between them—something she’d pooh-poohed when she read her mother’s forbidden romance paperbacks. But one of the more clichéd phrases sailed into her brain and stuck there, like a candy wrapper in a chain link fence.

Time stood still.

Her face flamed hot when embarrassment morphed into convenient anger.

“What do you think you’re staring at?” She’d meant to sound demanding, bossy, the more-than-slightly-spoiled daughter of the rich horseman. But her voice cracked, betraying her. She cleared her throat then opened her mouth to try again. The unbelievably handsome man with the deep brown gaze and odd, raspy voice had rendered her utterly speechless.

“Ah, there you are.” Her father’s voice made her flinch and trip straight into the pile of buckets with another curse. “Lindsay, honey, what has gotten into you? Such language.”

She glared over at the man who’d taken Zelda’s reins but still had not stopped staring at her like she was a freak show exhibit.

“Sorry, Daddy,” she said, moving next to him, shivering in the coolness of the barn after she’d spent the past hour in the sun. He gave her a one-armed hug and kissed her hair, then turned her slightly.

“Sweetheart, allow me to introduce you to Lorenzo Love.” A taller but less compelling and obviously related version of the man with the voice smiled and held out a hand. She shook it, trying to parse the words coming out of her father’s mouth. “Lorenzo is our new manager. He’ll be working with Patrick for a few weeks before he takes over.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she said in a whisper, the back of her neck prickling for some reason.

“I hired these boys out from under old Yarrington,” her father said with an obvious bit of pride. “That sonofabitch was hollerin’ at me for sure. But I knew he had to have seriously good barn management. So, I hired them. Paying them twice what he did, the sorry so-and-so.”

The man with the voice who’d brought her brief, naïve life to a screeching halt with one look moved closer to Lorenzo. He seemed nervous, and a little shell-shocked, which gave Lindsay another jolt right through her gut.

“This is Tony,” her father said, gesturing to him. “Tony Love. He’ll be his brother’s assistant. All right now, boys, I’ve got to get my baby girl on up to the house. Her mama has a dinner party planned, right, sugar? Y’all see Patrick, and he’ll get you settled. It’s a shared house, but it has running water and a kitchen, should you want to cook for yourselves. There is always food up at the house, where you’re welcome to eat during the week.”

Lindsay swallowed and nearly choked on her own spit when Tony stepped forward, took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips. “Bellisima,” he said, clear as day. His dark eyes twinkled. His bright white smile blinded her. And that voice—the deep growl of it combined with his over-the-top movie-star Italian looks, made her shiver.

Her father frowned, then chuckled and smacked Tony hard on the shoulder, sending a message with the force of it. James Halloran Senior was large, in charge, and might tolerate the help paying his precious jewel of a daughter a compliment in a fancy foreign language after kissing her hand, but only once.

Time did that standing still thing again. She watched Tony grin at her father, then shift his gaze to her. She forced the immediate imaginary vision of the expanse of his incredible body utterly naked out of her addled brain. As the sister of two boisterous, unabashed brothers, she had seen the male anatomy before; not for more than a minute or two, but enough to visualize Tony’s. She shook her head.

Nice girls do not think about penises.

“See you in the morning, miss?” Low, gruff, gravelly—the voice would haunt her the entire night, she just knew it. “I’ll have your horse ready for you.” He bowed his head slightly, then turned to Zelda and clicked his teeth. To Lindsay’s amazement the horse trotted right over to him, playfully flicking his hat off with her nose. Zelda had always been standoffish at best, temperamental at worst. She did not tolerate strangers.

Tony crooned to her in Italian while he rubbed her nose and neck, chuckling when Zelda snorted into his hair. He patted her long neck and turned, catching Lindsay’s eye again. She sucked in a breath when he winked, then walked Zelda toward the washing stall.

“Tony Love,” she whispered, biting her lip before her father tapped her shoulder and pointed to the door.

Chapter Two

“God, will you just stop?” Lindsay smacked her mother’s hands away. “I’ve got this.” She turned to face the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the bridal shop, admiring herself. “I want this one.” And she did. Something about the fairy-tale quality of her image kitted out in a soft cream wedding gown that suited her coloring perfectly almost made her forget why she had one on in the first place.

“That doesn’t suit your figure,” her Aunt Caroline insisted while circling her. “Your mama is right. Let’s try the next one.” She snapped her fingers. Two shop girls scurried around, bringing coffee and iced tea to the gathered throng of females, who were seated in a ring of comfy chairs facing the slightly raised floor in front of the mirror.