When the mare had stopped trembling, Daisy stepped out of the stall, shaded her eyes from the sun and faced the interloper. She scowled at the man's new sneakers, monogrammed shirt and neatly pressed slacks. He looked liked he'd be more at home on a sailboat than in a barn.

The man peered over wire-rimmed glasses like he knew something she didn't. Or was he appraising her? Why? His dark hair set off a chiseled face; it was difficult to guess his age, but she could see a few gray hairs at his temples. He was money. Understated, but money. Probably the stock market. What was he doing in her barn?

She thrust her jaw at him. "So who the hell are you? Don't you know better than to sneak up on someone who's working with a horse?"

The man frowned and sputtered before speaking. "Sorry kid, I didn't mean to put you in danger. Don't know a damn thing about horses. I'll be the first to admit that."

Daisy exhaled slowly. "Okay, so why are you here?" She shifted her weight from foot to foot. An odd sensation swept over her--one she didn't like. This man, although ignorant as hell about horses and barn etiquette, had an air of confidence that suggested he knew he belonged--whether in the board room, on a sail boat, or even in her barn. His staring made her uncomfortable, and she didn't like being uncomfortable.

She knew how to protect herself from males; she'd been doing that for years. That wasn't the problem. The guy was probably old enough to be her father. But he was dangerous; she just didn't know how, yet. "And do you have a name? Who let you in here? You know you got to have a pass to be back here."

"Good God kid, do you always welcome people by putting your dukes up first?" The man dug a visitor's badge out of his pocket. "Will this help?" he asked, handing it to her. "The name's Nicholas Underwood. My friends call me Nick."

Daisy examined the badge as if it contained the stranger's DNA. She handed it back. "You should wear it so it shows."

Underwood grunted an expletive under his breath. He studied the combative young woman. If only his employees were as protective of his plant as this woman was of her horse.

How old was she? Maybe twenty-four, twenty-five. Too young. He scanned her tight, willowy frame. Damn, was she blushing?

Who would have guessed that a slight overbite could be so attractive? It set off an angular face and a slightly oversized nose; yet all was in balance as if sculpted by a skilled craftsman. Strawberry blond hair fell to her shoulders and swept across her forehead. She stood tall and lanky with medium breasts.

Not the kind of woman that usually appealed to him. He'd never been attracted to younger women, preferring women with experience.

So why was this willowy kid with straw sticking in her hair leaving him tongue-tied like some damn adolescent? Maybe the overly pungent horse odors clogged his good sense.

Nick breathed deeply and clipped the identification badge to his shirt pocket. "If that satisfies you, maybe you can help me. I don't think I'm lost. The guy at the gate said Barn D. By the way, what's your name?"

She pursed her lips as if he'd just asked for her most closely guarded secret.

"You know my name and have me at an advantage, kid. So who are you and what were you doing with that horse? I didn't know horses wore socks."

The young woman giggled. It was a low pitched sound that did nothing to soothe Nick's nerves. He'd obviously said something funny.

Willow , he decided he'd call her Willow .

She brushed hair away from her eyes before responding. "I'm Daisy. Daisy Matthews. I'm assistant trainer for Sam Gallagher." She crossed her arms across her mid-section. "They're not socks. I just finished wrapping her ankles to help bring some heat down."

Nick nodded. There was a lot to learn if he wanted to take horseracing seriously, which he wasn't convinced was desirable. He wouldn't be here at all, if it wasn't for Michael Barnes going belly up on him. Daisy Matthews. He shook his head. All he had to do was locate the damn horse, arrange for its sale and get the hell out of here. No more horses. No more Willow.

This niggling indecisiveness was bad and so out of character for him. Cool. Collected. Poised. Skilled. Powerful. That's how he saw himself, and it'd better be the way others saw him.

He plopped down on a bale of hay in the shadow of the stable. The woman frowned at him. Wasn't that why the bales were there? He'd seen people sitting on them once at the state fair.

"I think I should have worn a hat," he said in way of explanation. "It must be ten degrees cooler here in the shade."

"It gets hot and muggy in July in Chicago . A hat would've been a good idea. And if you ever come back, shoes or boots are better than sneakers. On shedrow you never know when you'll be in a position for a horse to step on you."

"I'll try to remember--if there is a next time. So tell me, where can I find a horse named RainbowBlaze?"

"RainbowBlaze!" Daisy gasped and glared at him again. "Why? What do you want with her?"

"Damn, you've got to be the most protective woman I've ever encountered. If you must know, she's my horse."

Daisy opened her mouth as if to speak. She glanced quickly at the chestnut mare. "There must be a mistake," she stammered. "RainbowBlaze belongs to Michael Barnes."

Nick crossed his legs and leaned against the stable wall, giving Daisy Matthews a slow satisfied smile. He'd found his horse. And he had a new employee. This could be more interesting than he'd imagined.

Furthermore, being his employee made Matthews safe to be around. He had a firm rule against personal involvements with employees. He flashed a look at the slender woman's nipples that showed faintly through an orange tank top. Didn't she know what she looked like?

Too young. He closed his eyes. He might be old enough to be her father. His eyes sprang open and he appraised her again. Maybe, maybe not.

"The horse did belong to Michael Barnes." Fright flickered across the blonde's face and quickly disappeared behind a steely gaze. "Mike's fallen on bad economic times. Turned out he couldn't pay his debts. Showed up at my office with a bill of sale for some damn race horse and begged me to take it to clear what he owed me. Against my better judgment, I agreed." Nick raised his open palms upward. "So, here I am."

Daisy's hands, resting at her sides, curled into fists.

"You look like you'd like to slaughter me for your supper." Nick stood. Ignoring the woman, he pointed at the horse with the oversized socks. "So I take it this is RainbowBlaze." He glanced back over his shoulder at the woman. She gulped and nodded. "Is the horse any good? How much can I get for her?"

Daisy sputtered and Nick suppressed a laugh.

"She's a damn good mare. She'll run her heart out for you, if you treat her right. But she won't work just for anyone."

"Sounds like you've got a thing for my horse, kid."

"Suppose so." Daisy studied the dirt at her feet. "I've known her since she was foaled. Was there to help her mother give birth. I've been there every step of the way when Rainbow was with Cassie Travers, and then when Michael Barnes bought her it was with the understanding that she'd come to Sam's barn and be with me."

When the woman stopped to catch her breath, Nick said, "You didn't answer my question. How much is she worth?"

Daisy shrugged. "Maybe," her voice quaked, "fifty thousand. Maybe more."

"Hmm. Michael said a hundred grand."

He watched the spirit flow out of the young woman. Her glistening eyes grabbed at something inside him that he hadn't experienced for a long time. Not thinking, he reached for her chin.

"That horse," he said softly, "means a lot more to you than a hundred grand, doesn't it?"