California Royale by Deborah Smith Read Free Book Online

a ranch hand, and eventually bought his own place. The Solo Verde. I inherited it.”
    “You were born there?”
    His hands rose to her ankle, drawing lines along the bones. “Such delicacy,” he murmured. “Yep. Born on the ranch and grew up on the ranch. My mother was killed in a car accident when I was four. My grandfather was too busy to play parent, so I grew up as I pleased. Wild.”
    Shea’s leg felt heavy and deliciously warm. The sensation, she acknowledged with surprise, was drifting over the rest of her body. Did Duke have magic in those large calloused hands? “What reformed you?” she asked.
    “When I was eighteen, a horse fell on me. While I was recuperating, I went to work at a Thoroughbred ranch near us. I was too busted up to do real work, but I had a way with horses, and they let me supervise a couple of colts. So that was the start of my career in horseracing. I bought a colt of my own, won a little money, bought some more stock …”
    “And now you’ve got one of the best-known operations in the country.”
    He looked up and grinned. “Proud of it, if I do say so myself.”
    “I can understand why you’re proud.”
    A look of gentle surprise lit his handsome features. “I know that you grew up a lot different from me.”
    “Not really. I can understand.” Shea looked away quickly. She’d grown up under circumstances that were probably rougher than his own. “My mother didn’t have a lot of money. I didn’t have a silver-spoon childhood.”
    “What is Shea Somerton all about?” he asked suddenly, his voice soft and low. “Behind those big violet eyes is she happy being such a tame filly?”
    Shea looked back at him.
Could he read minds?
“My blood pressure’s terrific, my pulse is great, I can run a seven-minute mile and bench press more than my own weight. I sleep well, I have a lot of energy, and I look forward to going to work in the morning.”
    “None of which necessarily says that you’re happy. What about your social life?”
    “I have friends on the staff. I have hobbies.” She smiled at him primly. “I play the flute.”
    “Sounds like a boring life to me.”
    Shea opened her mouth, shut it, and silently admitted that her life
was
boring. Boring, but serene. “I like it,” she said.
    “Your shoulders are all hunched up.”
    “That’s because you make me cranky and tense. I’m going to get a massage after I leave here.”
    “I give
great massages
. Ask any injured horse on my ranch. Lay down on your stomach and let me rub your shoulders.” When she started to protest, he heldup a finger and said coyly, “You’re not
afraid
of me, are you?”
    She knew that she’d been offered a challenge, one that she couldn’t refuse. She wasn’t afraid of the man; she was afraid of what the man could do to her ordered life and emotions. That was different, wasn’t it?
    “Hmmmph,” she mumbled, then turned to lay on her stomach and snuggle her face into the pillows. As she fiddled with her dress, tucking it tightly around her legs like a shield, Shea told herself that she was accommodating him for the estate’s sake. She had to keep him happy.
    But she quivered when he sat down on the edge of the couch, his hard, lean hip and thigh pressed closely against her side. His hands settled on her bare shoulders, brushing aside wisps of hair. He molded his fingers to her skin and began to rub gently, circling, his touch sure and firm and incredible. Shea sighed with involuntary delight.
    “Like that, do you?” he asked in a devilish voice.
    “I envy your horses.”
    He laughed seductively.
    She was being hypnotized, Shea thought blankly. She couldn’t move … didn’t want to move.
    “I’ve been talking to the staff,” Duke said, his voice almost a whisper. “They’re crazy about you. You do a great job here, they tell me.”
    “They’re happy because I’m a soft touch, I stay off people’s backs as long as things run smoothly.”
    “It’s more than that.