Tempestuous/Restless Heart by Tami Hoag Read Free Book Online

stream of violent blistering Italian while Carter Hill snapped pictures.
    Christian laughed, perversely delighted by her temper. She had wanted to melt against him—he was too experienced not to know that. Instead she had given him what he no doubt deserved. His cheek was stinging, but it was nothing compared to the lingering sensation of her lips beneath his. Wonderful. Delicious. Instantly addictive.
    “My apologies, Ms. Gianni,” he said smoothly, capturing her wildly gesticulating hands with his. “I’m afraid I lost my head.”
    Still speaking Italian, Alex muttered that his head wasn’t the only thing he should worry about losing if he tried to kiss her again.
    “I’ll bear that in mind,” Christian said, blue eyes dancing. “I’m rather attached to that particular part of my anatomy.”
    Alex blushed furiously at the sudden realization that he had understood every word she’d said. Irrational anger burned through her because he hadn’t had the grace to tell her he spoke Italian.
    “Just don’t let it happen again, Mr. Atherton,” she said. Tilting her nose up to a haughty angle, she whirled and stormed out of the ring.
    “Oh, I can’t promise that, Ms. Gianni,” Christian murmured, watching her go, admiring the sway of her slim hips. “I can’t promise that at all.”
    Alex stormed around her stall area, flinging things into her gear bag, cursing the day God created man. He should have skipped the first effort, made woman, and called it a day. She was sure everything that was wrong with the world—certainly everything that was wrong with her world—could be directly attributed to men. They weren’t good for anything except opening jars and reaching things on high shelves … and kissing.
    She swore long and colorfully as that thought intruded on her tantrum. Her lips were still buzzing from contact with Christian’s mouth. She dropped the gloves she was holding and pressed her fingers to her lips, swaying slightly as a strong current of residual desire wafted through her. She could still taste him, warm and fresh and too, too tempting.
    The sigh that slid from her lungs was heavy with despair. She couldn’t afford to be attracted to Christian Atherton. Nor could she afford to have him make a public spectacle of her, she thought, her anger stirring again, rising to the top of the emotional whirlpool.
    Damn him for kissing her that way! Who did he think he was? Royalty?
    Actually, he was, if memory served. Alex frowned. There was another reason she couldn’t go getting tangled up with him. She would be a fool to think her future might include the wealthy son of an earl, and she was not a fool. She’d stopped being a fool the day Michael DeGrazia had walked out on her. She had a life to rebuild and a daughter to raise. She seriously doubted Christian Atherton would be interested in any of that. Men of his ilk were concerned with little beyond their own immediate needs and desires. That was just another fact of life she had learned to accept.
    Putting the whole subject from her mind, Alex let herself into Terminator’s stall to remove his cooler. She double-checked the gelding’s cross-ties and left the stall, never turning her back on the horse. He glared at her and tossed his head threateningly.
    She didn’t like the washy chestnut any better than she liked his owner, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She had come to Virginia with no reputation. She couldn’t expect to attract a better class of owners until she had made a name for herself among the affluent hunter-jumper crowd.
    That would come with time. She had no doubts about her abilities to compete with the likes of Christian Atherton or Robert Braddock or even the legendary Rodney Jenkins. All she needed was time and a chance to prove herself. That she would have to prove herself on horses like Terminator was not the most pleasant prospect, but that was the way it was.
    Latching the bottom door of the box she allowed herself a