“Thank you.”

“You do other things just as well, if not better.”

I shot a sideways look at him. “You’re going there again?”

His brow creased and then he smiled. “No, but it’s good to know your mind is.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I meant at managing Dirty Dog. I attended a ribbon-cutting ceremony yesterday afternoon for a new business started with a grant from the Entrepreneur Fund. The new proprietor was singing your praises because apparently you found her the dress she’d worn for the big day. Several of the ladies present were complimentary as well, and to be honest, they were women I never would have expected to admit to wearing anything that had had a previous owner.”

I glowed at the compliment. “You’d be surprised how many society types I have as regulars. Vintage Chanel, Dior, Dolce & Gabana, YSL, Versace—I know where to get the good stuff. And it’s classy to be vintage these days.”

“It’s a credit to you that you know what people want, how to get it, and how to make it most appealing.”

“That’s my job.”

“And when you own the place? Are you up for the rest of the challenge?”

I glanced over at him. He didn’t look as if he was questioning my abilities, but just curious.

“I wouldn’t be so dead set on buying it if I weren’t. Contrary to what you might think, Harriet doesn’t run any of the money side. I do everything. I deliver financial statements to her on a monthly basis, and she lets me know if she has any questions. I also deliver a healthy profit margin every month, one that’s increased year over year at an impressive rate.” I paused. “You do know I got my business degree at UNO, right? Graduated with honors, full scholarship, and I worked full time.”

He would have read it in the grant application, so it shouldn’t have come as a shock.

“You’re type A, goal-oriented, high-achieving. You’re a hell of a woman, Yve Santos.”

Before I could bask in the glow of yet another compliment, we reached the barn. Chris, the groom, met us outside. Lucas dismounted and was by my side before Chris could lead me to a mounting block. I gave Belle up reluctantly; I wasn’t ready for this day to be over.

“How’d she do for you?” Chris asked.

“She was perfect. Which is kind of terrible, because now I’m going to want to do it again.” And I really did. There was something incredibly relaxing about riding.

“Fitting that Creole Belle would be perfect for a beautiful woman,” Chris said before ducking his head shyly.

I slid my gaze to Lucas. He was shooting a thunderous gaze at the kid, so I nudged him.

Lucas’s gaze dropped to me. “How is that a problem? You wanting to do this again?”

I gestured to myself. “I was on a borrowed horse in borrowed clothes. This isn’t exactly my life.”

Lucas watched me contemplatively. “It could be.”

What was that supposed to mean?

I didn’t know what to say, and the silence grew heavy and awkward. I filled it with practicalities instead. “I need to go get changed.”

He nodded, and the moment was gone. “I’ll get my clothes and meet you at the car.”

Ten minutes later we were driving home, but once again, the silence was companionable rather than awkward.

Lucas’s words echoed in my head.

It could be.

I had no idea what to make of them, but my heart seemed to jump to its own conclusions, the cracks filling with hope.

A FEELING OF WEIGHTLESSNESS WOKE me, and I stiffened. I must have fallen asleep waiting for Lucas to finish his conference calls with Asia.

“You’re fine,” Lucas murmured.

“What’s goin—” I mumbled.

“You fell asleep in the wrong bed. I want you in mine.”

My brain was too fuzzy to argue. I was conscious of being slipped between cool sheets, but after that . . . nothing.

I woke several hours later with a big, hot body pressed against my back. I rarely slept with anyone, and I never cuddled.

A heavy weight over my hip and a hand held me in place, pressed to my belly just above the waistband of my panties.

Lucas spooned? No way.

I shifted, and my movements woke the sleeping giant.

“Go back to sleep, Yve.”

“Why am I in your bed?” I whispered.

“Because this is where I want you.”

I tried to scoot away, to put a few inches between us, but Lucas didn’t release me.

“Woman, go back to sleep.”

A riot of emotions crashed through me. Hope was chief among them, but I couldn’t banish the strands of fear that I was getting in over my head.

Why was sleeping with someone, all curled up like this, more scary than all the sex we’d had? Because this was Lucas. And I was me.

What are we doing?

“Stop thinking so damn hard, and go back to sleep.”

I shifted again, and a rush of Lucas’s hot breath hit my neck before I found myself flipped onto my back and Lucas leaning on his forearms on either side of my head.

His knee slid between my thighs. “The only reason we should be awake in the middle of the night is because I’m deep inside you and you’re on the edge of coming.”

Heat pulsed through my lower body as I registered his erection growing against my belly.

Sex. Sex I could handle. It was everything else that confused me, scaring the hell out of me.

“Then what are you waiting for?” I lifted my hips to rock against him and twined my legs around his waist.

“Stop, Yve.”

I froze. “Then let me up.”

“I’m going to have to fuck you until you black out so I can get some goddamn sleep with you in my arms, I see.”

I had no time to process his growled statement, because my mind was trying to gauge what his hands were doing. In moments, my panties and the T-shirt I’d been wearing were both gone, and Lucas’s mouth was on mine. He devastated and devoured before moving down to my jaw, my ear, and then sliding along my neck to my breasts.

He covered my skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses, only lifting his mouth to murmur, “So fucking soft and perfect,” before sliding farther south down my body.

Somewhere along the line, Lucas had gone from being my hate-fuck to being my lover. When did that happen?

I didn’t get a chance to answer my own question because his lips closed around my clit and once he began to tease and suck and drag me toward the edge, I forgot to care. All I wanted was Lucas.