"Good, I guess," Flick said. "Now what?"

"You get to practice walking your horse in the ring until your mother and I get mounted."

The hostler led Flick to a fenced-in riding arena and gave her instructions on how to use her heels to urge the horse to walk, while Max checked to see what was delaying Kristin.

"What's wrong, K?" he asked quietly.

"I'm scared, that's what's wrong," she said, refusing to look at him.

"Of the horse?" he asked skeptically. The placid animal was tied to a hitching post.

"Of falling off the horse."

"I've never known you to be scared of anything," he said. "What happened to make you frightened of horses?"

"I got thrown from a horse when I was about Flick's age."

"I wondered why you never let Flick go riding."

"I've never gotten back on a horse since."

"You didn't get right back on after you were thrown?"

She shook her head. "I dislocated my shoulder."

"Would you rather not ride?" he asked.

"I don't want to spoil Flick's day."

"It'll spoil Flick's day a lot worse to see her mother in a panic," Max said sardonically.

"I can do this," Kristin said. "I want to do this."

Max could see she was trembling. "Are you sure?"

She nodded her head jerkily.

"Okay. Let's think about this a minute." He stood in front of her, wrapped his arms around her and gently pressed her face against his chest. "Think about yourself sitting on that horse and walking along the beautiful, oak-lined trails in Hyde Park with me and Flick riding beside you."

He waited until he felt her trembling stop. Then he released her and took a step back. He lifted her chin with a forefinger and said, "No ordinary horse is going to get the better of the girl I know."

He took Kristin by the hand and led her to the pretty bay mare that had been saddled for her. He took that same hand and reached out with it to stroke the horse's neck, much as he'd done with Flick. He ran Kristin's hand along the horse's forehead, moving the animal's forelock out of the way.

On her own, Kristin ran her hand down the front of the mare's face and across her nose. "I forgot how soft a horse's nose is," she murmured.

The horse's ears pricked back and forth as she spoke.

"Why is she doing that?" she asked nervously.

"She's checking you out, just like you're checking her out. Come on, time to get on."

She grabbed for his hand and said, "I'm not sure I can do this, Max."

"Sure you can." He freed himself from her grip, made a cup of his hands and said, "Put your left hand on the front of the saddle, face me and put your left foot in my hands, and I'll boost you up. Once you're up, slip your leg over the horse's back and you'll be in the saddle.

Because she was so lithe, Kristin had no problem doing as he instructed.

"Now breathe," he said.

She exhaled loudly before drawing enough breath to say in wonder, "I'm sitting on a horse."

He constrained the grin that was trying to break free and merely said, "Yes, you are. Now put your feet in the stirrups."

When she looked down to locate the stirrups, she said, "It's not as far down as I remember."

"You're more grown-up," he reminded her as he adjusted the stirrups one at a time.

"How do you know so much about all this?" she asked.

"I spent a lot of time on horseback at one of the boarding schools my brothers and I attended. As I recall, it was an incident with a horse that got us thrown out."

He mounted his horse and instructed her how to turn her horse left and right, how to stop her mount and how to make her go. He distracted Kristin from her fear with the story of how he'd let the headmaster's stallion out of his stall, how the stallion had gotten friendly with the Latin instructor's mare and how he and his brothers had been kicked out of school long before the resulting foal had been born.

Kristin was laughing when they joined Flick at the riding ring.

"Are you ready to go, Flick?" Max called.

"Ready, Dad."

"I'm ready, too," a voice called from behind him.

Max turned his horse and found Veronica sitting on a prime piece of horseflesh-not a rented hack, but her own dainty Arabian mare-wearing a faultless hunter-green velvet riding habit.

Kristin took one look at the other woman and said, "Come on, Flick. We'll take the lead."

The woman who was supposedly afraid of riding horseback urged her mount onto the trail with their daughter beside her. He was left to deal with Veronica.

"I didn't think you were coming," he said.

"I thought you were kidding about having company for the ride," she said, eyeing Kristin and Flick down the bridge of her very pert nose. "Who are those people again?"

"The woman is Kristin Lassiter. I'm playing an exhibition match at Wimbledon with her. The child with her is her daughter." There it was again. The reluctance to say my daughter. Or even our daughter. He'd created his very own drama by inviting Veronica to come along on this ride. He might as well get the worst over with.

"Come on," he said. "I'll introduce you."

They trotted to catch up with Kristin and Flick. "Hold up," he called to the two of them. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Kristin ignored him, but Flick held up her mount until Veronica, posting with perfect posture in her English saddle, caught up to her.

"I've always wanted a white horse," Flick said, eyeing Veronica's mount.

"Actually, Blanca is dapple gray."

"Her name means white in Spanish," Flick pointed out. "And she's mostly white."

Veronica smiled indulgently. "Yes, it does. And yes, she is."

"Can I ride with you for a while?" Flick asked.

"Of course," Veronica replied.

"That way my mom can ride with my dad," Flick added. "Your dad?" Veronica turned to Max, her brows raised in patent disbelief, and said, "This is your daughter?"

"Veronica Granville, I'd like you to meet Kristin Lassiter and her daughter-our daughter-Felicity, who goes by the nickname Flick."

"Is this woman your wife?" Veronica asked.

Max choked, but Kristin said, "No. We're not married."

"I see," Veronica said, looking from one to the other. "Well, Flick. Shall we ride ahead?"

"Okay," Flick said. "But I can't ride very fast."

"Walking will be fine," Veronica said. "I'm in no hurry at all."

Max had to hand it to the reporter. She'd taken the news better than he'd expected. Of course, she'd also gotten herself a scoop. Max Benedict had just admitted to having a daughter, and that he and the girl's mother weren't married.

Max exchanged a glance with Kristin, who shrugged and shook her head in equal disbelief at Flick's maneuvering and Veronica's savoir faire.

As Veronica and Flick rode ahead together, Max joined Kristin behind them. He'd just opened his mouth to ask how she was enjoying the ride when Flick asked Veronica in a loud voice, "Are you my dad's girlfriend?"

"That's a very good question, young lady," Veronica said, glancing at Max over her shoulder. "One I think you should ask your father."

Max bit his tongue. The pain kept him from blurting an answer.

Flick turned her horse around to face Max, while Veronica pulled her mount to a halt and turned to join her. Max and Kristin caught up to Flick, and the four of them sat on their horses facing each other.

"Dad? Is Veronica your girlfriend?"

There he was, on the spot, with no safe answer to Flick's question.

"Well, Max?" Veronica said with a sardonic smile. "I'd like to hear the answer to that question myself."

Max realized he was going to have to make a choice, one from which there was no turning back. He might have given a different answer yesterday, before he'd known he had a daughter. And before Veronica had chosen to abandon him last night in favor of a stately ambassador.

He was slowly but surely realizing that his days as a carefree bachelor were over, even if he didn't end up marrying Kristin. Being a father to his daughter was going to require some sacrifices. Sleeping his way across several continents was sure to be one of them.

He met the reporter's gaze and answered, "Veronica is my friend, Flick. Not my girlfriend."

He watched Veronica's back stiffen and saw her mouth flatten into a hyphen.

He'd made his choice. He wasn't too sure just how deeply his rejection had cut. Maybe not as much this morning as it might have before the ambassador had come into her life. He didn't think he'd done more than bruise Veronica's ego. "How was the reception last night, Veronica?"

"The ambassador is a man of many talents, Max," she said. "If you know what I mean."

He did. She deserved the chance to remind him that she was a desirable woman, and that he was going to regret letting her get away. But he didn't feel sorry. Except for having invited her in the first place.

"I think I'll ride ahead," Veronica said. "I'd like to give Blanca a little more exercise than she's gotten on this family ride of yours."

"We'll see you back at the stables," Max said.

"I'm afraid I'll be gone before you get back, Max. I've got other plans this afternoon. It was nice meeting you, Kristin. And you, Flick."

"Nice meeting you, too, Miss Veronica," Flick said. "You have a really pretty horse."

"Thank you, dear." Veronica rode over and kissed Max on the cheek. She leaned close and said, "Good-bye, Max. Thanks for the scoop."

Max watched Veronica canter her horse away, her form perfect in the saddle. He might have been able to bring pressure to bear to keep her from selling what she knew to some gossip rag. But he wasn't ashamed of Flick. And maybe the publicity would push Kristin into his arms.

"I think she likes you, Dad," Flick said when Veronica was out of hearing. "Do you like her more than Mom?"

"Flick!" Kristin said.

"No, Flick," he replied. "I like your mom the best of anyone I know."

Kristin shot him a surprised look. Quietly enough so Flick couldn't hear she said, "Then why did you invite Veronica to come today?"

"Let's say it was a mistake and leave it at that."

"Can we trot now, Dad?"

"I need to teach you how to post first." He showed Flick how to lift her body off the saddle when the horse was jogging by standing slightly in the stirrups and then sitting in the saddle again in concert with the horse's up and down stride, allowing for a smooth ride.

"Got it!" Flick said. "This is neat, Dad," she said, posting as she trotted ahead.

Max turned to Kristin and asked, "How about you? You okay with trotting?"

Kristin nodded. "I think I've got it, too."

They jogged along infamous Rotten Row, where Regency-era lords and ladies had driven their curricles in the afternoon to see and be seen, now a wide dirt path running along the outer edge of the park. Max corrected Flick's form as she posted in the English saddle. When their horses slowed again, he nudged his horse close to Kristin and said, "You're doing great."

She laughed nervously. "I wouldn't dare fall off and ruin this outfit."

He eyed her up and down appreciatively. "You look amazing in it."

"Thank you. I've been wondering about something all afternoon."

"I'll be glad to satisfy your curiosity." He was glad to be talking to her at all, considering her threat yesterday not to speak to him for the rest of her life. "What is it?"