"That's quite a story. I guess you met the unlucky Bill Cunningham at the track."

"No, at least not initially. I used to work for him."

"Here?" She set down her fork. "You used to work here?"

"I walked hots, shoveled manure, polished tack. For three years I was one of Cunningham's boys. He had a fine line back then. Of course, he never gave a good goddamn about the horses. They were just money to him. He cared a lot less about the people who took care of them. Our rooms were like little cells, cramped, dingy. He didn't believe in putting any of his capital into unnecessary improvements."

"I don't think it bothered you at all to take his house."

"I didn't lose any sleep over it. When I left here, I did some time at Three Willows. Now, that's a farm.

Chadwick had the touch. So does your mother. When I left-I was about seventeen then-I figured I'd come back one day, money dripping out of my pockets, and buy myself one place or the other."

"And you did."

"In a manner of speaking."

"What did you do while you were away?"

"That's another story."

"Fair enough." Relaxed with food and wine, she propped her chin on her fist. "I bet you hated that Cape Cod."

"Every fucking inch of it."

Laughing, she leaned back again and picked up her glass. "I think I'm starting to like you. I hope you didn't make all that up."

"I didn't have to. Want dessert?"

"I can't." With a little moan, she pushed away from the table to wander the room. "When I first saw this house, I thought it looked arrogant and territorial. I think I was right." She closed her eyes for a moment.

"My point of no return."

"What?"

"Nothing." She shook her head and walked closer to the windows. "It must be quite a feeling to look out any window and see so much of your own."

"What do you see out of yours?"

"A restaurant, a small shopping center with a terrible little boutique and a wonderful bakery. It's practically next door to the Metro and I thought I wanted convenience."

He put his hands on her shoulders, then turned her so that they were face-to-face. "But you don't."

"No." The quick tremble caught her by surprise when he skimmed his hand up the side of her neck.

"What then?"

"I haven't decided."

He framed her face, letting his fingers dip into her hair. "I have."

His mouth lowered to hers, soft at first, testing, hardly more than a nibble that gave them both the choice to step back. But she didn't, not with his taste still vibrating on her lips and the low, drugging ache of unexpected need churning.

She didn't step back, but forward, her arms winding recklessly around his neck, her mouth melding hotly with his.

So much to feel. She'd forgotten there was so much to feel. Or perhaps she'd never known. There was nothing civilized or tentative about this embrace. It was groping and wild, an explosion of sensation that mocked the gentle candlelight and soft music.

She stripped his mind clean. There was nothing left for him but naked sensation, the smell of her, the taste, which mixed together like some exotic drug. The feel of her straining against him, the sound of his quickened breathing as she dragged him greedily closer. The need for her, sharp and edgy as a knife, peeled away the layers of manners, behavior, and ethics he'd carefully crafted, and bared the reckless man beneath.

He needed to touch her. His hands streaked down, over, in a desperate race to possess. She arched under them, eager for more. Hurry, she wanted to beg him to hurry, not to let her think, not to let her reason.

Then he ran a hand over her face, combing her hair behind her ear. The image of him performing that same careless gesture for her mother only hours before flashed into her mind.

The horror, and the shame, were like two vicious, heavy blows. She shoved away, fighting for air.

"Don't." She stumbled back when he reached for her. "Don't touch me." She could still taste him. Still want him. "How could you do this? How could I do this?"

"I want you." He had to fight every instinct in his body to keep from lunging forward and taking what had nearly been his. "You want me."

Because it was true, urgently true, she had no choice but to strike back. "I'm not a mare to be hobbled and serviced. And I didn't come here tonight so you could find out if the daughter takes after the mother."

To restrain them, Gabe stuck his hands in his pockets. "Clarify."

"I'm not excusing myself, but at least I have the decency to stop this before it goes any further. You have no decency at all." She shoved her tumbled hair back. Fury, fueled by an acid guilt, turned her voice into a whip. "Is this all just another game to you, Slater? Lure the daughter, wine and dine her, charm her into bed and see if she's as good as the mother? Did you place bets, calculate the odds?"

He took a moment before he answered. When he did, neither his face nor his voice revealed any of the clawing anger. "You think I'm sleeping with Naomi?"

"I know you are."

"I'm flattered."

"You're-What kind of a man are you?"

"You have no idea, Kelsey. None at all. I doubt very much you've come across my kind in that nice, comfortable little world of yours." He stepped forward, curling his hand around the back of her neck. It was a small, nasty way of paying her back. But he was feeling small, and he was feeling nasty.

However stiff she held her spine, her body began to tremble. "Take your hands off me."

"You like my hands on you," he said softly. "Right now you're afraid, excited, but afraid, and wondering what you would do if I dragged you upstairs. Hell, why go to all that trouble when there's a floor right here?" His voice was smooth and cool as cream, but there was a light in his eyes, a dangerous burn.

"What would you do, Kelsey, if I took you right here, right now?"

Fear clawed up her throat, shredding her voice. "I said take your hands off me."

He could read the terror on her face. It was clear as a scream even when he released her and stepped back. It didn't quite fade, nor did the feelings of disgust that simmered inside him.

"I'll apologize for that. Only for that." He studied her for a moment. The color he'd deliberately frightened out of her cheeks was coming back. "You're quick to judge, Kelsey. Since you've made up your mind, we won't waste time discussing fact or fantasy. I'll take you home."

CHAPTER SEVEN

NAOMI WAS TYING THE BELT OF HER ROBE WHEN SHE HEARD THE FRONT door slam.

Surprised by the angry sound, she hesitated before going out into the hall. Was it her place, she wondered, to question Kelsey after an evening out? She had no precedent. If she'd lived through those teenage years with Kelsey, through the late-night talks, the arguments and worries, through the triumphs and tragedies of adolescence, she'd know.

But she had no guideposts, only instincts. The sound of Kelsey's feet rushing up the stairs decided her.

She opened her own door, certain she could keep the whole experience very casual. No prying, just a quick how was your evening. One look at Kelsey's face erased all intentions.

"What happened?" Before either of them could think, she moved forward to take Kelsey's arms. "Are you all right?"

Still revving on temper, Kelsey went instantly on the attack. "How can you associate with him, much less ... God, you all but asked me to spend the evening with him."

"Gabe?" Naomi's fingers tightened. She trusted Gabe implicitly, without question. But a small female dread curled in her gut. "What did he do?"

"He kissed me," Kelsey shot back. Her color flared at the ridiculously lame understatement of what had happened between them.

"Kissed you," Naomi repeated, while relief and amusement twined through her. "And that's it?"

"Don't you care?" Frustrated, Kelsey jerked back. "I'm telling you he kissed me. I kissed him back.

We were groping at each other. And it wouldn't have stopped if I hadn't remembered."

Out of your depth, Naomi, she thought. If they couldn't deal as mother to daughter, perhaps they could begin as woman to woman. "Come in and sit down."

"I don't want to sit." But Kelsey followed Naomi into the bedroom.

"I do." Rearranging her thoughts, Naomi settled on the padded stool of her vanity table. "Kelsey, I know you might still be raw from your divorce. But you are divorced, and free to develop other relationships."

Kelsey stopped her restless pacing and gaped. " I'm free? This isn't about me. It's about you."

"Me?"

"What's wrong with you?" Now there was insult added to temper, insult that the woman who shared her blood could be so shallow. "Don't you have any pride?"

"Actually," Naomi said slowly, "I've often been told I have too much. But I don't see how that applies at the moment."

"I'm telling you that your lover wanted to sleep with me, and it doesn't apply?"

Naomi's mouth worked silently before she could get it around the words. "My lover?"

"God knows how you can let him touch you," Kelsey barreled on. "You've known him for years and you must see what he is. Oh, he's attractive, and he may be charming on the surface. But he has no scruples, no honor, no loyalties."

Naomi's eyes flashed, her jaw stiffened. "Who are you talking about?"

"Slater." On the edge, it was all Kelsey could do to keep from screaming. "Gabriel Slater. How many lovers do you have?"

"Just one." Naomi folded her hands and drew a deep breath. "And you think it's Gabe." After a moment's consideration, she began to smile. Then, to Kelsey's astonishment, she began to laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sure this isn't funny to you." Helpless, she pressed a hand to her stomach. "But it's wonderful, really. I'm so flattered."

Kelsey spoke through gritted teeth. "He said the same thing."

"Did he?" Chuckling, Naomi wiped a tear from her eye. "You mean you actually asked him if he was sleeping with me? God, Kelsey, he's in his thirties. I'm nearly fifty."

"What difference does that make?"

She couldn't stop it. Naomi's smile spread like a sunbeam. "Now I'm really flattered. Do you actually believe a gorgeous-God knows he's gorgeous-hot-blooded man like Gabe would be romantically interested in me?"

She studied Naomi as dispassionately as her mood allowed, taking in the classic features, the slim, elegant body in the simple white robe. "I didn't say anything about romance," Kelsey said flatly.

"Oh." Naomi nodded, struggling to compose herself. "Well, now. So you assume that Gabe and I are, what, engaged in a hot, sexual affair?" She pursed her lips. "I'm feeling younger all the time."

"Before you bother to deny it, I'll say two things." Head high, Kelsey looked down at her mother. "First, it's none of my business who you sleep with. You can have twenty lovers and it's none of my concern.

Second, I heard you last night. In here, with him."

"Oh." Naomi blew out air. "That is awkward."

"Awkward?" The word all but exploded out of her mouth. "This is awkward ?"

Realizing she was going to have to be very clear and precise, Naomi lifted a hand. "Let's handle your statements in order. First, despite what you think or have been told, I've never been promiscuous. You may not choose to believe me, but your father was my first lover. There was no one else until two years after I got out of prison. He's been my only lover since." She stood so they were eye to eye.

"If that's true, it's even worse. How can you not care that he would cheat on you this way?"

"No man would cheat on me more than once," Naomi said in a tone Kelsey not only believed, but understood. "It wasn't Gabe you heard in here with me last night, Kelsey. It was Moses."

She couldn't speak. It was impossible to ignore the truth when it was slapped so neatly across her face.

Silently she sank to the bench herself. "Moses. Your trainer."

"Yes, Moses. My trainer. My friend, and my lover."

"But Gabe-he's always touching you."

"To risk a cliche, we're very good friends. Gabe is, excepting Moses, my closest friend. I'm sorry you misunderstood."

"Jesus." Kelsey squeezed her eyes shut as everything she'd said rushed back to humiliate her. "Oh, Jesus, no wonder he was so angry. The things I said."

Risking rejection, Naomi brushed a hand over Kelsey's hair. "I don't suppose you bothered to ask him?"

"No." Her own words came back to her, stinging like bullets. "No, I was so sure, and I was so ashamed that he'd made me forget myself, even for just a minute. I've never-With Wade it was always-It doesn't matter," she said quickly. "The point is, I jumped in with both feet and said some filthy things to him."