“Your boyfriend?” There was an edge to Alec’s voice.

Stephanie turned guiltily, embarrassed that her attention had wandered.

Alec frowned at her, and the contrast between the two men was startling. One light, one dark. One carefree, one intense.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Just a crush then?”

“It’s nothing.”

Alec dropped his hand from the rail as Wesley and Rockfire sailed over the first jump. “It’s something.”

She glared at him. “It’s none of your business, is what it is.”

He stared back for a silent minute.

His eyes were dark. His lips were parted. And a fissure of awareness suddenly sizzled through her. No.

Not Alec.

It was Wesley she wanted.

“You’re right,” Alec conceded into the long silence. “It is none of my business.”

None of his business, Alec reminded himself.

Back inside her house that evening, he found himself staring at Stephanie’s likeness in a framed cover of Equine Earth magazine that was hanging on the living room wall. The fact that her silver-blue eyes seemed to hide enchanting secrets, that her unruly, auburn hair begged for a man’s touch and that the light spray of freckles across her nose lent a sense of vulnerability to an otherwise flawless face, was none of his damn business.

The equestrian trophy in her hand, however, was his business, as was the fact that the Ryder name was sprayed across the cover of a nationally circulated magazine.

“That was at Carlton Shores,” came her voice, its resonance sending a buzz of awareness up his spine.

“Two thousand and eight,” she finished, coming up beside him.

He immediately caught the scent of fresh brewed coffee, and looked over to see two burgundy, stoneware mugs in her hands.

“You won,” he stated unnecessarily.

She handed him one of the mugs. “You seem like a ‘black’ kind of a guy.”