Prologue
Rosewood Farm,
Warburg, Virginia
Eighteen and no cleavage to speak of: life was so grossly
unfair.
Clad in matching panties and bra, Margot inspected her image in
the cheval mirror. Her boobs did seem a bit bigger with the help
of the push- up bra, didn’t they? At least her legs were okay,
and the high- heeled mules she had bought to go with her dress
would make them look even longer. For reassurance, she stepped
into the new shoes. Beneath the soft light of her bedroom
chandelier, her tanned skin glowed. She’d made sure to slather
moisturizer all over. She’d even
remembered perfume, spritzing a cloud into the air before
walking through it, a trick she’d read in a magazine. As nervous
as she was, she needed all the help she could get.
Margot gave herself a last hard look and imagined Travis
standing close enough to breathe in the sultry scent she’d
chosen. She pictured desire flaring bright in his flint- gray
eyes, felt the heat of his passion as his dark head lowered. His
breath, warm and butterscotchy from his favorite flavor of Life
Savers, would mingle with hers. Then the long-
awaited touch of his lips, firm and commanding, as his strong,
calloused hands reached for her. . . . A thrill coursed through
her.
Yes, she thought, dizzy with excitement. Tonight, after so many
nights lying in her bed and dreaming of Travis Maher, those
dreams were going to become reality.
She spun around and scooped up the dress lying neatly on her
double bed. A vibrant peony- pink wraparound, it was deliciously
simple, held together with a single large rabbit-eared bow. She
tugged it on. Once she’d gotten the bow just so, Margot pivoted
this way and that in front of the mirror, pleased with how the
soft fabric hugged her body. If only she were curvier. Still,
the dress was a far cry from her usual attire of breeches and
polo shirts. He wouldn’t be able to
ignore the way she looked in it.
Grabbing a brush from the mahogany dresser, she gave her hair
several vigorous strokes and debated whether to leave it down so
that Travis might see how glossy and shiny it was. No, a loose
knot was more sophisticated. Her hand trembled slightly as she
applied mascara, and she grimaced when a black clump stuck to
her lashes. Plucking it off, she abandoned the task. Her lashes
were dark enough. After coating her lips with a raspberry-
tinted gloss, she gave the mirror an inviting smile. Yes. This
was definitely a new Margot Radcliffe. She looked worldly and
mature.... She looked hot.
Surely Travis would think so.
Tonight she was going to make Travis forget she was the boss’s
daughter. When he looked at her, he wasn’t going to be thinking
of the skinny kid who for years now had been trailing after him
from one horse barn to the next, peppering him with questions
every step of the way, thrilled when he answered, because
getting Travis to talk was like pulling teeth. And when he spoke
to her this evening, he certainly wouldn’t be calling her by
that odious nickname he’d invented: Princess Margot. He’d have
no reason to, because she wouldn’t have to resort to ordering
him about, demanding he fetch her hoof pick or her longe tape
just so she could get his attention and have him acknowledge her
existence. Tonight she’d be gracious and charming and witty, and
he’d be dazzled. Everything would be different between them.
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