Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [68]
Maybe that accounted for the emotions that rose within Jago as he smiled at Netta. He’d never had a sister, but he suddenly experienced a spike of brotherly protection toward this unusual woman. Netta’s vulnerability touched the same chords of protectiveness within him.
Asha stuck her hands in her back pockets and approached. Her hesitation was apparent, as she pushed the Foster Grants down to the end of her nose. “I like your fur muffler.” She reached out and patted the cat. “He still needs a name, though.”
“He hasn’t told me what it is yet. In India they believe a cat has three names—the name you give him, the one he answers to and his real name. I’m waiting until he cuts to the chase and gives me number three.” He leaned over and kissed her, soundly. “I’d say that’s a good morning kiss, but I’ve already had one of those. And it was good. On a scale of one to ten . . . hmm . . . I would say—fifteen?”
He watched her blush crimson, her amber eyes widening at his taunt before she shoved her sunglasses back in place.
“Glad some of us were kissed good morning.” Netta flashed Liam a glare that said eat dirt and die, the strength not lessened by the old-fashioned Wayfarer sunglasses hiding her eyes.
“I have a headache,” Asha announced. “I hope you have some aspirins, brother mine. I’m out. Someone—just before he ran off with no explanation of where he was going—stole my last two.”
“In the medicine chest, top shelf. Help yourself.” Liam replied with an easy grin.
Netta shrugged and started walking after Asha. “I guess I’d better keep her company.”
Jago leaned his arms on the fence rail, watching the retreating women. The cat climbed off his shoulder and entertained himself by walking along the fence top, nearly falling twice. “Not having any sisters—”
“Lucky man. I have seven. I must’ve gotten your share.” Liam tapped Jago’s arm. “How about I bum one of your cheap-arse cigars. They’re growing on me.”
Jago withdrew the package from his pocket and held it out. After Asha’s brother had taken one, he removed another for himself, then flicked his lighter for them both. “I was wondering, what it is about women having to go to the bathroom together? Is there some unwritten law which poor males aren’t told?”
“If there is, they must cross their hearts, spit on the floor and take an oath never to reveal the deep dark secret.” Liam exhaled a stream of smoke, as he watched the stallion prancing in the pasture. “Being a gentleman, I’ll pretend to ignore that you shagged my sister last night, and instead ask what you think of my horse?”
Jago stared at the chestnut thoroughbred, recalling Liam had used the term represents the breed. The stallion fit that. Never had he seen a more beautiful horse. Something inside him craved to possess this animal the same way his heart craved to possess Asha.
“You’re wrong about last night.” He waited a heartbeat before clarifying, “It was this morning. As to your horse—I want him,” Jago declared, hungrily observing the animal prancing about the paddock.
The corner of Liam’s mouth tugged up in a half-smile. “For a man who lists his residence as London, England, you seem rather intent on acquiring a lot of big ticket items that need a home and care here. Sort of like a man setting down roots. Derek’s Shelby, Dale Winston’s Harley this morning . . .” What’s His Name came waddling along the fence, getting the hang of balancing his fattitude. Liam chuckled. “A cat. My sister.”
Jago laughed. “I didn’t acquire the cat . . . he acquired me. And your sister is not up for discussion. Stop changing the subject. I want the horse, Montgomerie.”
“Seems you’re the one changing the topic, and no discussion needed. If you hurt her, I’ll beat