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to aging pot-bellied counts, simply to save the family jewels.’

      Actually, William wasn’t too sure of that.

      ‘If and when I marry,’ Courtney announced as she planted the dusty Akubra hat firmly on her head, ‘it won’t be for money.’

      ‘Ah-h-h.’ William smiled his approval. ‘For love, eh, girl?’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Bill. Love won’t have anything to do with it. It’ll be strictly for the sex.’ And, smiling a truly wicked smile, she whirled and strode from the room.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘EVERYONE’S very dressed up,’ Courtney said, glancing around at the crowd of racegoers.

      All the men were in suits and ties, and most of the women were wearing hats. Lois herself was in a rather flamboyant floral suit and matching hat which might have looked over-the-top on anyone less slender and vivacious. But she carried the outfit off with great panache, looking a lot younger than the forty she admitted to.

      ‘I did warn you, darling,’ Lois replied. ‘Randwick is a far cry from a country racetrack.’

      ‘You can say that again. Thanks heaps for lending me these clothes, Lois. Sorry I was stubborn about it.’

      Lois rolled her eyes. She’d had the devil of a time persuading the girl out of the jeans and checked shirt she’d been wearing this morning, and into the stylish black pants and matching cropped jacket she now had on. This minor miracle had only been achieved by her firmly telling Courtney that the members’ section at Randwick had a dress code that definitely didn’t allow jeans.

      As for that revolting checked shirt… Lois shuddered at the memory.

      Lois had learnt many years ago that, in the city, appearance was everything. Just because you were a horse trainer it didn’t mean you had to look like one. Lois spent an absolute fortune on her vibrant but stylish clothes, and the expenditure was worth every penny. The press photographers snapped her all the time, and the media were always seeking her opinion on the chances of her horses, possibly because she looked better on TV than most of the male trainers. She talked better, too. And smiled a lot. Lois believed that acting bright and always sounding positive brought her more coverage and more clients than the actual success of her horses.

      ‘You look fantastic in black,’ she complimented Courtney. ‘Much better than I ever did.’ Actually, black hadn’t been her colour since she’d had her hair blonded last year. It looked great on Hilary’s daughter, however, with her olive skin, black hair and almost black eyes. If the girl had agreed to some red lipstick and to leaving that gorgeous hair of hers down, she’d have been simply stunning. But, when Lois had suggested both this morning, Courtney had bluntly stated that she looked like a clown in make-up and simply couldn’t stand her hair around her face.

      Lois had argued her case but the girl was adamant. Clearly, she was as opinionated and strong-willed as her mother. Lois had put her foot down, however, when Courtney had gone to scoop her gorgeous black curls back up into that awful rubber band, and had insisted that if her hair had to be off her face, it should be anchored more attractively at the nape of her neck with a gold clip.

      Courtney had finally shrugged and given in, as though it didn’t really matter either way. Lois could only conclude that Hilary’s daughter had no idea of the uniquely exotic beauty she possessed, and which would have more than one wealthy man slavering at her feet if only she knew what to do with it.

      Still, what could one expect? Teaching her daughter to make the most of her striking looks would not have been high on Hilary’s agenda. Such a stupid, warped old woman. Why hate men when they ran the world?

      Tonight, over dinner, she would try to explain to Courtney that when a woman did business in a man’s world, she did it as much with her body as her brain. If Courtney wanted to save Crosswinds, then she would hopefully listen to reason.

      If not, then it would be up to herself to rescue the darned place single-handed, Lois decided pragmatically. No way was she going to sit back and let that wonderful old property pass into other hands. Crosswinds had the best staying brood mares in Australia. All they needed was the right sire, and a whole crop of champion colts and fillies would be in the making. And she would be right there, willing and eager to train every single one of the little darlings!

      Courtney wasn’t enjoying her trip to the races as much as she’d thought she would. Her mind was still on Crosswinds and her money problems.

      ‘Do you think we might meet someone here today, Lois?’ she asked tautly.

      ‘Someone to bail Crosswinds out, you mean?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Possibly. Though this isn’t all that major a race meeting. Not too many of the seriously rich here today. Look, darling, take my advice and don’t go worrying about Crosswinds this afternoon. Just relax and enjoy yourself. Tonight, after dinner, I’ll sit down and make a list of likely candidates, then tomorrow I’ll ring around and issue some invitations.’

      ‘What kind of invitations?’

      ‘Dinner. Drinks. Whatever suits each man in question.’

      ‘You don’t know any suitably rich women?’ Rich women liked racehorses too, Courtney had been thinking. And there would be less chance of a woman partner wanting to interfere with the management of Crosswinds. She just didn’t trust a man not to try to poke his bib in.

      Lois looked just a tad exasperated. ‘Lord, darling, no woman is going to want to be your partner. You’re far too good-looking. No, no, no, some filthy rich old bloke is our best bet. Trust me. By the end of the week, we’ll come up with just the right person. I have every confid— Oh, good God, it’s Jack Falconer. And he said he definitely wasn’t going to be here today!’

      Courtney followed the direction of Lois’s disgruntled gaze and encountered a man standing at the railing of the saddling enclosure, alternately studying the race book in his hands, then the horses being led around the parade ring. A pair of expensive-looking binoculars were hooked around his neck. He was tall, with a strongly masculine profile and close-cropped dark hair.

      Courtney’s eyebrows lifted. She’d always fancied macho-looking men, and this one was certainly that, despite his sleek, city-smooth clothes. He was somewhere in his early thirties, she guessed. Though she couldn’t be certain from this distance. He could have been older.

      His being older wouldn’t have made him any less attractive to Courtney. She liked older men.

      ‘Who’s Jack Falconer?’ she asked, intrigued by Lois’s reaction to seeing him.

      ‘What? Oh…one of my owners.’

      ‘Rich?’

      ‘Used to be. Not so rich any more.’

      ‘What happened?’

      ‘He chose the wrong business partner. The mongrel embezzled a good chunk of their clients’ money and did a flit to Paraguay or Bolivia, or wherever. Jack nobly made restitution himself, though legally he didn’t have to, and it almost sent him to the wall. He lost just about everything, including his live-in lady. The rotten cow dumped him and married a politician old enough to be her father. Rolling in dough, of course. Jack pretended he wasn’t shattered but he clearly was. He was besotted with his darling Katrina. He only bought a share in a racehorse in the first place because she loved coming to the races and mingling with the rich and famous.’

      ‘She sounds awful. Whatever did he see in her?’

      Lois laughed. ‘When you see her, you’ll know the answer to that. And you’ll see her today. Her new hubby is presenting the trophy in the main race of the day. That’s why I was so taken aback to see Jack here. Because his… Oh, darn, he’s spotted me. I’ll fill you in later.’

      Lois plastered a high-voltage beam on her face and stepped off the veranda of the members’ stand into the

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