“Because Laura told me,” she hissed into his ear. “And because, if she hadn’t, I have eyes in my head. Ssh,” she ordered when he opened his mouth. “You’re annoying people. And here’s Ali’s solo.”

He shut his mouth, but not his mind. He had a great deal to think about. And as far as he was concerned, his old pal Michael Fury had a great deal to answer for.

There’d been nothing he could do about it that night but go home and grill his wife. Then argue with her over the situation. Josh put her attitude down to female hormones. Women found Michael romantic—which had always been his good luck and was the crux of the current problem.

Josh found him in the paddock, working a yearling on the lounge line. “I need to talk to you, Fury.”

Michael recognized the tone. Something was stuck in Josh’s craw. He wasn’t in the mood for it, not when he was still thinking about the baffled hurt on Laura’s face the night before when he’d given her a quick pat on the head and told her he was beat.

In other words, I’m going to bed, sugar, and you’re not invited.

Still, he released the yearling and walked to the fence where Josh waited. “So talk.”

“Are you sleeping with my sister?”

Ah, well, the time had come. “We don’t sleep much,” Michael said easily and braced when Josh’s hand whipped out and gripped his shirt. “Watch it, Harvard.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Who the hell do you think you are? I asked her to rent this place to you. Do you a favor, and you just jump right in.”

“I didn’t jump alone.” Damned if he’d take the rap for that. “She’s a big girl, Josh. I didn’t lure her into the stables promising her candy. I didn’t force her.”

The idea of it curdled his blood, then shamed him. “You wouldn’t have to,” he shot back. “You forget who you’re talking to. I know you, Mick. I know your style. Christ, we cruised together often enough.”

“Yeah, we did.” Eyes level, Michael pried Josh’s fingers off his shirt. “But that was all right, the two of us going out sniffing out babes.”

“This is my sister.”

“I know who she is.”

“If you knew, if you had any idea what she’s been through the past few years, how easily bruised she is, you’d stay the hell away from her. The women you played with always knew the rules, went in for the game. That’s not Laura.”

“And because she’s your sister, because she’s a Templeton, she’s not entitled to play.” Bitterness rose like bile. “Certainly not with me.”