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neither good nor bad. Depends on what you want. My only suggestion is be careful, and sort out what you really want. Being business partners is one thing, being something else—well, that’s something else.”
    Daisy blushed. “Thanks, Sam. I’ll try. You’ve been like the grandfather I’ve never known. Right now my head is spinning in ways I never knew
possible. But I’ve gotstreet
smarts. I won’t get easily hurt.”
    “I know. I should be giving the same advice to Underwood. He may be at
more risk than you. Doubt if he has any real grasp of the tenaciousness of the woman he’s selected for a partner.” Gallagher chuckled. “But
it’s the right of grandfather types to worry some. Sort of like on the day before a big race.”
     
    Nicholas Underwood was proving an able student. Daisy watched him pour over the past performances for the next day’s races at Arlington, his broad shoulders slumping forward. They’d spent two hours a day
together for the past four days. It was always two to four, like clockwork.
    She vaguely wondered what he did after he left the track. He talked very little about himself. He was brooding about something. Hopefully, there weren’t any problems with his business. Or with his women. Good grief, she didn’t even know if the man was married.
    Daisy cleared her throat, setting down Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales on which she had a paper due the following week. He hadn’t heard her. They sat in a corner of the track kitchen; half chilled coffee and crumbs remained from their study break.
    “Mr. Underwood.”
    Across the small table, Nicholas Underwood glanced up sharply. “How often do I have to ask you to call me Nick?
We’re partners. Strangers call me Mr. Underwood. Partners and friends call me
Nick.”
    Daisy
frowned.
    “So
what did you want?”
    She
had to know. “Are you married?”
    That
ridiculous, lazy smiled worked across Spec’s lips. She was going to die. Her
toes curled.
    “Shouldn’t
the question be are you married...”
    Her
head pounded. “Okay, damn it. Are you married, Nick?”
    “Ah, I’ve heard my name roll off a woman’s lips more smoothly and with more passion than that. But that will have to do for now.” He folded the paper and laid it down beside his empty plate. “To answer your question and unasked questions. First, I am not married. Second, I was
married to a beautiful woman with a lot of class and money. She wanted more class and money than I did. We parted amicably and still greet each other now and then. The marriage has been over for fifteen years, probably when you were still in training bras.
    “With all her makeup and designer clothes, Ashley couldn’t hold a candle to your natural beauty. Third, there have been many women,
but none currently. I’m finding that you cramp my style in that way. You keep me studying these forms and the horse books so much, there’s no
time for women. Even if I were so inclined. Does that about answer your questions?”
    Daisy nodded. She chewed her lower lip. How could he read her mind? She felt like such a neophyte.
    “So how about you, Matthews? Ever been married?”
    Her eyes rounded. Underwood was dead serious. His crack about the training bra sank into her awareness. Good grief, he thought she was considerably older
than she was. “No,” she stammered. “Never.”
    “No
live-in boyfriend?”
    She
shook her head. “Current men?”
    “None,”
she mumbled. “There’s no time.”
    “Good.”
Nicholas leaned back and graced her with a satisfied grin. “Maybe I’m cramping
your style, too.” He unfolded the newspaper and redirected his attention to the
Saturday races.
    Daisy picked up her book and blew air through pursed lips. She’d learned what she had to know. How fast would he run when he discovered she wasn’t even of legal drinking age?

ChapterThree
 
 
    The sputtering sounds of the apartment buzzer penetrated Daisy’s sleep. She rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head. The