The Price of Honor by Emilie Rose Page A

care less. “Where is your bride-to-be, darling? I so want to meet the woman who has brought Xavier Alexandre to heel.”
    The hostess’s bitterness made Megan wonder if she and Xavier had a history, but it was the underlying message in the not-so-subtle dig that reminded Megan how small the global equestrian community could be. No matter which continent she competed on, it would be impossible to avoid news of Xavier, his wife and any children they might have. That meant her plan had to work. Preferably plan A, because plan B was dicey.
    Grateful for the research she’d done on her competition, she forced a big smile for her hostess. “The French Open is this weekend, and Cecille is a devoted tennis fan. I would wager my best horse that she has center court seats.”
    The quick flash of surprise and approval in Xavier’s eyes rewarded her. “That is correct.”
    Megan had ridden sick and she’d ridden hurt. Pasting a plastic smile on her face and faking for the judges was nothing new. Contending for the man she loved at a cocktail party shouldn’t be all that different. There was no doubt in her mind that this was a jump-off between her and Cecille, even though the other woman wasn’t on American soil. And the clock was ticking. Megan had to give a faultless performance.
    But she always rode to win, and there was no better way to prove to Xavier that she was the woman he needed than by playing up their mutual love of horses and the fact that she was by his side while his fiancée was not.
    Â 
    Funny how dread and anticipation shared similar indicators: rapid pulse, quickened breaths, moistened palms.
    Megan lagged a half pace behind Xavier as he strolleddown the carpeted hotel corridor with his I-own-the-world swagger. She had been dreading this part of the evening—the same part she’d once anticipated the most.
    Would Xavier try to kiss her? Invite her into his room? And if he did, would she stick with plan A, the safest strategy, and keep trying to show him how much they had going for them besides sex?
    Or would she step up her game and go to the much riskier and more complicated plan B?
    On one hand, he’d had her hyperactive hormones simmering all night. Each glance had stolen her breath and each touch had been like a tiny electrical shock. And he never just touched. He made contact, then skimmed his fingertips an inch or two across her skin—far enough to give her goose bumps. Spending the rest of the night in his arms would be extremely satisfying. Physically.
    But plan B—showing him that they had so much more going for them by giving him sex and only sex then walking away—demanded more control than she’d ever displayed in her life. It would require her to keep her heart out of their lovemaking and focus solely on the physical aspects.
    Using the passion between them to sway him was a strategy as old as time, but his rejection after they’d made love in her cottage had left her reeling, hurt and empty. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go there again—even if it might be the most effective line of attack.
    She followed Xavier into the suite, then shifted uneasily on her feet at the threshold of her room. She waited for his next move, but he made no attempt to talk his way into her bed. Just as well. She wasn’t convinced plan B would work, and it would leave devastation in its wake if it failed.
    â€œWell…good night, then. I guess I should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”
    â€œTim’s first event is not until eleven. You and I shall share breakfast before making our way to the grounds.”
    In the past they’d awoken together, showered together and sometimes made love before she raced to the show grounds, her muscles all loose and warm, her skin still tingling from his caresses. The memories sent a rush of heat through her. “I was hoping to meet with Tim and go over his game plan one more