He was surprised at the effort it took not to raise his eyes. But the memory of the look on her face when she’d walked into Whitey’s and seen Cindy clinging to him like a wet shirt tipped the scales, and he kept his eyes fastened on the financial report he’d been reading. Even when she halted near his crossed ankles, he kept reading. Or trying to.
“Is that what came today?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
With his peripheral vision he could see the pale blue color of her dress, that dress that hugged her shape, left her long, trim legs and arms so lusciously bare and turned her eyes the purest big-sky blue. He saw her run a long, slender finger along the edge of the desk. He kept his eyes down. His peripheral vision had always been too damned good, he muttered silently.
“Are they the files you were expecting?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Her finger slowly traced the S-curve of the desk’s top portion. He found himself thinking of how strong her hands were, tanned, steady, nails trimmed neatly for work, not exaggerated for show. Yet they were gentle hands, utterly feminine in movement and grace. He’d seen them caress a horse’s velvety nose, and an aloof cat’s chin until both were reaching for more. He knew the feeling.
“Are you finding anything?”
It was all he could do not to let his gaze follow the unconsciously sensual movement of her hand as she touched the smooth hardness of the wood. His jaw tightened. He consciously relaxed it.
“Yes.”
He thought he heard her sigh, but he couldn’t be sure. She leaned her head against the side of the rolltop, her cheek pressing against the wood. It was, as all her movements had seemed to him since she’d come into the room, a slow, seductive kind of pose. But he knew it was in his mind. After this afternoon, seducing him would be the very last thing she would have on her mind.
He could almost feel her steeling her nerve to speak again. “Anything that could be...a motive?”
He slammed the file shut. She jumped. He lifted his head at last, to glare at her. “Exactly what is it you want from me?”
“I...”
Her voice trailed off, the oddest look coming across her face. Then a slow flush rose in her cheeks, and when he thought about how he’d worded that question, he sucked in a breath at the possibilities that could have caused that blush. Coupled with the almost caressing way she was holding on to the old desk, the images that popped into his head stopped his breath in his throat.
She seemed to recover, drawing herself up straight and then meeting his gaze and holding it steadily. “I want to know what progress you’ve made, if any. I have a big stake in this, after all.”
Nerve, he thought again. She was facing him down again. And he’d been way out in left field. Again.
“Some,” he said, admitting that she had the right to know. “Ralph Hudson, for example. Did you know that his wife’s brother just opened a trendy new cutting horse training facility in Arizona?”
Tory’s expression gave him his answer before she shook her head. “No. I didn’t know.”
Cole nodded. “And your contract has an escape clause that enables him to pull out without paying the rest of the contract if conditions here become unsafe for the horses.”
Her brow furrowed. “But that’s only for natural disasters, like a fire, or—”
“The way this is worded—” he held up a copy of their standard contract “—you’d have trouble making him pay.”
“But who would ever expect anything like this to happen? And we’ve had Starwalker for nearly a year. Or we did,” she amended glumly.
“But his brother-in-law didn’t open a training stable until now.”
She gave him a puzzled look that gradually changed to one of shock. “You’re not saying you think Ralph killed those horses just so he could pull out? To go to his brother-in-law’s?”
Cole shrugged. “I’ve seen worse done for less.”
“Cole, no. I know I’ve been...naive about some things, but that’s really too much.”
“Okay, then, how about Crain, for instance? Did you know he has a second and third mortgage on his place? Maybe he could have used that insurance.”
That look he’d come to recognize, a sadness at the mention of any of the dead horses, crossed her face. “Firefly wasn’t insured for nearly as much as John’s Prize. She wasn’t nearly as much horse. Harry’s a thoroughbred man, and he only bought her because he wanted the cachet of saying he owned a cutting horse.”
She smiled wryly. “And besides, it’s been a standing joke around here for a long time that Harry had to mortgage the place to the hilt just to keep Cindy out of trouble.”
He couldn’t believe she’d so casually mentioned the woman, not after the way she’d reacted this afternoon. She’d looked like a wife who just walked in on her cheating husband, and that realization had made him as edgy as Rocky when the Santa Anas were blowing.
“What about your buddy Mr. Lennox, then?” he asked hastily.
“John?” she said, looking wary now. “What about him?”
“He’s strapped right now. Overextended, because he bought that new software-development company last year.” He gave her a sideways look. “But maybe you already know that.”
Her mouth twisted. “Hardly the kind of information I’d be privy to.”
“You mean he didn’t mention it over any of those cozy dinners you shared at his country club?”
Her eyes widened. “How did you... Never mind. Hobie, I suppose.”
“He did mention it. And that Lennox wants more than you’re willing to give him. Personally.”
“John just sees me as a challenge,” she said dismissively. “He’s used to getting what he wants.”
Cole couldn’t help the sudden tension in his voice. “And he wants you?”
“So he thinks. For now. He’ll get over it soon enough. It’s not real. He’s just not used to anyone telling him no.” She shrugged. “I’m hardly his type, either.”
Either? Cole’s stomach seemed to take a tumble. He tried to ignore the feeling.
“Tell me something,” he began, and saw her tense slightly. It was an odd habit they both had, of giving off this warning when a loaded question was coming. “Is there any male in the world you trust, besides Hobie?”
She grinned unexpectedly, and widely. He nearly bit his tongue in his surprise. “Sure. Mac. I’d trust him with my life.”
Fighting down the surge of heat that grin had roused in him, he said warningly, “I wouldn’t get any more attached to that horse if I were you. If Lennox needs cash...” He ended on a shrug.
Her forehead creased. “What? You think Mac is...”
“A convertible asset. One way or another. He’s insured, too, although not for as much as the other horse.”
The moment the words left his lips he wished he hadn’t said it. She went pale. “No. Not Mac. He wouldn’t.”
“How much could he have gotten for the other horse, if he’d tried to sell him?”
“I...don’t know. A lot, I suppose.”
“As much as the insurance paid off?”
With obvious reluctance, she shook her head. “But he wouldn’t. Not John.”
“Why? Because he’s rich? Charming?”
He didn’t know where that had come from. What did he care what she thought of Lennox? What sour well had those biting words risen from? He knew she’d heard the tone, because her chin came up as she looked at him stubbornly.
“He was too proud of John’s Prize. And he wouldn’t hurt Mac. I know he wouldn’t.”
She bit her lip fiercely. Cole wanted to tell her to stop it, to keep that soft flesh unbruised for him. He wanted to tell her she looked wonderful in that dress, but that it made him want to take it off her and learn every slender line of her body. He clenched his jaw against the words of want and need that were getting harder and harder to hold back.
With an effort, he tore his mind out of that dangerous track. And tried, in a roundabout way, to make u
p for what he’d said.
“You’re right, if he is behind this he probably won’t. Losing two horses would make him a prime suspect, and he’s smart enough to know that. Besides, ‘John’s Prize’—” he couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice as he spoke the name “—was insured for a full million, right?”
Still biting her lip, she nodded.
“That’s a lot of cash flow, even at that level.”
He saw a shiver ripple through her. Then he saw her tense again, fighting it down. “I just can’t believe he would do something like that. And he’s always...spent like he had plenty of money. Are you sure he’s...in trouble?”
“My people are good. If they say he’s in a bind, he is. They’re working on finding out how bad it is.”
“Maybe if I ask John—”
Cole came up out of the chair so quickly she stepped back with a startled little movement. “No. Don’t mention anything to him.”
“But—”
“No buts, Tory. If he isn’t behind this, you’ll just lose a paying customer. If he is behind it, you could put yourself in more trouble than you ever dreamed of. Don’t say a word.”
“All right,” she said, with a meekness that made him instantly suspicious. Lennox was a friend who wanted to be more, and Tory was still having trouble believing anyone that she knew could be behind this. If she came to believe it, it would be just like her, in outrage, to ask Lennox flat out if he’d killed his own horse for money. She was like Hobie that way—more guts than common sense, sometimes. Of course, if Hobie hadn’t been that way, Cole wouldn’t be here now to worry about it.
“I’m not joking about this, Tory. Not a word.”
“I said all right.”
“I mean it. You don’t want to have to explain to him why you suddenly know about his troubles. Or how you found out. Do you?”
She let out a long breath. “Cole, I said all right. I won’t say a thing to him. Why don’t you believe me?”
His mouth quirked. “Maybe because you’re as stubborn as Hobie and it’s not like you to give up so quickly.”
She lowered her gaze, as if comparing the toes of their boots. “Maybe I’m trying to apologize.”
“Apologize?”
Her head came up then. She looked at him, openly and so honestly it hurt somewhere deep in his chest.
“If you say it was business this afternoon, I believe you. Cindy would be...all over you the minute you walked in, whether you wanted it or not.”
The sheer simplicity of it staggered him. Just like that, he was forgiven. Despite what she’d seen, despite what he knew had been a life that had made every man suspect to her, despite what he’d told her, she’d decided to trust him. It made no sense.
And it scared him. Because it had been the truth when he’d told her there was nothing behind the facade. But not the truth he knew she had believed, the truth he’d meant her to believe. He hadn’t been talking about women like Cindy, women he was sure she thought paraded through his life. He’d been talking about himself. Somewhere along this road he’d been on, he’d lost himself. These days when he looked in the mirror, he had a habit of thinking about the reflection in the third person, like it was somebody else. And somebody he didn’t like much.
But Tory Flynn trusted him. He’d told her something that contradicted the evidence of her own eyes, and she believed him. He had a sudden sense of rolling headlong and out of control toward some kind of inevitable outcome. He didn’t like the feeling.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick about that.” His voice was flat. “How do you know I didn’t want it? In fact, how do you know I wasn’t the one all over her?”
“Because you left right after I did. Hobie said you got here hours ago.”
He expelled a compressed breath. “Yeah. And I’m beginning to be sorry I did.” That sense of helpless compulsion swept over him again, and in a desperate effort to scare her off, he added crudely, “I’ve been horny as hell lately.”
She colored again, but she didn’t look away. “I know.”
He nearly choked. “What?”
“Well, the way you kissed me, I... You’d hardly do that if you weren’t... I mean, I felt...”
He knew exactly what she’d felt. He’d been as hard as a fence post. His body began to tighten again simply at the memory of that day by the spring.
She stumbled on. “I knew you were—”
“Horny?” he suggested again, his voice tight.
She nodded. “And I know it’s not any of my business, what you do, personally. I mean, just a kiss doesn’t give me any...claim on you, but—”
Perversely, her characterization of what had happened between them stung. “Just a kiss?”
Her color deepened. “I...don’t know what else to call it,” she said with that disarming honesty. “Nothing like that has ever happened to me before.”
Me, either, he thought grimly. He watched as she took in a deep breath, thinking that he wouldn’t dare speak or he’d say something that would somehow make him pick up more speed on this headlong run. He knew it was headed toward something irrevocable.
“That’s what I mean, I guess. I’ve never felt like that. Ever. I didn’t know I...could. All this time, and I didn’t know...” Her next breath was shaky, as was her voice when she went on. “I know I’m not...what you’re used to, that somebody who looks like Cindy is probably more your style, but...”
Her voice faded away, he saw her hands knotted together, her knuckles white. He steadied his voice before he asked, “But what?”
“I know it was just because I was the only woman handy, but it...didn’t seem to matter to you that day, at the spring, and I thought... It seemed like you...wanted me then, and if you still—”
“What the hell are you saying?”
It broke from him on a rising note of disbelief. He was reading her wrong. He had to be. Tory Flynn wouldn’t do what she seemed to be doing. He couldn’t handle it if she was. He was already having trouble reining in a body that wanted what she seemed to be offering more than it wanted to keep breathing. He stared down at her.
He saw her shiver again, then make herself hold his fierce gaze. “I mean that if you still...if you...can forget that I don’t have Cindy’s looks...” She made an eloquent little motion with her shoulders and hands. “I’m still handy.”
He wanted to shake her. Not for himself, but for her, for the insult she’d just so quietly, devastatingly delivered to herself. What the hell had gotten into her? Even the suggestion of what she was doing was so obviously against her nature that it almost made him ill to think about it, even as his body raged to full attention at the suggestion.
And that she truly thought so little of him, to think that he would take her up on her offer because, God help him, she was handy? To think that a practiced, calculated beauty like Cindy’s would mean more to him than her own sweet, honest loveliness, was—
Only to be expected, he realized suddenly. What Tory thought of him was exactly what he’d tried so hard to make her think. He’d needed a buffer between them, a way to bolster the self-control he was no longer sure he could count on. And he’d built it the only way he could think of. He could hardly complain now because she’d believed him. He’d given her little choice but to believe he was the kind of man who would never turn down a no-strings-attached opportunity for sex.
“Don’t worry,” she was saying, in a voice that was much too small to be causing the tearing he was feeling inside. “I don’t...expect anything. When this mess is over, you’ll be gone, and I know that.”
“Just like that, is that it?” he asked, his voice taut with suppressed emotions. “We hop in the sack, have a little fun, and then I take off?”
She looked startled. “I...isn’t that what you wanted?”
“What I want,” he said harshly, knowing that all the things he was thinking would shock her mind and her body, “isn’t anything like what you want, little girl.”
It took
her a moment, but when she answered, her voice was steady and calm. “You don’t know that. And calling me little girl doesn’t change anything. And the fact that I’m Hobie’s niece doesn’t change the way you make me feel. I thought no strings was what you wanted.”
Her use of the words he’d just thought put an even harsher edge in his voice. “And just what is it that you want?”
She looked away then, lowering her gaze for the first time since she’d begun this. “What you...talked about. That day. What I’ve never had. Something...hot. Out of control. You’re the only man who’s ever made me want that. Or feel that it could be like that, even for me.”
“God, Tory!” It broke from him on a harsh, compressed breath. “Do you have any idea what the hell you’re doing?”
Her gaze met his then and held. And in the turquoise depths was a heat he couldn’t deny, just as he couldn’t stop his own response to it.
“No,” she said simply. “That’s why I want you to teach me.”
His heart was hammering in his chest as he stared down at her. His body was echoing the slamming beat, already aroused to the point of pain. She wanted it hot. Out of control. And just the thought made him want to show her just how out of control she made him.
Somebody who looks like Cindy is probably more your style. If you can forget that I don’t have Cindy’s looks.
She’d meant it. He was as certain of that as he’d ever been of anything. She was too innocently easy to read for a man like him. She hadn’t been fishing for compliments, or feeling sorry for herself. She’d meant it. She knew she wasn’t that kind of beauty. What she didn’t know was how glad he was—how glad any man with a brain would be—that she wasn’t. Glad that she was real and honest and so sweet it could nearly burn a hole in you.
And he knew exactly what she’d think if he turned her down now. She’d think it was because of that. Because she wasn’t that kind of beauty. He opened his mouth to tell her the truth, to tell her she outshone and would far outlast Cindy’s kind of fleeting perfection. But he didn’t say it. He was afraid once he started he wouldn’t be able to stop, and that telling her in words would too quickly progress to showing her with his body exactly how beautiful he thought she was.
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