by Cajio, Linda
“Let’s hope he doesn’t acquire them,” he said, wondering if horses could be gay. It was a horrifying thought when he considered how much he’d invested. He joined her at the stall and leaned his elbows on the top rail. There was a space still between them, but it was more comfortable. Even friendly. Almost. Aloud, he added, “Forty mares, then.”
“You know you’ll charge the mares’ owners a fixed fee for the first three years, until his issue start racing. Then the fee shifts up or down depending on whether he’s producing winners or not. In England the fee is paid no matter what, but in the United States, if there’s no live foal, the fee is refunded. There will probably be several mares a season who don’t take or who ‘slip.’ Miscarry. Life is a fragile thing.”
His sanity was a fragile thing, he thought. And being this close to her was enough to drive him over the edge. It nearly had once before, all those years earlier.
“The gestation period for a horse is eleven months,” she continued. “Thoroughbreds are officially given a January first birthdate for racing purposes, so the mares need to foal as close to that date as possible. They begin racing as two-year-olds.”
He realized that his control was slipping again. The talk was skirting dangerous territory, and it was hazardous being this close to her. Close enough to smell her faint perfume, feel the warmth of her body … He straightened away from the rail and said, “So as the owner of the stallion, I can sell a hundred and twenty places, three years’ worth, at a fixed price.”
“Yes.” She was quiet for a long moment. “It is customary to give a place to your breeder. In turn, we waive the boarding fee. I have a mare, Lollipop’s Rainbow. Her lines are impeccable—”
He broke in. “I was going to suggest that a place was yours if you wanted. I didn’t know it was customary. Do you want any more places? You’re more than welcome to them.”
“Thank you, but no,” she said, shocked and confused by his generous offer. He could charge the earth for a stud fee and get away with it. She felt guilty for trying to sneak Lollipop past him. “I have only the one racing mare. My other tends to produce jumpers.”
He nodded. “So if I divide the cost of Battle Cry by one hundred and twenty”—he grinned—“one hundred and nineteen places, and charge that as the individual stud fee, he’ll pay back the original investment in three to four years, allowing for the occasional refund of the fee. The horse will have many years of … partying ahead of him, all at pure profit for his owner. That makes a horse one of the best investments on earth.”
“Only if you get the right one,” Anne said.
“Don’t depress me.”
“I’m sure you’ll get your original investment back right on schedule. Before schedule.” She moved away from the rail, and whatever easy conversation had been between them was gone. “I’m sorry, James, but the tour’s over. I’m afraid I have work to do this morning.”
She strode out of the barn, and he stared after her, not sure what had gone wrong. She confused him and bewitched him. He wanted to follow her, but knew it was better this way.
It was Battle Cry going out to stud. Not him.
“Yes, I can accommodate her.… Yes, I know her bloodlines are excellent.… Yes, it is a wonderful opportunity.…”
Anne held her patience as she listened to the man on the other end of the phone positively gush over the prospect of breeding his mare to Battle Cry. She hadn’t realized men could gush. The official announcement about Battle Cry retiring to stud had been made only three days earlier, and she had already received twenty phone calls from broodmare owners whose horses were suddenly available. Battle Cry would arrive in a few days, and he’d be busy from the moment he set hoof on the property.
She finally hung up a few minutes later, resisting the temptation to slam the receiver onto the hook. She sat at her paper-strewn desk and uttered every curse word she could think of. James was selling the places to his horse quicker than it had run the Preakness. At this rate Battle Cry would run out of “ammunition” long before the season was through.
She leaned her forehead onto the desktop and groaned at the thought of her conversation with James on the day of the tour. If she had used any more euphemisms for sex, she would have turned into a thesaurus. And she had nearly lost all her control when they’d been alone in the breeding shed.
Her skin went hot as she remembered how desperately she had wanted him to touch her. For some odd reason she felt rejected that he hadn’t. She knew it was silly; she knew she ought to be darn grateful nothing had happened. Her marriage had taught her several hard lessons about men. And she’d be foolish if she ever got involved with one of her owners. Some had tried, but she’d easily kept them at a distance. James might be “perfect,” but he was a combination of trouble she didn’t need.
Yet if she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the strength in his shoulders, the hard muscles of his back. She could feel his chest bare against her breasts, his hands caressing and stroking her. And she could feel her own hands traveling downward, following the line of his ribs, his hard stomach, his hips …
“Ahhh!” she cried in a strangled voice, jumping up out of her chair.
She paced around the braided rug covering the polished plank floor of her study. It was as if she already had touched him.
She stopped her pacing. Bracing her hands on the back of her desk chair, she closed her eyes.
She had touched him before. So long ago. It was a memory she never allowed herself to remember. But now she remembered all too well. She had been seventeen and had finally discovered there was more to life than horses. There were boys.
Not boys, she thought, not even one boy. A man. She had had the worst crush on James that summer he’d come home from college. In fact, she’d had it so bad she had cheerfully gone to every social function her grandmother had wanted, just to get a glimpse of him. He had been distant and brooding at first—until the night of that dance. He’d noticed her that night. More than noticed. He had danced with her, and they had been laughing and at ease with each other. And every touch had been magic. There was no other word for the shiver of awareness that had run through her continually at his touch. And then they had gone out onto the balcony.
“I can’t believe how much you’ve changed, Annie,” he’d said, taking her hand.
She had smiled, afraid and hungry for him at the same time … and he’d pulled her closer. His lips had caressed hers lightly, giving her a chance to pull away.
Anne’s face went hot as she remembered how fast she had not pulled away. Her arms had wound tightly around his neck, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she’d opened her mouth to him. His tongue had delved in, tasting, teasing, driving her into the first floods of desire. His hands had touched her briefly, but in ways that had left her moaning for more. And her heart …
Lord help her, Anne thought, her heart had blossomed like a rose awakening to the first kiss of the sun.
Then the fairy tale had turned into a nightmare. He had pulled away abruptly, leaving her bewildered and hurting. What had she done wrong? She never knew. He never called. In fact, he barely spoke to her again. She left for California a month later to nurse her wounds.
“It was only one damn kiss,” she muttered, opening her eyes.
Her sensual response to him in the breeding shed rose to haunt her again, and she groaned. She was more than ready for a second kiss. All her worst fears about working with James were coming true.
The only thing that had saved her in the breeding shed was the way he had talked about Battle Cry, as if the horse were just another blue-chip investment on the stock exchange. She knew people used horses as an investment. But horses had a verve and a gentleness that were unique. It was almost a sacrilege to her to think of horses as an item on a profit and loss statement. To a true horse-person, it was the animal, not the investment, that was important. Clearly, James didn’t think that way.
“Damn him,” she muttered, telling herself s
he shouldn’t feel guilty for thinking of trying to con a place with Battle Cry for Lollipop’s Rainbow. James was about as greedy as they came.
She was committed to Battle Cry, and truthfully, she wanted that horse at her farm. She should take heart in the fact that James was planning on keeping the horse with her for the rest of the season. She wondered at that, though, then thought of all the calls from the broodmare owners. Probably he realized he’d lose most of the season moving the horse from one stud farm to another, and so had decided to leave Battle Cry here. That meant more breeding time available. And more stud fees.
“It figures,” she said, refusing to admit she’d do the same if she were he.
Still, that was to her advantage. To house that fantastic horse in her stallion barn, even for half a season, would be a joy unduplicated. All she had to do was keep her response to James under control.
Anne groaned again.
The telephone rang, and she glared at it, knowing it had to be yet another owner looking to place his mare with Battle Cry. She schooled herself to patience and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“What’s all this Maida tells me about James and you and a horse?”
That her grandmother’s voice was demanding wasn’t surprising, Anne thought. That it had taken Lettice this long to find out about Battle Cry was. She grinned, thinking the state-of-the-art gossip line Lettice usually had had been a little slow on this one. Her grandmother must be fuming.
“James is boarding a horse with me,” she said. “I told you before it was no big deal.”
“In a pig’s eye.”
“Don’t start, Grandmother,” Anne warned. “I’m in no mood for a fight.”
“You’ve said nothing about this … War Yell horse.”
“Battle Cry.”
“Whatever. You’ve said nothing about it, Anne. Now, why is that if it’s no big deal?”
She clenched her teeth in an effort to hold her patience. Lettice was sniffing around like Tibbs on a rabbit hunt, and she was not about to be the rabbit. She had to convince Lettice there was nothing between her and James. “It wasn’t my place to share this, Grandmother, it was James’s. He owns the horse, not me. My business depends on my discretion. I hope you can understand that.”
The dead silence on the other end of the line made Anne wonder if she’d gone too far. She loved her grandmother, but this truly wasn’t Lettice’s business. She was sorry if her grandmother didn’t like it.
“I see. I see very well.…”
The speculative tone in her grandmother’s voice was hardly the explosion of anger she’d been expecting. A shiver of apprehension ran down her spine.
“I find it very interesting that you preferred not to tell me about this.”
“Grandmother, it’s just a business arrangement,” Anne said, as the prickles grew.
“Of course, child, of course. Maida just surprised me by having the news first. You know how I hate that. But that isn’t why I called.”
“It isn’t?” Anne asked blankly.
“No, it isn’t. I’ve arranged to have some work done on the house. It’s absolutely necessary, and it must begin immediately. Unfortunately, I cannot stay here for the duration. The only suitable hotel used to be the Warwick, but now that’s offices. I certainly can’t intrude on Ellen and Joe. They’re just married. I love my friends but I prefer to live with family. Since you’re the only family close to the city, I’ve decided to stay with you. I’m sure you’ll agree that’s the only solution.”
Darkness closed in on Anne. The thought of Lettice here was not to be thought. She took a deep breath, trying desperately to come up with a valid protest. “But, Grandmother—”
“Surely I’m welcome in my own granddaughter’s house.”
“Of course—”
“Fine, then that’s settled. I’ll make the final arrangements and move my things over. It will be for only six weeks.”
“Six weeks!”
“Quite short for all the work being done here. Thank you so much, my dear, for putting me up. I feel so much better knowing I’ll be with you. Oh! And when I get there, you can tell me all about this … business arrangement with James.”
The line disconnected before Anne could say anything more. She took the now-dead receiver away from her ear and stared at it, deciding Godzilla would be a more welcome guest. She knew she’d been outmaneuvered. Lettice could outmaneuver the slickest con man. She had a feeling that even if she’d managed to get out a firm no, it would have been completely ignored.
“Great,” she muttered. “Just what I need.”
She pulled herself upright. She could handle having her grandmother here for a time. She had to. Anyway, it wouldn’t be too bad. Lettice’s charity work was literally a full-time job. And she herself put in ten- to twelve-hour days at least, running her farm. They’d probably pass each other only going to and from their bedrooms. She hoped.
Anne turned her mind to a bigger problem. James. She knew she must work with him. She would just have to remember his mercenary attitude toward Battle Cry. She had no doubt he’d help the situation by talking about his newfound equine profits every chance he got. From now on she would just keep the conversation away from breeding practices. A little horse sense about horse sex, she decided, and she’d be fine.
With a little luck.
Four
“He’s here! He’s here!”
Anne grinned in amusement as her son sped out of the house, Tibbs on his heels. One had to be listening very closely to hear the faint sound of a heavy-duty motor in the distance. Philip, excited from the moment he’d been told Battle Cry was retiring here, had been listening very closely.
She followed him more sedately, but that didn’t stop her heart from pounding. As she stood on the portico, she told herself it was much too early for Battle Cry’s transport van to have arrived. She didn’t expect it until after noontime. But she stared up the long drive with growing anticipation.
First a car came into view. She recognized it instantly as James’s Jaguar. Through the tinted windshield she could distinguish a silver-haired woman who looked like Lettice in the passenger seat. Following the car was a medium-size van with the legend ESCORT, QUALITY FURNITURE MOVERS on its side.
“It better not be,” Anne muttered. Her grandmother had mentioned she planned to bring a few things when she came to stay. This was definitely not a few things!
The car pulled up in front of the house. James emerged and waved at her, before going around to the passenger side. Anne smiled back, hoping to show only politeness, not the burst of electricity frizzing along her nerve endings. He looked sensational in his pleated jeans and leather flight jacket, and her lungs seemed to lose all air as she stared at him. Her own worn jeans, old blue sweater, and sheepskin coat seemed dowdy rather than sensible now.
Fortunately, a more angry sizzle replaced the sensual one, as, sure enough, he helped Lettice out of the car. Lettice, nearly eighty now, had voluntarily retired herself from the roadways several years before. She had left Anne with the impression that she would hire a car when she was ready to come for her stay. She hadn’t been expected today, let alone with James.
Wonderful, Anne thought. Now she had a Triple Crown winner and a grandmother to settle in at the same time. Not exactly her idea of a fun day.
“It’s only Grandmother Lettice,” Philip said with disappointment, then called out, “I thought you were Battle Cry, Grandmother Lettice!”
“You better not ever think I’m a horse, young man. I’ll write you out of my will.” She grinned at her great-grandson. “Now, come give me a kiss. I have a lot of things planned for us while I’m here.”
Giggling, Philip ran down the steps and into her arms. Tibbs followed. The dog sat at Lettice’s feet and whined like an unhappy puppy, until she deigned to scratch his ears.
“This is Mr. Tough Guy?” James asked as he joined Anne on the portico, jerking a thumb at the dog.
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nbsp; Fiery sensations flooded Anne’s body at his closeness. She forced herself to ignore them, and scowled at the van instead. “Tibbs adores her. I have no idea why.”
“I take it from Philip’s remark that Battle Cry hasn’t arrived yet?” James asked, the hope of a contradiction clear in his tone.
“Not yet,” Anne said, grinning. “Why do I think that old saying about if wishes were horses is apt right now?”
He laughed. “Very apt, Annie. If it were true, there’d be a thousand Battle Crys on your doorstep.”
She grimaced at the name Annie, but let it go. “If there were, then we wouldn’t be this excited about one.”
He chuckled, and Anne realized that their sharing a joke was as insidious to her control as him touching her. More. She could always excuse a physical response as just that. Nature’s attraction circuits did not discriminate at times. But she couldn’t dismiss emotional intimacy so easily. His generosity with her mare and his clear plan to keep the horse here through the breeding season confused her. He wasn’t behaving quite like the James she thought she knew. She felt as if an invisible barrier were slowly and steadily crumbling inside her, and she had no idea how to shore it up again. The thought was disturbing.
She looked around for a distraction, and immediately found a second complication in her life to focus on. She had allowed her grandmother the time to greet Philip and Tibbs before confronting her over the van. It was more than enough time now. Excusing herself, Anne strode down the steps to Lettice.
“Grandmother, this is more than your necessities,” she said when she reached her.
“I would prefer a kiss of hello for a greeting,” Lettice said, all too clearly ready for a fight.
“Of course.” Anne kissed her on the cheek, then laid down the law. “The men will unload only your clothes, your toiletries, your jewelry, and three things you absolutely cannot live without. The rest goes back to your place.”