by Susan Fox
The older man, a chunky guy with tousled, gray-streaked dark hair, had responded cheerfully, “Yup. What we’re offering is a getaway holiday.”
Evan had squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a tension headache build. “A getaway?” It was the Cariboo that he wanted to get away from.
“Sure. After all, you’re here to relax, and we make no bones about reminding you to stop and smell the roses.”
How the hell could Evan relax without the Internet and his iPhone? What kind of place didn’t have a sat tower? Oh, yeah: Hicksville.
Rusty stumbled over a root, calling Evan from his thoughts. “Pick up your feet,” he muttered to the horse.
If he stayed here, he’d go stir-crazy.
He realized the horses ahead of him were filing back into the fenced yard by the barn. Jess had stopped her horse by the open gate and was sharing a word with each rider as they filed by.
“How ya doin’, cowboy?” she drawled to Evan. “Rusty lookin’ after you okay?”
Her cheeks glowed. Did she get prettier each time he looked at her? Before he could focus and come up with a snappy answer, his horse ambled into the yard and his opportunity was gone.
Why did Jess make him feel like a horny teenager? This was absurd. He was a healthy man with normal sexual appetites and a girlfriend who satisfied him completely. That was it—he’d think about Cynthia. Cynthia, stylish and clever, striking with her short blond hair and cool blue eyes.
Not Jess, married Jess, who in dress and manner epitomized all those country ways he’d been so eager to leave behind. Not Jess, with that infectious laugh and glossy fall of chestnut hair. Not Jess, with those heartwarming chocolate eyes...
If he stayed, it was going to be a very long week.
Chapter Three
Later that afternoon, as she gave a private lesson in the outdoor ring to a woman named Joan, Jess was amazed that she’d actually survived the day. Thank heavens for routine. She had followed the same pattern of activities so many times, she could do this stuff in her sleep—or today, when her brain was scrambled, her body and emotions in a turmoil.
She knew one thing, and it was the most important one: Evan wasn’t here because of Robin. He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t dropped a single hint. He truly hadn’t known Jess worked at the Crazy Horse. That was a huge relief, but now she had another major question: What was he doing here? Caribou Crossing was the last place in the world she figured he’d ever want to visit.
And, aside from the way he filled out a pair of jeans, it was pretty dang clear he hadn’t changed. He hated every minute of being here.
Just like she hated every minute of having him here. Especially because she was still drawn to him.
Although she’d never forgotten him—how could she with Robin as a daily reminder?—she’d been sure she had resolved all her feelings, positive and negative. Now, dang it, seeing him in the flesh had reawakened every one of them. And, speaking of flesh, he’d awakened her body, too.
When she’d leaned close to adjust his stirrup—something she’d done hundreds of times over the years for riders—she had for the first time been aware of the intimacy of the act. She wanted to touch the firm thigh that strained against faded denim. To run her fingers up his leg toward the intriguing bulge under his fly. A bulge that was probably just an automatic physical reaction to her touch, not an indication that he was actually attracted to her. He was probably married to some elegant New Yorker. Or, since he didn’t wear a ring, he had half a dozen of them as lovers.
“I’ll think about him later,” she muttered to herself. Under her, Knight shifted impatiently. She settled the restless horse and called encouragement and instructions to Joan, who circled the ring on a black-and-white horse named Mickey, after Mickey Mouse.
The first day with a new batch of guests was always demanding. She used the morning ride to make an initial assessment, then did any required juggling of horses and riders. Each rider would spend his or her entire two-week stay with one horse, learning about the bond that can exist between horse and human.
After the ride and continuing through the afternoon, each guest got a private lesson. Other than that, they were on their own for R&R, including getting a massage, taking a sauna, swimming in the indoor or outdoor pool, participating in classes in relaxation techniques and Pilates, or simply sitting in the sun with a cold drink.
She dreaded facing Evan again, which was why she’d scheduled his lesson last, after Joan’s. Would he show? Maybe now that he realized Jess was the wrangler, he’d cancel his holiday.
Joan, a thirtysomething woman with an elaborate hairdo squashed under a straw cowboy hat from the Crazy Horse gift shop, called out, “Can we stop now? These new jeans are chafing.”
“Okay, we’ll cut the lesson short. If you have any old jeans with you, wear them tomorrow.”
Brand-new designer jeans. What was the woman thinking? The brochure told guests to bring well-worn clothing. Jess had written the copy herself. Why didn’t people take her advice?
As she and Knight led Joan and her horse, Mickey, toward the barn, she thought about Evan’s wardrobe. The jeans that hugged his body so enticingly might have an expensive designer label, but they were faded and worn. The beige denim shirt was new, like his boots. She’d bet the city boy had never owned riding boots before, and probably he hadn’t had any long-sleeved shirts that were appropriate for wear in the country. She’d specified long sleeves, to protect the guests from sunburn and scratches.
He’d read the brochure. No surprise there. Evan learned by reading, whereas she learned by doing. It was only one of the many differences between them. Once she’d thought the differences were cute, believed opposites attracted, but he’d proved her wrong.
Madisun met Jess and Joan at the barn, and helped the tired student dismount. They sent her hobbling on her way, and then the girl began to take off Mickey’s tack. “Rusty’s out back, tethered in the shade,” she informed Jess.
“Thanks. When you finish with Mickey, go on home. I’ll look after Rusty and Knight when the last lesson’s over.”
Jess stepped inside the barn and happily inhaled the familiar scent: a heady blend of hay and leather, apples and horses. In the miniature bathroom, she poured a glass of water and savored each chilly mouthful as it slid down her throat. She’d long ago stripped down to her T-shirt, and now she splashed cold water on her face and arms. Then she propped herself in the bathroom doorway, fanning herself with her hat as Madisun hung up Mickey’s tack and collected grooming brushes.
Maybe Evan was already on his way home to New York. If there was any guy who knew how to run away from Jess and Caribou Crossing, it was Evan Kincaid. She still remembered how much that had hurt, after their night at Zephyr Lake.
She had made love for the very first time, and with the boy she’d considered the love of her life. And he’d reacted like she’d tried to clamp a branding iron on his flank.
“Jess?” It was his voice, from the barnyard.
So he hadn’t run this time. At least not yet. “Be right out.”
She had to clear the air. No more, no less. Years ago he’d apologized—in a couple of stupid e-mails—and she’d told him to get on with his life. That obviously hadn’t been enough for either of them, because the air between them had that heavy, tense feel, like just before a thunderstorm. If he was staying, she had to deal with this.
Jess strode out of the barn and came face-to-face with him. He’d rolled up his sleeves and undone the top few buttons of his shirt. A strong neck, curls of tawny hair . . . She dropped her eyes and found herself gazing spellbound at his forearm. A muscled forearm. Again she marveled that Ev had acquired this new and utterly fascinating body.
“We have to talk.” Fighting the impulse to run her fingers over his firm arm, she raised her gaze determinedly and stared into his eyes.
He nodded. “Jess, I owe you an apology.”
A face-to-face apology. Her heart had been waiting a decade for this. So
why was she irritated? Probably because she’d been all keyed up and ready to go, and he’d beaten her out of the starting gate. She glanced toward the hitching rail where Madisun was grooming Mickey. Satisfied that the girl was too far away to overhear, Jess opened her mouth to begin.
“I was a complete jerk,” he said. “Please accept my apology. Can you forgive me?”
“I . . . Uh, what exactly are you apologizing for?” Running away, e-mailing rather than phoning, believing her when she said he should get lost?
“For violating our relationship, then running away like a coward.”
Violating . . . What the heck was the man talking about? “Violating our relationship?”
“Jess, you were my best friend. From the moment I met you I felt a strong connection, and when we were kids it was great.” Color tinged his strong cheekbones. “Then when I got older, hormones kicked in and . . . Look, I knew I was leaving town and you were staying. I never meant to be anything other than a friend. But then, at the lake, we had some beer and I . . . lost control. I betrayed you.”
Was that why he’d run away right after they’d made love? He thought he’d betrayed their friendship? For her, she’d been honoring it.
“And I betrayed your parents,” he went on.
“My parents?” she croaked disbelievingly. “How do my parents come into this?”
“They were so good to me. They trusted me and then I . . . took advantage of you.”
Ooh! What an idiot he was! He didn’t have a clue what had really gone on. She glared at him. “I seduced you.”
“What?”
She took pleasure in how stupid he looked with his mouth hanging open. Hah! He might have beaten her out of the gate but she’d left him behind on the stretch.
“I had a silly crush on you,” she said. “You acted like you weren’t attracted to me but I didn’t believe you.” She had started out crisp and matter-of-fact, but slowed as she remembered the girl she had been. A crush? It had been full-blown love, but no way would she tell him that. “I wanted one night with you, Ev. I wanted you to—oh, it seems silly now that we’re both grown up—to realize you cared for me. Not because I wanted you to stay in town. I absolutely did not want you to give up your dreams. I just needed to know the feelings were mutual.”
He opened his mouth, but she rushed on. “I set it up. That picnic. I lied when I told you there was a party at the lake, and then lied when I said I’d made a mistake about the date. I brought the beer, figuring it would loosen your inhibitions. I even brought the c-condom.” Her voice stuttered over the last word.
That damned condom. She’d bought it from a machine in the girl’s restroom at school and carried it in her jeans pocket for so long, fingered it so many times, no wonder the stupid thing ripped just when it counted.
She’d always wondered if Evan had realized it had torn. He’d been as inexperienced as she had. When he’d first e-mailed, he’d asked how she was, not whether she was pregnant. And she’d responded in the same vein, saying she was great, terrific, never better.
Oh well, what did it matter whether he’d known? What mattered was that she hadn’t told him about Robin then, and had no intention of telling him now.
Afraid he could read her thoughts, she said, “Yeah, Ev, I seduced you. It was dumb. And . . . well, I apologize.” She let out a long breath, feeling like she’d crossed the finish line.
“But . . .” He shook his head, lagging a lap behind. “I don’t get it.”
She drew in a shuddery breath. “Like you said, there was this connection between us. It was kind of like brother and sister when we were kids, but when we were teenagers it turned into something different. For me, and I thought also for you. I needed to find out.” Without thinking, she reached up to grip his shoulders.
He gazed down at her, and now the air between them was thick with tension.
Her hands became aware of the muscle and bone they gripped through the denim of his shirt.
The blue-green of his eyes deepened and a muscle twitched at the side of his mouth.
She found herself gasping for air. Dang it, how could the man have this effect on her?
Hurriedly, she dropped her hands and stepped away from him. “Okay, I admit I was upset when you skedaddled out of Caribou Crossing, and pissed when you e-mailed rather than phoned. But that’s the past. Let’s put it behind us.”
Jess took another step backward. “Tell me, how is New York anyhow? All that you hoped for? And your career? You’re doing well, achieving your goals?” She was babbling, but with each word she reminded herself that he didn’t belong here. Didn’t belong with her. No way was she going to let herself feel those old feelings again.
He’d been frowning a little as he watched her, but now he smiled as if he’d accepted her invitation to move forward. “Everything’s perfect. New York’s the best city in the world. I feel so alive there.”
Yes, she could see that from the way his face became animated as he spoke.
“And my career—I’m an investment counselor—is all I’d dreamed of.”
“That’s great. I’m happy for you.” And she meant that in all sincerity. Interesting, though, that he’d said nothing about his personal life. Maybe he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She forced a smile, determined to prove she was over him. “And are you married?” Google hadn’t supplied her with that information.
“Not yet. I’m in a relationship, though. Her name is Cynthia Jefferson.”
Of course he was in a relationship. How crazy to feel a sense of letdown. “I’m sure she’s just lovely,” she gushed. “And brilliant. That goes without saying.” Unlike herself, who’d only scraped by in school because Evan helped her with her homework.
“All of that.”
She tossed her head. “Well, enough chitchat. I guess we’d better get on with the riding lesson.” Knowing she sounded like a total idiot, Jess clamped her lips shut and strode around the corner of the barn.
Silently, she tasted the name Cynthia—lovely, brilliant, all of that Cynthia—and it set her teeth on edge.
Evan watched Jess go. She’d caught him off guard and kept him off balance. He was still trying to get his brain around her announcement that she had seduced him, not to mention cope with the physical impact of her touch.
Damn Gianni for insisting he stay. When Evan had found time at noon to make a call without being overheard and had admitted to once being friends—yes, that was all he’d said, friends—with TJ Cousins, his client had brushed off the conflict-of-interest issue. Gianni said he was confident Evan would make an objective assessment as long as he didn’t reveal to Jess why he was really at the Crazy Horse.
In order to make that assessment, Evan would have to spend a lot of time with Jess, which was proving to be unsettling. He was also uncomfortable with Gianni’s insistence that he not let Jess know Gianni had sent him. Deception went against his nature, and he particularly hated to deceive Jess. It made him feel like a schmuck, yet he couldn’t violate his client’s confidence. What a mess this all was, and not least his attraction to Jess, which was strengthening by the moment.
“Evan?” she called from somewhere out of sight. “What’s the holdup?”
He pulled himself together and went to find her. She was stroking Rusty, who was tied to a hitching rail under a leafy tree.
“I’m stuck with that horse?”
Rusty raised his head and Jess glanced over her shoulder. “He’s one of our best. I trained him myself.”
“He . . .”
“What?” She swung around to face him, her face showing pure exasperation.
“He tromped on my foot.” As the words came out, he realized he sounded like a peevish little boy.
Jess’s lips twitched and he had to grin in response. In a moment they were both howling with laughter. Now, at last, the air truly was clear.
“So,” Jess said when she could talk again, “the first lesson is to always be aware of a horse’s feet. I guess y
ou’ve learned that one, so we can move on.” She untied Rusty from the hitching rail.
Evan moved up beside her and, as she turned, his forearm brushed her arm. Heat surged through him and he jerked away at the same time she did.
“Where’s your hat?” she demanded. “The brochure said to bring a hat. The afternoon sun is hot and you don’t want to get sunstroke.”
“I don’t wear hats. You didn’t used to, either.” She’d said she liked to feel the wind in her hair. “But here you are in a Stetson.”
“It’s a Resistol and it’s part of the job. Local color. I’ll get you a spare hat. Or maybe you’d like a helmet?” she added in a teasing tone.
“Don’t need a helmet. I’m not about to try anything dangerous.”
“Riding a bike isn’t dangerous,” she taunted, “and yet you managed to fall off.”
Annoyed by the reminder, he said grimly, “No helmet. No hat.”
“Oh well, you’ve got a thick head. And you did sign the waiver. Mount up and we’ll head into the ring.”
He remembered something he’d read. “Uh, should I tighten the cinch?”
“Huh?” Jess gaped as if he’d started to spout Greek. Then she snapped her fingers. “You got that from a book.”
Ruefully, he said, “You know me too well.”
She hooted with laughter. “I still can’t believe you actually thought you could learn to skate by reading a book.”
He flinched, then summoned a wry grin. “I caught Brooke on a good day and she bought me secondhand skates.” His mother had told him to call her Brooke because “Mom” made her feel middle-aged; she was a mere fifteen years older than him. “I practiced skating on the carpet, night after night.”
“And then you went out on the frozen lake and fell splat on your butt. It was hilarious.”
“I’m sure.” He deliberated for a moment, then went on, for some reason wanting her to know the truth. “But to me it was horrible. I didn’t want to confess I didn’t know how to skate. I tried to learn, and I failed. The kids laughed, and I had to spend the rest of the winter pretending to my mother I was going skating. But the worst thing was, I believed I was a klutz.”