Harlequin Blaze June 2015 Box Set: Midnight ThunderFevered NightsCome On OverTriple Time

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  On the far right stood a long white structure that had to be the bunkhouse. Two men standing in front talking turned and lifted their hands in friendly waves, which Shelby returned.

  The large rust-colored barns were easy to identify, all three of them. A few other scattered buildings were probably sheds, although five times the size by her definition.

  “I think you’re wrong about this being all one ranch,” she said, pointing to a cluster of four small houses each with its own yard and beds of faded flowers.

  Trent glanced at them with a faint smile. “The married hired hands live in those.”

  “Are you serious?” She stared at him, then got distracted by their surroundings again. “They have their own gas station?”

  He laughed. “A place this size runs a lot of equipment. Those two gas pumps are more necessity than convenience.”

  “Huh.” Closer to the house was an impressive building in both size and appearance. “What’s that?”

  “The stable,” he said, frowning at her as if she’d committed blasphemy by needing to ask.

  “Right.” She noticed what had to be a racetrack but refrained from commenting.

  A tall distinguished-looking man with white hair walked out of the stable and motioned for Trent to park under a large cottonwood tree.

  Trent eased the truck into the spot and cut the engine. “Is this how you expected the Eager Beaver to look?”

  “Oh, sure.” She scanned the front of the house. The stone work was awesome, and so was the aggregate circular drive sweeping around hundreds of yellow mums. The whole place was really something. “I didn’t even know ranches like this existed outside of the movies.”

  “You should see some of the spreads in Texas.” He grabbed his black Stetson from the backseat and put it on. “Ready?”

  She nodded. “Don’t worry. I won’t ask any more stupid questions.”

  “Ask anything you want,” he said, grinning as he got out of the truck.

  She did a quick check in the visor mirror. She’d gotten rid of the scarf, mittens and her coat before going into the diner but her hair was still flat so she poufed it out some.

  Her door opened. Trent stood there holding it for her. “You look great,” he said with a trace of amusement.

  Accepting the hand he offered, she slid off the seat and touched ground. “So do you,” she said and winked.

  His low sexy chuckle did a number on her nervous system. As if being confined to the truck’s cab for two hours, sitting close enough to notice the spot he’d missed shaving and admiring his firm, chiseled jaw hadn’t already left her a tad weak in the knees.

  They headed toward the man who stood outside the stable, cleaning his sunglasses while waiting for them. He wore perfectly creased black jeans and a crisp long-sleeve blue shirt. Shelby didn’t really know boots but she’d be willing to bet his cost as much as her entire shoe collection, which was nothing to sneeze at.

  “Mr. Calhoun.” Trent approached with his hand extended.

  “Trent Kimball.” The man folded his white handkerchief slowly and slipped it into his pocket, then put on his aviator-style sunglasses, adjusting them carefully. Finally, he shook Trent’s hand. “Call me Hank. We’re all friends here.” He smiled at Shelby. “And who’s this?”

  “Shel—”

  “Shelby Foster,” she said, not meaning to cut Trent off, and automatically offered Mr. Calhoun her hand.

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He picked up her hand and kissed the back.

  Startled, she pressed her lips together and forced a smile. He was older, from a different generation, and was just being polite...

  Like hell. While working for the Williamsons, she’d dealt with a wide range of wealthy clients, up to and including the obscenely rich. She’d found most of them to be pleasant and reasonable. But there had been a few, rude, arrogant men like Hank Calhoun. Though she’d never before experienced such a strong and instant dislike for someone.

  Maybe she’d rushed to judgment. But she doubted it. His posturing was too obvious. First, he’d made no move to greet Trent, then left him standing with his hand out while the jerk wiped his glasses?

  And then kissing her hand? Calhoun knew better. All she’d offered was a handshake.

  Ew. Now she needed a shower.

  But this was Trent’s show so she kept a smile in place, calmly withdrew her hand.

  “Quite a spread you have here,” Trent said, glancing around. “You raise cattle, too, don’t you?”

  Glad for the change of subject, she breathed out a sigh of relief that neither man appeared to have noticed her reaction.

  “My sons handle that side of the business,” Calhoun said with a dismissive wave. “I have a much greater interest in horses. Arabians in particular.”

  Trent gave him an odd look, frowned for a moment, then said, “Mind showing me inside your stable?” His gaze followed the high pitch of the roof. “I’m already green with envy.”

  Calhoun laughed. “Sure, I’ll give you a tour. A little later, though.” Trent didn’t seem pleased. “Have you folks eaten yet? I have a terrific cook. Ruth will whip up anything you want.”

  “No, thanks.” Trent patted his flat belly, drawing Shelby’s attention. “We stopped on the way.”

  Her gaze lingered on his narrow waist and hips. Today he wore a blue chambray shirt tucked into his jeans. They weren’t very worn but still fit him nice and snug.

  “Shelby?” Trent touched her arm.

  She blinked.

  Both men were looking at her.

  Her mind had been wiped clean. She couldn’t come up with a blessed thing to say.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Trent asked, a gleam of amusement in his gray eyes.

  “I’m good. Thanks. Would you excuse me a moment?” She took a step back. “Don’t wait. I’ll catch up,” she said, then turned and walked to the truck as quickly as she could manage without tripping, keeping her head down and taking deep breaths.

  She’d been staring at Trent’s fly.

  Of course he’d noticed. And in case he’d chalked it up to his imagination, she’d just provided confirmation by stalking off like a two-year-old. Her cheeks had to be flaming every shade of red.

  She climbed into the truck and slid down in the seat. There had to be good internet here. She couldn’t see Hank Calhoun tolerating spotty service. Reaching for her coat, which was on the backseat, she pulled her cell from the pocket. A quick glance assured her the men had continued their discussion and showed no interest in her. She focused on her cell. Busy morning. Texts from Donald and the movers. A voice mail from her mom. And one from Mrs. Williamson, Donald’s mother. That was a first. And it presented a tricky problem. The woman had been Shelby’s employer for five years. It could be a business call.

  After all, Shelby had left without much notice, something that would haunt her conscience for a long time. Although she had tried to tough out a week, just to tie up loose ends if nothing else. But Donald had refused to leave her alone. And if Mrs. Williamson could’ve killed her with a look, Shelby would be dead by now. The hostile work environment hadn’t inspired creativity so instead of finishing the week Shelby had left the next day.

  She scrolled through texts—the movers needed to hear from her ASAP. So did Donald. She felt badly about not setting up a delivery appointment last night so she called the movers before listening to messages. And was sent straight to voice mail. Okay with her since she was still iffy about what to tell them.

  Bracing herself for Mrs. Williamson’s message, Shelby hit Speaker and let her gaze wander toward Trent and Hank standing at the fence surrounding the racetrack. The men were too far away to make out Trent’s expression. But she recognized his body language. Arms folded, shoulders back, jaw angled up. He loo
ked pissed.

  Hank gestured with his hands, clearly talking about the horse and rider running around the track. She would’ve never guessed he could be so animated.

  Her cell beeped signaling the end of the voice mail. She hadn’t heard a word of it. Quickly she replayed the message while opening the truck door. Mrs. Williamson’s sickeningly sweet tone was a complete surprise, and enough to make Shelby nauseous. The woman usually reserved the syrupy voice for rich clients. Shelby listened a bit, then disconnected. Pleading on behalf of her grown son...for God’s sake. But then the overbearing woman had become a big part of the problem between Shelby and Donald. Everything had to be his mother’s way, and Donald didn’t seem to care. He just took the easy path to keep the peace. But so had Shelby. Until she’d realized Donald would never be on her side. He’d never appreciate her need to be her own person. His mother would always rule.

  Because Shelby didn’t want to be rude, she would eventually return Mrs. Williamson’s call. But for now she slipped the phone into her jeans pocket, more interested in Trent and whether he needed reinforcements. As she got closer, she saw Hank hold up a stopwatch just as the horse, the rider crouched forward in jockey position, ran past them.

  “Look at that.” He motioned to someone inside the fence. The young man was bent forward, hands on his thighs, squinting at the horse’s legs, but he waved an acknowledgement. “Tell me that isn’t a damn fine-looking animal,” Hank said and clapped Trent on the back.

  “No argument from me,” Trent said, unsmiling.

  “People have underestimated Arabians. The racing world started to wake up in the nineties, but the breed still has too few tracks available to them. But you wait. In the next five years, these beauties will win higher purses than any quarter horse could dream of.”

  Shelby stood on Trent’s left, not sure if he’d seen her yet. She brushed her arm against his.

  He turned and gave her a smile. “Everything okay?” he asked quietly.

  “Service is great here,” she said, holding up the phone. “So yay.”

  Hank glanced at her, then swung his attention back to the track. “You’ll appreciate this next stallion. I bought Thor a few months ago. He’s four years old and he’s already won his first race. With the right trainer, I think he could be a real money maker. I got him for a steal. The idiots who owned him had no idea what they were doing.”

  Shelby reminded herself that horseracing, ranching and horse trading, or whatever they called it, were businesses. A difficult concept to grasp when the commodity was a gorgeous gray horse with an impressive mane that looked like silk. But obviously Hank had brokered a good deal. She shouldn’t dislike him more than she already did because of it. Yet she did.

  The silver-gray stallion pranced onto the track as if the whole world were watching. He flicked his tail, arched his neck slightly. With his gleaming coat, Thor was really that breathtaking.

  “He’s beautiful,” she whispered, unable to tear her gaze away. “Isn’t he?”

  Trent heaved a sigh.

  She felt his breath on her face. Felt the heat from his body, startled to discover that she was leaning into him. And with a fair amount of her weight. She immediately straightened.

  He slid an arm around her and lightly squeezed her left shoulder. “Yes, he is.”

  “What was that?” Hank asked her, then proved he’d heard by adding, “The lady has excellent taste. Watch him, Kimball. You’ll be impressed.”

  Trent kept his eyes on the horse, his hand on her shoulder. She could still feel his tension and wished she understood what was wrong.

  For the next twenty minutes they watched Thor beat his last recorded time. Then Hank showed them another horse, a bay mare, who apparently needed a lot of training. Hank continued to communicate with hand signals, though sometimes using his cell to give curt orders to the men running the horses. The whole time Trent remained silent.

  Finally, he spoke. “You have a nice setup here, Hank. Some impressive horses. Glad I got to see it. But at this point, there’s no sense wasting any more of each other’s time.”

  As he turned to Trent, the other man’s mouth tightened. “You don’t want the job?”

  “Like I told you, I don’t work with Thoroughbreds or Arabians. I’ve got nothing against them. But I only train quarter horses.”

  Hank removed his sunglasses and narrowed his dark eyes. “I know for a fact you trained a winning Thoroughbred for Tucker Lawson.”

  “Hell, that was over seven years ago, and I only did it as a favor.”

  Hank studied him with a critical eye. “After what happened in Texas, I figured you wouldn’t be so picky.”

  Trent stared at the man until Hank looked away. “Guess you thought wrong.”

  “Is it the money?” Hank asked, taking a hundred-and-eighty degree swing with a kiss-ass tone that seemed to irritate Trent even more. “Look, whatever they were paying you in Texas, I’ll double.”

  “Nice meeting you, Mr. Calhoun. I wish you well.” Trent extended his hand.

  Hank ignored it. “All right,” he said, sounding petulant again. “You can take Thor and Aces to your place. I’ve never allowed any of my horses to be trained anywhere but Castle Ranch. This is a damn big concession for me.”

  “I’m sure another trainer will appreciate it.” Trent shook his head. “Look, I’m not trying to play hard to get or squeeze you for more money.” He shrugged. “I’m really not interested.”

  “I’ll go six-figures as well as winning bonus,” Calhoun said with a smug lift of his chin. “How’s that?”

  Trent didn’t even blink. He turned, gave her a tired smile and steered them toward the truck.

  “No one else will offer you a better deal,” Calhoun called out, then added something completely undignified.

  “Someone needs to tell him he’s too old to be a sore loser,” Shelby muttered.

  Trent stopped on the passenger side and opened the door for her. “Think I’m a fool for turning down all that money?”

  “No.” She looked up at him. “I think you’d be nuts to work for an egomaniac who has more money than brains. For God’s sake, he didn’t have enough sense to be tactful.”

  He waited until she’d slid onto the seat. And then he leaned in and kissed her.

  His lips were warm and firm, patient. She had a feeling he’d intended to keep it light. But when she strained up to meet him partway, he became more insistent, the increasing pressure of his mouth matching her eager reaction. At the first touch of his tongue she parted her lips.

  He slid inside, then cupped her jaw with his slightly calloused hand while his tongue made a thorough sweep. Good thing she was already sitting down. It was as if he’d found a magic switch. Her whole body jolted to life. She put a hand on his arm and the swell of his bicep under her palm sent a tingling sensation skipping down her spine.

  Trent pulled back, his breathing ragged. “Let’s get out of here before Calhoun turns a hose on us.”

  She laughed, stopped abruptly. “God, he probably would do something like that, wouldn’t he?” When she saw Trent staring at her mouth and making no move to plant himself behind the wheel, she said, “Well, get in already.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and stole another quick kiss before climbing into the truck.

  * * *

  TRENT’S CARELESS DISREGARD for his promise to stay away from Shelby hit him hard. So did Shelby’s reaction. The kiss had been a give and take, and, damn it, he wanted more. He seriously considered pulling the truck to the side of the road to finish what he’d started back at Castle Ranch. So much for being noble.

  Even now, when he was focused on driving, the taste of her was still strong in his mouth. The feel of her soft skin still plagued his memory. He didn’t know if he could trust his own word. Telling himself to stay away
from her and believing he could do it had been a whole lot easier when she wasn’t within reach.

  “Are you having second thoughts?” she asked, breaking the tension-filled silence.

  “About?”

  “Calhoun’s offer.”

  He shook his head. “I’d never work for someone so controlling. Hell, I’ve trained Thoroughbreds and Arabians, and I’d do it again. They’re good horses. But he’d led me to believe he had quarter horses which he obviously doesn’t, and that pissed me off.”

  “I’m glad you won’t work for him. Not that you need my approval.”

  He thought about his ex-wife and how she would’ve been fawning all over the man. As Trent had eventually discovered, a guy’s net worth was what impressed Dana. Power came a close second. Everything had been just fine between them when he’d been pulling in big bonuses. She would’ve called him three kinds of stupid for turning down Calhoun’s money.

  Shelby wasn’t like that. But then he barely knew her. He and Dana had been married for a couple of years before he’d seen that side of her. Maybe he just hadn’t been paying attention.

  Anyway, he had no business comparing the two women. Man, he used to hate it when his dad had compared him to his older brother.

  Naturally, Trent always ended up with the short end of the stick. Colby was nearly a carbon copy of their dad. Though he tended to stay with a job or project a good while longer. But ultimately, when things got rough, he’d quit just like their old man and move on to something else.

  Trent was the exact opposite, and while he hadn’t actually been called an overachiever, he knew that’s what his dad believed. Maybe Trent’s successes made him feel uncomfortable with his own failures.

  He glanced at Shelby and caught her watching him. Probably curious about what had happened in Texas, but she didn’t ask. She smiled before looking away.

  “I have another quick stop to have a look at that colt. It’ll take forty minutes, tops. After that, we’ll head to Blackfoot Falls and see about getting you a fair booth. You still game?”