Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3)

by Bev Pettersen

  Yet two thousand dollars wasn’t entirely impossible. She had almost fifteen hundred remaining from her track winnings and, with a paycheck or two, could scrape the money together. She continued bouncing, ecstatic she’d talked Mark into keeping Buddy.

  Well, maybe not exactly talked. The sexy dress she’d worn had helped. He was a typical man after all, although she feared he affected her much more than she did him. His presence always left her exhilarated—a wonderful feeling but usually better if shared. She tilted her head, letting the crisp air fan her cheeks, feeling intensely alive and eager to discover what the rest of the evening might bring.

  Whispers caught her attention. She glanced sideways, watching as two women ogled Mark. As usual, he was oblivious, face impassive under the canopy. Jessica gave them a knowing smile. She’d deliberately left her jacket off in spite of the cool air, but Mark hadn’t looked at her, hadn’t even spoken since they’d left Sophie and Devin’s table. He was definitely zoned out, no doubt thinking of horses.

  Still, it had been an enjoyable evening, despite being stuck with Devin. The salmon was delicious, the wine unending and, best of all, she’d managed to keep her horse. The thought of Buddy being walked to another trainer’s barn tomorrow had filled her with panic, and she’d been desperate to sway Mark.

  She shot him a grateful smile, but he only stared down the street, watching as his car eased to the curb. A wiry attendant with a nose ring jumped out. Mark opened the passenger door, his gaze hooded as she slid in. He tipped the valet and joined her in the car, still silent as he accelerated away from the restaurant.

  Jessica felt a twinge of unease as she studied his flat mouth, the way his hands gripped the wheel. He seemed angry even though she’d done her job—chatting up Devin all night, leaving Mark free to humor Sophie. The car’s speed increased; she twisted in the seat, scanning the blurring sign posts.

  “Isn’t that the exit to Belmont?” she asked.

  “I assumed you were going home with me.”

  She gave a haughty sniff. He hadn’t spoken for ten minutes yet had the arrogance to think she would accompany him back to his bed. Without an ounce of sweet talk which, she admitted, was all she really needed. “That’s quite an assumption.”

  “I assumed that was your hand under the table,” he said dispassionately. “That you were trying to show me something.”

  His detached tone hurt, and she crossed her arms. “I was just showing you how I feel about Buddy. It doesn’t have anything to do with how I feel about you. Or Devin,” she added, guessing that lumping him with Devin would hurt any man’s ego. “So you can just turn—”

  She was abruptly tossed forward, gravel ricocheting as he veered into a rutted parking lot. The seatbelt dug into her shoulder—her sore shoulder—but Mark didn’t seem at all concerned. His voice was crisp and unapologetic as he switched off the ignition.

  “Then perhaps you better explain how you feel about me,” he snapped, “now that I agreed to run Buddy against my better judgment. Feel clever playing your little games?”

  Ah, ha. So that explained his anger. He hated to think a woman could influence his decisions. It hadn’t been a game though. She’d been desperate to keep Buddy but would never have stooped to such behavior with another man. It was Mark’s attention she wanted as much as the horse. The knowledge scared her, and she hid her feelings behind a condescending tone. “If a woman’s hand on your leg blows your mind, then I understand why you prefer to hire big people. I have control but you really need to practice yours, maybe—”

  His body slanted, blocking out the road lights and then his mouth covered hers, hard and punishing. One hand held her head in place, the other trapped her arms, and she couldn’t move, could hardly breathe. But at her muffled protest, his mouth immediately gentled. Turned coaxing, teasing, until her lips parted.

  Ah, this was better, much better. He was such a wonderful kisser. She sighed and arched toward him, her arms slipping around his neck as she surrendered to the hardness of his body, his minty taste, the sureness of his hands when they unclipped her seatbelt.

  His tongue mated with hers and when his bold hand caressed her breasts, it felt so right. He peeled down the top of her dress and his fingers stroked her nipple, sending out waves of pleasure while his mouth sizzled a trail from her neck to her chest.

  She moaned and arched against him, not caring that he’d rolled her dress to the waist, that he was sucking her breasts, that he’d quickly filled her with a throbbing need.

  The sudden slap of cold air was shocking.

  She opened her eyes in confusion. Mark had settled back in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead as he turned on the ignition.

  “I’ll take you back to the track now,” he said.

  She stared at him in disbelief then lowered her head, fumbling to replace her dress. The fabric was clingy, her fingers awkward as she tugged it into place. She jammed her arms in her jacket, holding it tight, needing protection against the chill. And her shame.

  He drove fast, threading through traffic as though eager to be rid of her. A red Explorer cut in front of them, and he slammed on his brakes, tossing her against the dash.

  “Fasten your seatbelt,” he said. Nothing more.

  By the time they pulled onto the track grounds, her embarrassment had swelled until she wanted to shrink into the seat. The car stopped near the barn entrance. She grabbed the door, fumbling with the handle, but the lock depressed with an ominous click.

  “Let me out,” she said, her voice surprisingly level. “You proved your point, and I deserved it. No need to humiliate me any further.”

  He turned, his face enigmatic in the shadows. “I want you to quit.”

  Panic balled in her throat. Only three weeks left, and he was going to fire her because she’d been stupid, impulsive and lovesick. Her grandfather would win. She’d end up working at Boone, reliant on his every whim. Controlled by him.

  “I can’t.” She almost choked on her desperation. “Please. I have to finish out the meet.”

  He shifted in the seat, his voice flat. “I don’t know why you’re so keen to prove something to your grandfather, Jessica, but everyone has options.”

  “Not when you have no money.”

  “You’re a smart girl. Hard worker. You don’t need your grandfather’s money. And you already have connections…I really don’t want you here.”

  She squeezed the door handle, his words exacerbating her plummeting self-worth. She couldn’t even hold her first job, a manual job she enjoyed. Hell, a job she loved. “Please don’t fire me.” She swiveled, looking directly at him for the first time since he’d stopped the car.

  “I’m not going to fire you. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  The bleakness in his voice made her feel guilty but at the same time, she pushed her advantage. She had to stay until Breeders’ Cup, the last weekend of the meet. “Then you promise you won’t fire me?”

  He stared straight ahead, silent, his fingers gripping the steering wheel. Finally he turned to her. “I won’t fire you, Jessica. But don’t test my control again.” He pressed a switch on the panel of his door, and the locks rose. “There’s not much left.”

  His gruff warning sent a thrill shuddering through her. She opened the door, somewhat mollified by the knowledge he wasn’t unaffected. She turned to say good night, but he’d already stepped from the car.

  “I’m going to sleep in the office,” he said. “In four hours we’ll have to get up.”

  Something rustled in the fallen leaves, startling them both. But it was only Kato who scampered from beneath the trees, wrapping himself around her ankles and greeting them with a plaintive yowl.

  “You rascal.” She scooped him up. “I thought I locked you in my room.”

  “You did.” Mark turned and stalked into the barn.

  Yawning, she and Kato followed him down the aisle. The rich food and alcohol, combined with their intense bout of kissing, had left her dr
ained. Her shoes, so jaunty and energizing earlier, pinched her feet, and the prospect of kicking them off and slipping into bed was wonderfully appealing.

  Her gaze drifted to Mark. He looked different now, focused and remote as he checked each horse. Inconceivable that only thirty minutes ago, his mouth had been on her breast…it had been rather nice.

  “Damn!”

  He stopped so abruptly, she rushed up with Kato curled in her arms. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Quiet.” He backed her up, his hands on her elbows as he pressed her against the rough boards. “Wait here.”

  He walked to the end of the aisle and vanished around the corner. She hesitated, but he was out of sight and curiosity egged her forward. She inched to the spot where he’d first stopped.

  “Oh, God.” She dropped Kato on the ground and stared at the destruction.

  Her door was smashed. Her tiny room—her home—in shambles.

  She entered slowly, bursting with indignation. Her clothes were scattered, the cot flipped. Even Lefty’s bike was wrecked, with five broken spokes and a slashed seat. Worse, her coffee can of hard-earned money—Buddy’s money—was overturned and empty.

  “I’m going to kill that kid!”

  Mark appeared in the doorway, his face alight with relief. “The horses are all fine.”

  She sank to her knees, overcome with a sense of violation. It was great the horses were fine, but his priorities were very clear, and it only highlighted her insignificance.

  “Much taken?” he asked as he tried to straighten Lefty’s mangled bike.

  “All my money.” She fought her despair as she scooped a bra from the floor and tossed it into her duffle bag.

  “I’m sorry.” He gave up on the bike and urged her to her feet. “Come on, it’s late. Nothing can be done now.”

  “But this is my room. Where I sleep.” She shivered in revulsion. “And that kid touched everything.”

  “What kid?”

  “That kid. You know, the same kid. He was here before, trying to steal my bike.”

  “Okay. I’ll call track security.” He gently pushed a strand of hair off her face. “But I don’t think a kid could have broken the door. It had to be someone bigger. They ripped the room up looking for money. Good thing you weren’t here.”

  She shivered, unnerved, realizing she might have met the intruder if she hadn’t been with Mark. He was standing so close, his eyes dark with concern and another emotion she couldn’t read, and she had to fight the impulse to burrow into his safe chest.

  Safe, with a man whose driving concern were horses.

  Her tiredness was making her melancholy. And fearful. She stepped back, irritated with herself. “Would you help me straighten the cot so I can go to sleep?” she asked. “I’ll clean up in the morning.”

  He shook his head, slipping his arm over her hip, and guiding her past the battered door. “I’ll stay here and talk to security. It’s time they take this seriously. You can sleep in my office tonight.”

  She tried to argue, but he shushed her, and she was much too tired to bicker. Besides, after spending weeks in a cramped tack room, his office would be like the Ritz. She might even be able to sleep in. “Do owners’ dinners count as overtime?” She limped beside him, trying to keep up in her ridiculously high shoes. “Maybe count for an extra half-hour of sleep?”

  “This kind of night does.”

  “This, meaning the break-in? Or this, meaning the kind of night where the boss embarrasses the employee in his car?”

  He brushed a finger gently over her cheek. “Maybe a little of both,” he said.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mark yawned, stretching in his office chair. His mind felt like mush, and he knew he hadn’t been sharp for the morning gallops. He scowled when Dino dropped another stack of invoices on his cluttered desk.

  “Add thirty dollars to Buddy’s invoice,” he said, scannning the farrier’s bill. “Horse lost a shoe and had an extra visit.”

  “Right.” Dino’s voice muffled as he bent over the calculator and made the adjustment. “Guess that’ll finish up Buddy. You have a new horse for his stall?”

  “Not yet. Buddy’s racing one more time.” Mark gulped his coffee, hoping it would flush away his guilt.

  Dino lifted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Thought you wanted to retire that horse? Thought you could persuade Sophie of almost anything.”

  Mark yanked his side drawer open and rummaged for a stapler. It seemed Miss Jessica Boone was also adept at persuasion. Last night, he’d been thinking with his dick, a damn poor way to make decisions. Clearly it wasn’t just his dad who suffered from impaired judgment whenever he got close to a pretty woman. “Where’s the stapler?” He slammed the drawer in frustration and shuffled the mounds of paper.

  Dino picked up the stapler and slapped it in Mark’s hand with a knowing grin. “Did Sophie get to you last night? She’s not a bad-looking woman. Just give her what she wants. Take her out and bang her.”

  “Great way to lose horses,” Mark said. “Clients don’t like trainers banging their wives.” Or their granddaughters either.

  He absently picked up a beanie bag, squeezing the paperweight in his hand. It was round and firm, yet soft, much like Jessica’s breasts. His gaze drifted to the cot where the imprint of her head was still visible. He realized he was still squeezing the bag and tossed it on the filing cabinet with a disgusted snort.

  Dino had moved to the doorway to sip his coffee and watched as the last set of horses were bathed. “Why is she so hot?” he asked. “Obvious reasons, of course, but probably it’s her spirit.”

  No need to ask who Dino was referring to, and Mark resisted the urge to join him. It was always fun watching Jessica bathe Buddy; invariably more water ended up on her than the horse. Usually he placed Buddy in the first set so it was cold when she washed him—cold enough that she wore a vest—but today he’d deliberately scheduled Buddy last so she’d have more time to sleep.

  “Does she have her vest on?” he asked, trying to concentrate on the list of upcoming races.

  “No, just the long-sleeved purple shirt. Not the high one with the buttons, the one with the low neck.”

  “Jesus, Dino. You know all her clothes?”

  “Most of them,” Dino said unapologetically. “I’m single now, and I like women. Unfortunately, she’s not into casual sex.”

  “How do you know that?” Mark’s voice sharpened.

  “I tried, walking her home one night. She was no fun at all.”

  Satisfaction warmed Mark, satisfaction and a curious relief. He crossed his arms behind his head and tilted in his chair. She’d been fun with him, lots of fun. Course, last night she’d been drinking. And last night she’d wanted something.

  “Leave the employees alone,” he said, sharper than he’d intended.

  Dino twisted, raised a curious eyebrow and stared at him over his mug. “Just not in the barns, right? Not at the track?”

  “Not anywhere with Boone’s granddaughter,” Mark said.

  “Okay.” Dino gave a good-natured shrug. “But you can’t keep the other guys away. Lately more men hang around our shedrow than sit in the kitchen.”

  Mark scraped his chair back, brushed past Dino and strode to the wash pit. It didn’t help that the feed man lounged against his truck, watching Jessica with rapt attention.

  “Buddy’s finished,” he said to Jessica. “Take him inside.”

  He scanned her shirt. Not really transparent, but her clothes were somewhat inappropriate. Tight, clingy stuff that was fine on the streets, maybe fine on other women, but not on her. It wasn’t anything specific. He couldn’t even yell at her for breaking the dress code. Clothes just couldn’t hide that gorgeous body.

  She wrinkled her nose, bent over and placed a hand on Buddy’s chest. The back of her jeans tightened, hugging her curves, and her T-shirt lifted, revealing a full half inch of creamy skin. “No, Buddy’s still warm. I better walk him a bit longe
r,” she was saying. Arguing with him. Probably thinking she could do whatever she wanted just because he had the hots for her.

  “Get the horse inside. Now,” he snapped. He wheeled and stalked into the shedrow. Could hear Dino’s chuckle, felt Jessica’s hurt bewilderment but didn’t turn around.

  He wasn’t like his father. Just because she had a pair of beautiful breasts that she’d let him handle last night didn’t mean she could waltz around the barn doing whatever she wanted.

  “Is that horse wrapped yet?” he yelled at Carlos, aware several grooms were looking at him. Assets wheeled in his stall, agitated by the unusual noise. Perfect. Let’s get the colt all excited so he’ll run like shit in the Breeders’ Cup—the Breeders’ Cup, when millions of people are watching, and a trainer’s ability is on display.

  But the shedrow was a mess, and he couldn’t shut up.

  “Maria, the aisle is filthy. Who left this helmet on the ground!” He kept walking, circling the shedrow, whipping his barn into shape. Everyone was slacking. Two of the race bridles hadn’t even been hung properly.

  Dino caught up to him, still grinning. “Three more weeks of this. Christ, we’ll all have ulcers.”

  Mark sighed and blew out a rueful sigh, knowing he’d been unfair. “Tell me again why I want a Breeder’s Cup runner?”

  “Not just a runner. You got the favorite. Everyone’s watching you, boss.”

  “Fuck off, Dino.”

  ***

  “I need money.” Jessica buried the metal scoop in the oat bin then diligently measured Buddy’s rations. She’d learned that horses had notoriously weak digestive systems; it didn’t take much to start stomach cramps, and the ensuing colic could be fatal. “Quite a bit of money,” she added. “The shithead who broke in last night cleaned me out.”

  Maria didn’t ask a single question, just dug some crumpled bills from her back pocket. “Here’s twenty-four bucks.”