She considered her options. She could call the vet in Jackson, who would charge a pretty penny to evaluate the mare and prescribe vitamins. She’d been instructed not to accept any animals, so adding an expensive vet visit seemed wrong when she could get the same services for free. All she had to do was call Drake Brewster.
Yeah, right. So easy. Just call up Mr. Gorgeous-But-Untrustworthy and ask him to give his professional opinion on the pregnant mare she’d just taken in against Regan and Lily’s specific instructions. She wondered if Drake would mention that she’d overstepped. Probably not, considering his history. Talk about overstepping. He’d written the book on it.
Still, she knew Regan and Lily would want her to call Drake instead of the vet in Jackson. No question about that. If she phoned Drake, he’d come right over. The guy didn’t seem to have a full schedule. And he’d be very nice. Charming, even. Of course he was charming or he wouldn’t have been able to talk Regan’s fiancée into going to bed with him.
At least, Tracy assumed that’s how it had gone. She couldn’t imagine a woman cheating on Regan unless she’d had too much to drink and had been wooed by a master of seduction like Drake Brewster. Tracy was outraged by what he’d done. She was disapproving, scandalized and...so embarrassing to admit, titillated.
Face it, the man was breathtaking. She’d heard his disreputable story before he’d ever walked into Spirits and Spurs. Everybody in town had, and they were all ready to give Drake the cold shoulder and condemn Regan’s fiancée in absentia. But when Drake finally did come into the bar, Tracy forgave Regan’s fiancée immediately.
Not many women would be able to resist a full-court press by someone who looked like that. Those sleepy green eyes and a smile full of equal parts mischief and sin would make short work of any girl’s virtuous resolve. Pair those attributes with broad shoulders, slim hips and coffee-colored hair with a slight tendency to curl, and you had the promise of intense pleasure wrapped up in one yummy serving of manhood.
She certainly didn’t want to be attracted to him. God, no! Too bad. She was, anyway. Her line of defense had been a cool, distant manner. Apparently it had worked, because he thought she didn’t like him. Actually, he was right about that. She didn’t like him, or more precisely, she didn’t like the kind of person who would betray his best friend.
Yet whenever Drake came within five feet of her, she tingled. At the three-foot mark, she burned. She’d made sure he never got any closer than that, because she didn’t want to find out what would happen. She was afraid she’d turn into a hypocrite.
So calling him about the mare presented a problem. She’d have to keep her distance when he showed up. No one would ever need to know about her inconvenient case of lust. She’d taken in the pregnant mare, and consequently she had to do the next logical thing and summon Drake.
Pulling her phone from her pocket, she located his number. Her pulse accelerated at the thought of talking to him. That was the other thing about Drake. He had a voice like aged bourbon, complete with the soft drawl of a man born and raised in Virginia. It was a bedroom voice if she’d ever heard one. He sounded like effing Rhett Butler.
He answered quickly. “Hey there, Miss Tracy. Problems?”
She hadn’t counted on the effect of his voice murmuring in her ear, and she felt chills down her spine. She brought the phone to waist level and punched the speaker button. “Not a problem, exactly. I took in a pregnant mare today.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I couldn’t turn her away. The guy is down to his last dime, but he refused to sell her to someone he thought might mistreat her. He chose to bring her here instead of taking the money, which he obviously needs. He’s being evicted and he has no job.”
“Did you give him a job?”
His compassionate suggestion impressed her. “No, but that’s a fabulous idea. Obviously I can’t hire him, but Regan and Lily might. That’s assuming we can find him again. We have no permanent address or phone number. Just a name.”
“In a place where everybody seems to know everybody, that should be enough. How far along is the mare?”
“I didn’t think to ask. But I assume she needs special care, and I didn’t want to bring the vet down from Jackson and incur extra expense.” She paused to see if he’d volunteer his services.
“She might be fine for a week or so.”
Damn him, he was going to make her ask. “She might, but I would feel terrible if she or the foal had issues because I didn’t give her what she needs. Besides, it would be nice to know her approximate due date.”
“True, but Regan can figure that out when he gets home.”
Tracy’s frustration grew. “What if she’s ready to pop?”
His laugh was like warm maple syrup. “Is that your roundabout way of inviting me over to take a look?”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d come and examine her.” She injected as much formality into the statement as she could muster.
“I’ll be right there.”
Her stupid adrenaline level spiked. “Thank you. Bye.” She disconnected quickly. Brisk and efficient. That was the key. Somehow she’d continue to strike that note.
Now that he was on his way, she was suddenly concerned about how she looked. She’d showered this morning, but she hadn’t bothered with makeup and her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. Whenever Drake had seen her at Spirits and Spurs she’d been wearing makeup and a cute hair arrangement. To her secret shame, she’d spent more time on her appearance since he’d started coming into the bar.
How sick was that? She didn’t really want to attract his attention. Well, apparently she did, and now he’d arrive and discover what she looked like au naturel. That was a good thing. No matter how much she longed to race into the house and slap on some lipstick, she would not.
Instead she picked up a brush and went to work on Dottie’s speckled coat. To Jerry Rankin’s credit, Dottie didn’t look as if she needed to be brushed, but Tracy did it, anyway. Then she combed out the black-and-white mane and tail, all the while talking to the mare and telling her what a beautiful baby she would have.
Dottie stood quietly and seemed to enjoy the attention, but she’d maneuvered herself so that she could look out the stall door as if watching for Jerry to return. At one point she moved her head to gaze at Tracy as if trying to decide why this strange person had replaced her old buddy.
“He would have kept you if he could,” Tracy said. “Bringing you here was an act of love. He didn’t want you to fall into bad hands, or to suffer because he wasn’t able to take care of you properly.”
The explanation seemed to help. Dottie heaved a big horsey sigh and lowered her head to nibble on the straw scattered at her feet.
Tracy wondered if the mare was still hungry. After all, she was eating for two. What Tracy knew about such things would fit inside a bottle cap. She really did need Drake’s advice.
As if her thoughts had conjured him up, she heard him enter the barn, his boot heels clicking on the wooden floor. She hurried over to the stall door and glanced quickly down the aisle. Sunlight streamed into the barn, outlining his manly physique in gold. He’d taken to wearing Western clothes recently, and they suited him. Boy, did they ever suit him.
She needed to gather her wits, so she didn’t call out to him. Hoping he hadn’t noticed her, she went back to brushing Dottie. For someone who had vowed to remain cool and distant, she sure had a lot of heat pouring through her veins. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Tracy? Are you in here?” His rich voice echoed in the rafters.
“Down here, last stall on the left.” Damn, but her hands were shaking. This was not good.
“Thanks. I tried the house, but you didn’t answer the door.” His footsteps came closer. “My eyes aren’t quite adjusted to the light.”
She glanced up, and there he was, six-foot-something of testosterone-fueled male. His Western shirt emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. He wasn’t wearing a cowboy hat, and she didn’t think she’d ever seen him wearing one. She wondered about that. Most cowboy wannabes couldn’t wait to show up in a hat.
When he opened the stall door, she realized her mistake. Jumpiness aside, she should have walked out to meet him. Then she could have let him go in the stall alone. Instead he was about to come in with her.
Unless she engineered a little do-si-do with him and then made her escape looking like a frightened rabbit, she was stuck here. Her three-foot limit was about to be violated, and she didn’t know what to do about it.
He caught sight of the mare and let out a low whistle. “She’s a beauty.”
“I know.” Her plan of maintaining a formal distance crumbled. She’d been through an emotional experience and she needed to talk about Jerry and his willingness to sacrifice for Dottie. “I’ll bet he could have sold her, but he couldn’t find the right buyer in time. I was touched by the fact he was choosy when he couldn’t afford to be.”
“Yeah, that’s damned noble.” He entered the stall and smiled at her. “For the record, I’m glad you followed your instincts and took her. Those instructions didn’t anticipate a mare like this showing up.”
Five feet, still just the tingle. “I’m sure she was the one bright spot in the guy’s life. I hope Regan and Lily are ready to take on some help and that we can find him again if they are.”
“I’d say there’s an excellent chance that will work out.”
“Then I’ll think positive, too.” Three feet, starting to burn.
“What’s her name?”
“Dottie.” She sounded breathless, but maybe he’d think she had allergies. She backed up a foot and hoped the move wasn’t too obvious.
Drake laughed. “Appropriate. Hi, Dottie.” He held out a hand, palm up. She saw he was holding a peeled baby carrot.
The mare snuffled against his open palm and took the carrot. She crunched it between her strong teeth as Drake ran his hands over her neck, her shoulders and her distended belly.
God help her, Tracy followed the path of that gentle stroking. After all the promises to herself that she’d ignore his considerable sex appeal, she couldn’t help imagining how those hands would feel caressing a woman. No, not just a woman. Her.
She wanted to feel the magic of those hands. And they would be magic. Watching him with the horse was evidence of that. She longed to experience that lazy, sensual touch....
No, she didn’t! What was wrong with her? She was falling under his spell. He probably didn’t even realize he was casting one. Sensuality was instinctive with him, it seemed. He was surrounded by an invisible magnetic field, and just like that, she’d been drawn back into the three-foot zone.
“A more thorough exam would tell us for sure.” Drake continued to stroke the horse. Typical female, Dottie was eating it up. “But from a preliminary evaluation, I’d say she’s less than a month from delivering.” He glanced over his shoulder at Tracy. “You weren’t far off. She’s almost ready to pop.”
“Good grief.” She placed a hand over her racing heart, which now had two reasons to be out of control—lust and terror. “I don’t want that happening on my watch.”
“You probably won’t have to deal with it.” His voice was soothing.
She wondered if veterinarians cultivated a bedside manner. If so, Drake had a hell of a good one. “But I might have to deal with it, right?”
“Mothers about to give birth are always unpredictable. But don’t worry. I can drive out here at a moment’s notice. If she goes into labor, you won’t have to handle it alone.”
“Good.” The rush of gratitude, mixed with the sensual feelings he inspired, became a potent combination. She struggled to remember why she didn’t like this man. Oh, yes. He’d betrayed his best friend. No matter how welcome his presence was at the moment, he’d chosen to trade years of friendship for immediate pleasure.
“She’ll need some prenatal supplements.”
Tracy fought to concentrate on what he was saying instead of imagining him naked in her bed. “Supplements. Right.”
“I’ll order them from a company I have an account with. My professional discount will keep the cost down.”
“Good. Thank you. I honestly didn’t consider all the ramifications of this. Assuming her foal is okay, and I hope to heck it is, I’ve actually accepted two horses.”
“True.” He lightly scratched Dottie’s neck, and her eyelids drifted down in obvious ecstasy. Lucky horse. “But I don’t think you have to worry about Regan and Lily. They’ll support what you’ve done.”
“I hope so.” But she wasn’t terribly worried about Regan and Lily. They were animal lovers and would understand. The foal might even be fun for them.
But she was extremely worried about the inevitable contact with Drake and her increasingly intense reaction to his proximity. She had strong principles. Surely a sweet-talking Southerner wouldn’t cause her to abandon those principles. Surely not.
3
DRAKE WAS PROUD of himself. He’d examined the mare and interacted with Tracy as if he had no interest in her whatsoever. Then he’d left after promising to order the supplements online the minute he got back to his cabin and his computer.
Driving home, he congratulated himself on being a perfect gentleman the whole time. Not once had he given in to the temptation to flirt with her. For him that was a major victory. Regan clearly thought that he would hit on Tracy if given the chance, and he was determined to prove that he could resist that urge.
It hadn’t been easy. Before today, they’d always been separated by a massive wooden bar and surrounded by other people. This had been a far more intimate encounter, and she’d looked quite accessible in her T-shirt and jeans, no makeup, and her hair held by a little elastic thing that could be pulled off in no time.
At the bar he’d experienced a jolt of desire whenever he looked at her lipstick-covered mouth. She liked to wear red, and those lips had beckoned him, even when he’d known her smile meant nothing. Logically he shouldn’t have been even more turned on by the soft pink of her bare mouth, but he had been. Seeing her like that made him think of how she’d look first thing in the morning. He yearned for the privilege of waking up next to Tracy Gibbons.
He yearned for what would precede that moment, too. He was a fair judge of women. Make that an excellent judge of women. Tracy had a lot of passion buried in her.
And here was the kicker. She was as hot for him as he was for her. During his visits to the Spirits and Spurs, she’d fooled him with her remote attitude and obvious disapproval. He thought she still disapproved of him. But underneath, lust burned.
He’d felt that energy the second he’d walked into the stall. He’d heard it in the pattern of her breathing. A week ago he would have attributed the undercurrent of tension to anger. Today, in the quiet confines of Dottie’s stall, he’d recognized it for what it was—suppressed desire. She wanted him, and she was fighting it for all she was worth.
The man he used to be would have capitalized on the situation. He could have made love to her today. She was ripe for it. One touch would have tipped the balance in his favor, and the sex would have been glorious. She would have temporarily reveled in the unexpected encounter, the thrill of tasting forbidden fruit.
But afterward...ah, that was the problem. She would be ashamed of herself for surrendering to urges that violated her principles. Pleasure would quickly become tainted. And then, if the sex had been so good that she still wanted him, despite everything, she’d begin to hate herself and him. He knew all about that downward spiral. He’d put Jeannette through it. He’d put himself through it.
As he pulled up in front of the little cabin he te
mporarily called home, he vowed that he would not subject Tracy to the same fate as Jeannette. If that meant they’d never explore the possibilities presented by their strong chemistry...oh, well.
He’d been celibate for months, and he was almost getting used to it. He and Jeannette had tried to create a relationship after Regan had left, tried to convince each other that their betrayal of Regan had been motivated by a grand passion they couldn’t deny. The fantasy hadn’t held up for very long, and since breaking off with Jeannette, he hadn’t felt like getting involved with anyone.
Parking his dusty black SUV, he went inside the cabin and turned on his laptop. He ordered the supplements to be shipped to the rescue facility and texted instructions to Tracy’s cell so she’d know how and when to administer them. And that, he thought, should be the end of that.
He could have done more. A rectal and vaginal exam would have been normal procedure, but the mare appeared healthy and Regan would be back in charge in a week. Drake had enjoyed the chance to be a vet again, even briefly, and that surprised him. Lately he’d wondered if he needed to change careers as well as his place of residence, but maybe not.
Considering the delicate situation with Tracy, though, he would perform only basic care unless a problem cropped up. Tracy was a smart lady. If she needed help, she’d call. If she didn’t, then they could avoid contact with each other, contact that might lead to actions they’d both regret.
As he decided whether to go on a hike or read a book, neither of which appealed to him, someone knocked on his front door. Although he was glad for an interruption in what promised to be a boring afternoon, he couldn’t imagine who had come to visit. No one sought him out besides Regan, and he was in Washington.
Drake opened the door and discovered Josie Chance there. He tried not to look as astonished as he felt. Thanks to Regan making a few introductions after he and Drake had rescued their friendship, Drake recognized the attractive woman wearing her long blond hair in a braid down her back.
Riding Hard Page 3