by Brenda Joyce
“That was unkind,” she said tersely.
He gave her a thoughtful look. “You have more enemies than a bus full of cops. You make enemies the way bees make honey.”
Kait was taken aback. “That’s not true!”
He shook his head, exasperated. “If you want to deny the fact that every woman and half the men in this county hate you, so be it. Have you ever heard a gun being fired?”
Why would all the women in the county hate her? And half the men? Kait was afraid to know what he meant. “On TV. In the movies.”
“See? It wasn’t a gunshot, Lana.”
She grabbed his arm. “It was a gunshot!” A wave of dizziness swept her, but she ignored it. “Someone fired a gun. And I saw a man lurking in the woods afterwards! Then he was gone.”
His jaw flexed. “Hunting season starts in two weeks. I’m calling the police when we get back.”
She met his green gaze. “Is that what you think? That someone decided to look for game on your property—and somehow fired at me?”
“If a shot was fired, there is no doubt in my mind that is what happened,” he said firmly. Suddenly he handed her the reins. “Put on your helmet, Lana,” he said very softly.
She stiffened.
“And get on Scandal.”
She didn’t move, because she couldn’t. All she could think about was being astride Pride as they moved closer and closer to the jump— and the bullet screaming past her face.
He didn’t move either. His eyes were steel.
There was an old saying every rider knew—if you fall off, you get right back on, otherwise, you might never get on again. It was even more important if the fall had occurred while jumping.
“You’re a damn good rider. That fence is nothing for you, and less than that for Scandal.”
She nodded, trying to compose herself and failing miserably. Worse, she was really feeling shaky now. She put on her helmet, wincing as she did so, and as she fastened the strap, she looked at him. He nodded, his smile slight and meant to be encouraging.
It crossed her numb mind that he didn’t hate Lana after all. Even more dispirited, Kait looped the reins over the bay’s head, while her pulse pounded with increasing anxiety. She knew she had to find calm, because one could not ride a fence while consumed with stress and fear. Trev moved behind her, undoubtedly to give her a leg up.
Instantly, she became aware of him as a man, a husband, a lover, and a friend.
She closed her eyes, gripping the pommel. Is that how she saw him? As a complete partner? But he wasn’t her partner, and he never would be. He still cared for his wife. Why else would he have raced from Fox Hollow to find her when Pride had returned without his rider? Why else would he be making her jump again? If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t care if she ever got on a horse another time.
Still, he was standing an inch or two behind her. It would be so easy to turn and melt into his arms. Not for sex, but for comfort, safety, love.
How could this be happening?
She opened her eyes and not turning even once, lifted her leg as he boosted her up.
“Take some deep breaths,” he said as she dared to look down at him. “Long and slow.” He shortened her stirrup for her, all business now.
Kait obeyed, while he moved to the other side to shorten her other stirrup and then check the girth. Finishing with the girth he glanced up, their eyes meeting.
Her worry must have showed. He clasped her knee. “You’ve jumped this fence a hundred times. You can do it with your eyes closed, and so can Scandal.”
Kait nodded, thinking, he’d die if he knew she’d only jumped it once—not even, considering she had fallen off. It crossed her dazed mind that this was the perfect time to come clean.
He said, “Canter a small circle, keep him collected, and let him pick the distance. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty. Okay?” He slapped her thigh. “Sit tight and deep,” he added, a warning. “Stay behind the movement. You know what to do.” He nodded at her, stepping away.
“Piece of cake,” she rasped. His gaze shot to hers, reflecting worry, and she looked away. She gathered up the reins, filled with tension. The horse beneath her shook his head, clearly anticipating action. Or was he aware of the fact that she was frightened and worried and an unfamiliar rider? Breathe, she told herself. They circled easily, slowly, the bay’s ears pricked and forward. Kait tried to relax, but it was impossible, even with the graceful horse beneath her. The jump loomed ahead as they approached.
She tensed.
And Trev must have seen. “Relax. Deepen your seat. Sit up,” he snapped.
They were four strides away. Kait obeyed. The horse beneath her was a beautiful mover—as comfortable as a rocking chair. Thank God for that. She could do this. She had to. Trev Coleman was watching.
They were two strides away.
The bullet had whizzed past her cheek.
Kait forced the thought away.
“Grab his mane,” Trev said harshly.
Scandal was soaring into the air. Kait had a hunk of mane. They landed and Kait was thrown a bit forward and knew she’d botched it, but at least she hadn’t chickened out, and at least they had gone over— not around—the damned coop.
She pulled the bay into a trot, turning him, and with a flush she halted before Trev.
He was staring in a way she now recognized—his eyes said, What the hell is going on? But he quickly smiled. “Good girl. You got the job done. That’s what counts.”
“I landed in a heap on his neck,” she said with regret, patting the bay for being so steady and good. She avoided Trev’s green eyes now. He knew something odd was going on. Lana would never be tense like that, not even after a fall. She would never collapse after a jump. “I’m sorry.”
“You were frightened,” he said. “You were scared of the fence.”
Kait couldn’t move. She felt his confusion, uncertainty, his doubt. She simply knew that he was trying to comprehend how Lana, who was not afraid of anything, had been afraid of that little chicken coop. She said, “I was expecting a bullet to hit me in the back.”
He didn’t look away. “I guess that explains it.”
Kait nodded shakily but refused to hold his gaze—it was too penetrating—because if she did, he might be able to tell that she was lying and that she was not her sister.
But he was going to find that fact out pretty soon anyway. She inhaled. “Trev?” The truth was on the tip of her tongue.
“You stay on Scandal. I’ll walk,” he said, his tone very grim and his head down. If he had heard the tentative question in her tone, he was ignoring it.
They started back across the field in the direction of Fox Hollow, with Trev pacing by her leg and the bay’s side. Kait’s heart raced. Why was her courage suddenly, completely, failing her now? This was the time to tell him, and to hell with the promise she had made. Kait glanced at him, catching his devastating profile. The words stuck in her throat. She’d realized a moment ago that he couldn’t possibly hate Lana after all, and Kait knew she was supposed to be thrilled with her comprehension, but she wasn’t. She was, in fact, dismayed. And simply put, that was very wrong.
Because Trev Coleman and her sister deserved a second chance. Because she intended for them to have a second chance.
She closed her eyes, fought to take the high road, then opened them, deciding to wait until Lana returned and let her handle the deception, which was her idea. And the marriage—which was her marriage—her way....But now was a good time to start mending Lana’s broken fences. And there was an upside—Trev Coleman could be kind and pleasant when he wasn’t pushing Lana away. “Trev?” Trepidation filled her tone yet again.
He glanced at her.
“Thanks.” She smiled a bit at him, her eyes searching his.
His expression hardened. “This doesn’t change anything.” But he didn’t look away.
“Why not? It’s clear now that you still care... about me.” God, her own word
s hurt!
“I’m a human being, Lana. A compassionate one, as you should damn well know.”
She hesitated, felt the beginnings of a flush. She could not help her unruly self. “There was more than compassion on your mind last night.”
He stumbled. His regard whipped to hers, glimmering with anger. “Do you expect me to deny it? I’m not a hypocrite. Compassion was the last thing on my mind last night.”
“Then why? Why go through with a divorce when there is hope?”
“Did I say there was hope? Going to bed with you has nothing to do with hope.” He seemed very angry now.
“Why are you so mad? What have I done now?” she whispered. “For God’s sake, someone just shot at me!”
He faced her, halting the horse. “That’s just it!” he exclaimed. “Those baby blues, all wide-eyed and startled, and...hurt! I’m the one who’s been hurt, not you, so just cut out the nice-nice act!” He released her reins and strode ahead of her, then tossed back, “And no one shot at you, damn it!”
“It’s not an act,” she tried to say to his set shoulders and rigid back. He kept going.
Eventually, she gathered up the reins and followed.
Kait locked the bathroom door, took two—not one—Motrin and a hot, hot shower. She was toweling off and regarding her ultra-pale reflection in the mirror when there was a knock on the bathroom door. She tensed.
Only one person could be standing there. “I’m not dressed,” she said quickly, reflexively. She held the towel up over her breasts as if Trev Coleman could see through the door she faced.
He said, his tone wry, “Doc Mitchell will be here in five.”
She inhaled, and caught a glimpse of her startled expression in the mirrored wall behind the pedestal sinks. Another player had just entered their drama and she wasn’t up to continuing her Lana charade. What she needed was rest. “I don’t need to see a doctor.”
There was a pause. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, that’s just it, I’m fine!”
A few seconds ticked by. “I think he’d better look at you anyway.” Then his footsteps sounded as he walked away.
Kait stared at herself in the mirror, resigned. If she had fooled Trev Coleman, she could surely fool Mitchell. Besides, her head hurt, and maybe it should be looked at.
She slid on a clean pair of gym tights and one of Trev’s sweaters. She unlocked the door and stepped out of the bathroom. The bedroom door was open, and a heavyset man with a kind smile stood there. Trev was with him, still in his riding clothes. “Hello, Lana,” the portly doctor said.
Kait forced a smile. “Doc.”
He seemed startled by her having called him Doc.
“Mitchell,” she added quickly.
The doctor looked at Trev and they exchanged a glance. “She may have landed hard,” he said. “I can tell her head is hurting her.”
How did he know that? she wondered.
Dr. Mitchell smiled at her. “So let’s have a little look, why don’t we?” He started toward the bed.
Kait didn’t move. “Would you mind?” she asked Trev.
He shrugged and walked out.
Kait went to the door and closed it behind him. When she turned, the doctor was staring at her in surprise. She managed a tight smile and walked over to the bed, sitting down.
“What are you doing?” he asked mildly.
His eyes were so gentle that she told him the truth. “I have no idea.” He patted her back. “You are cute as a button in that haircut, Lana. Makes you look like a college girl.”
She met his gaze. “Thanks.”
“Trev like it?”
She tensed. “I don’t think so. But then, he doesn’t like me much, now, does he?” This man had a demeanor that encouraged her to confide in him.
Mitchell sighed. “Relax while I feel around,” he said, his gentle hands going to her scalp. “It’s never too late to patch things up, or at least, that’s my motto.”
She winced. “Do you think we can?” She was beginning to realize that Mitchell was more than a doctor, he seemed like Trev’s friend.
“Well, it depends. A lot depends on you.” He smiled at her. “Got a bit of an egg here, now, don’t we?”
“It hurts,” she admitted. “What should I do? If I want him back?” He had finished examining her head and he sat down beside her, studying her, perhaps to see if she was sincere. “Why do you want him back... now?”
She swallowed. “Marriage is a lifelong commitment. And then there’s Marni.”
He stared at her without saying a word.
She shifted nervously.
“Odd words from you,” he said, but not with censure. He seemed puzzled. “How are you feeling?”
“I have a raging headache. And sometimes when I stand up I’m a bit dizzy. I’m a tad nauseous, too,” she said truthfully.
“You may have a small concussion. You haven’t said anything about love.”
“I love him,” Kait said. And she felt her cheeks turn red, but she refused to consider why.
He stared into her eyes, shook his head as if to shake some sense into himself, and stood. “I believe you,” he said. “I see nothing but sincerity in your eyes.” He shook his head again. “I know we’ve had our differences, although I’ve never tried to judge you, and I admit, I had my doubts from the moment you two announced your engagement.” He smiled then. “I’m happy to see that you’ve done some soul searching. Marriage is a big commitment.”
Kait certainly agreed with that. And she sensed that she had an ally here—at long last.
“Shall we get back to business?” Mitchell asked with a smile. Kait nodded. “Have you thrown up?”
“No. Not even close, just the upset stomach.”
“That’s good. Tell me about the fall,” he said, sitting down beside her again.
Kait told him, omitting any reference to a gunshot. When she was through, he patted her hand. “You have a small concussion, I am certain of it. But I want to take X rays, and we can do that this afternoon or early tomorrow. Meanwhile, no activity! I want you to stay in bed and rest.”
“For how long?” she asked, suddenly curious. Maybe she would be invited to stay at Fox Hollow once Lana returned, until she had fully recovered from the fall.
“Let me look at those X rays before we decide,” he said with a pleasant smile, standing and gathering up his medical bag. “I’m giving Trev a prescription for the pain. Tylenol with codeine. I’m sure you won’t need it after tomorrow.”
Kait nodded and hesitated, biting her lip. “Dr. Mitchell? Do I have a chance? Or does Trev really hate me?”
He stared for a moment, and she knew that she never called him Dr. Mitchell. “I don’t really know,” he said after a pause. “If I hadn’t just had this talk with you, I would have said no. But I think you have been doing some real homework on yourself. I think, once Trev realizes you are sincere, you might be able to win him back.”
Kait managed a smile. Why wasn’t she happier with his assessment of Lana’s chances of winning Trev back?
There was a knock on the door.
Mitchell, bless his kind soul, turned to her. “Do we let him in? You look as if you are expecting the executioner.”
Kait managed a rueful smile. “I’m too tired to fight with him, and he seems to relish the combat.” Then, “How awful do I look?”
He was amused. “You’re a beautiful woman, concussion or not.” He winked and told Trev to come on in.
Trev walked in and his gaze met Kait’s. “What’s the diagnosis, Mitch?” He was abrupt.
“No combat,” Mitchell said, with a smile at Kait. “Doctor’s orders.”
“What?” Trev looked from Kait to Mitchell and back again.
Mitchell touched his sleeve. “She has a concussion. She needs rest. We’ll talk about it on my way out.”
Trev’s expression changed. “I’m not surprised.” His jaw seemed to flex.
“Hey, doesn’t she look like the
cutest college student in that haircut?” Mitchell sent Kait a wink.
She knew what he was doing. He was trying to get Trev to begin to come around toward her. Silently, she blessed his good-hearted soul.
Trev glanced at Mitchell. “It’s okay,” he said, clearly refusing to give an inch. Then he faced her. His gaze swept over her face, finally lingering on her mouth. “We’ll talk later,” he said firmly. And he followed Mitchell out.
Kait hugged a pillow to her breasts. Mitchell was a real ally, but would he be Lana’s friend when the truth came out? And was Trev concerned about her? It certainly seemed so.
She reminded herself that he was concerned about Lana, his wife, not about her, Kait London.
If only her head wasn’t killing her.
Kait lay down carefully and closed her eyes, tension draining away like an ebbing floodtide. Exhaustion claimed her. A moment later someone was shaking her and calling Lana’s name.
“Lana? Lana! Wake up!”
Why was she being called Lana? That wasn’t her name. Kait opened her eyes and looked into the most devastating pair of sooty-lashed green eyes she had ever seen. Instantly, she recalled her switch with Lana and the jumping accident, as instantly, she recalled that someone wanted
Lana—meaning her—dead. She sat up with Trev Coleman’s help. Relief flooded his features.
He sat down by her hip. “I hate to do this to you, but you can’t sleep right now,” he said.
“What?”
“For the next twelve hours, Mitch wants me to keep a close eye on you. You’ll have to be woken up every half hour,” he said.
She just stared. She already knew the reason why—if she had a serious head injury, she might fall asleep and wind up in a coma. “Mitch said it wasn’t serious,” she said, suddenly afraid. She had landed hard. Fortunately, if memory served her correctly—and she was not sure it did—she had landed on her rear and then her head.
“He’s making an appointment for us at the hospital. I just sent Max out to get you that prescription for painkillers,” he added, finally attempting a smile.
Something very much like love flooded her chest in the vicinity of her heart. “Thanks,” she whispered, reaching for his hand without thinking.