by Joanne Rock
Jesse spun on his heel to follow her and her swinging ponytail down the wide alleyway between stalls. She was back to her old self today—no leather corset in sight.
Clad in blue jeans and a man’s T-shirt, Kyra wore the same clothes she always had around the ranch, but she didn’t look remotely the same to Jesse. Now, instead of seeing her loose shirt that hid her phenomenal breasts, Jesse could only notice how low the V-neck dipped and how tiny her waist was where the shirttail disappeared into her jeans.
“No way are you making me out to be the bad guy, Kyra, when it was clearly you who was submitting to another man’s touch three hours after I rolled out of your bed.”
Her ponytail stilled along with her steps. Slowly, she turned to face him just inside the stable’s main doors. “Submitting to another man’s touch?” Her nose wrinkled. “How can you call that—” Her jaw fell open, unwrinkling her nose. “Oh my God, Jesse. Don’t tell me you’re jealous of the horse whisperer.”
Jesse had never experienced a migraine before, but he suspected the blinding pain in the back of his head had to be sort of similar. “Of course I’m not...”
He couldn’t even say the damn word. How could he possibly be jealous when he couldn’t even edge the term out of his mouth?
“You’re jealous!” Kyra squeezed her hands together in delight, drawing his attention to the incredibly soft fingers that had traveled all over his body last night.
“Jesus, Kyra, that has nothing to do with it.”
“Since when have you developed a possessive streak for your one-night stands?”
That did it.
Jesse shoved open the stable doors and dragged her out into the morning sunlight, hoping they’d be able to avoid being overheard. “Last night was not a one-night stand.”
“Does that mean I’ll get a repeat performance tonight?” She blinked up at him with such a wicked gleam in her blue eyes Jesse wondered how he’d ever viewed her as an innocent.
“No.” He took deep breaths to steel his body against the eager response to her suggestion of spending another night together. “That means you can’t call it a one-night stand when we didn’t...”
How to put this delicately?
“Go all the way?” she supplied helpfully, snagging the attention of one of the college kids Kyra hired to help exercise the horses. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
Sighing, he caught her by the elbow to tug her around the back of the stables. The last thing he needed was some college kid eyeing Kyra, too. He hadn’t ever cared if the whole world stared at Greta in her lingerie on a Milan runway, but somehow his eyeballs felt ready to explode at the mere thought of a male eye straying too long on Kyra.
He definitely needed to get over whatever the hell was the matter with him.
“This might not be a good time with so many people around.” Maybe if he just appealed to her ever-practical nature, he could extricate himself from this mess.
“It may not be a good time, but you made it the right time when you charged in on Sam’s Pride’s first session with the equine psychologist. You know how important it is to me to sell that horse, Jesse. I won’t even be able to give him away if he keeps up the bad temper with everyone who looks at him.” She propped one foot on the three-rail fence outlining the turnout pasture behind the stable and stared out at the horses who weren’t being exercised at the moment.
In trainer language, the horses were enjoying “leisure time.”
“And you’re sure in an all-fired hurry to sell him, aren’t you?” Jesse prodded, surprised to realize how much her haste annoyed him.
She flicked a curious glance in his direction before turning her attention back to the assortment of jumpers and racking horses grazing in the field before them. “He’s my ticket to buying the controlling percentage of this place. If I can’t unload him, I don’t have any sale prospects that will be profitable enough to allow me to do that until next year.”
“And I’m such a tyrant that you can’t stand having me in charge here for that much longer?” They both knew Jesse was the silent partner. He’d been wandering the U.S., either as a minor league baseball player or as a student of life for most of the years they’d known one another. So it wasn’t like he hung around southern Florida very often telling her how to run their business. He’d earned enough of his own money over the past ten years to never worry about how much profit the ranch turned.
“You know that’s not it.” She pivoted around to face him. Tucking one boot heel onto the lowest wooden bar, she propped her elbows back on the top rail.
The stance couldn’t help but draw his eyes to her incredible curves. The lush body he’d been able to touch and taste just last night....
Even though he was definitely concentrating on their conversation.
“...but I really need to claim some independence,” she was saying while Jesse prayed he didn’t miss much.
He focused solely on her eyes.
“You’re the most independent woman I’ve ever met and you’re all of twenty-four,” he countered. “How much more self-sufficient can a person be?”
“I’m unwilling to rely on other people to supply my happiness or my security.”
The alive-and-well bad boy within him couldn’t resist teasing her. He leaned back against the fence beside her. “Aw, come on, Kyra. You have to admit I managed to supply a little happiness for you last night.”
Why did he remind her of it when he’d been so hell-bent on forgetting all about it? Obviously, seeing her so close and personal with the horse shrink this morning was still screwing with his head.
“I’m not saying other people can’t provide me with pleasure.”
Was it his imagination or was there a tiny hint of pink in those cheeks of hers?
She cleared her throat and lifted her chin. “I just don’t want to ever rely on someone else for...my most basic...needs.”
A momentary vision of Kyra erotically taunting him with her ability to provide her own pleasure acted like a carrot dangled in front of his sex-starved body. Every inch of his flesh tightened. Hardened. Hurt for her.
Leaning into the fence, he turned away from her to look out over the horses and get himself under control.
“But it’s only me helping you out here.” His voice sounded strangled. “Surely you can trust me as the controlling partner for another year to give Sam’s Pride time to work through his behavior issues on his own.”
She stared out at some distant point on the horizon and said nothing.
“You can’t trust me for another year?”
“It’s not so much a matter of not trusting you, Jesse. It’s more a case of me wanting to prove something to myself. I spent my whole childhood at the whim of my father’s moods and I feel like I can’t spend another day catering to someone else or living by anyone else’s rules. I want to work for me.”
“Since when do I expect to be catered to?” Where the hell was this conversation going? And how had he moved from erotic visions of Kyra to semiscary realizations about her isolated upbringing?
“You don’t.” She shook her head so emphatically her ponytail undulated with the backlash. “But again, this is about me. I’ve got a goal in my mind to be independent and self-sufficient by the time I’m twenty-five, and no bout of horse stubbornness is going to keep me from realizing that goal. I’ve got a buyer lined up for Sam’s Pride, and with Clint’s help, he’ll be ready by the time the sale goes through.”
The look of clear determination in her eyes reminded him of his brother’s gritty resolve to support their family when Jesse’s father had walked out. He’d never realized how much Kyra resembled Seth in her staunch drive to be independent, her steely will never to rely on anyone else.
Jesse, on the other hand, had never felt called to prove himself the way Kyra and his older brother did. It was enough for him to charm his way through life and without shouldering ten other people’s burdens along the way.
He never ran
the risk of disappointing anyone because he never offered more than what he was certain he could give.
Did it matter that what he could give was usually simple, sexual and fleeting? At least he was honest about it. No woman could ever say he’d deceived her into thinking otherwise.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. Sam’s Pride is your business. I just can’t help but empathize with any creature who gets a shrink tossed in his direction.”
* * *
A BITING ANGER lurked behind Jesse’s words. So much so that Kyra couldn’t help but wonder who had tried to crawl inside Jesse Chandler’s head to leave him with such a wealth of resentment.
But then—almost as if she’d imagined the moment—shades of Jesse’s teasing smile returned. A hint of flirtation colored his words. “Or maybe I just don’t like the idea of a horse shrink who thinks he can put his hands on you.”
Kyra had the distinct impression the man used his sexual charm as a replacement for deeper emotions. But she barely had time to mull over that bit of new insight before he stepped closer and made her forget all about how he wielded that major magnetism.
She was too busy getting caught right up in it.
“When I saw his fingers on your hips, all I could think was that I’d just touched you there.” His gaze dipped down to her jeans, lingered. “And that you’d felt so damn good.”
Heat coursed through her with the force of a thoroughbred in the homestretch. Yesterday she’d had to chase him down and practically hog-tie him to get him to notice her.
It was pretty heady to have Jesse Chandler pursue her. If not with his actions, at least with his words. Especially after he’d slipped out of her bed last night without ever reaching the pleasure pinnacle she’d found so quickly.
“Sam’s Pride was sort of edgy having somebody new in there with him this morning. He gave me a nudge that was a little more forceful than usual and Clint was just helping me stay on my feet.”
“Clint?” He made it sound like an infectious disease.
“The equine psychologist. His name is Clint Bowman.”
“Ah.” Jesse’s shoulders relaxed just a little.
He looked like he belonged at the Crooked Branch today. He’d traded his shorts for jeans and a gray T-shirt with the Racking Horse Breeder’s Association logo on the front. Kyra didn’t need to see the back to know it read, “You’re not riding unless you’re racking.” She had one just like it in her drawer.
Jesse stepped back from her, a clear visual cue he was retreating from any flirtation.
But Kyra wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. After last night’s encounter, she was all the more hungry for him, damn it, and no closer to getting over her ancient crush.
They needed to finish what they’d started and she planned to make some headway in the department. Pronto.
“So Clint obviously made no claims on my body.” She pushed away from the fence and sidled closer. “Frankly, I’m still waiting for you to take up where we left off last night.”
He was shaking his head before she even completed the thought. “I don’t know—”
“Unless you’re too scared?”
She could practically see the hackles rise on the back of his neck. Good. She needed to do something to convince him to give her another shot.
“It’s hardly a matter of fear.”
“Then come see me next weekend.” She backed him into the fence rail, giving him no room to run. If he wanted out of this, he’d have to tell her as much.
“I’ve got to be in Tampa next weekend on business and then—”
She cut off whatever other excuses he might throw her way. “So stop by the week after that. The buyer for Sam’s Pride is going to be here that Thursday. You can come bid your farewells to my horse and then have dinner with me.”
“I want to, Kyra.” A flash of heat in his brown eyes made her believe him. “But this thing between us...it’s complicated.”
“I think we could figure it out if we had a little time together.” She hadn’t meant that to come out quite as suggestive as it sounded. Chasing Jesse had turned her into a hoyden in the course of twenty-four hours.
To her surprise, he nodded. “We definitely need to think through what this means for us down the road, anyway. I’ll swing by that day and we’ll...”
“Think?”
“Exactly. Besides, if you’re hell-bent on selling Sam’s Pride for the sake of shifting the scales of ownership this spring, I want to at least be around for his big send-off.” He edged around her, and she backed up enough to let him pass.
She could afford to be gracious now that she’d won this small victory. As she watched Jesse retreat across the driveway toward the barn where he normally parked his motorcycle, Kyra was satisfied just knowing she’d see him again. In fact, it surprised her how much she looked forward to seeing him again. She would miss his recurring presence at the ranch. No matter how sporadic his appearances had been in the past when he’d been on the road, she’d always known he’d show up on her doorstep sooner or later to help her, tease her, force her not to work so hard all the time....
Refusing to worry about an uncertain future, Kyra stifled the thought. Assuming the sale of her temperamental horse went off without a hitch, she and Jesse would at least have one more evening together—alone—before he walked away from the Crooked Branch for good.
And no way in hell would they spend it thinking.
* * *
GRETA SCRAMBLED to stub out her cigarette as she spied Jesse walking toward the barn.
Finally.
She’d seen him drive in an hour ago just as she’d been leaving the training facility after her talk with Kyra. Greta had delayed hitchhiking home and headed right back to the Crooked Branch, unwilling to leave Jesse in the hands of her biggest competition for his affection.
After he’d parked his Harley in the barn and disappeared into one of the outlying buildings, Greta had staked out his bike and settled in to wait. No way would she track him down amidst a slew of smelly barnyard animals.
Draping herself over the seat of the motorcycle, she managed to strike a sultry pose just as he yanked open the door to the barn. Crossing her hands behind her head, she knew her breasts would be cranked to an appealing height.
And one of the benefits of eating all the fried dough she wanted was that the mammary twins had put on a little weight over the past few weeks.
“Going my way?” she called out across the well-lit expanse of concrete, hanging tools and small tractors. She considered flexing her legs up and over the handlebars, but she wasn’t certain how well she could execute that kind of maneuver.
Besides, the disadvantage to all the fried dough was that her body wasn’t always totally well balanced.
His step slowed as he neared her. “Do I even want to know what you’re doing here?”
“I’m paving the way for us to be together, of course.” She lowered her arms and held them out to him. “Feel free to start showing me your gratitude anytime.”
And Jesse was so deliciously capable of adoring a woman. Greta hadn’t fallen into all that many beds, but she’d been with enough guys to know Jesse was different. He had a way of making her feel special. Important.
Too bad he didn’t seem to recognize an invitation when he heard one.
“What’s the matter?” she prodded, her arms falling to her side—empty—as she sat up on his motorcycle. “Afraid your business partner will see us?”
She couldn’t help the sarcasm that dripped from her words.
“She’s my best friend,” Jesse snapped, with none of his usual trademark charisma. Perhaps he realized as much because he let out a deep sigh. “Could we keep Kyra out of this?”
“My thought exactly.” Greta would gladly let Kyra eat her dust as she sped off into the sunset on the back of Prince Charming’s bike. “Why don’t you come with me to Miami this weekend? We can go jet-skiing and I’ll take you to the international swimw
ear show that all my friends will be in.”
Most men salivated at the prospect of leggy models in bathing suits. Jesse looked like she’d just consigned him to Dante’s third circle of hell.
“Sorry, Greta. I’m not on vacation anymore—can’t do those spur-of-the-moment trips.” He made a big production of peering at his watch. “In fact, I’m late for a meeting right now.”
Greta scrambled to straddle the bike, ready to follow Jesse wherever he might be headed. She’d come to Tampa for white picket fences and happily ever after, damn it. She wasn’t leaving this town without a man in tow.
“That’s great.” Greta smiled, batted eyelashes and tapped the most basic weaponry in the female arsenal. “Why not drop me off wherever you’re going?”
“A vacant lot in the middle of nowhere?” Jesse leaned down and scooped her up in his arms. “I don’t think so.”
Before she could fully appreciate the titillation of being wrapped in those big, strong arms, Greta was plunked unceremoniously to her feet in between an all-terrain vehicle and a horse trailer.
“Wait!” She stormed back toward the bike, but her shout was lost in the throaty roar of the Harley kicking to life.
And much to her dismay, Jesse Chandler hauled ass out of the barn, leaving her in the dust.
This was her Prince Charming?
If it wasn’t for the serious pleasure the man could bring a woman, Greta might have had to rethink her choice for significant other.
As it stood, she merely shouted a string of epithets in his wake as she barreled out of the barn under the power of her own two feet. She may have been living a privileged life the past few years, but Greta still remembered how to work for the things she wanted.
By the time her feet hit the smooth pavement of the winding main road, Greta had reapplied her lipstick, fluffed her hair and adjusted her attitude.
For Jesse—the perfect man for her—she was willing to put forth a little effort. Once he realized they were meant to be together, he’d come around. And then he could apply himself to the task of making up for his wretched behavior toward her today.
A blue pickup truck rolled out onto the county route from an unmarked dirt road a few hundred yards away. Lucky for her, the vehicle was headed in her direction, back toward Tampa.