by Ward, J. R.
A.J. stirred in his arms and his breath caught as her eyes opened. Her expression was that of a cat in sunshine. Satisfied, glowing, content. He’d do anything to keep her looking like that.
Devlin kissed her softly.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Wonderful.” She ran a hand across his chest as he laughed huskily, thrilled.
“Devlin?”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t know it could be like that.”
“Neither did I.”
“And I’m glad I’m not leaving this house. Leaving you.”
“Me, too. I never wanted you to go.”
She sighed, relieved that everything was going to be fine and nothing would change. Except for the nights. And they were only going to get better.
Devlin felt her relax against him and was likewise glad the decision had been made. Now they could move forward and see where all the passion and emotion would take them. First thing in the morning, he’d start looking for another trainer. Someone close by so she wouldn’t have to drive far. Someone who was good and would take care of her in the ring.
In the tight cradle of the couch, they fell asleep against each other with just the blanket to keep them warm. When dawn tripped over the mountain ridge, taking a tumble and spilling its light across the hills and sky, Devlin woke up and reached for A.J.’s mouth. Wordlessly, she rolled under him and he entered her body with a powerful surge. When they climaxed together, her name was a moan that came from the deepest part of him.
As they floated back down to earth, Devlin knew they had to get off the couch and put some clothes on before Chester came through the front door. Turning to look into A.J.’s face, he was struck again by her loveliness. Never had morning light been quite so tender, or the quiet of dawn seem so gentle, than as his eyes caressed her. As she looked back at him, there was shy inquiry in her expression that was spiked with remembered ecstasy. He felt light-headed.
“I feel so damn lucky that I met you. And that this happened,” he said. Her smile was full of happiness and he felt his heart grow light as he told himself everything was going to be okay. “I guess I should head upstairs before Chester comes through the door.”
“You get the first shower.”
“I’d rather share it with you.”
“You know what they say: Save water. Shower with a friend.”
“You’re a hell of a lot more than a friend,” he replied, taking her mouth. His kiss was fevered, despite the fact that they had just made love. When they took a break so they could breathe, he said, “I better go.”
Quickly, before they became lost in each other again, he got up off the couch. Before he left, he was careful to tuck the blanket around her so she wouldn’t be cold.
A.J. watched him move around and pick up his clothes, delighted with the chance to see his body in the light. With all that they had shared of themselves, physical beauty seemed trivial and yet she was thrilled by his strong arms and flat, muscled belly. It was only when she saw the scars on his bad leg that she felt bad. The crisscrossing disfigurements, a map of where the limb had been rebuilt, still looked fresh and angry. She wanted to reach out and smooth the knotted lines with her fingers, to bear some of his loss for him.
After blowing her a kiss, Devlin went up the stairs. When she rolled over onto her back, she was smiling.
Nothin’ like a little lovin’ to perk a girl up, she thought, feeling a bulge under her back and pulling out her T-shirt. She shrugged it over her head and looked down at the wrinkles, a road map pressed into the cotton by the weight of their bodies.
By the time Devlin came back downstairs, A.J. had gotten up and was folding their blanket. He leaned against the wall.
“What are you looking at?” she asked playfully.
“I’m trying to imagine you in a little French maid’s outfit. It’s quite a picture, let me tell you.” His eyes were soft and warm.
“I hate to ruin the fantasy, but I’m not the frilly type. Petticoats make me itchy.”
He walked over to her, took her into his arms. “Just as well. I think you’re more beautiful like this.”
“With my hair a mess, wearing a wrinkled shirt?”
“You’re right. I’d prefer you totally naked.”
His hands gripped her hips and pulled them into him. She could feel him harden the instant their bodies came into contact.
The footsteps coming up the flagstone told them Chester had arrived, and they parted just as he burst through the door. He had the newspaper under his arm and his hangdog face was cheery.
“I won twenty-seven fifty last night at the bingo parlor!”
“That’s quite a haul, old man,” Devlin said smoothly.
His eyes were on A.J. as she bent down and picked up her toiletry bag. He couldn’t wait until the day was over and they could be alone again. He was also feeling good about the prospects for his replacement. Up in the shower, he’d reviewed the trainers and stables he respected and there were at least two viable candidates he wanted to invite over to meet with A.J. He was certain they could find her another trainer soon and that her work with the stallion wouldn’t be interrupted significantly.
“So’s breakfast ready yet?” Chester asked.
“It will be when we make it.”
As the two headed into the kitchen, Devlin sent her a wink over his shoulder and A.J. blushed. By the time she came back down, they were at the table. Chester, between spoonfuls of cereal, was leafing through the paper.
“Well, will ya get a load a’ this.”
With a ruffle and a snap, he folded the newspaper in half and pushed it across to Devlin. A.J. glanced over at it.
Taking up almost the full page was a picture of the two of them together, taken just before she went into the ring the day before. Devlin’s hand was on her cheek and their eyes were locked. She remembered the moment vividly, and, looking at the photograph, she saw the bond between them was as powerful as it was obvious.
“Oh, God,” she groaned.
The headline read SUTHERLAND BEAUTY TAKES UP WITH FALLEN CHAMPION. The article that followed was a combination of speculation, rumor and innuendo. Quotes from various competitors were used to inflame her purchase of the stallion, her split with her family and their relationship.
“What are we going to do?” she wondered aloud.
Devlin got to his feet, his chair scraping across the floor.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” he said darkly. “As soon as you and the stallion leave here, it’ll all die down and the reporter will look ridiculous for making a big deal out of nothing. We’ll just put up with it until the end of the week.”
“End of the week?”
“I think I can have a couple of trainers come by tomorrow. We can pick the one who works best and transport the stallion to his new stable ASAP.”
A.J.’s voice cut through the kitchen. “I already have a trainer.”
Devlin frowned.
Chester said, “I better get on down to the barn.”
Neither of them noticed as the man left and took his breakfast bowl with him.
“A.J., I thought we agreed on this.”
“I told you last night. I want you. I need you.”
“And you agreed to choose.”
“I did. I need all of you.”
He started shaking his head. “Wait a minute. I was very clear about what I wanted.”
“So was I.”
“I assumed we made love last night because you were going to go with another trainer.”
“And I told you I wasn’t.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
They squared off across the table.
“I don’t recall hearing those precise words come out of your mouth.”
Her eyes implored him. “Look, we can make it work. We can do both.”
Devlin cursed, wrenched his hands through his hair in frustration. “I never would have been wi
th you if I’d known this was what you were thinking.”
His words and the regret in his voice brought tears to her eyes.
“A.J., for God’s sake, please don’t cry. I’m sorry it came out like that.” He went to her and tried to hug her but she pushed him away.
“So am I. I’m sorry you have so little faith in us.”
“This isn’t just about us.” He picked up the paper, only to toss it aside with contempt. “Everyone’s going to read this crap.”
“Why do you care so much about what some idiot prints in the newspaper?”
“You’ve got no idea what it’s like to be the topic of conversation. I’ve spent the past year being whispered about and stared at. Any room I walk into, the murmuring starts up. And my notoriety isn’t even prurient. I fell off a goddamn horse. They’ll have you in bed with any man you talk to or look at for the rest of your career.”
“Well, thanks for the heads-up,” she said, wiping away angry tears, “but I’m not rearranging my life just because someone else doesn’t like the way it looks from the outside.”
“You want to be like Philippe Marceau? He’s the laughingstock of the circuit because he’s been with so many people. As a woman, it’s going to be worse. They’ll rip you up and use the pieces as fertilizer.”
“Marceau is a topic of conversation because he’s a conceited blowhard.”
“And you’ve got your own liabilities.”
“What? People know I can’t do long division in my head? My closet life as a comic-book addict suddenly comes out?”
“There may be a lot of money in the horse business but not a lot of folks have their daddy build them a stable compound. Your stepbrother looks like he belongs on the cover of GQ and his attitude stinks. You tool around in a convertible that costs more than most people’s mortgages and—”
“So I can’t be with the man I want and the trainer I need because Peter’s into fashion and my father went over the top for my birthday? That’s ludicrous.”
“I’m just telling you what people will say.”
“And I refuse to buy into the talk.”
“But that’s my point. They’re already saying you’re trying to buy your way to the top. You want them to add you’re sleeping your way up, too?”
His frank challenge slapped the fight right out of her.
“Listen,” Devlin said more quietly, “I’ve got to tell you like it is. The higher the profile you have, the more you serve as target practice. Who your family is and buying that stallion aren’t exactly making you blend in with the crowd. Sleeping with your trainer isn’t going to help.”
He approached her again, and this time she let him put an arm around her.
“A.J., competing at the highest level is tough. Don’t add to the burdens.”
“Are you sure that’s the only reason you want me to go?” she asked.
“I don’t want you to go. That’s the whole point of getting someone else to train you. Someone who can be objective.”
“But I don’t want someone else!” She pulled away. “And I don’t need you to be objective. I want you to be passionate about what we’re trying to accomplish with Sabbath and I think you are. I can see it in your eyes when we work together. We’re a terrific team. You know that.”
“A.J., you need to take the stallion somewhere else.”
“I can’t believe you’re throwing us out.”
“I’m not throwing you out.”
She didn’t hear him as she paced around the room. “First Peter, now you. I expected it from him. Coming from you, it’s a surprise. I thought I meant more to you.”
“Do you remember what it felt like when I was inside you?”
The low words brought her to a halt as a flush bloomed in her body. She didn’t have to answer him. As she turned around, her expression told him all he needed to know.
“Do you honestly think we’re going to be able to deny ourselves now that we know what it’s like? I don’t know about you, but I doubt I’m that strong.”
A.J. refused to answer him because she knew he was right. There was no way they could go back.
But because of their predicament, she glared at him. “Right now, McCloud, I’m not sure I can be with you at all. I’m pretty damn close to hating you.”
“Hatred is the flip side of love.”
“Then I must be falling hard because all I want to do is scream at you right now.”
“You’ve got to understand, I’m only doing this because I want to give us a chance. We have something really rare here. I just don’t want to lose it.”
A frustrated breath escaped her. “Why can’t we at least try?”
“A.J., be reasonable—”
“You sound like my father. Be sensible. Be serious. Well, I think I am. You’ve spent almost a month with Sabbath and me and look at how far we’ve come. You know my riding style. You know the stallion’s faults and strengths. You’re sure as hell the best damn trainer I’ve ever had. That horse and I have a shot at the big time but we can’t go it alone. And we can’t go it without you.”
He looked away.
“Devlin, admit it. You want to train us as much as I want you to. You know you’re making a difference and you like being back in competition. After a year on the sidelines, you’re feeling that excitement again. I’ve seen it on your face. Can you really walk away from that? What are you going to feel like at the rail while someone else is in the ring with Sabbath and me?”
She watched his face closely. On the surface he seemed composed but she’d learned to read him well.
“Not a great position to be in, is it?” she prompted. “Having to choose between us and the work?”
A.J. fell silent as he mulled their situation over.
Devlin was caught and he knew it. He’d focused only on getting another trainer to work with the stallion. Taking himself out of the picture hadn’t seemed like a big deal, but then, he’d never really considered what it would be like watching someone else put A.J. and Sabbath through their workouts. Would someone else recognize when they needed a break? When they needed to be pushed? Would they understand how A.J. needed to talk through a course sometimes three or four times until she was completely comfortable with where she needed to be?
Would someone else care as much as he did?
And, even assuming he wouldn’t be at his most objective, was there anyone else who could do as good a job with them as he could?
When his eyes shifted back to hers, he realized there wasn’t anyone else he could trust to take care of them.
Devlin swore out loud. When it didn’t make him feel much better, he tried it again.
“I’d say that just about sums it up,” A.J. said, feeling a little better. Given his sour expression and raunchy vocabulary, she could tell he was coming around. Now was the time to push.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said softly. “We’ll try it for a week or so. See how we both feel. If we think it’s not working, we can do it your way.”
She sidled up to him, relieved when he let her put her arms around his waist.
Devlin snorted. “Are you trying to charm me with your feminine wiles?”
“If it’ll get me what I want, absolutely.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“How do you know? There’ve been plenty of people who have mixed business and pleasure and had it work out.”
“Yeah, like who?”
“George Burns and Gracie Allen. The Captain and Tennille.”
“How about a pair from this century?”
“Bill and Hillary.”
“I don’t know that I’d count them necessarily.”
She reached up and touched his face tenderly. “This is going to work out. You’ll see.”
“I just don’t want to lose you,” he told her.
Despite the stress of the argument, they were able to go down to the stables with a united front. Devlin wasn’t completely comfortab
le with their decision but he wasn’t going to back out. If it became apparent he couldn’t train them, he had to have faith he’d be able to let them go to someone else and that she’d have the sense to move on to another coach.
The day’s work went predictably, with small steps toward improvement. Sabbath was feeling energetic, so the session went longer than usual and both A.J. and Devlin were pretty pleased with the results. Afterward, she and Chester went through their ritual of putting Sabbath down and feeding him while Devlin reviewed his notes and planned the next day’s jump course. It was a day like any other except the turmoil over breakfast lingered.
A.J. was leaning against Sabbath’s stall, and watching his muzzle search out the last of the sweet feed in his bucket, when she felt exhaustion come over her. She decided the last twenty-four hours had been like drinking from a glass you expected to be full of water but turned out to be holding vodka. A big ol’ burning surprise.
Although she was encouraged by Devlin’s agreement to continue training her, she’d experienced firsthand one of his concerns. In the ring, she felt the heat between them flare every time he looked at her. Every glance between them was a history book of images to relish. A promise of what lay ahead as soon as they were alone together. Questions asked and answered without words. And the powerful undercurrents made the unremarkable seem sublime, took simple nods and turned them into vows, elevated a conversation about striding counts to a plane it had never been on before.
It was heady. And dangerously distracting.
She heard Devlin approaching as if she’d called him.
“I’m going to go start dinner,” he said, coming in close.
“I’ll be up after I finish with the tack.”
They fell silent and she thought he was going to touch her, but then he gave her a smile that knocked her socks off.
It was almost as good as a kiss, she decided, as he walked away.
Going into the cramped confines of the tack room, A.J. took out a chamois rag that had seen good use and a bottle of Murphy’s Oil Soap. As soon as she wet the cloth, the familiar lemon smell rose to greet her like a good host and she took a deep breath. Rubbing her saddle in the circular motions she’d used since she was nine, her mind wandered off into hazardous territory.