One to Love

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One to Love Page 9

by Michelle Monkou


  The horse not only flipped its head, but stamped the ground and moved sideways. Not once did Dimitri react. Meanwhile, Jesse had stepped back, ready for a stampede. All around him, the other horses seemed to feed off Thunder’s energy. It felt like playtime in the stalls. Horses whinnied. Their hooves tapped out a chaotic rhythm until Dimitri exited the stall.

  Jesse had to admit that he was also impressed with the children who weren’t intimidated by these large animals. As he passed the horses, he wanted to follow the urge to touch them. Hesitantly, he walked closer to the stall, praying they wouldn’t go wild and force a breakout. His imagination wouldn’t stop. Too many childhood fears took hold.

  “Have you had a bad experience with a horse?” Isabella asked. She continued with kissing sounds to a horse that wiggled its top lip, as if it wanted to chat and laugh.

  “No. I just don’t like that they have a mind of their own.” He did have that urge to stroke the long, graceful necks of the horses, like his companions did.

  “Those aren’t the only things he doesn’t like with a mind of their own.” Belinda played with a horse next to him. “Women are at the top of the list.”

  Dimitri laughed heartily, causing the horses to paw nervously at the ground. “Are you one of those men who has to feel in control?”

  “Definitely not answering.” Jesse reached a tentative finger to the horse.

  “You men always have to feel like you’re in control with something between the legs.” Isabella smacked her husband’s head with a playful swat. They exited the other side of the building. “I hope that you don’t let your fear overtake the pleasure of riding. When you’re riding, you forget all your problems.”

  “At some point, though, you do have to stop riding. And the problems are all there waiting for you.” Jesse felt Belinda’s poke in his ribs.

  “Yes. But for those precious long minutes, you will feel unburdened. Don’t you agree, Belinda? You’re an accomplished rider yourself.”

  Once again, Jesse pictured Belinda in a form-enhancing outfit. Although she would look sexy as hell sitting proudly on any horse, she would also be suitably sexy wearing such an outfit in his bed.

  “Horseback riding is like joining my spirit with my horse. Out there, riding the trail, we’re both enjoying the freedom to just be, living intensely in the present, the moment. Although I ride alone, I never feel alone when I’m on my horse. We strengthen our partnership for that short hour of riding. I can be...me.” Her voice slowly dropped to a husky whisper.

  “Well, maybe...one day.” Jesse tossed out the weak offer. With his schedule and responsibility, he couldn’t picture himself riding around in the fields. But he did learn not to judge those who obviously found joy with their four-legged friends.

  “Belinda, don’t let him live with this fear,” Dimitri teased. “You have to man up.” He playfully punched Jesse’s arm with his thick fist. “Now we’ll go to the rehab facility.”

  Isabella took the lead. “We have physical therapists and play areas for the clients. We really don’t want them to feel as though it is all work. Improvements on motor skills occur with the simpler games. Belinda, this wasn’t complete when you came to see the place.”

  “This is amazing,” Belinda remarked. Again, that happiness lit up her face. The smile that made rare appearances opened up, enhancing her beauty.

  He had to agree, though. The rehab facility was impressive with its open floor plan. Exercise equipment for people with various physical limitations filled the room. An indoor pool occupied the other half of the building. Several kids and individual coaches were in the pool. Soft music played overhead.

  “The kids pick their music.”

  Jesse liked the atmosphere.

  “Let’s move on, shall we?” Isabella ushered them out of the building. “Next door is a cafeteria. As you can see, there isn’t much out here. The children are brought here for most of the day. We also have a sleeping area if anyone needs to rest.”

  “You’ve thought of everything,” Belinda remarked. She strolled ahead, inspecting the various perks that Isabella mentioned.

  Dimitri tapped Jesse on the arm. “It took time. We started small.” He put his arm around Isabella and pulled her in for an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “A few more tweaks here and there and it’ll be perfect.”

  “I don’t think we ever get perfection. But for a small number of children, they get an alternative therapy. The more medical clinics and government agencies we can be affiliated with and be added to the referral list, the more people we can help,” Isabella stated.

  “I agree.”

  “Well, I hope we were able to help with your decision.” Isabella looked at him and then at Belinda again as if she and Jesse were a couple.

  “The decision has already been made. It’s only a matter of how and who will get it done,” Belinda replied.

  Jesse didn’t know how to answer, but suffered another playful punch to the arm from Dimitri.

  They chatted a bit more about the business as they headed back to Belinda’s SUV. A business that appeared so simple on the outside was far from that on the inside. Given the responsibility to the clients and animals, along with training and finding the right coaches, this was a major undertaking. Only someone who passionately believed in their mission could do this. Belinda, who stood next to him, hadn’t disclosed an ounce of doubt as Isabella and Dimitri provided the good and not-so-good details. Those narrow shoulders impressed the hell out of him.

  By the time they returned to the car, Jesse knew that he had had a change of heart, not that he had ever been against the project. But his awareness had broadened, and in his mental picture, he could see Belinda with her clients and full-service operation staffed with great trainers. While it had simply been a job for him to come in and work on, now he had a genuine desire to see it to fruition.

  They waved goodbye to their hosts and headed back to the SUV.

  Jesse waited until they had cleared the bumpy trail for the paved country road. “Miss Toussaint...”

  “It’s Belinda.” She tilted her head, but didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes on the road.

  “No, what I have to say should be formal. Besides, it might be important for me to get it off my chest as I once again put my life in your hands on these windy country roads.”

  Only a small smile was her response.

  “Miss Toussaint, I not only want to apologize for my rudeness and attitude yesterday. What you’re doing is important and I want to be part of your team. I also want to request that you reconsider removing me from the project and reconsider taking the contract from my father. So, can I get a second chance?”

  * * *

  Belinda almost slammed on the brakes. Yes, things had thawed between them, especially after the tour of the facility. But she was playing in her head the various versions of her apology that would get him to come back. And now he wanted her to think about his return. As if she wouldn’t jump on it.

  “Mr. Santiago, I accept your apology. I would like to rehire you for the job.” She wanted to leave it there, but her conscience poked at her. “And I’m also sorry for overreacting. As my cousins remind me, not everyone is a horse person.”

  She took his outstretched hand and shook it, then immediately returned her hand on the steering wheel. After sitting next to him, walking near him, all day, she was aware of his every gesture, movement, action. To press her hand against his palm signaled the beginning of their relationship. Down, girl. Purely business.

  “You asked why I wanted to build a rehab facility.” She glanced at his profile. Unlike the last time, he didn’t show any reaction. He kept his gaze on the road ahead with occasional glances through his window. She continued, “Seven years ago, Maritza, my friend, had such an active life before the terrible car accident. She fell asleep at the wheel.
One day, she’s talking about her plans for the summer before heading to law school. We were off to celebrate. The next day, she’s being pried out of a mangled car. Her life changed, like so many others who suffer sudden life-altering challenges—some physical, some emotional and cognitive. I want to do whatever I can to raise awareness and to provide real, tangible help...”

  Dreamweaver Riding Program was more than her job. From the beginning, this idea had been personal. Sleepless nights of agony, mostly emotional, twisted her in their knots. Some people were inspired by a parent’s job or a teacher’s motivation. In her case, regret, guilt and resignation propelled her to build a sanctuary for young children with disabilities. With the expansion, she could consider adding adult clients, like veterans. That would be such a bonus benefit.

  While her dreams were on the verge of turning into reality, she desperately wished that she could thank the person who inspired her. She kept the last photo that she’d taken of Maritza in a frame on her desk, as a reminder. She’d do anything to see Maritza smile like she did over their meal at Cracker Barrel in that photo. One selfish act, giving up the driving duty, and everything had changed because she’d caused Maritza to live the remainder of her life in a wheelchair.

  “I get it. This is for her—a tribute.”

  Belinda nodded. “She inspired me. In one way, I wish that she’d never been in an accident. In another, I can’t be certain that I would have worked this hard to put a facility in place, much less on my property, otherwise.”

  “Nevertheless, she must be proud.”

  Belinda didn’t reply immediately. She couldn’t confirm that opinion. After the way that she and Maritza had dealt with the accident, their friendship had suffered the toll. All she had were the memories and photos. Now her best friend no longer spoke to her. She held on to a sliver of hope that they would reconcile. They were once travel buddies. They knew each other’s secrets. They had even planned to have a double wedding, even though neither one was dating at the time. Outside of her cousins, Maritza was her best friend.

  Belinda sighed. “I hope that one day I do get to find out how she does feel.” But that was too personal a subject to share. “Well, we’re here.” She pulled up in the restaurant’s parking lot next to his car.

  “Okay.” He placed his hand on the handle, but hesitated.

  “What?” She waited, hoping it wasn’t another apology. It wasn’t the apology that had had an effect. It was the deep, velvety voice. He had a knack of adding a certain flavor to his words like a drop of the right spice in a meal that caused a warm flush. From there, her imagination and her body’s tantalizing reaction to him dared to go to her uncharted fantasies.

  He leaned in toward her. And she immediately responded by leaning toward him. Their lips touched, igniting a spark, bright and robust, enough to explode through her body. A kiss that didn’t stop at the gate, but boldly marched to the front door. And with the thrust of his tongue intimately greeting her mouth, she opened the door to let him in.

  A low moan escaped. She didn’t care. The more he kissed, the more she wanted. His hands cupped her face. Her hands grabbed his shirt, fisting it as her desire surged. Warmed by her sensual cravings, every part of her submitted to his onslaught. Her nipples perked into hard beads. Between her legs, her panties moistened for action.

  Jesse’s mouth eased away without her permission. But he wasn’t so cruel as to abandon her completely. His tongue snaked a trail along her jaw to her earlobe. On the tip, his lips gently kissed. And she threw her head back. A hot streak of hunger hit her hard. She wanted his mouth on her body, offering its own slavish devotion.

  “Stop.” Her hands were still entangled in his clothes. A moan of frustration bubbled up. Hers. She pulled away. Hot and bothered. “Um...damn, you are going to be so bad for me.”

  “I hope so,” Jesse whispered. “But one thing I do know.”

  “What?” If she stepped out of the car at this very minute, she’d be on the ground. While her brain tried to regain balance, her body still reverberated over the kiss that he had laid down.

  “I’m still hungry.”

  “I am, too.” Her stomach rumbled on cue. “You don’t have to get home?”

  “Nah.”

  “Good.” She failed at keeping her tone from sounding thrilled. “Mind grabbing a table while I park?”

  “No problem.” He stepped out of the car. The view of his rear at eye level drew an appreciative throat clearing from her. She stayed glued to her target until he disappeared into the restaurant.

  Provide an apology.

  Get recommitted to her vision.

  Those had been her goals for today. But that searing, hot, nipple-hardening kiss. She sighed. Besides, she entertained a secret wish for part deux of their heated foreplay.

  No doubts lingered. She wanted it all—Jesse Santiago naked and uninhibited between her legs.

  Chapter 6

  Belinda lay on her couch with the remote on her abdomen and an untouched bowl of caramel popcorn on the floor within hands’ reach. Her cousins, Fiona and Dana, would howl with laughter to see her stretched out, looking at the TV station on home interior decorating. One, she wasn’t the type to sit still long enough to watch anything on television. Two, she certainly wasn’t the type to care about the comparative advantages of paint versus wallpaper. That’s why Dana had taken on the task of decorating her new house after she moved in. The quaint country look, she’d remarked, didn’t suit Belinda’s tastes. Frills, classic soft blue and white colors, handcrafted knickknacks—not her style, but Belinda would have learned to live with the cozy, down-home feel out of sheer lack of motivation to do otherwise.

  Like an angel on a charity mission, Dana had swooped in, armed with decorators and designers. Over three months, they performed surgery and transformed the house into an airy, modern home with a blast of natural lighting, vivid colors that Belinda would have never thought could be partnered, and furniture that still had comfort, but had more sleek sophistication. All in all, the do-over had been a massive success. Maybe a small part of Dana’s desire to change the world, one fashion trend at a time, had a trickle-down effect to her. Hence her almost comatose position on the couch, watching home decorating tips and actually looking forward to the next show on how to build a flower box off a window or deck.

  Her phone rang. She groaned and answered without her usual check to see who called.

  “Belinda, it’s Jesse. Letting you know that I’m on the property.”

  “Oh.” Her body tensed like she was attempting a stomach crunch, sending the remote sliding off to the side.

  “Won’t be here long. I will let you know when I’m done.”

  Over the past two weeks, she’d done her best to avoid Jesse. Of course, once the work started, she had to give him direction and be available to answer questions. Anything else that threatened any form of intimacy, she did her best to run from. This wasn’t the time to prove that she wasn’t a coward. All she needed with Jesse was the perfect timing, skirting the pesky work details, and she’d be all over him, grinding against his body, seeking further satisfaction. With a voice like warm melted chocolate, her willpower would be no good. And she wasn’t a chocolate lover. She hired the man do a job, almost fired him for not being up to par, and now had to fight against her temptation to go flirt with him on the job—a losing battle.

  “Thanks.” She disconnected the call. A triple shot of espresso with its mad rush to the system was the only comparison to how she felt at this minute. Under the influence of a hyper buzz, as she was now, lying back on the couch watching TV shows didn’t satisfy.

  Home decorating tips could take a hike. Something, or rather someone, way more interesting had popped onto her radar. Playtime was about to begin. She couldn’t stop grinning, as her imagination ran free and a bit on the wild side. None of her cousi
ns were here to talk good sense into her against her impulsive desire to go play. She tapped the phone against her chin, thinking about what to do next.

  Belinda did her best not to hop up from the couch and speedwalk straight to the barn. The man had come to work. On her project, for goodness’ sake. The least that she could do was actually let him do his job without acting like a flirty college girl in his face. To slow down her plan to charge into his domain, she headed for the shower.

  Vanity had nothing to do with it. But instead of the standard shower gel, she reached for the moisturizing, coconut-scented body wash that promised all kinds of good things, like smooth skin that glowed. Music played in the background as the soundtrack for a thorough washdown. She soaped up and sang.

  After drying off and adding a touch of her favorite scent on her neck and behind her ears, Belinda stood in front of her closet with an important decision to make. Standing around at the stable was not supposed to be the epitome of a fashion moment. Likewise, she didn’t want to look like a rough-and-tumble field hand. She sighed. It wasn’t fair that the law of attraction only had one player in the equation. Because, darn it, she noticed him. Bottom line, she wanted to be noticed. Ever since he kissed her, he hadn’t tried again. Instead, Jesse became the consummate professional with everything from his management of the workers to his formal updates on the project and his responses to her questions with an exact, stay-within-the-lines demeanor. In return, her self-exile was to keep herself from grabbing his face and kissing him until the sun went down.

  What she wanted out there—Jesse’s attention—and what was available in her closet didn’t work together. Frankly, the breadth of her clothing options was pitiful. Not her words. That would be Dana and Fiona not hiding their opinion about her distant position on the ladder of steps to being considered a fashion icon.

  All her life, her style had been pretty much unchanged. She was a jeans and plaid shirt kind of girl. When it came to dressing up, she opted for pantsuits with solid-color silk tops. Shoes were her weakness, though. On the right occasion, she was known to rock a four-inch heel with a pair of well-worn jeans.

 

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