“Sunday, it is,” Peter confirmed. “What time would you like me there?”
“How does three sound? Come an hour earlier than my other guests and we’ll talk.” Before disconnecting the call, Beau gave Peter directions.
Beau’s fingers massaged his temples. A headache was on the horizon, he could feel it. He closed his eyes, contemplating what Peter must want. Why was everyone all of a sudden so anxious to share information with him? It had been months since the accident. Now everyone wanted to talk. The phone rang almost immediately. Forget about lying out and enjoying the sun.
“Hello,” Beau growled, his impatience obvious.
“Hi, I got your flowers,” Shayna said.
He was suddenly wide-awake and focused, elated actually. “Were the tulips in good shape?”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
It sounded so matter-of-fact. She hadn’t even said she enjoyed them. “Will you and Reggie be able to make it this Sunday?” Beau asked.
There was a moment of hesitation on the other end.
“I wasn’t certain we were still invited.”
“Of course you are. I thought you’d enjoy riding the horses and later on we’d barbecue. I’m having a couple of other people over. Reggie and I can sneak away and talk after we’ve eaten.”
Why did he sound so anxious? Needy? Nervous? Why was it so important that Shayna come?
“Are you still angry with me?” she ventured.
Maybe that was what this was all about. The phone call was to test the waters, see if he’d gotten over being upset with her.
“I’m not pleased that you withheld information,” Beau said. “But I’m over it. Let’s talk about it more in person.”
“You did say four, right? We’ll be there.”
When the conversation ended, Beau found that his hands were clammy. He’d been on pins and needles the entire time. It had gone way beyond just wanting to see Shayna. He needed her in his life.
* * *
Sunday started off rainy and got worse. Shayna managed to get Reggie to church, which in and of itself was a feat. Returning, she placed her wet, open umbrella in the vestibule, while Reggie raced in and flopped onto a chair in front of the TV.
“Don’t even think about putting your feet on the couch,” Shayna admonished, grimacing at the mess he’d just made. She went off to find something dry to change into. Riding later that day didn’t seem a remote possibility unless the rain let up.
Shayna stared at her crowded closet wondering what would be appropriate to wear. Finally she selected jeans and a button-down shirt. If the rain held up she’d wear her boots and the beautiful black leather jacket her parents had sent as an early gift for her birthday.
“Hey, Shayna,” Reggie called from downstairs. “How much time are we spending at Beau Hill’s?”
“A couple of hours at least. Beau mentioned something about a barbecue afterward.”
“Oh, man. Just what I need.”
Shayna could hear Reggie stomping around downstairs. She walked out to the landing and peeked over the railing. Reggie, sneakered feet and all, lay lounged on the couch. His one concession to getting dressed for church, his sharp-looking dress pants, were now rumpled. The phone was pressed to his ear and he was yakking nonstop.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” Shayna called down.
“The guys are getting together to play ball. I need to know when I’ll be back.”
“Better forget about a game today. Getting hired by Beau Hill is more important,” Shayna said more curtly than she intended.
“Says who?”
Shayna decided to ignore him. Why start an argument? She retraced her steps and began laying clothing on the bed. If she wore a scarf, it would pick up the outfit and she’d be western chic. That thought made her smile.
She was really looking forward to seeing Beau. Maybe the weather would change and they would have that barbecue after all. Her selection made, she found the folder with the articles about Beau and curled up on her bed. The first magazine had detailed bios of the world’s top skiers. Beau’s bio was particularly interesting. She hadn’t known that he was a college graduate with a major in business. Totally captivated, she read of his involvement in community activities as well as his reason for creating Hill Of Dreams.
Even the numerous downhill events he’d won had all been detailed. He’d been a World Cup winner, won medals at the Winter Goodwill Games, and was considered a very gifted athlete with the ability to make panic free, on-course decisions, at terrifying speeds. The reporter had also listed his love of horseback riding and mentioned that he spent a lot of his off time teaching disadvantaged kids how to ride. Good for Beau.
Flipping the page, Shayna focused on the biography of the winner, Lars Schmitt. He’d been born in Berlin but educated in California. He was considered a competent skier but Beau was considered the athlete most likely to perform under pressure. Beau was the more consistent skier and the one with style. Lars’s hobby was chess. Off the slopes, Lars had a reputation for being a renegade.
The other American skier, Joshua Vanderhorn, had come in second. Joshua’s ancestors had come over on the Mayflower. He was the product of old money and had almost literally been born on skis. He’d gone to school in Switzerland and had a reputation for being a fast talker and an international playboy. He’d done well at Vail, placing a respectable third. Somewhere, Shayna had read that Joshua had been involved in a major scandal. The family had successfully hushed it up but it had something to do with date rape.
Another American, Peter Turner, was considered a good skier but had never been a top contender. He was, however, considered an excellent tactician, astute in knowing when to apply pressure to the skis, and when to relax.
Jan Ericksson had been the skier who’d finished third. He was one of the more popular athletes. His infectious dedication and competitiveness had at last paid off, yielding him a spot on the podium. Little was known about his personal life except for the fact that his wife was a champion skater.
In Shayna’s opinion either Lars or Joshua could be suspect. But would they risk a man’s life for the sake of Olympic gold? Stupid question. She more than anyone knew how fiercely competitive the athletes were. When she’d competed she’d been the topic of ugly rumors that had been gleefully relayed back to her. She was allegedly sleeping with the coach who’d been giving her pointers. It had gone on and on. The goal being to break her concentration and have her perform poorly. Then there was that ugly scandal several years back when one skater’s bodyguard camouflaged as a mugger and whacked the competition on the knee. Athletes did indeed go to incredible lengths to win.
Whenever Shayna missed being in the spotlight she reminded herself of the supreme sacrifice she’d made to get there. She’d given up her girlhood. Training had become all consuming. Gymnastics had been everything. She sure didn’t miss getting up at the wee hours of the morning, starving herself to the point of anorexia just to maintain an acceptable weight, pushing herself to the point of exhaustion. It had been a lonely and unhappy life and her teammates had had more than their share of physical and emotional problems.
But she did have one thing to thank competitive gymnastics for, her fighting spirit still remained. She felt deep in her gut that Beau’s fall had been no accident. That it needed to be investigated. She’d been surprised that he’d so willingly let it go. But three months ago he hadn’t been in the mental or physical shape to demand an investigation, or conduct one of his own. Now that he’d made incredible progress, would he be motivated to find out what really happened? Promising to take the matter up with Beau, Shayna continued to read.
* * *
Beau waited for Peter in the den. He watched as his teammate’s long strides narrowed the distance between them.
“It’s been too long,” Peter greeted, doing his best not to show how much the sight of Beau in a wheelchair bothered him.
“Much too long.”
Peter grasped
the hand Beau offered and shook it vigorously. He folded himself into a nearby chair. “It’s been almost four months.”
The den was one of Beau’s favorite rooms. It was open and comfortable. Considering he wasn’t much of a reader, books spilled from floor-to-ceiling cases and huge Ficus plants created private nooks for those seeking places to curl up with a book.
“Why did you want to see me?” Beau asked, cutting to the chase.
Peter crossed one lean leg over the other. “A couple of things have bothered me for a while.”
“Yes, go on.”
“Guys, can I get you anything?” Beau’s sister Kelly interrupted. She wore jeans and a comfortable-looking sweatshirt. She clutched a can of Coke in one hand. It never ceased to amaze Beau how youthful she looked. Anyone would think she was in her teens as opposed to her thirties.
“I’d love some water,” Peter answered.
“Same for me,” Beau confirmed.
“I’ll be right back.”
Beau tried not to grin as Peter openly admired Kelly’s denim-clad behind. His sister’s bobbing blond ponytail swished as she went off to do their bidding.
“She wouldn’t by chance be single?” Peter asked, when Kelly was out of earshot.
“Sorry to say, she’s not.”
Kelly was back within minutes carrying a pitcher of water and two glasses. She set the tray down on the coffee table and gave Peter the benefit of her golden smile. “Anything else, gentlemen?”
“N-nn—o, thank you,” the skier stuttered.
“Beau?”
“I’m all right.”
Peter poured water and handed a glass to Beau. He sipped his own water and looked around the room before setting his glass down. “I don’t know exactly how to say this.”
“Just say it.”
Why did he seem so edgy and uncomfortable? He continued to look everywhere except at Beau.
Choosing words carefully, Peter began. “It’s like this, word has it that someone was paid big bucks to put you out of commission.”
Deep down, Beau had suspected that. “Why would someone want to do that?”
“For the same reason that skater had her knee banged in. They’re envious and want to eliminate competition. If they paid someone to tamper with your bindings, you wouldn’t have a chance of winning.”
Beau shook his head trying to digest what Peter was saying. So many people had tried to tell him it was not an accident but he’d refused to listen. “Why would someone intentionally want to hurt me? I don’t have any enemies I know of.”
“They may have miscalculated, never anticipating you’d be so seriously hurt.”
Peter was doing everything to avoid looking at Beau in his wheelchair.
“Sounds like you know more than you’re letting on,” Beau said dryly while eyeing Peter speculatively. “Spill it, man. Are you confessing?” The last was said jokingly.
Peter shifted uneasily in his seat. “I’d never pull something like that, Beau. I’m only repeating what I hear.”
“Go on.”
Beau’s whole body had tensed up. There was that tingling in his legs again. Except this time it was so intense he feared he might spasm. Why was that happening? He’d meant to talk to his doctor about it, speak with Shayna, maybe. He’d never gotten around to it.
“Come on, man,” Beau urged. “Talk to me.”
Peter bent in closer. “I heard…”
The doorbell chose that inopportune moment to ring. Beau cursed softly, then said, “Talk about bad timing. Looks like more company’s here. Our conversation will have to wait until later.” He moved his joystick into position and headed for the door.
“Who are you expecting?” Peter called after him. “Anyone from the ski team?”
“No. Just David, my agent, and Shayna, my physical therapist, and her little brother. Kelly will be joining us, of course, and I invited Mohammed, who manages Hill Of Dreams. My mom might also stop by.”
“What about your dad?”
“He’s out of town working on a case. Will you stick around until after the barbecue? We can have a more in-depth discussion then.”
Peter scrounged up his nose, seeming to debate. “Normally I would love to, but I have a first date. I want to make a good impression so I’d better be on time. I’ll call you and we’ll set up another time to talk.”
“Let’s do that, soon. Curiosity is just about killing me.”
The doorbell jingled again.
Kelly shouted, “I’ll get it,” at the same time rushing to the door.
The conversation was placed on hold, temporarily. But Beau was left with a sense of frustration. Frustration with the situation. Frustration with himself. Ever since the injury he’d allowed his world to stop while he wallowed in self-pity. So many people had tried to tell him that his accident was no accident, but he hadn’t wanted to believe them. It was still hard to believe that someone would intentionally want to hurt him.
Hats off to Shayna for giving him a purpose in life again, in getting him mentally back on track. His self-esteem had risen and with it his fighting spirit had returned. He needed to get his hands on that equipment, examine his boots and skis for himself. He would ask David to take care of that.
David breezed in, Kelly on his heels. His agent had brought an attractive brunette with him. He introduced her all around. “This is Alia, everybody.”
Peter rose to greet Alia while Beau smiled and waved. She was a petite delicate type, a little taller than Shayna. She had a big wide smile and a warm way about her.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” she said, approaching Beau, hand outstretched.
Beau took the delicate palm she offered. “I trust it’s been all good.”
“Absolutely,” David said, interjecting, and presenting Beau with an envelope. “Your fan mail,” he explained.
The doorbell jingled again. The tingling sensation Beau felt in his legs had moved into his arms as well.
He was on pins and needles, anxious to see Shayna again. While Kelly headed for the door, Beau sipped his water. He listened distractedly to Peter’s and David’s conversation. They were talking about the athletes they knew. He sensed Shayna’s presence even before she stood before him. Then he smelled her heavenly perfume. She had that surly brother with her.
Shayna’s looks were a sharp contrast from Kelly’s freshly scrubbed, girl-next-door appearance. But Beau knew that under that cinnamon skin and wide-eyed appeal hid a sexy, flirtatious woman. While she might look like a cute teenager, she didn’t act like a teenager. And she sure didn’t kiss like a cute teeny bopper.
“I brought you this,” she said, holding out a foil-covered tray to Beau. “Where should I put it?”
“What is it?” Beau asked.
“Brownies. Baked from scratch.”
“Yum,” Kelly added, “I’ll gladly take them from you.”
True to her word, she relieved Shayna of her tray and immediately lifted the foil, helping herself to one of the heavenly smelling baked goods.
“Anyone else want one?” she asked, offering the tray around.
Peter was the only one to accept. Beau watched in amusement as he flirted with Kelly. He wasn’t worried. Kelly would expertly ward off any unwelcome advances. He’d seen her in action before. Reggie still hadn’t opened his mouth. He stood by watching them as if they’d flown in from the moon.
“Have a seat,” Beau invited, gesturing to one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs.
“First you say hello to everyone,” Shayna said, nudging Reggie forward.
Reluctantly the teenager greeted everyone before flopping onto the vacant chair.
Big chip on that kid’s shoulder, Beau decided. In many ways Reggie reminded him of himself. When he’d first come to live with the Andersons he’d been in such pain. He’d still been inwardly grieving for his parents but was afraid to cry. Afraid that it would make him appear less of a man. So he’d been surly, obnoxious, and difficult to deal with.
And even after the Andersons had adopted him, he’d steadfastly refused to change his last name. It was his legacy, the only thing left of his parents.
“You’re looking well,” he said to Shayna, who’d taken a seat next to him.
“You don’t look so bad yourself. Love the shirt.”
He was wearing one of his favorite designers. Marc Jacobs.
“You look good, period,” she continued, smiling at him. Immediately his mood lightened. This afternoon would be promising after all.
“Ready to go riding?” Beau asked Reggie when he noticed the boy was making no effort to join the conversation.
Reggie grunted something unintelligible.
“Why don’t we all go riding?” Beau said to no one in particular.
“You’re going riding?” Kelly asked, entering the conversation. She set down the tray of brownies on a side table. “This I have to see.” She was over treating him with kid gloves apparently.
“Yes, I think I am.”
Kelly looked from Beau to Shayna and back again. It appeared she knew a secret.
Shayna placed a hand on Beau’s forearm. “Riding’s therapeutic. Remind me to tell you how working with horses helped me.”
Beau covered the hand on his forearm. “I will,” he said, staring at her until she blushed.
The connection was broken when David cleared his throat “Alia and I will pass,” he said. “We’ll fire up the barbecue and by the time you guys get back we’ll be ready to eat. How about you help us, Peter?”
“I’ll gladly act as your sous chef,” Peter offered, looking at Kelly as if she was dessert.
“Good. I’ve got things to attend to,” Kelly added. “You three have fun.”
“Get one of the guys to bring Vodka, Scotch, and Whiskey around,” Beau suggested.
Kelly danced off, eyes sparkling. She turned back to glance at Shayna and Beau briefly. Beau could tell she was up to something. And whatever it was wasn’t good.
Chapter Fifteen
Shayna was surprised at the rapport Beau had with his horses. As everyone watched, he carefully approached from the side, stroking them reverently and whispering softly in their ears. All three seemed delighted to see him, snorting and neighing, vying for Beau’s full attention.
His Golden Heart Page 13