“What?”
“Nothing. For what you’re doing, they’ll be fine. If at some point you find yourself doing any amount of trail riding, you might want to invest in a good pair of boots.” She glanced up. “Western. Although I could teach you how to ride English if you prefer.”
“Which is easier?”
“Western, like you are now.”
“Then let’s go with that.” He smiled a little. “For now.”
With the attention to detail she’d noticed in the clothing she’d seen him in so far, she could easily imagine him in a nicely cut, proper English riding jacket. For certain, those tight English riding pants would show off…well, what wouldn’t they show off was more like it. Not that he couldn’t do some damage in jeans and chaps, it’s just that he wasn’t the scruffy cowboy type. Far more lord of the manor. With a little Latin flair.
“Okay, now what?”
Now I need a fan, and something cold to drink, and an extended period of getting myself seriously under some kind of control, she thought. She motioned to the rope. “Hold it with some slack. Click a little, with your tongue, then nudge her with your heels or knees. She knows what to do.”
“How do I steer?”
“Tug a little on the left rein for left, right for right. Pull back and release to slow her down and stop. You don’t have to yank, just a steady pulling motion until she slows down to where you want her, or comes to a complete stop.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
She smiled. “Should be. Let’s see how you do.”
First, he leaned forward and spoke gently to Petunia, making her ears twitch forward and back. Then, he straightened and, after a gentle nudging with his heels, they moved smoothly along the fence line. She wished she could say she was surprised, but by now, she wasn’t.
“You’ll get used to her rolling gait. Just keep your weight centered, stay relaxed, knees with even tension, which is to say, very little. She’ll be very sensitive to the tension she feels in your body, which is mainly telegraphed by how tightly you hold the reins, and the pressure you exert with your legs against her sides.”
Not that he appeared to need this little bit of instruction.
She let them go around the ring once at a steady walk, then said, “Okay, now, slow her down. You can pull back slightly on the reins.”
He pulled Petunia to a stop right beside her.
“Pretty good,” she said.
“Pretty good?”
“Okay, you were very good.” Probably needed to hear that after every performance, she thought, knowing she was being less than charitable, but reaching for anything that would give her an edge against the effect he seemed to be having on her so effortlessly. “For a beginner.”
He took the comment in stride, but didn’t tip his imaginary brim again.
“Next class we’ll work on turning around and coming in to the center of the ring. After that, we’ll work on speed. Trotting, then cantering.”
“No galloping?”
“No galloping.”
His dark eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. “How about outside of the ring?”
She smiled dryly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”
“Well, the idea is to eventually ride the horse in something other than an endless circle.”
“Yes. But this isn’t like the movies. I hate to break it to you, but trail riding rarely involves galloping.”
“Do you?”
“Trail ride?”
“Gallop your horse. In or out of the ring.”
“Neither at the moment—she’s pregnant.”
“But otherwise?”
She folded her arms. “Why do you ask?”
“You normally work with racehorses. I assume it’s rather like guys who work around race cars. Or Lear jets.”
“You think I’m a speed junkie?”
He looked down at her from his higher perch, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Actually, I don’t know what to think about you.”
“I could say the same,” she responded, before she thought better of it.
He held her in silent regard for a long moment. He seemed quite relaxed, but Petunia stepped a little restlessly, proving there was more tension in him than he was showing. “Could I interest you in grabbing a bite to eat? Later, once you’re free?”
The offer shouldn’t have caught her so off guard. They’d been circling each other almost from the moment he’d entered the stables. But it did. “I—I have chores. Then my horse…I have to see to her.” She was stuttering. She never stuttered. “I’d feel more comfortable if we kept this purely a professional relationship.”
“Okay,” he said, a little too easily.
Perverse creature that she was, she wished he’d at least been a bit more put out by her immediate refusal.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t share a meal, does it?” he went on, making her feel inordinately better, which was a double warning sign.
She didn’t want him pursuing her. On any level. No matter how good it made her feel. She couldn’t risk enjoying even something as simple as having her ego stroked. Much less any other part of her. She tried like hell not to look at his hands again.
He grinned a little. “We can discuss a strategy for helping me show Mac up when we ride together for the first time.”
She laughed in surprise. “So, that’s it, then. This is all just some kind of macho contest.”
“Where men and horses are concerned, isn’t it always?”
She chuckled. “Most of the time, yes. And yet, somehow I don’t see you as the cowboy type.”
“What do you see me as?” He laughed a little and shook his head. “Never mind. Maybe I don’t want to know.”
He caught her gaze and held it. The combination of that twinkle in his eyes and the laughter was downright lethal. Her nipples ached, her thighs were all twitchy, and there were butterflies dancing in her tummy.
“Or you can tell me over dinner.”
She’d never wanted to accept an invitation more. She had no doubt that if the two of them were alone anywhere outside of a business-only situation, dinner wouldn’t be all they’d be having. Reason enough to end this little banter session. “I’m afraid I can’t.”
She thought he might continue to press, and was surprised to find, even knowing better, she almost wanted him to. Maybe he’d find a way past her defenses, find a way to make it okay to take what she wanted and damn the consequences. Only the consequences, in this case, were huge. And didn’t involve only her. Knowing that didn’t make the ache go away, though. If anything, it only intensified. Her desires had always been career-oriented. She’d never wanted anything purely for the sake of having it.
But she’d be lying if she said that, right then, right there, she didn’t want him. Just for now. Or at least until he could make the damn ache go away.
“Okay, then,” he said, easily enough. Damn him. “Class over, I presume?”
She broke eye contact, praying that nothing of the thoughts going through her head showed anywhere on her face. He was far too astute as it was. “For this round, yes. You can dismount here. I’ll take care of the rest.” The faster she increased the distance between them, the better.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll do what’s expected,” he said. “Not fair for you to do my work.”
“First-timer’s pass,” she said. “We’ve gone a bit longer than I anticipated and I still have a list of chores to get through. It will go faster if I take care of her this go. You’ll definitely be in charge of that next time.”
“So, you’re willing to have a next time?”
Do I have a choice? she wondered, but didn’t say it out loud. Not that she thought Kate would lean on her to help out her friend, but Elena wasn’t a novice when it came to work politics. In her previous field, she’d learned quickly that getting ahead sometimes meant doing things because you might benefit later from the favor. Even if the short-term risks didn’t seem worth the effort.
“You’re a quick study,” she told him. “A few more lessons and you’ll have the basics down. Enough to trail-ride with Finn and Mac, anyway, if that’s your goal.”
“Okay,” he said, then hesitated for a second, as if he was going to say something else, but apparently changed his mind. “I appreciate you taking the time.”
“For a friend of Kate’s, not a problem.” Best he understand her motivation was purely professional, just in case he had other ideas. Especially if they were anything like the ideas she was having.
His wry grin reappeared. “So, how do I get down from here without blowing what little horse cred I built up tonight?”
She laughed again. He really had to stop making her do that. This would all be a lot easier if he’d stayed an enigmatic hard-ass. “Hand on pommel, body weight forward, swing your right leg behind you, kick your left foot out of the stirrup, and slide to the ground.”
“What do I do with the rope?”
She stepped forward and showed him, this time far more aware of his hands, his thigh brushing her shoulder, than she wanted to be. He slid off far too easily, and before she could step back, landing him once again deep inside her personal space. Right where she wanted him most, and least needed him to be.
He smiled as he handed her the rope, his knuckles brushing the inside of her wrist. A sensitive spot she hadn’t known she possessed until that exact moment.
“Not too bad,” he said, that smile flirting at the corners of his mouth—a beautifully sculpted mouth.
A mouth she had no business looking at.
“At least I didn’t end up on my ass.”
“Not this time, anyway,” she said, intending to create distance. But neither of them stepped away.
There was a tremendous pull in that tiny space between them, the kind of pull that made it almost impossible not to lean forward, or pray he did first, allowing her to indulge, just for a moment, without any of the guilt of having taken the initiative.
This close, she saw that his eyes weren’t black, but a brown so dark they almost matched his irises, but with just enough color in them to create that gleam, that twinkle. His skin was incredibly smooth, despite the hint of five o’clock shadow, with such a gorgeous golden tone to it, she imagined it would always be naturally warm to the touch. And yet the angles of his jaw, the hard line of his nose, his chin, the thin white scar that ran length-wise, just above one eyebrow, all combined to make him more rugged than pretty. Made her want to touch. Taste.
“Shouldn’t you hold on to this?” he asked, grabbing the lead rope from her suddenly lax grip. That teasing glint was back in his eyes, as if he’d been able to read her every thought. And, mortifying as it was to contemplate, maybe he had. She wasn’t skilled in these kinds of games.
It took enormous willpower not to snatch the rope back from his hand and drag poor Petunia away. “Thanks,” she said, as casually as she could manage. As if just looking at him didn’t make her want to get naked and do things she hadn’t thought about doing, much less needing to do, in a long time. “I can take it from here.”
He stepped the tiniest bit closer and for a second, she wasn’t sure what his intentions were. She went still rather than move away, her breath trapped in her chest. But he only moved between her and the horse, so he could stroke Petunia’s neck and murmur a few good-byes.
She felt supremely foolish until he turned to her with a half smile and a knowing look that suggested maybe he’d been using the horse as an excuse to get closer. Not that he needed an excuse.
“We still haven’t discussed your fee.”
Had his voice always been that deep? That smooth? Her gaze dipped to his mouth, unbidden, and she had to fight the urge to wet her lips.
“Elena?”
The way he said her name, with that hint of an accent, made her inner thighs twitch, made her wonder what her name would sound like when his voice was rough with desire and…then she realized she was staring at him like a half-starved wolf and jerked her gaze downward…to anything other than him. Twisting the rope in her hands, she stuttered her reply. “Uh…oh. Don’t—don’t worry about that. Favor for a friend, as I said.” She glanced up, smiled briefly. “Or my boss, whichever way you want to say it.”
“No. Kate isn’t involved in this. I’m taking up your free time, which you don’t seem to have much of as it is.”
She wondered just what he knew about her time and how she spent it, but assumed he was just being polite. Hoped so, anyway. What with all the hormones raging about, she’d forgotten all her initial suspicions. “Don’t worry about it.”
After one final stroke to Petunia’s neck, he stepped out from his spot between the two of them. “We’ll talk about it next time then.”
She smiled, mostly in relief. “If you insist, but—”
“I do,” he said.
“Fine. Next time, then. When did you want to—”
“I’ll find you.” Then he tipped his imaginary brim, grinned, and walked away.
She was still standing there, Petunia in hand, staring after him, until he was lost in the gathering shadows around the main house.
“He’s trouble,” she murmured, stroking Petunia’s mane.
The horse nickered softly and shook her mane, making Elena smile. “You think so, too, huh?” She rubbed Petunia’s muzzle and, on a long sigh, turned and led her toward the stables. “Yeah, we’re both in for it, aren’t we?”
Chapter 7
“Turned you down flat, is what I heard.”
“It was a strategic request. I’ll get over it, trust me.” Rafe walked over to where Mac was sifting through a pile of folders on the corner of Rafe’s desk. “And how the hell did you find out, anyway?”
“Barn gossip.”
Somehow, he couldn’t picture Elena chatting with her younger charges about their lesson. More likely she’d mentioned it to Kate, so it wouldn’t come back to her that she’d spurned the advances of her boss’s friend. “Since when do you skulk around the barn? Don’t you have better things to do?”
“Yes. And I’m not ‘skulking around.’ Kate is down there all the time, so it only follows—”
“Pillow talk. Great. And stop pawing through my files.”
Mac smacked him on the shoulder with a folder. “Lighten up. I tell you, where women are involved, the fastest way to find out if there’s anything worth investigating is—”
“Unlike you, I can manage to resolve a case without falling into bed with my subject.”
Mac didn’t even blink. “I’m going to pretend you said that because you’re sexually frustrated after being turned down. You know I didn’t go after Kate for—”
Rafe lifted a hand. “I know. And I’m not sexually frustrated.” Which was the truth, but by a slim margin. So, he might have taken a cold shower after his lesson with Elena, but that hardly amounted to frustration. “Just because you two can’t keep your hands off one another does not mean the rest of us can’t behave in a civilized manner even if we’re not having sex five times a day.”
“Two, maybe three,” Mac said, pretending to look humble. “But I appreciate the vote of confidence. And I was only going to suggest a little wining and dining on your part. With Elena, I mean. That is, if you can get her to agree to go out with you. Even I have some principles.” At Rafe’s look of disbelief, Mac simply grinned, then suddenly widened his eyes and pulled a folded manila envelope from the inside of his jacket pocket as if just remembering it. “Oh yeah, thought you might like to take a look at this. It came earlier. I snagged it from the FedEx guy for you.”
Rafe snatched it from his hands. “You opened it?”
“Of course I did.” Mac pretended to look wounded. “When did we stop sharing everything?” He adopted a hurt tone, but it was totally ruined by the twinkle in his eye. “Lately I feel like we’re drifting apart. You never talk to me anymore. It’s because I’ve gained a little weight, isn’t it?”
Rafe tried to scowl, but when Ma
c turned and said, “It’s these jeans, isn’t it? They make my ass look fat. You can tell me the truth.”
Rafe couldn’t help it—he cracked a smile and took a shot at Mac’s head with the envelope. “Yes, it does look fat, now that you mention it. It’s a wonder Kate can bear to see you naked. I could put you in touch with my tailor.”
“Very amusing.”
Rafe grinned. “I know. And you have to understand, with your head on Kate’s pillow every night, I’d rather play it safe if you don’t mind.”
Now Mac did look hurt. “You think I’d compromise—”
“Not intentionally,” Rafe said. “But you aren’t always objective where Kate is concerned, never have been. Even you’d admit that.”
Mac perched on the corner of Rafe’s desk. “Fine.” He nodded at the envelope he’d given Rafe. “So, I guess you don’t want me to tell you about the fire marshal’s report?”
Rafe snapped the envelope open and slid out the documents. “At Charlotte Oaks?”
“What other fire would there be?” He settled his weight. “They were looking for arson. Several different angles came into play.”
“Insurance.”
“Several different kinds, actually. In addition to who might have benefited—or not—from the loss of the racehorse—”
“Wait—if he died in a suspicious fire, surely the insurance companies aren’t paying out on any insurance claim on his life.”
“By arson or an act of God, like lightning, no. But—”
“But what? Stables don’t combust spontaneously.”
“They do when kerosene tanks explode.”
“So, it was ruled an accident?”
“Investigations aren’t complete yet. Both the local departments and the insurance companies still have their men on the job. But it looks like they’re hitting dead ends and the official result will be inconclusive evidence, ruled an accident.”
Rafe stopped flipping through the extensive report—one he’d only gotten his hands on by calling in a few favors—and looked at his partner. “You read the whole thing?”
The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty Page 8