Hot Quit

by Kathryn Roberts

  Life had settled into a quite comfortable routine with them both rising at five thirty. Alexandria thought she would hate the early hour, but the first time she rose and saw the pastel hues of the sun peeking over the hills, she decided there were benefits to rising at an early hour that she hadn’t ever considered. They tried alternating the morning chores, but after two-inch-thick pancakes that were burnt on one side and raw on the other, they agreed it was less frustrating for them both if Jackson cooked. Alexandria actually looked forward to his meals, since Jackson Morgan turned out to be a more than passable chef. Not gourmet, by any means, she reminded him at every chance, but practical, filling, and tasty.

  She fed the horses since she seemed to be able to handle the preparation of a flake of hay and a pound of rice bran more competently than eggs and bacon.

  After the morning meal, they saddled up. Jackson rode the horses he had in training at the same time he tutored her. Sometimes the lesson was slow and tedious, with turning, stopping, and moving in circles until Alexandria thought she’d go mad. The words flexion, collection, action, arc, timing, and serpentine rattled around in her brain even at night when she tried to sleep. Other times they worked fast, so fast that Alexandria felt like she’d been through a hurricane and back. It fascinated her that a horse could move so quickly and be so smooth, but what truly fascinated her was Jackson.

  At times he told her to watch him to illustrate a point or to demonstrate a movement, but it wasn’t long before Alexandria found herself sneaking every opportunity to catch a secret glimpse of him working.

  Jackson was like a centaur—half man, half horse. He was never left behind, he was never too far forward, and he never made riding look difficult, even on less than cooperative horses. She’d been raised to appreciate the finest, and as she watched him complete a ride on a finished horse, she realized she was watching the finest. He had taught her more in three days than she’d thought she’d learn in a month, and he had a feel for horses, a gentle understanding of them that she envied. The feeling she had as he reined to a sliding stop, backed the gelding, and then let him drop his head and blow was the same one she’d had the first time she’d seen him. A sense of peace unlike anything she’d ever known before enveloped her. That peace was accompanied—no, accentuated—by a definite feeling of power.

  He was powerful. Alone with a beautiful creature many times his size and strength, yet he was master through kindness and understanding. Even in the short time she’d been with him, it was obvious that he was a kind and generous master who saw to every need in those under his care.

  After several hours of hard work, she walked Hattie to cool her out and begrudgingly admitted she was also very much in his charge. Did she view him as her master also? No, Alexandria shook the ridiculous idea from her head. No man had ever mastered her before, and this one, no matter what kind of insane correlation her mind made, was not going to either. She urged Hattie into a faster walk. She was in charge. The same kind of power was hers, if only she didn’t forget her goal.

  “Let’s hit the trail before it gets too hot.” Jackson’s gruff voice broke the silence of the arena. Several times before, he had taken her out in the hills to “vary the training schedule and relax a little,” as he said. Alexandria was certain he meant it for the horses, but it was a wonderful diversion for her too.

  Sometimes they stretched out in a long trot to build stamina and wind, and sometimes, like today, they walked leisurely along trails that followed fence lines or creek beds. A new appreciation for golden, rolling California hills grew, the same way Alexandria had grown to appreciate sunrise. Moving along a narrow, tree-lined trail, a well-bred and beautifully trained horse under her, the sun warming her back, and the sound of nature all around made her feel harmonious and whole.

  “Do you ever think about all the thousands of creatures that have traveled over these hills?” she asked as they followed a narrow cattle trail to an old creek bed.

  “Nope. I pretty much stick to right now,” he answered, slowing his impatient horse as it started up a small incline. “Is that what you’ve been doing instead of talking like usual?”

  Alexandria bristled, saw his “gotcha” smile, then fell back into her newfound state of well-being. “I suppose so. You know there were grizzly bears, elk, and all sorts of flora and fauna here, say, when the Spanish came, and way before that. Feels right to be on horseback, walking along the same paths they used, hearing the same sounds, feeling the heat of the same sun.”

  “Feeling right is inside you, not around you,” he said, holding back so she could cross the creek first. As she rode by, he caught the faint aroma of her perfume mixed with the familiar smell of a horse and saddle leather. Maybe it was the idea of that which was old and familiar melded with something new, rich, and exciting, but Jackson sensed he was riding into uncharted territory.

  Some things about her reeked of a hard keeper, like the expensive perfume, the intricate little gold chain around her neck, and the expensive new boots she wore. But then, looking at her, the blonde braid swinging lazily across her shoulders as her horse climbed the bank, or thinking of the way she petted her horse every time it did well, made him think she was as ordinary as he was.

  Alexandria’s life centered on making things happen. It was what she did and she was comfortable with that, but Jackson realized her sudden connection to things inside and outside herself both intrigued and scared her.

  “Inside me,” she said, deep in thought, drawing his attention back to their conversation. “I suppose that’s true, but I think it’s a safe bet to say that you wouldn’t feel right in Manhattan, walking shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of people, smelling New York and not honeysuckle.”

  “Honeysuckle?” he said, still watching her hair. “Where?”

  She reined in and pointed to a tree on the creek bank. “There. See the vine tangled in the limbs? That’s honeysuckle, and that’s the sweet smell you catch on the breeze every so often.”

  “Well, I’ll be darned.” He rode to the tree and reached to gather a couple of the tiny ivory horn-shaped blossoms. Turning to her, he sniffed. “They smell a lot like you,” he said before thinking, his voice softening.

  “One of my favorite fragrances,” she said, feeling a bit desperate to be strong. What resulted was more spunk than necessary as she jumped the mare up beside him. “My mother had honeysuckle in the backyard. Daddy said she planted it just before she left us.”

  “And how old were you?”

  “Ten. Daddy married three more times before I was eighteen, but I could always find my mother when I went into her garden. Until wife number three tore up the green garden and replaced it with little rocks and sand in an oriental design.”

  Jackson plucked a stem with several blossoms, hesitated, then held it out to Alexandria. She knew he was offering, but what scared her was she wasn’t sure what he was offering. When her fingertips brushed his hand, the look in his eyes, the slight delay before he released the twig, all struck her with a feeling that something more than honeysuckle was passing between them.

  She brought the small flowers to her nose and closed her eyes, the fragrance taking her home, taking her to a time when she was alone and desperate for love.

  When she opened her eyes, he was watching. He was so quiet, so confident that for the first time in her life, Alexandria was totally unnerved by a man’s gaze. Things fluttered somewhere deep in her belly that shouldn’t have, and she forced herself to breathe.

  He was getting inside her, just as surely as the morning mist and the warm sunshine were. It frightened her in a way that no corporate raider, no tax audit, and no man had ever done before. She tried to look away before he saw through her and realized her weakness, but couldn’t.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No,” she answered much too quickly. It was a lie. It sounded good, but Alexandria knew a little bit of her was too aware of how the handsome, sexy cowboy smiled, and was much too impressed with his g
entle touch.

  She had to be very careful, she reminded herself. She couldn’t afford to lose focus now.

  “We’d better keep moving. I want to work on turns after lunch.” Her hands shook as she picked up and moved her horse away from Jackson, down the road.

  “You’re taking over as boss man?” he called out after her.

  She turned and propped one hand on the horse’s fat rump. “We’ve stopped to smell the daisies. Now don’t you think it’s time to get back to work?”

  “Well, I thought you’d forgotten my number.” Paul was in one of those petulant moods that Alexandria hated so.

  “I’ve been busy learning from a slave driver of a teacher. The only thing I haven’t had to do is muck out stalls, and I wouldn’t put it past him to—”

  “I don’t want a minute-by-minute account. Are you going to be ready by the end of the month as planned?”

  “Yes, I’ll be ready,” she answered, impatience coloring her tone, “but I do think you might be a little more understanding of what I’m going through. You are clean and comfortable every day in an air-conditioned office with cold drinks and hors d’oeuvres.” She fluffed the bed pillow and then punched it, relieving only a paltry amount of tension before lying back. “I will be ready. Have you received any more information on COMJET?”

  “Not really. We have the same commitments predicated upon delivery. I tried to call you several times, but you were naughty and didn’t have your phone on, Alexandria. How am I supposed to keep you informed?”

  “Paul. I have my hands full with this cowboy trainer. If you want to trade places, just let me know.”

  “Ugh. No. I don’t think I could handle, literally or mentally, horse manure. You’re doing fine, and I imagine you’ll have buns of steel when I see you next.”

  His personal reference to her anatomy didn’t set well, but Alexandria chose to ignore it. “You just keep your end up, and as usual, I will handle the dirty work. But listen, I almost forgot that I have good news. Jackson knows Covington, which isn’t so surprising considering they’re both world-class cutters. I don’t want anyone getting suspicious of me being here, since I’ve come from nowhere, and cutters are a tightly knit group like a family. Do what you can to drop my name in the right places so Covington won’t suspect me.”

  “Will do. How do you plan to arrange an introduction?”

  “As I said, Jackson knows him. He’ll be my intro, and since we’re beginning to travel, I think it’ll only be a matter of time until we run into our golden goose.”

  “We don’t have a lot of time, Alexandria,” he warned in a father-to-child tone.

  “I understand that. I’m moving as fast as I can.”

  “Oh yes, well, kiss, kiss,” he sighed. “Got to go, I have another call. Talk to you soon.”

  He broke the connection and Alexandria reclined in Jackson’s bed. She sensed victory, and normally nothing interfered with the smell of success, but this time, her mind wandered. She saw Jackson’s soft brown eyes as he handed her the honeysuckle twig and heard his gravelly voice calling for collection and extension. Setting the cell phone on the nightstand, she pulled the covers up and slid down between the sheets. The smell of him lingered all around her. She sat up, punched the pillow again, and threw herself back down.

  It had been a mistake to take his bed. Even when she didn’t want him, he was here, all around her. From his clothes in the closet to his Western art on the walls to his good felt hats hung carefully by the door, there was no way to escape him.

  From the beginning, being around him had encouraged all the wrong things. He smoothed the edge she needed to be sharp and strong and dulled her competitive senses. Although whatever Jackson Morgan gave to her felt good, she told herself it was only temporary, a moment that, like those pleasant rides, would be gone in a month when she returned to the real world. A dog-eat-dog world where she couldn’t afford to let her guard down.

  It was as simple as he was; the man was dangerous to her well-being and she knew it. She also knew she had no choice but to stick it out until she had what she needed. She was going to have to “cowboy up,” as Jackson said again and again, and overcome this childish infatuation with a dreamy modern day warrior.

  The next morning, Alexandria woke fresh, determined to deal with Jackson from a new perspective. Her goal was COMJET. Jackson Morgan was an attractive means to get to Covington, but nothing more than that. The next step toward her goal was the winning of a shipping business.

  It was obvious that Jackson knew something was different just by the way he acted when she walked into the kitchen after feeding. She went directly to the coffeepot, poured herself a cup, then sat down and waited as if she were ready to be served.

  He cocked one brow as he stirred the scrambled eggs. “No problems feeding?”

  “Of course not.” She sipped from the steaming cup, ignoring his attempts to draw her into conversation. “It’s not a difficult job. What are we going to work on today?”

  “From the sound of it, we need to challenge you a little, Miss Payne.”

  “Please, I think it’s time you called me Alexandria.”

  Jackson set out a plate of eggs and toast before he sat down. “All right…Alexandria.” He mimicked her perfectly polite, perfectly proper tone, which from him sounded haughty, and her resolve wavered for a fraction of a second. He started eating and she followed suit. Together they ate in silence; “pass the salt and pepper” was as far as conversation went, and each was more than anxious to finish and escape the confinements of the kitchen.

  “Well.” He pushed away from the table and stood slowly after a stiff, much too formal breakfast. “I’m going to go start saddling up. Come on down when you’ve cleaned up the kitchen and we’ll get started.”

  Hiding behind her coffee cup, Alexandria watched him leave. Affirming her goals and focusing on the critical issues didn’t lend that usual feeling of satisfaction, especially when Jackson left her alone. She knew he was confused by her sudden return to her business-as-usual mode, and to be honest, she was a bit confused herself at why it didn’t make her feel more confident.

  Why was it important to her that he not walk out shaking his head? Manipulation was a familiar part of everything she did. That was why she was so successful. But the longer she was with Jackson, the more out of control she felt. Her courage was like water swirling down the drain, hard to hold on to and even harder to gauge.

  Closing her mind to the possibility that her courage was failing, she rose from the table, gathered and washed the dishes, and left the kitchen. She’d wasted enough time thinking that Jackson would surely wonder where she was. Back in her room, she purposely took her time brushing her teeth. Then, a short, quick call to Paul on the way to the barn confirmed her priorities, and within steps, she congratulated herself on being able to handle Paul, business, and Jackson Morgan.

  When she finally appeared at the barn, she found him in back, brushing a black horse that was obviously past its prime. His muzzle was sprinkled with gray and his back was gently swayed. Jackson heard her and turned, his nod inviting her closer.

  “This is Joker, the old man of the ranch.”

  “Exactly how old is he?” she asked, caressing his sunken brow.

  “At least twenty-eight, but”—he held his hand over the gelding’s ears—“don’t tell him that. He still thinks he’s a colt.”

  Alexandria ran her hand along the silken neck and over the long mane. “You don’t show him, do you?”

  “No.” There was love in Jackson’s tone and in his touch. “He was my first horse. The first time I did really well in a class, this horse did it for me, and he took me to a Junior National Championship. He’s retired now and he’ll be here until he dies.”

  Alexandria was a bit surprised to find such compassion in a man whose tools of the trade were horses. The strength of a bond, simple trust between man and horse, suddenly hit her and she was both touched and envious as the old horse nuzzled
Jackson for more attention.

  Joker’s reward was Jackson’s gentle rubbing of one ear, then the other. “Well, Joker will keep me here all day, but we have things to do. Let’s get going before the heat hits. I hear it’s going to be one hundred and five today.”

  She groaned, knowing full well that heat, even over a hundred, made no difference in the way Jackson Morgan drove himself and her. In minutes, they both started out a long day with a warm-up routine that was normally no problem. Today, however, Alexandria was having trouble being part of the team.

  She didn’t seem to be able to sense what the horse needed, and Jackson wasn’t sure if it was because she wasn’t trying or because she wasn’t concentrating. The end result was a series of rough, on-the-front-end stops, sloppy turns, and egg-shaped circles that were driving him crazy.

  “All right.” He finally gave up. “Why don’t you take a break and come turn back for me? I need to work on that new palomino mare.”

  Alexandria had seen the mare when she was delivered the day before. Gorgeous, shiny like a copper penny, the horse belonged to a new client and was very green. Alexandria watched Jackson move slowly into the herd, making a shallow cut on one of the cows in the front, and then allowing the rest, one by one, to escape back to the herd until the one he’d selected to work was left. Then he’d stop and settle the mare, giving her a chance to be quiet and relaxed.

  As he worked, he detailed to Alexandria what he was doing, what the horse wanted to do, and what he needed the horse to do. “Being young and new at this, she’s in a hurry. She wants to charge the cow, go too fast, so I have to keep her a little farther from the herd and teach her to stay back and go slower. People are sometimes like that too.” He flashed a smile meant for her after the comment, but never took his eye off the cow or his attention away from the mare he rode.