Practice was almost over when Trisha came to Jackson and Alexandria as they sat to the side on their horses.
“I need turn back help, Alexandria,” she said as she smiled at Jackson and ran her fingers through her pixie hair. “Feel up to it?”
Jackson knew Trisha was trouble and was about to reply when Alexandria answered instead. “Sure.” Picking up her reins, Alexandria eased Hattie out.
Behind her Jackson’s soft growl echoed. “Take your time, you’ll have no problem.”
When she had Hattie settled in the corner spot, Alexandria did just as Jackson taught her. She concentrated on the cow as if she were working it and when it came close, she merely stood her ground to send it back to Trisha. Almost all the way through Trisha’s two-minute run, the cow stalled in front of Hattie and then faked a turn to the left and blasted right past her.
“You did that on purpose,” Trisha wailed. “I had a good go working and you let my cow out.”
Alexandria was momentarily at a loss for words. She’d been doing everything by the book and suddenly, faster than she’d ever thought possible, the cow was gone and everything was out of control. But it had never occurred to her to do it on purpose.
“That’s the last time you’ll ever turn back for me. Jackson said you were green, and I used you as a favor to him, but”—she shook her head sorrowfully as she rode off—“that was the last time.”
Alexandria watched the dark-haired woman ride to Jackson, who appeared to commiserate. She’d had enough. She turned Hattie toward the trailer where she unsaddled, brushed, and threw a stable sheet on the mare before Jackson finally came.
“Well, what did you think?” he said, as if Trisha hadn’t just cried all over his very willing, very strong, and capable shoulder.
“About the practice or about your friend Trisha?” she answered testily.
“The practice, of course; that was the idea in coming here. You did great except for that one cow. Do you know what happened?” he said more evenly than she thought he would.
“I lost the cow. It was a pretty straightforward mistake on my part.”
“Probably. But if you had known the stock better and you had more experience reading cows, you would have expected it. That particular one will do that every time the cutter lets up a little and gives it room, and you could see by her head and watching her eye what she was up to. You have to stick tight to it when you’re there. Some people will be pretty honest and tell you about the cows if you ask, but if you can’t find out anything, then you have to really keep an eye out for trouble.”
She led Hattie into the trailer and tied her. On her way out, she stopped, facing Jackson as he was about to load his horse. “You mean she knew that cow was going to fake it and then get away from me?”
He smiled. “Guaranteed, once you got a little loose in the corner.”
“And Trisha could have prevented it?”
He moved past her and tied the horse. “Maybe. You can’t always tell, but she’s good enough—”
“I see,” Alexandria said flatly, recognizing a setup when she saw it. Now, angry with herself for falling into a trap, she left abruptly to get the third and fourth horses. When she returned and handed one lead rope to Jackson, he had a mischievous little grin on his face. She knit her brows and challenged him. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”
“Nope. None of my business.” He tied the horse and reached for the last lead. “I learned long ago to stay out of the way when ladies have a thing going.”
Alexandria crossed her arms and stood by the trailer door. She felt like a child in the midst of a tiff, but as sure as she knew what a hot quit was, Trisha was the one who had fired first. The thing to do was ignore her, not dignify the dirty trick with a response, but for some reason the idea was harder to digest than rubber boots.
She watched Jackson, who acted as if he’d seen or heard nothing all evening. He stepped out of the trailer and latched the door on the horses. He was calm, cool, and definitely enjoying her situation, which tweaked her patience just a little more.
Like the get-away cow, her perfectly controlled and ordered life had suddenly gotten away from her. And the reason was standing in front of her.
Like a handsome shadow, he moved in the moonless night toward the driver’s door, while Alexandria, irritated with herself, wondered exactly when she’d swapped her trademark calm, cool perspective with Jackson Morgan for that of a clinging woman. So many things were going through her head right now, not the least of which was the fact that she was engaged. More of a business relationship, but at the moment, Alexandria felt guilty for hiding what she originally deemed personal and none of Jackson’s business.
Not yet desperate, but certainly off balance, she wandered toward him and the truck. “Alexandria,” she heard him say. “Check the tack room door and make sure it’s closed.”
Might as well be hired help, she thought as she doubled back. Unconsciously, she twisted the handle to check it, while consciously she checked a nasty impulse to fire back a reply. She then continued to the passenger side of the truck where she got in and slammed the door. If Trisha Wolcott wanted him, she could have him. It was none of her business, and from now on, she was going to treat Trisha just like any other person in the world.
They got home a few minutes before eleven, and it was midnight by the time they had all four horses put up. Both she and Jackson were tired. They fell into bed, and even though a wall separated them, each slept as one, tossing and turning, a powerful yearning destroying all hope of restful slumber.
When the alarm went off at four a.m. on Saturday, Jackson slapped at the clock to shut it off and groaned. The lumpy couch was getting harder and harder to ignore as was the way he felt about his only pupil. He rose and knocked on her door, reminding her they were going to a show in Reno and had to be loaded and gone by five a.m. Both moved automatically and both were too tired to trade shots or parry on any level. Business was the word of the day.
Jackson placed well in several classes while she redeemed herself riding turn back. At the end of a long day, Alexandria was exhausted and much too tired to do anything but what she was told. She dragged herself to bed thinking she’d be glad to get back to the gym where the exercise level was normal.
Sunday, Alexandria slept in and Jackson went alone to see a client in the gold rush town of Auburn. Jackson had trained several horses for the man and his young daughter and now was going to give his opinion on a yearling filly. Monday he had business in Sacramento and left Alexandria with a list of things to practice and do. The next day he was back, and they returned to a rigorous schedule: riding most of the day, studying videos, and reading the rule book to fill any spare moments.
Alexandria was a demanding student, eager to learn and forever asking questions. Keeping her busy both mentally and physically was a challenge Jackson handled better than the challenge of finding the appropriate place for her in his mind. The more tuned she became as a rider, the more tuned he was to her body and the seductive way she had of drawing the best from every horse he put her on, despite her being a green rider. The more savvy she became about cutting horses, the more he realized she had the kind of talent that few riders ever dream of, much less achieve. She was a smart and complicated woman, and it began to weigh heavily upon him that there were a lot of unanswered questions where Alexandria Payne was concerned.
Late in the afternoon on Wednesday, Jackson was riding turn back for her. Slowly the realization came to him that she was working on two different things: one on horseback, riding a belligerent roan mare, and the second, treating him as if he was nothing more than hired help.
She finished with as nice a ride as he’d seen on the lazy mare; he was delighted with her progress and achievement but was having a hard time finding something nice to say when his own frustration level was high and rising. It had been a long day so far, and his patience with himself was wearing thin. The thirty-day time limit was beginning to torment him. P
rofessionally, he saw so much potential in her that needed more time to grow. Personally, he’d made little or no progress with Alexandria, the beautiful, intriguing woman of mystery.
She’d made sure there were no chances for a second kiss, no matter how much Jackson would have liked it. He had to admire her ability to immerse herself totally in the business of learning, but she purposely left no room for anything else, especially him, and it was driving him crazy.
He chose his words carefully. “Something must have clicked for you in the last day or two, Alexandria. That last go was smooth as silk and twice as clean.”
“Thanks,” she said, a broad smile relating her satisfaction as she dismounted and patted the horse’s neck. “It feels better too. I’m reading the cow better, and I can get in position before it’s too late.”
“Alexandria,” Jackson began, stepping closer, hoping he might chip away at the barrier she’d put between them.
“Yes?” She looked directly at him, as if he were nothing more than a stranger on the street.
He stepped back. “Nothing.” He was like a schoolboy trying to ask for his first date. “Nothing, except I think you’re ready to cut at Rancho Murieta this weekend. You’ll get a taste of real competition. What do you think?”
Alexandria watched him for a moment. Her first thought should have been that Covington might be there. But the fact that what he’d said was not what he originally intended had been written all over his face. It hurt just a little bit that he hid his real thoughts from her, and his eyes held a twinge of pain that hurt even more because she knew she was the source.
“What?” she said when she realized Jackson was staring at her.
He took the reins from her, turned his back, and began to loosen the cinch. “After all this work, I’da thought you’d be a little more excited about some real honest-to-goodness competition. I swear, Alex, I can’t figure you out. You run hot and cold like a thunder shower in summer.”
He mounted the roan and walked the horse toward the stalls; she knew it was his way of closing the conversation. He was shutting her out. Well, wasn’t that what she wanted? Wasn’t that what she needed in order to focus on Covington and the COMJET deal?
“Wait a minute,” she said, more commanding than she intended. Then her voice softened when she realized what he’d said. “What did you call me?”
“Alex,” he called out, his back still to her. “I’m getting tired of dealing with Alexandria.”
“What do you mean by that?” she said, jogging to catch up.
Jackson stopped. He eyed her carefully as she walked in front and faced him. “I’m tired of saying Alexandria. I want something shorter, something…less formal.”
He sighed, and instantly she sensed his frustration.
“Come on. Allow me this one shortcut. City slicker Alexandria wouldn’t be standing here, with sweat about to drip from her temples, with dirt on her face and her hair trying to escape that awful braid.” And needing to be kissed.
She stared long and hard. Again, it wasn’t the whole truth and she knew it. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and gazed at her scuffed, dirty boots. “All right.” She slowly looked up and found his soft brown eyes fixed upon her. She laughed, a flirtatious sparkle in her eye. “You’re right. This is Alex.” She held her arms wide for inspection.
Jackson was relieved. She saw his shoulders relax and his tense expression faded.
“I like Alex.” The soft timbre of his voice sent her pulse racing, and suddenly Covington was nowhere in her thoughts. It wasn’t hard to imagine herself in Jackson’s strong arms, and it was even easier to imagine how good his lips would feel…everywhere.
“So do I,” she whispered, afraid to admit how much she wanted to be Alex for him. Looking up at him on horseback made her feel small, feminine, and very awkward. Her heart was beating in her throat and she swallowed hard. “And I’d love…to go to Rancho Murieta and cut.” With you.
“Well, all right,” Jackson said. “We’ll celebrate your debut tonight. Go ahead and clean up, and I’ll take care of chores.”
He rode away, leaving Alex alone with Alexandria. Jackson Morgan was not candles, champagne, and roses. He was hard work and success earned by courage and determination. It was the little things that counted with him. She backed toward the mobile home on top of the knoll, unwilling to lose sight of him until the last minute when he disappeared into the dark recesses of the barn. Could she be Alex for him, or was it truly a summer infatuation with a cowboy, an obsession with a fantasy hero who rode like a king and kissed like a man on fire?
As she showered she warred with herself. It was such a small thing, the name, but when he said it, suddenly things were different. She knew she was the same person she’d always been, but she now felt like a book with a new chapter—a chapter on feeling, on being alive. Jackson was the author of Alex. She suspected he was waiting for her to do something. The unnerving thing was she had no idea what it was. Learning from him was so much easier than being with him. When it came to goals, she was a master, but when it came to feelings, she was not so adept.
It was important to her that whatever she did now be simple and honest; Jackson wouldn’t appreciate anything else. Suddenly an idea came to her. She dressed quickly, scribbled a note about running to town, and was off.
Driving along the rutted road, she was pleased with herself and excited about her plan. In the small town of Ione, she purchased a half-gallon of ice cream, bananas, hot fudge topping, and whipped cream. Even someone as inept in the kitchen as she was could surely put together a tempting fudge sundae.
Driving back, Alexandria rolled the windows down and took the rubber band from her hair. Alex didn’t care if her hair was unruly and messed up. Alex needed to feel free and alive. Alex relished the feel of the wind on her cheeks and rush to her soul. The world smelled like oak trees and golden grass. She was farther from the city than she’d ever been.
There was still a half hour of daylight left when she pulled into the drive that led to the mobile home on the hill. Even from a distance she could see a car parked in front of the house. As she rolled closer, she saw it was a sleek black BMW.
Alexandria parked next to the car, gathered her bags, and stepped out. The euphoria of the windy ride vanished, and she cautiously walked across the porch to the open door of the mobile home.
“Of course.” Paul’s voice was perfect and clear through the screen. “Alexandria is very much her own woman. When she sets her mind on a goal, there’s nothing that will stop her, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
Alexandria noticed only that there was no answer.
“She was voted American Business Woman of the Year twice in the last five years, and…”
Alexandria pushed through the front door and found Paul chatting amiably with Jackson. Paul was sitting tall with a glass of iced tea, suave as ever, impeccably dressed. Jackson reclined in his chair, jeans still dusty and boots scuffed and worn, a look of polite boredom fixed across his face.
On seeing her, Paul rose. “Darling.” He smiled, but Alexandria couldn’t help but notice that his smile didn’t reach his eyes as Jackson’s always did. He approached and kissed her, his lips dry and stiff on hers, then he curled one arm over her shoulders possessively. “I’ve missed her so very much.”
Alexandria couldn’t take her eyes off Jackson, who remained seated, watching her. “I see you’ve met Paul. He’s—”
“He’s told me all about himself, and you,” Jackson said dryly. “Now that you’re here,” he said as he stood, “I have things left to do at the barn.”
Jackson grabbed his hat from the rack by the door and left. The sound of the screen door slapping echoed in her mind and she slid from under Paul’s arm. Alexandria went to the kitchen to put away the ice cream. He stood silent, but watched her. She finally turned to face him.
“Have I come at an inopportune time?” he said more prissily than normal as he dusted off the bar stool and seated himself.
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“No.” She poured herself a glass of tea, then returned the pitcher to the refrigerator. “The way you’re looking at me, I get the feeling that you’re checking up and I don’t appreciate it.”
“I just sensed from your phone calls that you might need some cheering. Of course this last week, I heard from you only three times…you can’t possibly blame me for worrying about you.”
She sipped slowly, taking her time to reply. “It’s not like you, Paul.”
“And it’s not like you to forget where you’re going, to lose your direction.”
“And who says I have?” She shot a punitive glance at him. “I’ve always handled things on my own, in my own way. You never complained before.” She sipped again, daring him to answer.
He stood and set his glass down. “All I’m saying is that the COMJET pieces are falling into place and I wanted to see if I could help.” He wandered close and balanced her chin on his forefinger. “We are a team, Alexandria.”
Her name sounded like a curse on his lips, and she felt the need to pull back, but didn’t. She stared into his frivolously blue eyes, noting for the first time their lack of compassion. “Yes, we are a team.” She turned away to compose herself, then spun back. “We are a devastatingly effective business team, but you have to trust me, Paul. I haven’t lost a bit of my direction any more than you have. I am on a mission for APM, and I never fail.”
“What a relief to hear that,” he said in a monotone. “How about I take you to dinner? There’s a quaint little inn at Sloughhouse that has a good reputation in this area. We can discuss what’s been going on since you’ve been gone.”
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