Jackson wanted to punch something, but instead he chose to vent his frustrations while riding. All his life, he’d been able to find a kind of nirvana in the saddle, but tonight, as dusk fell across the golden hills, all he could think of was what a fool he’d been.
Riding in circles only reminded him of how she’d had him wrapped around her little finger, of how he’d turned somersaults to find the key to her, or how much he’d really wanted her to be his. Of all the women he’d ever known, Alex was the first one he couldn’t brush off. There had been others with whom he’d spent time, but none who had bridled his soul and reined in his heart like she did.
Jackson heard the BMW leave, and like a spirited horse that searches for freedom, he finally gave up the confines of arena work and headed for the hills. The moon was just big enough to cast an eerie shadow over the countryside, and the massive oaks looked to be gargoyles across the rolling landscape. By now the hot summer air was beginning to give way to the cooler night breeze. After living in a heated rush for two weeks, the evening cool was welcome, and it matched the dull, cold feeling in his soul.
She had been using him. It was his own fault too. She had sent him signal after signal that it wasn’t going to work, but he, the optimist, had ignored them all. He had been a fool.
The horse stepped out lightly on the trail and Jackson wished he could disappear into the night. The deal he’d made with Alexandria had two weeks more or less to go, and he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to deal with her. It had occurred to him to cancel the deal, but he wasn’t a man to give his word lightly. If he lost everything, he still had his honor.
Perhaps it was something Alexandria Payne had overlooked in her strange determination to learn to cut, but nevertheless, it was an ideal he chose to live by; it made it impossible to turn tail and run from her.
He supposed the best thing was to approach it as he would the training of any horse. Stick to business. He’d done it often enough with women like Trisha; he could do it with Alex.
Having reached some conclusion, even though it was not the ideal one, he finally allowed the horse to head for home. When he rode into the barnyard, he noted the lights were off in the house except for the dim glow of the lamp in the living room. Since tomorrow was going to be a full day, Alex probably had gone to bed already and that was good.
He had no desire to see her tonight.
He set about unsaddling and putting up the horse, but just as he closed the stall door, he heard the crunch of tires on the gravel in the driveway. Several seconds later, a car door closed and he heard the engine purr as it drove away.
Jackson hung the halter on the rack and flipped the light switch. Darkness enveloped him until his eyes grew accustomed to the night. As he walked toward the house, he thought about her safe in his bed, not with Paul.
He opened the screen door and walked into the muted light of the living room. She was sitting at the kitchen bar and when he entered, she stood.
“I need to talk to you,” she said, her voice soft, so unlike her.
“Tomorrow.”
“Not tomorrow. There are things I need to straighten out now, before I lose my nerve.”
Jackson drew in a deep breath and went to the kitchen. He jerked the refrigerator door open and took the tea pitcher from it. Alexandria’s full glass was on the bar before her. He glanced at it, got a glass for himself, and poured.
“Go ahead. But I’m tired, and remember we both have to get up early.”
She sat back down at the bar, hoping he’d sit too, but he continued to stand over her. “I know you don’t like me much right now, but I need to be direct with you.” She stood and turned away, unable to watch him as she told him about Paul. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve always regarded power as security. Everything I’ve ever done was to make more money, to get more power, to be more secure. Paul is the same way, and for years we’ve worked together and understood each other perfectly. We have built a corporate business that has hardly a rival in the free world, and I’ve sunk everything I am into being APM Corporation. It always seemed a natural extension of our business relationship to marry, but, Jackson, I don’t—”
“Look,” his gravelly whisper interrupted. “You don’t have to explain your engagement. You were perfectly clear about what you wanted from me.”
She faced him. “You don’t understand. Alexandria’s found that Alex doesn’t need APM or anything else to feel secure.”
“Hey, careful, don’t go out on a limb. Tomorrow you might regret it and want to change every word.”
Guilt struck her like a sword through the heart. All the times she’d been drawn to him only to rebuff him the next moment had been so unfair. He stepped forward and she knew he wanted to touch her, but wouldn’t.
“I know Paul’s the reason you kept your distance, but tell me one thing, Alex.” His voice hardened into a growl. “If you’re in love with him, then why was that one kiss so good?”
She didn’t know what to tell him.
“From the dead silence, I’d guess it was because it was all an act.”
“No, you’re wrong.”
“I fell for it too.”
“No,” she protested weakly, shaking her head. “It was real.”
“Save it,” he held his hand up. “I’ll know next time.”
“Jackson, please,” she touched his elbow.
He set her hand aside quickly but quietly. “Alexandria. Don’t worry. I understand. We’ll finish out the month and then we’ll follow separate trails. I’m not mad, I just feel more foolish than I want to. You were right. You’re not available. You’re paying me for a service, and I was the one who overstepped the line.”
“Jackson, please—”
“Relax. Now I understand.”
CHAPTER 5
Alexandria wished she understood. OK. She hadn’t told him she was engaged to Paul—she hadn’t told him about Paul at all. But lying in bed every night, she hadn’t seen that it was any of Jackson’s business, especially since he seemed to pride himself on staying out of other people’s affairs. Why couldn’t he practice what he preached, she thought angrily as she rolled to her side.
Smashing her eyes closed, Alexandria still couldn’t hide from the truth that she did feel guilty, like a puppy with a chewed slipper in its mouth, and she hated it. She wanted to go to sleep and start all over in the morning. Fat chance, she thought, rolling to the other side. She’d tried, without success, to sleep him into oblivion before, and the more she thought about the anger and the hurt in those damnable brown eyes of his, the more certain she was that the problem was going to be bigger and more real at dawn.
She heard him once during the night when he got up to get a drink from the kitchen and toyed with the idea of going out and trying to talk. When she heard him return to his office and to bed, a wave of revulsion for her own cowardice swept over her. She lay half sleeping, half awake the rest of the long night.
Finally, just before dawn, she heard him moving around. It was earlier than usual, but Jackson was up and fiddling in the kitchen. Alexandria dreaded facing him. As she dressed, she realized that somewhere, sometime in the short two weeks, it had become important that Jackson not think the worst of her. She stopped short with the doorknob in hand.
The one thing she knew for sure was that he was enough of a gentleman to ensure he would be polite, and having dealt in the business world, she supposed she could handle that. But what she feared more than she thought possible was losing the warmth she’d come to expect from her cowboy mentor. Since the first day he’d smiled, laughed, and had an easygoing kind of confidence. If he wasn’t the same Jackson, if he was cold and distant—if he treated her the way she deserved—she wasn’t sure she could stand it.
The knob grew hot in her hand. She forced a deep breath and prayed for courage. Stepping out, she looked toward the kitchen. His back was to her and she froze. He looked exactly like the Jackson she’d grown to—
To what? To
depend on? To admire? To love?
No. She huffed a half-hearted laugh at herself. Imagine the Queen of Corporate America being in love with a cowboy. There was as little sense in that as there was in her being able to live in a mobile home for the rest of her life. It just wasn’t realistic—or possible.
As if he sensed her presence, he slowly turned.
“You’re up early. Ready for juice?” he said as if this were any other morning. “I’ve got an omelet in the making, but you can start on juice.”
Alexandria stepped gingerly into the kitchen.
“Short practice today. I want to load things and make sure we’ve got everything for Rancho Murieta. You’ll have to work Hattie, but I don’t want you to cut, just leg her up and then maybe take her out. She’ll be fresher for you if she hasn’t worked a cow the day before.” He waved a chef’s knife as he talked. “She’ll really want to work a cow after a day off.”
“Jackson,” she began, unable to deal with his cheery tone.
“Here.” He tossed her a loaf of bread. “Toast a couple of slices.”
She caught the plastic-wrapped loaf the same time she caught his gaze. For the longest time, neither said a word. He’d tossed a challenge her way—go back to the way it was, or fight. Alexandria wanted very much to go back to working together, to being warmed by his smile, and to enjoying his company.
She stuck two slices in the toaster. “Margarine in the refrigerator?” Alexandria Payne just backed down from a fight.
He reached for the tub of margarine near the cutting board and held it out to her.
She reached for it, but he held on to it.
“You look like hell.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. You look like hell.” He released the tub and turned his attention to the heated skillet. “If you’re going to do well tomorrow, you have to get more rest.”
Normally it was she who pushed people beyond their limits to exhaustion. This was payback.
The toaster popped its product, and Alexandria buttered intently, her thoughts on anything but breakfast. She put two more slices in and sat down just as Jackson set a steaming omelet in front of her. He smiled.
“Eat. We’ll get through the next two weeks if we both remember where we’re going. Neither one of us can afford to dwell on mistakes. Shake it off.”
Mistakes. His choice of words, but she knew better. “Jackson, I want to thank you…for making everything so easy, so comfortable.”
He laughed as he reached for the coffeepot. “If I was good at making things comfortable, like you say, I’d damn sure make that sofa in the office a little more comfortable.”
He poured her a cupful and caught her staring in bewilderment. “That was a joke.”
As soon as Jackson drove into the Rancho Murieta equine complex, Alexandria was struck with stage fright. Small practice events had been exciting, but this was the real thing, and suddenly time was running out. If she didn’t make it here, she wasn’t going to be ready for Covington. There was a lot at stake.
She had a lot to lose with Jackson too. Not only was she haunted by his kiss and by the final way he’d told her to forget it, that he understood, but there was more. Casual talk with other cutters confirmed the fact that he trained; he didn’t give lessons, private or otherwise, to anyone but her. The deal they’d finally negotiated for her use of his bedroom had, at the time, seemed a clear indication of his needing money, but turning down pupils didn’t make sense. Everyone knew and liked him, and everyone was watching her to find out what was so special; it forced a strange sense of responsibility upon her.
Alexandria fumbled with the cinch before she mounted up, then struggled to focus in the warm-up pen. It wasn’t at all like her, and frustration multiplied with each stride.
“Try giving her a little more rein,” Jackson said, observing her stiffness. “Don’t you see Hattie bobbing her head? She needs to be able to stretch out and loosen up.”
Jackson knew all he had to do was ride close, touch Alex’s shoulder, and she would relax. He also knew that was impossible. “Relax your hips and sit down. You’re as tense as a porcupine in a balloon factory.”
He saw her take a deep breath and settle into her seat, then toss a half-hearted smile his way. That small gesture warmed him, and suddenly he swore he felt her lips, cool, soft, and addictive. Deep in his belly, a hunger gnawed at his gut. His neck and shoulders were stiff and sore from sleeping on the couch in the office, and his mind was stiff and sore from yearning for the hot, sensual woman he’d kissed. Two weeks was a long time to go without touching her. Two weeks until she was gone.
He tipped his head and forced a smile for her.
“Jackson, darling.” Trisha galloped a flashy paint to his side and slid to a stop, completing a showy entrance. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You bad boy, I was expecting you at my party Saturday.”
He legged his horse away from her and walked out. “We were too tired to go out again.”
Trisha’s sweet expression was lost for an instant, replaced by a jealous pout, her luscious lips as impressive as ever. “You’ve just been spending all your free time with her. I don’t mind admitting I’m a little bit envious and”—she trotted up and rode beside him—“I want to know what kind of hold she’s got on you, Jackson Morgan.”
He smiled. If he could tell her what hold Alex had on him, then they would both know. It wasn’t as simple as that, and had he known when Hesperia called that he’d be in this predicament, he doubted he would have accepted—money or not. He looked to Trisha, who waited expectantly for his reply.
“She’s got nothing on me, Trisha. It was a case of being in the right place at the right time.”
“Jackson,” she tugged at his arm, halting them both. “Do you need money?”
“No,” he said quickly and rode on.
She caught up. “I’m serious. I have plenty of money, and I’m really sorry about the fine and the lawsuit. Do you need money for—”
“I told you, no. I paid it all and everything’s right.”
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. The only thing I have to worry about is whether or not you can beat my horse in the novice class.”
Trisha laughed. “Oh, Jackson, you’d better get a deep seat, because this little horse can spin on a dime.”
“Well, mine is faster than greased lighting, and I’d be willing to wager we’ll beat you by a point and a half or better,” he answered, grateful she’d followed him to another subject.
“You’re on,” she said as she picked up her reins and spurred the paint into a lope. “I’ll be around to collect my winnings.”
Jackson saw Trisha skid to a stop next to Ray Mueller, a trainer from down south. Although she didn’t greet him with a kiss, he knew Ray was hearing the same flirtatious lines and suffering the same bold attack. The difference was he knew Ray was probably lapping it up. For a moment he wished he could shine it on too. He wished he was the kind of person who could ride from face to face and deliver flirtatious lines the whole way. But he’d never been that kind of person and he’d never put much stock in bragging. If he was on top, and he was, it was due to hard work and skill; he wouldn’t trade that for all the fluff in the world.
Urging the palomino mare into a lope, Jackson kept an eye out for Alex. She must have forgotten something at the trailer, since she was nowhere to be seen. By the time she returned, he was warmed up and waiting for his turn in the novice class. She was still nervous. He wanted to go talk her into confidence and relaxation, but that would have to wait since Trisha was up and he was riding turn back.
Trisha rode well, but she never would have the kind of competence it took to let the horse free up and work the cow. She scored a seventy-two, but the paint should have scored higher. Jackson came out of the pen, positive his palomino could do better. Minutes later, as he entered for his turn, the familiar thrill shot through him just like it did every time he began t
o compete. The palomino was born and bred to cut and she knew it was her turn to shine. Ears pointed, every step showed her desire to work a cow. The first time he entered the herd, she was a little too eager, but he settled deep in the saddle and calmed her with one hand on her neck.
Three cows stayed to the outside when Jackson picked the one he wanted, and the mare made the sort as smoothly and calmly as a seasoned competitor. The red cow eyed the horse and rider and moved hesitantly to the right, then darted to the left. The palomino waited for a commitment and then reacted flawlessly to it, following perfectly, sticking to its hip.
The cow started getting a little wild-eyed and Jackson pulled up easily; he went to the herd in search of a better one.
Alexandria sat ringside, mesmerized by Jackson’s competence on the green palomino. She’d seen him work the horse from day one and was impressed. The second cow he picked to work was a black white face that tried to squeeze past the corner turn back. As she guessed he would do, Jackson made a few good cuts and then let the cow return to the herd.
Midway through his third cow, the whistle blew and Jackson pulled up, dropping the reins as he exited amid the applause of the crowd. The announcer reported Jackson’s score, a seventy-six. He dismounted and loosened the cinch while a tall, lean man approached him from behind. His back was to Alexandria, but she was pretty sure she hadn’t seen him before.
The man wore a crisp white shirt and a silver-belly hat. He tapped Jackson on the shoulder. When Jackson turned, a wide, eager smile broke out all over his face, and he grasped the older man’s arm, pulling him into an enthusiastic hug.
“Alex,” Jackson called out. “Come here. I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”
Before Jackson had finished the invitation, the older man turned. Alexandria’s pulse quickened when she saw James Covington, as big as all of Texas and smiling twice as boldly. Moving between several horses, Alexandria closed in on her target. She almost felt faint. Things were falling into place perfectly.
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