“My roommate from college, Marissa Hartley, is the composer. She directs The Chamber Music Ensemble from the University of Miami, and they recorded it. The music was written especially for Rocky. First I choreographed the ride, we made a DVD, and then Marissa wrote the music. The tempo and beat match his gaits exactly.”
“How do you do that?”
“We counted the beats per minute in each gait with a stop watch. Just as you and your friend may not normally walk at the same speed, horses walk, trot, and canter at different speeds—so the music that fits one may not be good for another.” She smiled. “Sometimes people try to time and use existing pieces of music, but it’s hard to blend them. It’s very difficult to find one piece of music that combines all of the rhythms and tempos necessary for the different gaits and movements. If you splice different pieces of music together, you have to be careful not to cut off in the middle of a musical phrase, like ‘Mary had a little lamb.’ You couldn’t stop at ‘Mary had a,’ even if you were changing from walk to canter at that point. Of course, I made do with existing music for years, but when Marissa offered to compose specifically for Rocky, I was thrilled. When the music is right, his hooves hit the ground on every beat—it’s like riding the drums in the band.”
“It’s obvious that there’s more to all this than meets the eye.”
“Still think it’s prissy?” she asked with a saucy grin.
“Am I ever going to live that down?”
“Never! Tell me about the ranch. It’s terrific.”
“A few years ago I decided to slow down. I hired some good people to head up my companies and moved back up here from Miami to train my polo ponies and run some cattle. I’ve got five thousand acres. Some of it’s pretty wild and swampy. I keep an eye on things, of course. With modern technology, I can be in touch from anywhere in the world. The company sponsors my polo team, and I enjoy that. I guess polo is my passion.”
“It’s wonderful that you were able to make the change while you’re still young enough to enjoy it. Sometimes I think I would like to take a few years off to really ride the dressage circuit and see how far Rocky and I could go. He may qualify for the World Cup this year. After that, maybe the next Olympics. That’s really just a dream. I would have to have someone else ride him at that point, and I don’t know if I would be willing to do that. Right now, I just can’t take that much time off to train and compete.”
“You ought to see what you can do. Maybe you could get a corporate sponsor. Carpe diem. You only live once.” Zack looked Tori over from head to toe. “You look tired. What are your plans for the rest of the weekend?”
“Well, I have rides scheduled for tomorrow and Sunday, and then I’m driving up to my farm in Ocala for a few days of R & R.”
“Why don’t you stay here for the weekend? The guys are settled in and comfortable, and I’d hate to lose my groom position just when I’m getting the hang of it.”
“Zack, are you sure?” This is all just too incredible. “I hate to impose, and I do have the firm’s apartment in Palm Beach at my disposal,” she replied. “You’ve done so much for me already.”
“I’d like to do much more, Tori,” he said as he pulled her into his arms. His firm lips brushed her soft ones in tentative inquiry. When she nestled closer, he kissed her deeply. He set her aside gently and said with a catch in his voice, “You’d better get some sleep. Tomorrow will be another busy day.” Tori was just a little disappointed that he’d decided to be a gentleman. Wild electric impulses were coursing through her body from just the brief touch of his lips.
When Tori awoke the next morning, the sun was coming up. She had another early ride, so she scrambled out of bed and into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Once in the barn, she fed Rocky and Rosebud, and while they were busy eating, she searched out a wheelbarrow, apple picker, and pitchfork and began cleaning the stall.
Tori had never really minded picking a stall. Actually, she thought of it as good therapy. The mindless repetition allowed her thoughts to roam freely. She rode her Grand Prix test in her head, rehearsing every movement and nuance. When she was satisfied that she was ready for that, her mind wandered to the events of the previous day. Taking second place in the Grand Prix freestyle competition was exciting. Just to be in that exalted company was a thrill. The prize money for second place was welcome as well, but as far as expenses went, it was a drop in the bucket. As an amateur owner, she wasn’t able to follow the circuit because of the obligations imposed by her profession, so the opportunity to compete against the high caliber of horses and horsemen attracted to Wellington for an international level horse show was a fabulous opportunity.
Tori’s mind wandered to Zack. He really was extraordinarily handsome in a rugged, virile way. Tori had always appreciated a tall, dark, good-looking man. But sometimes those guys were not the best choice, to-wit, Alberto Alvarez. It seemed on first glance that Zack might just be an exception to the rule. It’s just possible…
Tori was bending into her work, rhythmically scooping and tossing the manure and wet wood shavings into the wheelbarrow. She felt a warm caress on her bottom and shifted away without looking. “Rocky, quit! Get your nose out of my pocket.” Rocky was known for his ability to liberate a carrot out of her back pocket with barely a twitch of his talented muzzle.
Tori felt another pat on her backside. “Rocky, I’m warning you. I thought you were a boob man anyway. See if you get any carrots…”
Zack chuckled warmly and said, “If his carrots are in jeopardy, I really can’t let Rocky take the rap for this one. Sorry. I just couldn’t resist the temptation.”
Tori glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Watch it, buddy, or you’ll lose your carrots, too.” His audacious grin took her breath away. It was surreal. She had just met him yesterday, spent the night at his home, and she was bantering with him as though she had known him forever.
“You don’t have to clean stalls you know. Manuel, one of the stable hands, has been assigned to Rocky. He’ll be the only one to feed or handle him when you’re not around. Give him your feeding instructions, and he’ll take care of everything.”
“Thank you again. I’m truly overwhelmed. I’m going to have to come up with something really great to repay you for all of this.”
“I told you, it’s my pleasure. Now why don’t you get cleaned up and ready to go? By then breakfast will be on the table. Manuel can groom the big guy here and have him ready to load. You will have to braid his mane though. I doubt Manuel’s expertise extends to show braiding manes.”
Chapter Seven
It was another lovely, brisk, and sunny South Florida winter morning. Tori emerged from the house dressed in a purple nylon jogging suit over her show clothes, caution being the better part of valor. Rocky was known for burying his nose in the middle of any soft, warm bosom he could get close to, and clean white shirts attracted him like a magnet.
Zack and Manuel were ready to load Rocky and Rosebud into the trailer. She looked him over and was satisfied that the morning’s neatly taped braids had not yet been rubbed against any convenient post and were still in place, miracle of miracles. She noticed that her truck was parked beside the barn, tire changed. She smiled at Zack in gratitude. “I see you took care of the truck, too.”
“Just part of the service, ma’am.” He grinned back. “Let’s get this goat and pony show on the road.”
It was Saturday morning, and the Stadium at the new Equestrian Village was packed full of people in a holiday mood. The excitement was contagious, and both Zack and Tori were eagerly anticipating the day. They settled Rocky and Rosebud into their stall and strolled off to confirm Tori’s ride times and other necessary details. Tori had time to relax this morning and would not need to get tacked up and warm Rocky up for at least an hour. They strolled over to the open-air food concessions and tack shops located next to the barns and sat down to enjoy a cappuccino.
“Rocky and Rosebud are an interesting pair. Why does Rocky need
a stall companion?” Zack inquired.
“He really doesn’t. A flighty thoroughbred race horse might need one, but most Warmbloods are pretty laid back. I rescued Rosebud after Hurricane Wilma at the barn where I used to keep Rocky in Palm Beach. One of the other boarders had abandoned him when the hurricane hit. The barn was partially demolished. Some of the horses there were injured and had to be evacuated for medical treatment. I found Rosebud wandering around. He had been eating the blooms off a climbing rose bush, so I called him Rosebud. He and Rocky got along immediately, and when no one claimed him, I decided to keep him.”
“The destruction from that storm was sporadic, heavy in some areas and none in others, and electrical power was out for weeks in some areas. My teammates and I came over with horse trailers in a caravan to help evacuate injured horses. It was gut-wrenching. I’ll never forget it.”
“I know. I volunteered after that storm to help care for the injured horses. The horses out in pastures were injured by flying debris. I think those were the worst injuries. The horses that were stalled fared somewhat better. But nonetheless, people were wonderful. They came from all over the county to help, and many of the horses were shipped upstate to be boarded free of charge until their owners could be located. Some friends of mine permanently adopted hurricane horses whose owners never showed up to claim them. In the end it all worked out.”
“After Wilma, I got involved with the Large Animal Emergency Response Team,” Zack said. “We’re trained to respond to any disaster involving large animals and would participate in triage and evacuation efforts under the statewide Large Animal Disaster Plan. What do you say we get Rocky saddled and get you mounted?” he stated, obviously to change the emotionally charged subject.
“Good idea. Unlike the mad rush yesterday, maybe today I can warm up properly.”
Tori rode a superb Grand Prix Test, this time placing first in a class of eight riders. The competition was tough, but she and Rocky were right on the money. And in the money. The first place purse was welcome. Not a bad haul and the weekend isn’t over yet.
As they were walking Rocky back to the barn, Zack put his arm around Tori’s shoulders in an affectionate hug, and brushing the tendrils of honey-blonde hair back from her forehead, kissed her temple. “Great job, lady.” A tingle of electricity sizzled through Tori’s veins, and she smiled and hugged him back. She was astounded by the attraction she felt toward him. It just felt so comfortable—so right—as though she had known him forever.
Not to be ignored for long, Rocky nudged his muzzle between Zack and Tori, effectively separating them.
Rocky was firmly of the opinion that Tori belonged to him—not the other way around. Zack turned to Rocky and said, “Jealous, old boy? How about a sugar cube?” Rocky-2, Zack-1.
Tori’s afternoon ride was another Grand Prix musical freestyle. This time, she was trying a new routine and new music for the first time in competition, and she was nervous. It was another fairly successful ride, and she placed third with a very respectable score.
“You must be shot,” Zack observed with a look of compassion. “Let’s go home and relax. You could probably use some time in the hot tub. There’s still tomorrow to get through.”
“A hot tub? Let’s go,” she replied, perking up.
It was evening by the time they were back at the ranch. Tori changed into a flattering black maillot with high French-cut legs covered by a gauzy white tunic. She met Zack on the wooden deck off the master bedroom suite. As she passed through Zack’s bedroom, Tori glanced with interest at the spare, masculine Shaker-style furnishings, the bare oak floors dotted with scatter rugs, and uncurtained floor-to-ceiling windows which looked out into the oak hammock on which the house was built. The austere room suited him. So did the black bikini bathing suit. He was magnificent—tanned, broad shouldered, and slender hipped with long muscular legs. A light smattering of curly black hair covered his upper chest and slipped in a narrow line down into the front of the bikini, calling attention to the generous endowments she could vividly imagine. Tori! Behave yourself. Get a grip.
* * * *
Zack’s equally appraising glance coasted over her body. Her generous breasts were offset by a slender waist and well-rounded hips. She had long, gracefully muscled legs with slender thighs. Her wheat-streaked, honey-blonde hair was hanging down her back in waves. She stepped onto the deck, pulled her shining hair up into a black silk scrunchie, unconsciously accentuating her full breasts, and gracefully stepped into the Jacuzzi spa, sinking down into the hot bubbling water with a sigh.
“Oh, God. This is wonderful.”
Zack sank into the water across from her, and with their legs entwined, they relaxed as the mellow tones of a Wynton Marsalis CD hung on the air. Zack poured margaritas into iced, salt-rimmed glasses from a pitcher on a tray next to the tub.
“Here’s to new friends,” he toasted, clinking glasses with Tori. He looked deeply into her green eyes. “I just love to help a damsel in distress. Do you live in Miami as well as work there, or do you commute?” Zack felt his response to her clear down to his toes and had to force himself to concentrate on what she was saying.
“I live in Coral Gables actually. I inherited the wonderful, old house where I grew up from my grandmother two years ago. It’s really too big for me, but I couldn’t part with it. My grandmother raised me after my parents died in an accident when I was fifteen. I live there alone now, but Gram’s housekeeper still comes in twice a week to keep things in order, and her husband keeps up the grounds. It’s a jungle.”
“Both of your parents were killed? That must have been terrifying for a kid.”
“Yes, it was, but I was lucky to have Gram. She took me over, put me into private school in Miami, bought me my first horse, saw me through college and law school and my wonderful marriage. I’m named after her.”
“What’s your full name?”
“Victoria Rose Aldrich de Alvarez! What a mouthful. I only still use my married name professionally.”
Zack glanced up at Tori with a shiver of apprehension in his gut. “How do you like practicing in Miami?” He was stalling for time. Chuck Jackson, the CEO of Z-Tech, had forwarded copies of the pleadings in a lawsuit the company had filed to Zack for review. Unfortunately, the name of opposing counsel had a familiar ring. Victoria Rose Aldrich de Alvarez—V.R.A. Alvarez, Esq.? Is it possible? Is Tori the opposing counsel on that damn lawsuit the technology company is involved in? Calm down. Don’t be hasty.
“Miami is very cosmopolitan and has a wonderful international flavor,” she replied. “It’s the ‘gateway to South America.’ Of course that’s why I still use my married name for business. Not only is it on my diploma, but having a Latin surname in Miami is a plus. So is being able to speak fluent Spanish. It’s good for business, and the practice of law is a business after all.”
Zack was in shock. He took a gulp of his margarita and tried to think about the ramifications of this development. He couldn’t concentrate as wild thoughts raced through his mind.
“This is heaven,” she sighed as she sipped the excellent margarita, unaware of Zack’s shock and dismay. Stretching her glistening shoulders and arms to relieve the aching muscles, she said, “I really needed this break. There have been so many fires breaking out on my desk lately that I thought I was going to have to join the fire department.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, each deep in thought, as the spa bubbled and steam rose around them.
Zack was subdued throughout dinner, and since both of them were tired from the long day out in the fresh air, they called it an early night.
Chapter Eight
Sunday was another successful day with Tori gaining a first and second place in the Grand Prix and Grand Prix Special Tests. Her scores were admirable, and her prize money had mounted up to a tidy pile. Tori was, however, very glad that her classes were finished until the next weekend.
After her second ride was completed, Zack and Tori, working e
fficiently together, stabled Rocky and went in search of some lunch.
“The weather is so beautiful,” Tori sighed. “Let’s go back over to the main show grounds and eat outside. We can get some hot dogs and lemonade and then find a good spot under the bridge near the in-gate and watch the warm up for the Grand Prix Open Jumping.”
“Sounds good to me.” Zack put Tori’s arm possessively through his, and they walked over to his truck for the short trip to the main show grounds. Once there, they strolled off in search of food. There were numerous hot dog, hamburger, and drink vendors set up along the winding paths. Tori and Zack picked the shortest line, and armed with hot dogs “all the way,” huge drinks, chips, and cookies, they headed for the jumping warm-up area behind the huge jump field.
“If you will notice,” she said with a grin, “many of the Grand Prix riders are warming their jumpers up using dressage movements. Among other things, dressage helps develop the balance they need to make the hairpin turns from one jump to the next and to change leads over the fences.”
They munched in between comments as they watched the sleek Grand Prix jumpers warming up over the practice fences.
“Do you see that big gray just coming over the red-and-white oxer? That is Raconteur, Rocky’s half brother.”
“Pretty awesome. Until I saw that fence from this angle, I didn’t realize the jump is at least five feet high and five feet wide. That woman standing on the ground coaching Raconteur’s rider is eye level with the jump.”
“The rush you get when you’re sailing over the top of a jump like that is awesome,” Tori said after they finished eating. They ambled under the bridge, through the in-gate, and found places to sit in the seats bordering the jump field.
“The jumps look so much higher from down here at ground level,” Zack commented.
“They are pretty intimidating, aren’t they? The fences start at four feet nine inches and go up to about five feet six inches. In the jump-off they may be higher, but there are less fences, and they are technically more difficult, and time is a major factor. The challenge is more than just the height. The difficulty is in negotiating that triple combination, then having to do a hairpin turn to get to that vertical wall where you have to get right up to the base and then rock the horse back to get over. And then you have another tight turn before you get into a full gallop to clear a spread jump like those oxers. The water jump may be anywhere between five feet to fifteen feet wide, and if your horse ‘puts a toe in the water,’ you get a fault.”
The Appearance of Impropriety Page 4