Books by Nora Roberts

by Roberts, Nora

  With her eyes closed she absorbed the delights of being a well-loved woman. Her body felt gloriously heavy, her mind wonderfully muffled. There was no need to wonder or worry if she had given Brian the same pleasure. She had seen it in his face, and felt it as he lay over her with his heart still thundering.

  There was a change inside her, she thought. Awareness, understanding. And a soaring kind of triumph.

  Smiling to herself, she traced a finger down his back. "How are the ribs?"

  "What?"

  And didn't it feel grand to hear that sleepy slur in his voice? "Your ribs. That's still a nasty bruise you have there."

  "I can't feel anything." His head was still spinning. "What's this scent you've put on? It's devious."

  "Just one of my many secrets."

  He lifted his head, started to grin at her, then it swamped him again. The look of her, the love of her. Lowering his head he brought his lips to hers in a long, dreamy kiss that came out of his soul and stirred hers.

  Her hand slid limply to the mattress. "Brian."

  "I'm crushing you." He said it briskly. He'd terrified himself.

  He shifted away and shattered the moment. "There's not really very much of you." Suddenly aware that the breeze fluttering in the windows he left open was cold, he tugged at the bedspread until he could wrap it around her. "Are you all right then?"

  "I'm fabulous, thank you." Laughing, she sat up, without a shrug for modesty as the spread slid to her waist. She caught his face in her hands and gave him a quick, affectionate kiss. "Are you all right then?" she said, mimicking his brogue.

  "That I am, but I've had a bit of practice."

  "I'll bet. But let's not bring up all your conquests just now. I'd hate to be obliged to punch you when I'm feeling so friendly."

  "I wouldn't say they were conquests precisely. But we'll let that be."

  "Wise choice."

  "Let me close the windows. You're cold."

  She angled her head as he rose. "There's nurturing in that bruised body of yours, Donnelly."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "I'd say it comes from the horses." She pursed her lips, considered while he thunked a window down and scowled. "You look after them, worry about them, make plans for them, see to their needs and their comfort-oh and their training, of course.

  Then if you don't watch yourself you start to do it with people, too."

  "I don't nurture people." He found the idea mildly insulting. "People can look after themselves. I don't even like people very much." He stalked over and shut the other window. "Present company excepted, as you're sitting naked in my bed and it would be rude to say otherwise."

  "You didn't phrase that quite right. You don't like very many people. Do you have a robe?"

  "No." He wasn't sure if it was the truth in what she said, or her understanding of him that irked him.

  "Figures." She spied one of his work shirts tossed over a chair, and though it smelled of horses, slipped it on. "I'd say that tea's probably strong enough to hammer nails by now. Do you still want it?"

  She looked... interesting in his shirt. Interesting enough that his blood began to churn again. "What are my options?"

  "On my schedule, we have a cup of tea, a little conversation, then you get to seduce me back into bed and make love to me again before I go home."

  "That's not bad, but I think it bears improving."

  "Oh, and how's that?"

  "We cut out the tea and conversation."

  She ran her tongue over her top lip-his taste was still there-as he walked toward her. "That would take us straight to you seducing me? Correct?"

  "That's my plan."

  "I can be flexible."

  His grin flashed. "I'd like to test that out."

  They never got around to the tea.

  And when she'd left him, he stood at the door and watched her run along the path. Love-struck idiot, he told himself. You can't keep her. You've never kept anything in your life that you couldn't fit in the bag you toss over your shoulder.

  It was a bad turn of luck, that was all, that he would slip up and fall in love. It was bound to hurt like blazes before it was done. He'd get over it, of course. Over her and over this slippery feeling inside his heart. He wasn't so far gone as to believe this sort of madness lasted.

  So best to enjoy it, he decided, and turned away when Keeley disappeared in the dark.

  When he climbed into bed, her scent was on his pillow. For the first time in a week he slept deep and slept well.

  Chapter Eight

  She missed him. It was the oddest thing to find herself thinking about Brian off and on during the day, and thinking of a dozen things she wanted to tell him, or show him when he got back from Saratoga.

  She wasn't the only one.

  During his next lesson Willy asked if Mr. Donnelly was coming so he could show off the fresh gap in his teeth. The man, Keeley mused, made an impression and made it fast.

  It wasn't as if she didn't have enough to occupy her mind or her time. She'd found enough tuition students to add another class and was even now snaking her way through the maze of bureaucracy to arrange for three additional subsidized students.

  She'd had meetings with the psychologist, the social worker, the parents and the children. The paperwork alone was enough to, well, choke a horse, she admitted. But it would be worth it in the end.

  With some amusement, she flipped through the article in Washingtonian Magazine. She knew the exposure was responsible for netting her the new full tuition students. The photographs were gorgeous and the text made full use of her background, her Olympic medal and her social standing.

  No problem there, she decided, particularly since the academy was mentioned several times.

  She glanced at the phone with a little sigh as it rang. It hadn't stopped since the article had been published. The time was coming, Keeley thought, when she was going to have to break down and hire an assistant.

  But for now, the school was all hers.

  "Good morning, Royal Meadows Riding Academy." Her coolly professional tone warmed when she heard her cousin Maureen's voice.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was hanging up and shaking her head. It appeared she was going to dinner and the races that evening. She'd said no-at least Keeley was fairly certain she'd said no five or six times. But nobody held out against Mo for long. She just rolled over you.

  Keeley eyed the piles of paperwork on her desk, huffed out a breath when the phone rang again. Just do the first thing, she reminded herself, then do the second, and keep going until it was done.

  She'd done the first, the second and the third, when her father came in.

  He stopped in the doorway, held up a hand. "Wait, don't tell me. I know you. The face is very familiar." He narrowed his eyes as she rolled hers. "I'm sure I've seen you before, somewhere. Tibet? Mazetlan? At the dinner table a year or two ago."

  "It hasn't been more than a week." She reached up as he bent to kiss her. "But I've missed you, too. I've been swamped here."

  "So I've heard." He flipped open the magazine to her article. "Pretty girl. I bet her parents are proud of her."

  "I hope so." When the phone rang, she muffled a shriek, waved her hands. "Let the machine get it. It's been ringing off the hook since Sunday. Half the parents who call in to inquire about lessons haven't even asked their kids if they want to ride."

  She scooted her chair to the little fridge and took out two bottles of soda. "So thanks."

  "For?" Travis prompted as he took the soft drink.

  "For always asking."

  "Then you're welcome. I hear I'm escorting two lovely women to dinner tonight."

  "Mo caught you?"

  He chuckled before he tipped back the bottle to drink. " 'We haven't had an inter-family gathering in weeks'," he mimicked, " 'Don't you love me anymore?'"

  "She always pushes the right button." Keeley studied the toe of her oldest boots. "So... have you heard from Brendon?"

 
; "Late yesterday. They should be home tonight."

  "That's good." You'd think the man could have called her once, she thought, scowling at her boots. Sent a telegram, a damn smoke signal.

  "I imagine Brian's anxious to get back."

  Her head jerked up. "Really?"

  "Betty's making progress-as are several of the other yearlings. She's doing particularly well on the practice oval. She's ready for Brian to take her over full-time."

  "I caught one of her morning workouts. She looks strong."

  "We breed true at Royal Meadows." There was something wistful in his tone that had Keeley lifting her brows.

  "What's the matter?"

  "Nothing." Travis shrugged it off and rose. "Getting old."

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  "Yesterday you were riding on my shoulders," he murmured. "The house was full of noise. Clomping up and down the steps, doors slamming. Scattered toys. I don't know how many times I stepped on one of those damned little cars of Brady's."

  Turning back, he ran a hand over her hair. "I miss that. I miss all of you."

  "Daddy." In one fluid movement she rose and slid her arms around him.

  "It's the way it's supposed to work. Three of you off at college, Brendon moving around to get a handle on the business of things. It's what he wants. And you, building your own. But... I miss the crowd of you."

  "I promise to slam the door the very first chance I get."

  "That might help."

  "Sentimental softie. I love that about you."

  "Lucky for me." He gave her a quick, hard squeeze, then glanced over as the phone rang again. "Actually I didn't stop in for sentiment, but to give you some business advice." He drew her back. "You need help around here."

  "I'm thinking about it. Really," she added when he angled his head. "As soon as I straighten things out I'll look into it."

  "I seem to recall you saying the same thing six months ago."

  "It just hasn't been the right time. I've got it all under control." Even as she said it, the phone rang again.

  "Keeley, getting help doesn't mean you won't be in charge, doesn't mean it won't be your school."

  "I know, but... it won't be the same."

  "I'm here to tell you nothing stays the same. The farm's more than it was when it passed to me, and less than it will be when it passes to you and your brothers and sisters. But I've put my mark on it. Nothing can change that."

  "I guess I just don't want it to get away from me."

  "You've already proven you can do it."

  "You're right. Of course, you're right. But it isn't easy to find the right person. It would have to be someone good with kids and horses, and who'd be able to pitch in with the administrating to some extent and wouldn't quibble about shoveling manure. Plus I'd have to be able to depend on them, and get along with them. And they'd have to be diplomatic with parents, which is often the trickiest part."

  Travis picked up his soft drink again. "I might be able to point you in the right direction there."

  "Oh? Listen, Dad, I appreciate it, but you know, a friend of a friend or the son or daughter of an acquaintance. That kind of thing gets very sticky if it doesn't work out."

  "Actually, I was thinking of someone a little closer to home. Your mother."

  "Ma?" With a half laugh Keeley sat again. "Ma doesn't want this headache, even if she had time for it."

  "Shows what you know." Smug now, he drank. "Just mention it to her, casually. I won't say a word about it."

  By the time the day's lesson was over, and the last horse groomed and fed, Keeley dragged herself into the house. She wanted nothing more than a long bath and a quiet night. And if she ducked the evening plans, her cousin Mo would dog her like a hound. Better to face an evening out than weeks of nagging.

  She moved through the kitchen, into the hall. Her father was right, she realized. How would any of them get used to the quiet? No one was shouting down the stairs or rushing in the door or playing music so loud it vibrated the eardrums.

  She paused at the top of the steps, looking right.

  There was the room Brady and Patrick shared. She still remembered that during one spat Brady had run a line of black tape from the ceiling, down the wall, across the floor, and up again, cutting the room in half.

  One had been marked Brady's Territory. The other he'd dubbed No Man's Land.

  And how many times had she heard Brendon pound a fist on the wall between his room and theirs ordering them to keep it down before he came in and knocked their heads together?

  When she passed Sarah's room, she saw her mother sitting on the bed, stroking a red sweater.

  "Ma?"

  "Oh." Adelia looked up. Her eyes were damp, but she shook her head and smiled. "You startled me. It's so bloody quiet in this house."

  Keeley stepped in. The room had bright blue walls. The curtains and spread picked up that bold hue and matched it with an equally vivid green in wide stripes. It should have been horrible, Keeley mused, as she often did. But it worked.

  And it was completely Sarah.

  "Do you and Dad share the same brain?" Keeping her voice light, Keeley sat on the bed. "He was feeling sad this morning over the same thing."

  "I suppose after all these years together, you pick up the same vibrations or whatever. And Sarah called just a bit ago. She's desperately in need for this particular red sweater, which she can't think how she forgot to take with her. She sounds so happy and busy and grown up."

  "They'll all be home next month for Thanksgiving, then again for Christmas."

  "I know. Still, if I could think of a way to get away with it, I'd deliver this sweater myself instead of shipping it. Lord, look at the time. I've got to get myself cleaned up and changed for dinner. And so do you."

  "Yeah." Keeley pursed her lips in thought while her mother smoothed the sweater one more time and rose. "I'm running behind today," she began. "I seem to be running behind a lot lately."

  "That's what happens to successful people."

  "I suppose so. And adding on this class is going to crowd my time and energy even more."

  "You know I'll give you a hand when you need it, and so will your father." Adelia walked out of the room and into her own to lay Sarah's sweater aside.

  "Yes, I appreciate that. I guess I'm going to have to seriously consider something more formal and permanent, though. I really hate to. I mean, taking on an outsider, it's difficult for me. But..."

  Keeley let the word hang, surprised when her mother-who usually had something to say-remained silent.

  "I don't suppose you'd be interested in working part-time at the school?"

  Adelia turned her head, met Keeley's eyes in the mirror over the bureau. "Are you offering me a job?"

  "It sounds awfully strange when you put it that way, but yes. But don't do it because you feel obliged. Only if you think you'd have the time or the inclination."

  Adelia spun around, her face brilliant. "What the devil's taken you so long? I'll start tomorrow."

  "Really? You really want to?"

  "I've been dying to. Oh, it's taken every bit of my willpower not to come down there every day until you just got so used to me being around you didn't realize I was working there. This is exciting!" She rushed over to give Keeley a hug. "I can't wait to tell your father."

  Keeping her arms tight around her daughter, Adelia did a quick dance. "I'm a groom again."

  "If I'd known you were available, Dee, and looking for work, I'd've hired you." Burke Logan, settled back in his chair and winked at his wife's cousin.

  "We like to keep the best on at Royal Meadows." Adelia twinkled at him across the table in the track's dining room. He was as handsome and as dangerous to look at as he'd been nearly twenty years before when she'd first met him.

  "Oh, I don't know." Burke trailed a hand over his wife's shoulder. "We have the best bookkeeper around at Three Aces."

  "In that case, I want a raise." Erin picked up her wine and sent Burke
a challenging look. "A big one. Trevor?" Her voice was smooth, shimmering with Ireland as she addressed her son. "Do you have in mind to eat that pork chop or just use it for decoration?"

  "I'm reading the Racing Form, Ma."

  "His father's son," Erin muttered and snagged the paper from him. "Eat your dinner."

  He heaved a sigh as only a twelve-year-old boy could. "I think Topeka in the third, with Lonesome in the fifth and Hennessy in the sixth for the trifecta. Dad says Topeka's generous and a cinch tip."

  At his wife's long stare, Burke cleared his throat. "Stuff that pork chop in your mouth, Trev. Where's Jena?"

  "She's fussing with her hair," Mo announced, and snatched a french fry from Travis's plate. "As usual," she added with the worldly air only an older sister could achieve, "the minute she turned fourteen she decided her hair was the bane of her existence. Huh. Like having long, thick, straight-as-a-pin black hair is a problem. This-" she tugged on one of the hundreds of wild red curls that spiraled around her face "-is a problem. If you're going to worry about something as stupid as hair, which I don't. Anyway, you guys have to come over and see this weanling I have my eye on. He's going to be amazing. And if Dad lets me train him..."

  She trailed off, slanting a look at her father across the table.

  "You'll be in college this time next year," Burke reminded her.

  "Not if I can help it," Mo said under her breath.

  Recognizing the mutinous look, Erin changed the subject. "Keeley, Burke tells me your new trainer is a natural with the horses, with Travis and with cards as well."

  "And I hear he's gorgeous, too," Mo added.

  "Where'd you hear that?" Keeley demanded before she could bite her tongue in two.

  "Oh, word gets around in our snug little world," Mo said grandly. "And Shelley Mason-one of your kids? Her sister Lorna's in my World History class, a huge bore by the way. The class, that is, not Lorna, who's only a small bore. Anyway, she picked Shelley up last week from your place and got a load of the Irish hunk, so I heard all about it. Which is why I'm planning on coming over as soon as I can and getting a load of him myself."

  "Trevor, give your sister your pork chop so she can stuff it in her mouth."