Tempted by a Cowboy

by Sarah M. Anderson

  A damn good reward, he thought as he tried to rein in his irritation.

  He watched. Trotting in looping circles, Sun looked at them, at the saddles and then at the bucket where Phillip had left the carrots.

  Suddenly, Jo’s fingers closed around his. “Be still,” she said in that low voice again.

  He hadn’t realized he was moving, but did it matter? No, not with her fingers curling around his. Her touch did things to him—things that had nothing to do with being still and had everything to do with wanting to keep on moving—moving his lips over her fingers, her neck, her lips, his body moving over hers, with hers.

  She must have felt it, too, because she turned her head toward him and favored him with one of those half-smiles.

  He turned his hand over without letting go of her so they were palm-to-palm. He interlaced their fingers without looking away from Sun. After a moment, her hand relaxed into his.

  It took everything he had to not lift her hand and press it to his lips, but he didn’t. She’d made the first move and he’d countered with his own. Now it was her turn. If he skipped a turn, she might stop playing the game.

  Then her fingers tightened on his. No mistaking it. They were holding hands in a way that had only the smallest of connections to what was happening in the paddock.

  Not that the paddock wasn’t interesting. Sun’s loops were getting tighter and slower as he closed in on the bucket and carrots. Just when Phillip thought he would eat them, Sun spun and made straight for the saddles.

  Oh, no. The horse hit the saddles with everything he had—and, considering he hadn’t been bucking for hours on end, that was a lot. Phillip winced as Sun ground the saddles into the dirt.

  The whole thing took less than five minutes. Betty stood off to the side, watching with an air of boredom. Then, head held high, Sun pranced over to the bucket and ate his carrots as if he’d planned it like that from the beginning.

  “Some reward,” Phillip muttered. He’d been upset about Sun before, but this was the first time he was out-and-out furious with the beast. That was an expensive saddle—and the one she’d been cleaning wasn’t cheap, either. If his brother Chadwick knew that the horse trainer was letting Sun destroy several thousands of dollars of tack, he’d have her thrown off the premises. And possibly him, too.

  “Stupid horse.”

  “Smart horse.” Jo squeezed his hand, but that smile? That was for the horse.

  “Why are you smiling? He ruined those saddles. And ate my carrots.”

  She notched an eyebrow as she cast him a sideways glance. The sudden burst of realization made him feel as if he’d been conned. “You knew he was going to do that?”

  “Everyone’s got to start somewhere,” she replied, sounding lighthearted.

  All that work for nothing. “Next time, he doesn’t get carrots until he can behave himself.” Even as he said the words, he knew they sounded ridiculous. Was he talking about a horse or a toddler? He glared at his multi-million dollar animal. “No rewards for that kind of attitude and that’s final.”

  “Ah.” Her voice—soft and, if he wasn’t mistaken, nervous—snapped his attention back to where they were still palm-to-palm.

  He had something coming to him, all the more so because she’d made him do all that work. He stroked his thumb along the length of her finger. He felt a light tremor, but she didn’t pull away.

  “Do I get my reward now? That saddle was very clean, right before it wasn’t.”

  She tilted her head away, as if she were debating the merits of his argument. But he couldn’t miss the way her lips were quirked into a barely contained smile.

  “And I didn’t even kill that horse when he trashed my tack,” he reminded her as he leaned in.

  She didn’t lean away. “True.” Her voice took on a sultry note, one that invited much more than holding hands. The pupils of her eyes widened; her gaze darted down to his lips. “Is this flirting?”

  She was expecting him to kiss her, but something told him not to. Not yet. The longer he defied her expectations of him, the better the odds he’d wake up with her in his bed.

  “It might be.” He held her hand to his lips. A simple touch, skin against skin. Even though it about killed him not to take everything she was offering, he didn’t.

  Without breaking the contact between them, he raised his eyes to see Jo looking at him, her eyes wide with surprise and—he hoped—desire.

  Raw need pumped through his blood. He almost threw his plans out the window and swept her into his arms. She was his, waiting for him to make his move....

  She dropped her gaze. “What did you want for your reward?” The question could have been coy, but there was something else in her expression.

  “All I wanted,” he replied, not taking his eyes off her face, “was to see that beautiful blush on you.”

  Of course, that wasn’t all he wanted. But it’d do for now. Then, to prove his point, he let her go and stepped back.

  “That’s...all?” The confusion that registered on her face was so worth it.

  Clearly, not a lot of people had told her she was beautiful. What a crying shame. She had a striking look that was all her own. If that wasn’t beautiful, he didn’t know what was.

  “Well...” He looked as innocent as he could. “I was supposed to clean a saddle. The saddle is, at this moment, quite dirty so I didn’t really complete my task.”

  She blinked, managing to pull off coy in a cowboy hat. “Funny thing about that.”

  “What’s funny?”

  It shouldn’t be right to find that little look of victory—one corner of her mouth quirked up into a smile, one eyebrow raised in challenge—so damned sexy, but he did. “Tomorrow morning—you, me and some saddles.”

  Phillip tried to stifle a groan, but he didn’t manage it. “No.”

  “Yes.” She paused, suddenly looking unsure of herself. “If you do a good job...”

  He grinned on the inside but he kept his face calm. Oh, yeah—he had her right where he wanted her.

  Almost, anyway.

  Behind them, someone cleared his throat. Jo stiffened, a hard look wiping away anything sultry about her. She turned away and focused on Sun.

  Phillip looked past her to see Richard standing a few feet away, hat in hands and an odd look on his face.

  Damn. How long had he been standing there? Had he seen Phillip kiss her hand? It’d been easy to pretend that he and Jo were alone on the farm. The other hands steered well clear of her—probably because she’d told them to—and everyone more or less left him alone. The farm operated well enough without him.

  But he and Jo weren’t alone.

  “I’ve got a farm to run,” he said in a voice that was pitched just loud enough for Richard to hear. “I’ll stop by later to see how you’re getting on with Sun.”

  She nodded, looking as uninterested as physically possible.

  She could hide the truth from Richard, but not from him.

  Eight

  Jo sat at the dinette table in her trailer that night, not seeing her email. She was supposed to be replying to horse owners who were looking for a miracle, but that’s not what she was doing.

  Phillip Beaumont had kissed her hand. And nothing more.

  If that were her only problem, it would have been enough. But it wasn’t. She wasn’t sure how much Richard had seen.

  For the first time in a very long time, Jo was...unsure of herself. One man who, by all accounts, was a spoiled party boy with more money than sense and she had apparently lost her damned mind.

  She did not fool around with clients. Under any circumstances. Beyond being a temptation back into her old ways, it was bad for business. If word got around that she was open to affairs, people might stop hiring her.

  What a me
ss. If flirting with Phillip Beaumont was causing such a problem for her, why on God’s green Earth was she letting it go on?

  Because she’d seen the look on his face when she’d hinted that if he cleaned another saddle tomorrow morning, he’d get another reward.

  She should have jerked her hand out of his when he kissed it. Hell, she shouldn’t have touched him at all. She should have followed her own rules—rules she had in place for a variety of exceptionally good reasons—and steered well clear of Phillip Beaumont and his reputation.

  If she didn’t feel such a duty to Sun, she’d pack up and drive off to another, less tempting job tomorrow. Yes, it’d be a blow to her reputation to lose Beaumont Farms as a reference, but three other trainers had already failed. Bailing on this job wouldn’t end her aspirations, not like having an affair with Phillip could.

  But she wouldn’t abandon the horse, not when they were making such progress. Richard had told her that if she couldn’t save the horse, he’d have to be put down. True, Sun might have calmed to the point where another trainer could come in and finish the job, but she didn’t know if she wanted to hope for the best and never look back. That’s what the old her would have done. That’s not what the woman she was now did.

  Her only consolation was that she had rediscovered her restraint this afternoon when Phillip had driven past the paddock with a wagon full of hay to ask if she wanted to see his Thoroughbreds. Then he’d held the reins out to her.

  She’d passed on his offer, saying she needed to keep an eye on Sun.

  This would be so much easier if Phillip were a jerk. Some of the men—and women—who’d hired her were, in fact, total jerks. That’s why she had that upfront policy of not hooking up or dating. That’s why she kept her trailer door locked.

  But Phillip wasn’t a jerk. At least, not once he’d sobered up.

  He cleaned tack because she asked him to. He tried to be still because it was important to Sun, even if he didn’t totally succeed. He let her drive his Percheron team. Hell, he brought her coffee.

  That wasn’t jerkiness. That was thoughtfulness.

  She had no idea how to respond to it.

  Crap, she was in so much trouble.

  This was a sign of how far she’d come. The old Jo would have embraced the trouble she was in and gone looking for more. She shouldn’t beat herself up for encouraging Phillip, not really. She should be proud of the fact that she’d resisted his considerable charms and good looks thus far.

  Now she just had to keep doing that.

  In the midst of losing to herself in a debate, she heard something that sounded suspiciously like shouting. Loud, but muffled, shouting.

  She scowled at the clock. That wasn’t right. It was close to ten in the evening. The hired hands had all gone home before five. The whole farm was usually quiet at night, with the exception of the guards who checked the barns every other hour.

  Not this evening. The shouting was louder now. She could make out two different voices.

  Betty, she thought in a panic. The weather was supposed to be clear, so Jo had left the little donkey out in the pasture across the drive from Sun’s paddock.

  Moving fast, she slipped her jeans back on and shoved her feet into her boots. Thankfully, she hadn’t taken her shirt off yet, so she didn’t have to mess with the buttons. She left the trailer and grabbed her pistol from the glove box, tucking it into the back of her waistband. If someone was trying to take Betty or Sun or any other horse on this property, she wanted to catch them in the act. Then she could hold them until the guards came back around. She’d interrupted attempted robberies before. She knew how to handle her weapon.

  She slipped along the side of her trailer and peeked out. A pair of headlights pointed into Sun’s paddock and the horse was going nuts.

  Two men were arguing in front of the headlights. She realized with a start that one of the men was Phillip. The other was slightly taller, slightly broader and had a slightly deeper voice but otherwise, he could have been Phillip’s twin.

  Chadwick Beaumont? Who else could it be?

  Keeping to the shadows, she edged closer. They weren’t trying to be quiet but she was having trouble making out what they were arguing about.

  “...be insane!” Phillip yelled as he paced away then spun back to face his brother.

  “The company—and, I might add, the family—cannot afford to keep standing idle while you throw good money after bad and you know it.” Chadwick’s voice was level, bordering on cruel. This was not a man who could be easily moved.

  Phillip was anything but level. “The Percherons are not throwing money away,” he shouted, flinging his hands around as if he were throwing money around. “They’re our brand name!”

  “Are they?” Chadwick sneered. “I thought you were our brand name. The face of Beaumont Beer. God knows you stick that face out enough.”

  Behind them, Sun made a noise that was closer to a scream than a whinny. Jo winced. How long would it take for the horse to calm down after this?

  But the men didn’t notice the horse. They were too lost in their argument.

  Phillip threw up his hands. “Do you know what it’ll do to our public goodwill if we get rid of the Percherons? Do you have any idea?”

  “This farm costs millions of dollars to operate,” Chadwick countered so smoothly that Jo didn’t have any doubt he’d anticipated this defense. “And all your pet projects cost several million more.” At this, he threw a glance toward Sun, who was flat-out racing, just like he’d been the day Jo had shown up. The way Chadwick looked at the horse made Jo think that, if he’d been in charge, he would have let Richard put the animal down without hesitation. “To say nothing of all your little ‘escapades.’”

  As he paced, Phillip groaned. It was the sort of noise a man might make if he’d been punched in the kidneys. “Do you understand nothing about marketing? For God’s sake, Chadwick—even Matthew—could explain how this works! People love the Percherons. Love them. And you want to just throw that all away?”

  “Love,” Chadwick intoned, “doesn’t run a company.”

  Phillip whipped back to his brother, his fists balled. Jo flinched. If they started to brawl, she’d have to break them up. “You got that right, you heartless bastard. Can your bean-counting brain wrap itself around the damage you’ll cost us with consumers? The Percherons are a part of this company, Chadwick. You can’t sell them off any more than you can sell the company.”

  The silence that fell between the two men was so cold that Jo shivered.

  “I already sold the company.”

  Jo’s mouth dropped open, just as Phillip’s had. “You...what?” Jo wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Phillip sound so wounded. She couldn’t blame him.

  “I’m not going to work myself into an early grave so that I can pay for your failed horses or Frances’s failed art or even Byron’s failed romances,” Chadwick said in a voice as hard as iron. “I’ve worked for ten years to keep the Beaumont family going and I’m sick of it. AllBev made an offer. The board accepted it. It’s done. We’ll announce when the lawyers give us the go-ahead.”

  Phillip gaped at him. “But...you...Dad...the company!”

  “Hardwick Beaumont is dead, Phillip. He’s been dead for years. I don’t have to prove myself to him anymore and neither do you.” Something in Chadwick’s tone changed. For a moment, he sounded...kind. It was at such odds with the hard man she’d been listening to that Jo had to shake her head to make sure the same person was speaking. “I’m getting married.”

  “You’re what? Aren’t you already married?”

  “My ex-wife is now just that—my ex. I’m starting over, Phillip. I’m going to be happy. You should do the same. Figure out who you are if you aren’t Hardwick’s second son.”

  Phillip’s mouth open, closed, then opened ag
ain. “You can’t sell the farm. You can’t, Chadwick. Please. I need this place. I need the horses. Without them...”

  Chadwick was unmoved. Anything that might have been understanding or brotherly was gone. “The new owners of the Brewery have no desire to take on the sinking money pit that is this farm. They do not want the Percherons and I can’t afford them. I can’t afford you.”

  Jo must have gasped or stepped on a twig or something because suddenly both men spun.

  “Who’s there?” they demanded in unison.

  She stepped into the edge of the light. “It’s me. Jo.”

  Phillip gave her something that might have been a smile. Chadwick only glared. “Who?” He turned his attention to Phillip. “Who’s she?”

  Phillip’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Jo Spears. The horse trainer who’s saving Sun.”

  Jo nodded her head in appreciation. He’d gotten the saving part right.

  Chadwick was not impressed. “Now you’re keeping women on the farm?” He made a noise of disgust. “And how much is this costing?”

  Jo bristled. Clearly, Chadwick Beaumont did not have his brother’s way with words or women.

  When Phillip didn’t answer, Chadwick shook his head in disgust. He said, “I only came out here to warn you because we’re family. If I were you, I’d start getting rid of the excess—” he looked at Sun, then at Jo “—as soon as possible on your own terms. Save yourself the embarrassment of a public auction.” He walked back to his car. “If you don’t, I will.”

  Then Chadwick Beaumont slammed the door shut, put the shiny little sports car in reverse, and peeled out.

  Phillip dropped his head.

  And stood absolutely still.

  * * *

  Chadwick was going to sell the horses. All of them. Not just Sun or the Appaloosas or even the Thoroughbreds, but all of them. The Beaumont Percherons—a self-sustaining herd of about a hundred horses that went back a hundred and twenty-three years—would be gone. The farm would be gone. The farmhouse that his great-grandfather had built as a refuge from the rest of the world—gone. And what would Phillip have once the horses and the farm were gone?