"He was supposed to first thing. Your guess is as good as mine now. Though, I bet Riley will take him out this afternoon before you two leave."
The way Scott assumed they'd be together made her belly flutter. From the sound of things, though, Riley didn't intend to spend much time with her today. Not that she could blame him. If she were smart, she wouldn't want to spend time with him either. Let him stew a little. Worry about what she intended to do if he couldn't come up with anything better than a business arrangement.
* * * *
Riley wasn't back by the time Maddie decided to leave. In fact, she had no real idea when he returned to the track, if he did at all, for when he strolled into the hotel room, it was well after dark. Almost ten o'clock according to the clock on the nightstand.
Maddie looked up from her book, watched him cross to the dresser drawers and waited while he undressed. Waited for an explanation he didn't appear inclined to give.
She mulled over a dozen questions, weighing each against her annoyance, and finally decided on a tempered, “You're out late."
He nodded as he pulled on a pair of navy blue boxer shorts. But before she could ask him anything further, he disappeared into the bathroom.
Her brow furrowed into a deep frown. “Where have you been?” She no longer cared if the question sounded clipped, perhaps a little possessive. He'd been gone all the damn day without a word to her.
"I had some things to do."
Her frown deepened at his evasive response. A funny smell drifted through the room, and she wrinkled her nose. Like flowers, almost. One glance at the bathroom told her Riley wasn't looking, and with an arched eyebrow, she snatched up the shirt he'd had on. Pressing it to her nose, she inhaled, and drew back in surprise. Not flowers. Perfume. All over his shirt.
It was all she could do to tamp down a surge of jealousy. Taking deep breaths, she forced the idea out of her mind and gave herself a sharp reprimand for considering he'd been up to no good. Riley didn't cheat. She was confident of that. Still...
She eyed the shirt.
"Riley?"
"Hm?"
"Your shirt smells like perfume. How come?"
He wandered back into the bedroom and tossed back the duvet as he shrugged. Climbing into bed, he answered, “I didn't know it did."
"Um.” She stumbled over her tongue. He should be proclaiming she had nothing to worry about, have a good reason for the scent to linger on his clothes. Instead, he lay there unconcerned, flipping through the channels on the television.
"So what things did you have to do?"
"Don't give me the third degree, Maddie,” he replied much more tersely than she'd anticipated.
His tone made her draw back. Her mouth dropped open in surprise.
He didn't look at her as he added, “You told me I better figure it out. I'm doing that."
A little spark of anger flared inside her. “And that involves perfume? Someone else's perfume?"
With another shrug of his shoulders, he leaned back against his propped-up pillows. “Evidently, yes."
She slanted her gaze sideways, appraising him without turning her head. If he'd cheated on her, she'd kill him. Beat him over the head with a pillow until he couldn't see straight anymore.
"That's all you've got to say? You don't care if your shirt smells like perfume, and I discovered it?"
"That's all I have to say."
Damn him.
Furious, she flounced down against her pillows, presented him with her back, and stared out the window. He wasn't even going to try to reassure her. What the hell was wrong with him?
* * * *
Riley glanced at her and let out the breath he'd been holding. He'd never been any good at lying. While he hated that she was once again angry, he couldn't tell her what he'd been up to or explain that lingering scent. If he told her where he'd been, he'd have to go into the why, and the why gave him too much trouble. When he figured it out, he could explain everything.
And he intended to have it all sorted out by tomorrow. When they left New York, all these issues would be behind them. He hoped. If not, he had bigger problems than he knew about.
"Maddie?"
"What?” she snapped.
"You really love me?"
Her voice softened a bit. “Yes. Why, I don't really know right now. But yes."
Silent for a long while, he reflected. There were so many things about Maddie he adored. The way she didn't take no for an answer on the track and worked her way to garnering respect in a world dominated by powerful, wealthy men. While she had no idea the effect she had, she could easily cow any of them with a reproachful look. Then again, her father had the same way about him. He'd been no one when he started racing and quickly rose to the top. Riley's father remarked on it several times.
At the same time, she could put all that aside and assume the role of woman. Content to let him guide her, to support him, to put him first—or at least make him feel like she did. She was the only woman he'd dated who, when he took her out, didn't feel the need to draw attention to herself.
Playful Maddie made him feel young. Home-body Maddie made watching old movies as intimate as making love to her. He turned to look at her back and took in the gentle slope of her shoulder, resisting the urge to trace his finger over it.
"If I were in a wheelchair and didn't show up at the Empire State Building, you'd still want me after years apart, kind of love?"
"Yes."
Her whisper sent chills racing down his spine. He'd never been loved like that before.
Hurting Maddie broke him, made him feel small.
Turning back to the television, he flipped the volume up a notch to drown out the chaos in his head. He'd thought himself in circles today. Tonight he intended to relax. Tomorrow, he faced the most important day of his life. He didn't want to muddle through it in a sleep-deprived haze.
As the police drama wound to a close, he flipped off the light and crawled out of the bed. If everything were as easy as getting criminals to confess in Hollywood, he wouldn't have this mess on his hands. A glance over his shoulder told him Maddie was asleep, and he crept out to the sitting room to the desk where he'd dropped his things. Opening the drawer, he closed his hand around a small plastic sack and wandered to the bedroom closet.
Taking care not to rustle too loudly, he flipped through the hangers and pulled out his suit jacket to stuff the bag into the inside breast pocket. He smoothed down the lapels, took the coat out, and hung it on the door, ready for tomorrow morning.
Curious Maddie would hear the rustle.
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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
From her position on the rail, Maddie watched her father take Desperate Echo's reins and lead him toward the starting gates.
Nate looked up, searching the sidelines for her. When their eyes locked, he blew her a kiss.
Her heart fluttered.
He pulled his goggles down, adjusted his helmet and reached for the reins just as the horse in hole number four kicked the rear gate. Desperate Echo spooked, scuttled backwards, and as her father scrambled to hold on to his reins, the seventeen hand chestnut colt reared.
Maddie's pulse skyrocketed, and she bit down on her thumbnail. He'd be all right. Nate was the best jockey out there.
Nate pitched forward, grabbing a fistful of mane. For a moment, it looked like he had the situation under control. But as Echo's front hooves pounded against the ground, he launched his hind feet out behind him. Nate's right leg slipped behind the saddle, and Maddie couldn't breathe.
Echo surged upright again, and Nate flew off the saddle.
As he tumbled headfirst, Maddie heard her scream before she realized it came from her throat. She vaulted over the rail, ignoring the shouts from the track officials, and raced to his side. Not Nate. This wasn't happening. Oh, God, not Nate.
He wasn't moving. As tears coursed down her cheeks, she fell to her knees near his head. His hand came up, reaching t
oward her face, but stopped short and dropped back to his chest. He tried to smile. “Maddie, I'll always love you."
The tears came harder, rocking her body, and she lifted his head into her lap. It lolled at an awkward angle. Yet, still, he looked at her. “Don't take this risk, Maddie. Don't do it, sweetheart. It's in the blood. Infidelity is his sire's son."
His bright blue eyes went blank, and he was gone.
Maddie jerked awake, gasping, her heart drumming in her ears as she clutched at the covers, too scared to let go.
Riley's arms came around her in an instant.
She turned into his shoulder, wide-eyed with fear.
"Angel, shh. It's okay,” he soothed.
It wasn't okay. Not at all. There was something very wrong with her horse, and no amount of reason could convince her otherwise.
"We have to scratch Infidelity, Riley. Before he kills someone."
"Honey, it's just a dream."
Pushing at his shoulders, she twisted out of his embrace and answered with a violent shake of her head. “No. He's going to hurt someone. Just like Echo did.” She scrambled out of the bed and started around it to reach for the phone.
As she closed her fingers around the receiver, Riley's hand fell over hers, stilling it. “What are you doing, darlin'?"
"Calling Archie. I've got to scratch Infidelity."
He lifted her hand, plucked the receiver from it, and set it back in the cradle before he pulled her onto his lap. “There's nothing wrong with your horse. If you don't believe me, I'll take you over to the stable right now and prove it to you. Accidents happen, Maddie. Every jock out there knows the risks involved with getting on a racer. There's nothing you could have done to stop Nate's fall. Nothing you could have done to stop Sam's. Scratching a horse because you're afraid it will happen again isn't sensible."
Her fear broke through, and the tears that always threatened when she woke from the dream spilled down her cheeks. Riley was right. She had no justification for scratching her horse, and for the first time, something he said about the dream made sense. She faulted herself for not stopping Nate from dying. Riley couldn't possibly know the night before Nate's death, after he'd proposed, she'd wanted to run away right then and do it. He'd insisted he had to ride. She argued her father would understand. For almost eight years, she'd beat herself over the head that she hadn't been able to convince him out of that ride.
Riley's strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close, and she breathed in the clean scent of him. Beneath her cheek, his heart drummed steady. When he spoke, his voice rumbled deep in his chest. “Don't cry, angel. It's just a dream. I don't know what to do when you cry."
She wiped at her cheeks with a sniff and took a deep breath, tempering her emotions.
"Do you want to go see him? Have the vet out again? Tell me what you want, Maddie, and I'll do it."
"No.” She shook her head and reached for a Kleenex. “You're right. I'm just being paranoid. It's just...” Trailing off, she bit down on her lip.
He slid his fingers through her hair. “Just what?"
"It feels like so much more than a dream. Like I'm missing something I'm supposed to understand."
With a sigh, he tipped her head back to peer down into her face. “If it was me in that dream telling you these things, what would you think then?"
Her brows furrowed, uncomfortable with his insinuation.
"All I'm trying to say is, I think the dream has a lot more to do with Nate's death than it does your horse. If it were anyone else, you'd laugh it off. Maybe it has everything to do with forgiving yourself, angel. Letting go of the past."
"Maybe.” She didn't think so. Still, there was nothing she could do that would seem rational. Whatever the reason, Nate's words held warning.
"C'mon back to bed. You can curl up with me.” He scooted backwards, making room for her on his side of the bed. She snuggled down into the covers with him.
The weight of his arm settled around her waist, safe and secure, grounding her back into the world of reason.
As she closed her eyes and sought sleep, it occurred to her not once today had he bothered to kiss her. Not even now, when he usually distracted her with them. Damn, just what had she done when she picked that argument with him? Had she driven him away?
* * * *
Riley woke at dawn and extracted himself from the tangle of Maddie's limbs. It required phenomenal effort to ignore the soft call of her mouth, to resist the way his body ached for her. No matter how he desired her, he didn't want to make love to her with this distance between them. He couldn't tolerate the idea of just having sex with Maddie. Not when it had involved much more for a long time.
He took his time in the shower, thinking through the hours ahead. They had a box-seat view, and for the better part of the day all they'd need to do was sit and watch the early races. Archie, John, and Scott would join them, along with Ben's wife, Becca.
Pre-race preparation would consume him. Archie would handle most of Maddie's, and unless she chose to do so—as Riley knew she would—she didn't have to leave the racing suite. He, however, had to figure out how he didn't lose track of her in the chaos, so he could be at her side when the officials announced her name in relation to Mister Spoilsport. That would open the door he needed.
From there, he didn't know what he intended to do. But, the night would end, with her in his arms, beneath the moonlight, on a yacht in the harbor. One way or the other.
When he returned to the bedroom, he found her dressed and waiting. His eyes fastened on the square neckline of her tank-style red dress, drawn to the emerald necklace she still wore. At least she hadn't taken it off, although in some respects it seemed a ridiculous notion to hold on to. The fact she hadn't kissed him in a full day seemed weightier than not taking off a necklace.
His gaze slipped down the length of her, admiring her shapely, bare legs and the bright red toenails that peeked from her low-heeled sandals. Bringing his eyes back to meet hers, he took in the way she'd piled her hair atop her head, and how the free tendrils framed her face, softening the sharp sophisticated look.
"You look nice, angel.” Nice didn't describe it. Damn sexy did. If everything went like he hoped, he'd enjoy taking her out of that dress.
"Thanks.” She smiled, but made no move toward him. Damn it all, why wouldn't she touch him of her own accord?
Turning to the closet, he pulled out his pants and dress shirt. As he dressed, he felt her eyes on him, watching as she liked to do. His body hummed with awareness of her until it was everything he could do, not to throw her on the bed and make her forget her anger, remind her how good it was between them.
It was a useless fantasy, though. If she wanted him that way, she'd have been over here peeling off the very clothes he put on.
He slid his arms into his suit jacket, and patted it smooth. When he turned around, his mouth went dry. Heat pooled in his groin, and his cock stiffened.
Maddie's eyes shimmered deep emerald, her lips parted slightly, and a flush crept into her cheeks. A look he recognized all too well. She wanted him.
* * * *
Try as she might, Maddie couldn't sit still. As the dinner hour rolled around, and the post-time for the Belmont Stakes approached, the bets grew larger, the purses deeper, and her friends’ laughter came louder. With each passing minute, she felt more like a lion, caged and needing to get out, to breathe some fresh air, to escape Riley's heated stare. She was desperate to have the race over and Infidelity tucked safe in his stall.
Today was her horse's last race. She'd retire him to stud as soon as they returned to Kentucky. Maybe then the damn dreams would stop. His lifetime earnings and total wins were more than enough to command a full book of mares for the next several years.
"Getting nervous, Maddie?” Becca asked as she handed her a glass of wine.
The woman was adorable. The kind of adorable Maddie associated with kittens. But right now, Maddie didn't feel like small talk. She wanted t
wo things—for Riley to stop ignoring her and kiss her with all the pent up desire reflected in his ale-colored eyes and for the Belmont to be over.
"A little,” she replied politely. “This whole week has been exhausting."
In the track's infield, the bulletin lit up, announcing the close of bets for the Riva Ridge Breeders Cup with a purse of $200,000. At Riley's insistence, Maddie had four grand riding on horse number four, Eagle Eye View, and she could care less about race number eight. They had just enough time to watch this race before she and Riley had to leave. John, Scott and Archie were already in the stables.
An hour to post time, and it seemed never-ending.
The gates rang and the horses shot out. Maddie couldn't watch. She whirled on her heel and yanked open the door, disappearing into the crowd of spectators and track employees. Four grand or not, she couldn't handle another moment in that suite.
Breathing deeply, she headed down the grandstand, out to the sidewalk, and towards the backside of the track where she flashed her identification badge at two security guards posted along the barrier gate. Out here, out where the grooms rushed around, the horses whinnied to one another, and the trainers shouted orders to anyone who'd listen, she relaxed. This was racing. The thrill of the backside. The intimate relationship with dozens of people whose dreams rode on the next clang of the starting gates.
She waved at Dirk Bettans as he led Brimstone out of the stable.
He catcalled in return.
For the first time all afternoon, she laughed.
Archie busied himself by hawking over John, supervising as John wrapped Infidelity's back legs with white bandages designed for additional support. Something John didn't need help with but Archie did to keep himself busy.
"Finally couldn't take it up there any longer eh, kiddo?” He gnawed on the end of an unlit cigar.
"I thought you gave those foul-smelling things up?"
His leathery features pulled into a wide grin. “I'm planning on taking up the habit today when Infidelity outruns Mister Spoilsport."
Maddie flashed him a grin. “I've got Tahiti on the line, he better do well."
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