Jockeying for You (10 page)

“Glad you’re so organized,” she said drolly. “But I meant something else. Can you turn off the lights?”

He eyed her quizzically. “Which one of us is ugly? If it’s me, I can wear both a condom and a paper bag.”

“Ha ha ha. I’m serious. Please?”

“Sure thing. As soon as you explain why. What’s wrong?”

“My accident . . . it left me a little . . .”

“You mean your scars?”

She felt her face heat up. Her heart pounded in her chest. Only this time from embarrassment and raw nerves.

“I know they’re there. I felt them on you.”

“Oh my God, you what?” She sank down lower into the bed, dragging the bedcover around her.

“Geez, Ryder, calm down. I don’t care about any of that. You are beautiful. I want to see you naked.”

He tugged at the blanket but her grip was iron clad. “No, okay? Please?”

“Okay. At least I’m comfortable with you seeing my body.” He got up to strip off his clothes.

Good thing, the man is gorgeous.
Taut muscles that had been hidden by high-end clothes were now gloriously revealed. Tight abs. Firm thighs. Built biceps. The food at Chez Louis XIV could not have been more tempting.

“If you enjoyed the preview,” he teased after turning off the lights, “can we move on to the performance?”

“Technically, wouldn’t this be an encore?”

“I’ll show you an encore,” he said as he climbed underneath the blanket.

As soon as he was on top of her she felt her skin peak and crest. Felt the heat creep up and take over. Bit her lip as his kisses worked their way down her body. Closed her eyes with an anticipation that was almost painful as he nudged his upper body down between her thighs.

“Last time was too fast. This time will be slow. I want to make love to you, Ryder Hannon. I want to revel in your heat. I want the feel of you as you embrace me. Tonight I am going to be a part of you.”

From his words and the touch of his mouth, hands, and body, she floated away in a cloud of sensations.

“Hey, you’re finally awake,” Jake teased.

“Hmmm? What?” Ryder tried to rouse herself from a deep sleep and to kick her brain into gear. Blinking, her eyes darted around, trying to get her bearings. She was in an enormous bedroom. With Jake. Who was standing up wearing only pajama pants, smiling at her with an obvious affection so deep she felt herself blush in response.

“Morning,” she finally mumbled.
Good Lord, I’ve slept with an owner. A well-known, well-connected, owner. Whom I work for. And who knows about all of my scars. Damn.

“You seem a bit nervous. Are you? How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Umm. Okay.”
Considering I probably have morning breath and look like a wreck in addition to everything else.

“Not sure I believe you. But go wash up and hurry right back.”

“Okay, I’m going.” As soon as she pushed the blankets off of her she realized she was naked. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she ran into the bathroom. In a second, she had slammed the door behind her.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” he called out pleasantly. “You really are quite beautiful.”

“Er, thanks,” she said loudly enough to be heard through the door. “I’m nowhere close yet, but give me a few moments. I can work my way up to being presentable. I hope.”

With a slump of relief to be in privacy, she made her way over to the sink. Using his toothbrush was way too intimate.

So was showing him her scars.

Chapter 10

Ryder passively watched Handsome Dancer and Golden Child being hot walked by two teenaged girls. The girls were working hard but clearly enjoying themselves, their laughter filling the air. Ryder remembered the same joy she felt when she was their age at being allowed to help with a horse’s care. There had been no better feeling, until she started learning how to jockey.

She rested her forearms on the railing as she reminisced. The smell of cut grass and damp earth filled her nose. The sunlight warmed her skin. She closed her eyes to enjoy a stray breeze blowing in.

She could not believe all that had happened in the few short weeks since the night she and Jake had been together. Their relationship was progressing as fast as Handsome Dancer. Which was saying quite a lot. Handsome Dancer’s desire to succeed during his practice runs was nothing less than stellar. An ordinary thoroughbred would require a resting period of a week, sometimes two, after a vigorous practice session. But after waiting only a day or two, Handsome would whimper to go out and do it again. At first she thought maybe she was misreading his signals, but his desire to take off when she mounted him could not have been clearer if he spoke English.

She thought back to Jake’s teasing her that she was Dr. Doolittle.
Maybe I do speak “horse.” And maybe relationships based on trust and communication do work out.

If it did work out, she would be responsible for two miraculous performances. She had never opened herself up so completely to an animal, let alone a man. Both males had a way of getting under her skin. It felt like the soothing warmth of the sun.

Swatting away a pesky mosquito, she wondered which of the two males was more affectionate. The way their eyes looked at her soulfully hit her in the heart. Although with Jake, the sensation zinged further down . . .

“Hey, Ry,” Mindy called out from across the way.

Ryder waved back with vigor.
I belong here.
She closed her eyes again, reveling in the bliss of the perfect afternoon. So far, everything was going well. Tomorrow, Handsome Dancer would be entered in a race. Emanuel Velasquez would be the jockey. Would all her good luck continue?

The next afternoon was hotter than Hades around the racetrack. Jake, however, failed to notice either the weather or its effect. He had bigger things on his mind. Like the upcoming race, Handsome Dancer’s first.

The bugler played “The Call to the Post,” effectively announcing the start of the race. Spectators moved to take their seats in the public viewing stands. The massive arena was surprisingly packed for an end-of-season, average Saturday. It was a pleasure to see so many spectators after the Belmont Stakes three weeks before. Usually after the final stop of the Triple Crown, the crowds died down a bit. It was possible the long-awaited triumph of American Pharoah had given horseracing in general, and the New York Racing Association in particular, a popularity boost.

He could only hope Handsome Dancer would eventually earn the same whirlwind worldwide love. Though several of Jake’s stallions had done quite well in notable races with large pots, things with a particular horse had to happen in their own natural order. If Handsome did well today, he could try him out some more in Saratoga. The Upstate New York track’s season would start shortly. A few wins there would solidify Handsome Dancer’s spot back at Belmont.

His thoughts drifted to upcoming summer nights with his lovely lady. They would stroll along Saratoga’s main street after the afternoon races were done, hand-in-hand. What he needed was patience. Too bad it was in short supply. He could barely wait for the race to start, let alone for Ryder to fall headlong into his arms. He glanced down at his watch.
The race should be starting any second now.

A bead of sweat slowly trickled down his neck as he stood against the rail of the owner’s VIP viewing section. A droplet fell onto his chest, but he swatted the sensation away as if it were a pesky summer fly. His gaze, and complete focus, were now on the scene unfolding in front of him. He squinted through the intense sunlight, a hand over his eyes in a futile attempt to block out the glare.

The massive television screen out on the field showed the starting gate roughly six furloughs away, impossible to see clearly with the naked eye.

The digital screen showed the gates open and then a blur of horses. The stallions had taken off like mini tornados.

Jake’s fingers went tightly into fists. The announcer’s voice filled the massive arena.
“And they’re off, ladies and gentlemen . . .”

A moment later, he nearly bit the inside of his mouth from nerves as he realized Handsome Dancer, still standing in the eighth gate, was the last to leave. The horse’s hesitation lasted two heart-stopping seconds. Then he bolted, with Emanuel in the saddle, flying at such speed they were no more than a streak of brown as they raced past each mile-marker post on the outside of the track.

Jake’s heart hit against his ribcage hard enough to put a jackhammer to shame. And it only got worse as Handsome Dancer evened up with the other contenders, and then left them way behind. The closest horse to him had its nose behind Handsome Dancer’s tail.

Handsome Dancer moved to the inside, as close to the rail as he could get. Emanuel obviously had used great skill in getting him there, weaving in and out of the wall of traffic to place Handsome solidly in the lead.

But then Handsome Dancer faltered. Jake watched in horror as his horse stumbled then was smacked from behind against his outside flank. Both horses almost fell over before recovering. Emanuel, however, had less luck. The capable jockey bounced off Handsome Dancer’s back. And onto the dirt track.

Jake’s heart almost stopped. His breathing halted. The crowd gasped. He watched helplessly as Emanuel lay still, no doubt praying he wouldn’t be trampled to death. The other jockeys did what they could to avoid tragedy, but stopping a sea of stampeding horses, all spooked from the accident, was no easy feat. Even for the best.

After what seemed an eternity, Emanuel managed to roll himself over to the guardrail and to the safety of the soft turf inside the Winchester track. Applause broke out from the spectators. Belmont’s ambulance, the one that drove along the track of every race, stopped. Paramedics jumped out and within seconds Emanuel was whisked away.

The announcer’s voice came on. “The ambulance workers gave us the thumbs-up. Emanuel Velazquez is going to be all right folks . . .” The crowd cheered loudly.

Jake felt air go into his lungs. He took off for the stairway leading down to the track.

Despite the injury, the race had continued on. Rider-less Handsome Dancer, however, had slowed his pace. By the time he come to a complete stop, the other thoroughbreds were safely past him and headed down the home stretch.

Jake held his breath as the announcer’s voice came on over the loudspeaker again. One of Barney Smythe’s horses, Big Pay Day, had won the race. Handsome Dancer and the horse that had bumped him had been disqualified.

Jake fought the hordes to get himself out on the track to grab Handsome Dancer’s reins. Until he noticed Ryder had beaten him there. She held Handsome’s reins loosely as she checked him over.

If the horse had any injury or distress from the ordeal, he didn’t show it. Ryder’s face, however, did. “I think Handsome is okay. I’m so sorry for what happened to Emanuel though. I hope he really is going to be all right. The paramedics say he’s conscious and only broke his leg. Unfortunately, they think it’s in two places.” She grimaced. “They’re going to check him over for a concussion, too.”

A zillion photoflashes went off around him. “Great. This will be all over ESPN,” he muttered. “Give us some quiet, folks. Can’t you see a man was hurt?”

The unfazed paparazzi, however, continued taking their shots.

When the crowd was finally gone, and Handsome Dancer was walked off the track by a hostile Lenny, Ryder put an arm around Jake. “I know you’re upset for Emanuel, but he’s going to be okay. Considering how fast Handsome Dancer was going, Emanuel’s lucky he didn’t get killed.”

“You’re right,” he conceded. “I’ll check on him as soon as the medics let me.” Jake let out a hard breath and gestured over to his horse. “How is he?”

“I’m sure he’s spooked, but he’ll be okay, too.”

There was something about her calm, quiet nature he always found so soothing. On a
craptastic
day like today, her soothing nature was even more appreciated than usual. He took Ryder’s free hand and walked with her away from the track and back to the stables.

Chapter 11

It had been several days since Emanuel’s fall. Handsome Dancer had been too skittish to be ridden since then. Emanuel’s attitude fared not much better. Jake handled the last phone call from the jockey with a combination of sympathy and anger. The sympathy had been expected, but not the anger. Emanuel was somehow convinced Ryder’s poor training skills had caused the horse to stumble. No amount of persuasion could change the jockey’s mind. Jake held his head in his hand, bracing against a migraine as he recalled their multiple conversations.

“She doesn’t know what she is doing,” the jockey had accused.

“Any horse can stumble at any time,” Jake had countered. “You know that. It’s one of the risks of being a jockey. This sport is dangerous.”

“It
is
dangerous. That’s why nobody hires a woman to do it.”

“Sexist accusations aren’t going to help either of us, Emanuel. You know there are other women trainers out there. I’ve even seen another one in the stables, a Mindy somebody-or-other.”

“There’s no need for me to know their names because they cannot do the job right.”

Those telephone calls had been almost as painful as the subsequent one with his father. “I told you that horse is a loser,” his father challenged.

“You say that about everything I value.”

“I’m always right, aren’t I?” His father didn’t pause long enough for Jake to respond. “I don’t approve of you dating this trainer, either. People are starting to talk about it. Important people. Ones who go to our country club.”

“Good for them,” Jake tossed out, trying to sound much more cavalier than he felt.

“Jake,” his father warned in an ominous tone. “One of the things I’m right about is Ryder Hannon. Obviously her training skills aren’t worth a good God—”

“Don’t say it,” Jake hissed. “I’m getting tired of listening to people who grasp onto any excuse they can dredge up as to why it’s Ryder’s fault. Maybe the fault lies with the track’s field condition. Or the jockey—”

“I doubt it was the track. If anybody saw anything irregular in the field conditions an announcement would have been made. As for the jockey, you’re the one who picked him and I wouldn’t have done that, either. But you’re right about one thing. It could have been his fault. Fire him and then fire the girl.”

Jake did his best to stop the brewing explosion inside him. “Ryder Hannon is a grown woman, not a girl.”

“She looks like a lost waif.”

“Are you making fun of her appearance? She was a jockey. She still maintains a jockey’s figure.”

“She doesn’t look womanly. Although clearly you’re able to think of her as a woman. No doubt that’s why you’re sleeping with her,” his father grumbled.

Jake’s voice lowered an octave. “Back off from my sex life, Dad. It’s none of your bus—”

“Oh, but it is my business. Because a large part of my money is funding your operations.”

“I have supported myself for years. Want a check to reimburse you for the rest of it? I’ll send one right off,” he spat through tight lips.

“Watch it, son. Here’s another piece of business advice you need. You get rid of the girl, not the father. Stop screwing the hired help and put your focus back where it belongs.”

Jake slammed the house phone down so hard a sconce on the mahogany-paneled wall rattled.

Ten minutes later, he lifted his head out of his hands and got up to get some aspirin. The throbbing in his head wouldn’t go away. He could only hope the rest of his problems would. It didn’t seem likely though. He could maybe live without the family support. But he couldn’t without a jockey.

Ryder stared at Jake in the mansion’s great white kitchen, blinking hard in disbelief. “A present? For me? You know my birthday isn’t until November. What’s the occasion?”

“Open it and find out. I’m getting antsy to give it to you.” He gestured to the wrapped gift on the counter.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Ryder tore it open to find a silk jacket inside with a matching helmet cover. Red and yellow harlequin diamonds shone brightly against a white background. Realization hit her with a force so strong she felt it in her stomach.
Oh!

“Yup. Jockey silk in the colors of my stables. It’s the most perfect gift I could ever get you. I would be honored if you’d wear this jacket.”

Her mouth hung open, not moving.

“I have faith in you, Ry. Now you need to have faith in you, too. Pick up the gauntlet I’m throwing down.”

“You really want me to do this? Now?”

“You heard me. We have a big race coming up. The one Handsome Dancer was practicing for, the last race of Belmont’s season. I want you to be the jockey.”

She moved her jaw up and down but it took a few moments for words to come out. “Think about this, Jake. Handsome Dancer is still very skittish after what happened during this last race.”

“He’ll be willing to race. I know it. And we both know he’s not going to let anyone else ride him besides you. Is he?”

Ryder thought about the men she had encouraged to take over for Emanuel. Rafael Ladeaux was thrown off halfway around the track in a practice run. The man was lucky he was only superficially injured. John Litton could not even persuade Handsome to move. Mike Barton made the most progress, he got Handsome Dancer to sulk around the entire track.

“I know Handsome will let you ride him,” Jake persuaded. “You know it, too.”

Ryder shook her head. But even as she did, she knew Jake was right. She had ridden Handsome Dancer successfully since Emanuel’s fall and had the same astonishing results as her first practice run.

But being a jockey again?
No way.
Not. Gonna. Happen.
“I’ll find somebody,” she promised.
There’s
got
to be somebody
.

“No, you won’t. So let’s go with the person I found. You.”

She stepped back from him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Impossible. I’m a trainer, not a jockey.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “You still have your jockey license, don’t you? C’mon, Ryder. I know deep down you want to do this.”

She sucked her lips into her mouth and bit down. “Lose? No, I don’t want to do that at all.”

“Are you trying to convince you or me that you’re going to fail?”

“What would people say?” she cried out, circumventing the question. “People will think you’ve lost your mind. First, for betting on a loser horse, and then for betting on a loser jockey.” Her voice sounded strangled. “Your father called me today. Told me he’d pay me to not train Handsome Dancer anymore. I’d get the equivalent of three months’ worth of winnings, just by giving up.”

“My father did
what
?”

“I wouldn’t have told you if you didn’t bring this up. I don’t want to cause any more trouble.”

“You? It’s my crazy, controlling father who is causing trouble.” His lips twisted into a flat smirk. “I’m going to enjoy the phone call I make to him tonight. It’s time he understands he’d better let me handle my own business.”

“I agree, he’s definitely controlling, but in his mind, maybe he’s also trying to help you. Stop your financial bleeding before the patient dies.” Her voice got very quiet. “I’m trying to protect you, too, Jake. I’m not going to risk your investment by riding.”

“Why is everyone trying to decide what’s best for me? I need to make my own choices. I choose to let Handsome Dancer race, whether or not my father likes it. And I choose you to be Handsome’s jockey, if you’ll willing to take the chance. I’m not pressuring you, Ryder, but I’m sure as hell not going to accept your refusal because somehow you think you’re doing me a favor.”

Ryder clutched her arms around herself tighter. She was now feeling cold. “What would people think?”

“I’ll tell them that as far as I’m concerned, the longer the odds the more I like it. Big money gambles big.” He laughed, although there was little mirth in his voice. “Who cares what they think? Or what I tell them? People, like my father, will believe what they want to anyway. The only person’s mind I want to change is yours. You need to believe you can do this. Be the person you always wanted to be. Not because I want you to race but because you want to.”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“Think about it,” he said. He stepped forward and pulled her close to him until their bodies were joined from chest to knees. Leaning over, he kissed the top of her forehead. “This is a chance both of us need to take. I need to show my father I’m going to follow my own path. You are going to show yourself, and all the naysayers out there, that you are one hell of a jockey. Win or lose, you’ll have proven you’re made of tough stuff.”

“I don’t want to prove myself to anyone.”

“How about to yourself?”

“I like you, Jake,” she said softly. “But don’t make me sorry I opened up to you. I may have wanted to be a jockey once upon a time. But I’ve moved on. Changed my goals. Changed me. I have a safe, viable business now. I’m respected more as a trainer than I ever was as a jockey. It may not be easy being a woman trainer, but as a jockey I was a laughing stock. Even before I fell off a horse and became an even bigger joke.”

“Emanuel fell of a horse. Nobody thinks he’s a laughing stock.”

“Of course not. He’s a man.”

“Maybe nobody was laughing at you, either. You perceived them to be laughing because you think they scorn all women riders.”

Ryder swallowed hard and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s not my
perception
. It’s a fact. Barney Smythe may have done you favors by selling Handsome Dancer for a song, but he never did any favors for me. He went right up to me after my fall and told me I was making the entire sport of horseracing look bad. That I should quit if I cared about the sport at all.”

Jake’s eyes went wide. “He actually said that to you? What an ass. Did you have some kind of connection with him that he thought he could approach you in the first place?”

“His cousin was the one I was riding for. I guess Barney thought it was a matter of family pride.”

“Now I’m even happier I have his horse.”

“Sure, you’ll make him feel stupid if Handsome Dancer wins. But if I ride him, not only can I fail, he’ll make a laughing stock out of you, too. You’re not a family member Barney will want to protect. You’ll be the guy who was dumb enough to hire a female jockey. One with a poor track record.”

He smiled slowly. “So what? My father already thinks something similar. I’m either too stubborn or stupid to follow his advice.” He laughed. “Or both.”

Ryder felt her heart grow heavy. “It’s even worse that your father thinks less of you than he does me.”

“I respect my father, but he’s narcissistic. He thinks the only way to success is to follow directly in his footprints. It kills him when I trail blaze. He thinks I set myself up for failure. But I love a good challenge. Who wants to live life in someone else’s shadow?”

Ryder stayed quiet.
How ironic. I’d love to live in my father’s shadow. Follow along in his footprints. Live up to the name he gave me.
Her gaze dropped to the floor.
He tried so hard to back me. Our dream was the same. It’s so sad to have to let that dream go . . .

“Are you all right, Ry? You’re shivering and the color’s gone from your face.” He gestured to the cappuccino cups he’d laid out on the countertop. “Maybe you should drink yours. It’ll warm you up.” When she didn’t move, he picked up the mug that was closest to him. “I’ll demo it for you. Show you it’s not vile.” He took a long sip. “Fantastic, if I do say so myself. Remember I only buy my coffee machines from Italy. Life is too short for sub-standard.”

The rich and fragrant aroma of coffee filled the air. It was tantalizing but she declined. “I’m too tensed up for caffeine. Jake, I don’t want to be the cause of a rift between you and your father. Any more than I already am.”

He held the cup in his hands, obviously mulling over her statement. “There’s already a rift between us. I don’t like being told what I can and cannot do. I also don’t like him going behind my back. He never should have called you. He’s always been dogmatic, but meddling into my affairs, and yours, was crossing the line.”

“It’s not only your father who doubts my ability.” She watched Jake put the cup to his lips again, envious his stomach wasn’t too sour to drink it.

“I’ve been stuck my whole life listening to my father,” he said. “But what’s your excuse? I’m surprised you’d listen to him or a guy like Barney Smythe. Barney came right out and told you that women can’t be jockeys, and you listened to him. Still do.”

“That’s not fair. It’s just that I . . .”

Jake placed the cup back on the countertop. “It’s just what, Ryder? That he’s right? Right because you had an accident, so you have to toss away your whole career? Men have accidents all the time. No one tells them they can’t ride. It’s the jockey who’s supposed to decide when to retire.”

“Okay, I decided, and I’m telling you my career is through.” Her eyes were starting to water and sting. “I don’t want to discuss this anymore.”

“Talking this out is the only way to resolve it.”

“It’s resolved.”

“Really? Glad you’ve agreed to be my jockey. Excellent!”

She narrowed her eyes, swiping away the wetness in a corner. “You know what I meant.”

“Yes, I do. You meant our discussion is over. But I’m not ready to let the topic drop. What are you so afraid of?”

“Can’t you let it go?”

“Sure. After you answer me.”

“I’m afraid of failing! Of having my best efforts fall short. To want something so badly, only to be horribly disappointed.” Her voice broke. “Okay? Are you happy now?” The tears ran down her face. Her nose ran. She gave a loud sniff and angrily wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Do you know what it is to be the daughter of a world famous jockey? Not the son, but the daughter?”