Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash (15 page)

His hand dropped to her head, idly stroking the nape of her neck, and she sensed movement of his other hand as it thumbed the phone. His lap was hard but comfortable although she didn’t understand how that could be. She did know his hands hadn’t once roamed, and on Sunday he was going to fix her roof.

She trusted him, she realized, in that relaxed moment before waking when the mind was crystal clear and ideas zapped like lightening.

It had been a lazy afternoon though. She probably should get Peanut off the grass before he foundered, and she should definitely think of something for supper. Maybe Burke would want to hang around to eat, although she was probably a very boring date—if hanging out on the swing could even be called a date.

Those drugs definitely drained her energy. She didn’t know how long she’d napped, but so far this enforced disability had been rather pleasant.

She stretched in contentment, cracked her lids open and stared up into Burke’s enigmatic eyes.

“I’ve got to go back to Three Brooks for a bit,” he said softly. His hand slid around her neck and his thumb made her skin tingle. “I’ll stick Peanut back in the kennel—he’s probably had enough grass—and pick something up for supper. What would you like?”

She blinked, wondering if she’d thought aloud. His thumb moved along her jaw to her cheek, slow and sure, so light she could barely feel it. She tilted her head, automatically leaning into his touch.

“Probably tired of soup.” His thumb caressed her upper lip. “Maybe tonight you’ll be ready for something a little more…meaty?”

His eyes, his voice, his touch made her body spark with awareness. Shit, even her nipples tingled now and part of her wanted that big hand to drop to her breasts.

It would be disastrous though. She had to keep her wits, what little she had. Unfortunately her traitorous body was sizzling, arguing with her brain, and being scarily insistent.
Pick me up and carry me to the bed
.

And now his other hand traced her collarbone, his thumb still working seductively on her lips. “You can have anything you want,” he said, “but you have to tell me.”

She hated her weakness, knew sex was a weapon, love was a weapon, and exactly how her father had played her mom. It was important to stay in control here. Or escape before she lost it.

She eased upright, sliding away from his hand. “I don’t eat much meat. I’d like to stay with something lighter, maybe sushi.”

Disappointment darkened his eyes but she thought he rallied well, better than most men. “Sushi it is then,” he said.

***

She adjusted her cards and glanced at her watch, unable to hide a yawn.

“Am I boring you?” Burke’s mouth curved in a tolerant smile.

“No, but raw fish always makes me sleepy.”

“I never heard that before.”

Neither had she, but she still had to sneak Peanut up to the Center and tomorrow was the annual steeplechase. Always a demanding day. And those pain pills made her sleepy. Probably time to cut back. She fervently wished she didn’t have to sneak.

“What about playing for a light treatment for Peanut?” she asked casually, staring at her cards—two Jacks and two nines.

“Jenna, that pony isn’t worth the cost of electricity. Besides you lose.”

Her eyes widened as he flipped over three Queens. “How did you do that?” She’d been sure she had a winning hand. “Are these cards marked?”

She scanned the deck suspiciously. She’d won the first few games but it seemed whenever she really wanted something, he squeaked through with a win. She definitely wouldn’t have agreed to stay off work for a whole week if she hadn’t been positive of winning.

At least, payroll had called to confirm full pay while she researched Ridgeman, as though
that
would take more than half an hour.

He stretched his arm over the back of the swing but she scrambled to her feet, avoiding his touch, hurt by his worthless pony comment.

“I’ll pick you up in the morning,” he said, rising and walking to the steps.

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks for dinner.”

He didn’t even try to kiss her for which she was grateful, although it was rather humbling. He could at least have
tried
to kiss her. But maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he was the kind of guy who only liked to touch women, to massage them, to stroke them. Make them feel good and then leave.

Oh, God, he had her all balled up again.

She sighed as his car eased from the driveway, but she waited several cautious minutes before changing into her jogging outfit and gathering Peanut.

The pony had already missed two days of light therapy; he couldn’t miss a third. And it was Burke’s fault she had to sneak. The man was infuriating—sometimes incredibly kind, other times so thoughtless it felt like he was snapping an elastic band around her chest.

It was a game to him. A little amusement on the side while he stabilized Three Brooks and searched for more companies to conquer. But that was okay. She could handle it.

She tugged the pony down the dark path, but he was unusually slow. Breathing heavy and labored… She jerked to a stop, chilled by fear. “Okay, buddy, we’ll stop and rest. No problem.”

He shoved his wheezy nose against her stomach, as though grateful for the break, not even trying to sniff at the ground and snatch something to eat.

“Oh, Peanut.” She rubbed his neck, murmuring nonsensical words of love, checking her watch as she counted his respiration rate. High but not critical. He was fine, probably wanted a break. He was a smart pony, just kind of lazy. He was absolutely fine.

But her breath caught in a sob, and she bent down and pressed her damp cheek against his neck. Take care of Emily and Peanut, her mother had said. Yet, lately she’d been doing a piss-poor job of both.

The lights from Three Brooks glimmered through the trees and she swallowed her fear. Wally was great with horses; he’d know what to do. She just had to make sure Peanut arrived there safely.

They stumbled from the tree line, moving achingly slow. Larry’s truck was nowhere in sight and she breathed a sigh of relief. Other than Burke, no one knew when the security patrols were. Not any longer. She fought a rush of bitterness.

She checked the base of the statue, searching for the glint of a key. Wally’s truck was shoved against the side of the visitors’ lot in an obvious show of defiance. Probably not a good idea to wave a red flag in front of Burke, but she shared Wally’s frustration.

She unlocked the door and anxiously called his name.

“Jenna? What’s wrong?” Wally rushed down the steps, his gaze sweeping her face before narrowing on Peanut. “How long has he been breathing like that?”

“I’m not sure. For the last thirty minutes, at least, maybe more.” Regret swept her. She’d been too busy eating sushi and flirting with Burke to even check her beloved pony.

Wally slipped his hand under Peanut’s jawbone, taking his pulse then pressed his ear against the pony’s belly. “I need to check his temperature first, but has he ever been in the oxygen chamber?”

She shook her head. “Would it help?” she asked brokenly.

“Probably. Come on. Bring him down.”

Wally unlocked the door to the oxygen room, strode across the floor and pulled open the heavy metal door to the chamber.

“Lead him in, Jenna, then come out and shut the door. We’ll give him forty-five minutes.”

Wally turned to the control panel and pressed a green button. “He’s too small to look out the window so just stand there so he can see your face. Most horses don’t mind the chamber. Some love it, and Peanut is a very smart fellow. In a minute, he’ll be breathing a hundred-percent oxygen.”

Jenna peered through the window, studying Peanut who merely flicked his tail and stared back with an accepting look in his liquid eyes. She should have been using this years ago when she had easy access. The chamber was great for healing lung tissue and stubborn infections. She’d been crazy not to take full advantage, and now Burke had put this out of reach.

“How’s he doing?” Wally asked gently.

“He doesn’t mind it at all,” she managed.

“Good.” Wally gave her a faintly sheepish look. “I have company upstairs. I’ll get rid of her and be right back.”

“No, please don’t, Wally. We’re fine. I know how to work this machine.”

“I’ll be right back, Jenna.” Wally said firmly. “Peanut is a special fellow and I want to help. Besides, waiting here all alone is boring.” He paused, hand on the doorknob. “You know about the emergency shutoff button? Seals all the oxygen, in case of a leak?”

“Yes, and there’s a valve in the other room.”

“That’s right. Red knob on the side wall.” He pushed open the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

Jenna squared her shoulders and crossed the room. She settled into the chair by the controls, staring at the blinking panel loaded with lights and gauges. It was going to be a long night. Forty-five minutes of oxygen, twenty minutes in the solarium and maybe Peanut should have some magnetic therapy too.

It was critical to get this pony’s health turned around, so much harder to straighten animals out when they were aged. Thank God for Wally and his inherent kindness. It wasn’t at all necessary that he come back, but part of her was rather relieved.

There was something spooky about the metal chamber and its pressurized environment—the capsule always reminded her of an alien space ship, mysterious and slightly menacing. The red explosive warnings didn’t soothe her senses either. When giving a tour, she touched blithely on the dangers of gas under pressure but tried not to worry about it. Tonight, with her pony in the chamber and oxygen filling the slender pipes, she really would appreciate some company.

Chapter Fifteen

Burke turned into the driveway. Peanut lifted his head from the dewy grass, trotted a few steps then gave a playful buck. Little pony was feeling good.

He climbed the porch steps, pausing as Jenna opened the screen door. Damn, she was hot. It had been a long time since he’d had such a visceral reaction to a woman. Maybe it was because he’d never seen her in a dress. A creamy-white sundress that looked simple, but wasn’t. Not when it was on her.

“Add a hat and you’re ready for the Derby,” he said, dragging his gaze to her full pink lips, wishing he could taste them. She rarely wore makeup and that was a damn good thing. It was going to be difficult to keep things as slow as she wanted.

She pirouetted, clearly oblivious to his thoughts, scooped up an elegantly brimmed hat and gave a mischievous smile. “Ah, but the Stillwater Steeplechase is much more fun than the little old Kentucky Derby.” Her smile turned rueful as she waved her right arm. “I planned to change the old bandage for a sparkling new one, but couldn’t remember if you said thirty-six hours or forty-eight?”

He stepped in. The screen door banged behind him, and he hooked a chair with his foot. “Sit down. It was thirty-six hours and I totally forgot. You were so high from the pain needle it’s amazing you remember anything. Where are the bandages and cream?”

“In the bathroom.” She made no move to sit, didn’t ever do anything he said. “But here’s the thing. When I tried peeking to see how it was healing, the bandage was kind of stuck to the skin.”

Concern darkened her beautiful face and he guided her gently into the chair. “Don’t worry,” he said as he walked down the hall and into the bathroom.

It was tiny but comfortable. A pink toothbrush stood in a sparkling clean glass and on the side of the sink lay two tattered horse magazines stamped ‘Three Brooks’ along with the antibiotic cream and bandages. A fresh breeze sifted through the window, fluttering the curtains, and even from the bathroom, he could survey the sloping valley. A damn nice view, all around.

He washed his hands, smiling at the flowery-smelling soap. Scooped up the bandages and cream and rejoined her in the kitchen.

“You’re not going to yank real quick, are you?” she asked, eyeing him warily.

“Jenna, I’m going to make you squeal. Especially since there are company magazines in your bathroom. You’re not borrowing supplies again, are you?” He shook his head in mock dismay, dragging the chair closer until his knee touched her thigh. “It’s probably easier for me to pull off than you. We could go to the hospital, but the wait might be quite long.”

“Pull away then.” She gave a resolute nod, held out her arm and averted her head.

He unwrapped the first layer, slowing as he neared the bottom of the bandage. Shit. It definitely was stuck. Really stuck. This was going to hurt. “Maybe we should go to the hospital,” he muttered.

“Just do it,” she said.

He hesitated, staring at her left hand curled trustingly over his knee, then set his jaw and ripped. He winced but she didn’t make a sound.

Oh, shit
. He stared in dismay at the blistered skin, wondering if she’d need a skin graft. He fumbled for the ointment, his movements clumsy with regret. The lid clattered sideways onto the linoleum table.

She turned her head questioningly, looking down before he could distract her. “Oh, that’s healing great,” she said.

“Yeah.” His throat had gone dry and he struggled with the container, wishing he’d been the one who’d been burned. “I’m going to rub this on,” he added, his voice gruff. “It might hurt.”

“This was not your fault, Burke.” She smiled at him for a long moment, rich with generosity, but he knew he couldn’t forgive himself as easily.

“Don’t wiggle,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He slathered on half the container of cream and wrapped the burn, holding her wrist much longer than necessary, willing it to magically heal. “There,” he said, trying to match her smile. “The bandage matches your dress. Very nice.”

Her arms were tanned and toned and also very nice, and he couldn’t resist dragging a finger over the curve of her arm. “Guess we’re ready to go,” he said, still holding her wrist, intensely aware of the warmth of her leg against his thigh.

“One more thing,” he added, not wanting her to move. He slid his hand in his pocket. “I have your ring. Want me put it on your other hand?”