Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash (26 page)

“Three nights,” he said.

She pulled back an inch, too drained to escape to her side of the bed. Still, no man had slept overnight before. Emily had been a built-in chaperone, and a pretend boyfriend in the next town kept most men away. Burke, though, rammed like a runaway freight train.

“Three nights and I make breakfast. Plus,” he added, lazily thumbing her nipple, “I’ll even cook the fish tonight.”

Her stomach rumbled. She’d forgotten all about the trout along with the apple cobbler in the oven. And now breakfast? Bacon and eggs had been a rarity since Emily left for college. “What kind of breakfast are we talking?” she asked. “Continental?”

“So suspicious.” He chuckled and slid his hand beneath her hair until she’d settled back against his chest. Such a nice chest too. She traced the contours with her fingers, drifting lower, unable to resist some exploration of her own.

“All right,” she murmured, “but you also put Peanut in for the night and cut up his carrots.”

“Peanut’s top of my list,” he said.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jenna clearly had no idea how sexy she was in her little shorts and white T-shirt, hair slightly tousled, one slim leg folded beneath her. Burke resolutely lifted his gaze to her face and slipped another piece of crisp bacon on her plate.

“Thanks,” she said. “It’s great you can cook too.”

“Too?” He raised an eyebrow, trying to keep it light, but he hadn’t been able to get enough last night. Even now, it was hard to keep his hands off her. Jenna’s quick blush and accompanying wiggle on the swing made his body jerk to attention. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to share his fascination. She’d been trying to get rid of him for the last half hour.

“You probably have to go to the Center,” she said, averting her gaze. “I can find a mug so you can take the coffee with you.”

“Actually it’s nice not to be bothered by staff,” he said. “I’ll do some work from here, if you don’t mind.”

“All right.”

The words were carefully neutral. However, her mouth tightened and if her eagerness to be alone hadn’t flattened his ego, it would have been funny. But this wasn’t funny; it was damn frustrating. “I also want you to research some things for me,” he said.

That got her attention and she leaned forward, so close he caught a hint of her flowery shampoo. “Of course,” she said, still clearly contrite about her earlier oversight. “What would you like me to check?”

What could she check? He dragged a hand over his jaw. Something that would keep her by his side for several hours. “Just the stud fee increase over the last year…no, over the last five years. You also neglected the background check on Lorna and David, even though you had the entire week off. That fire was a shocker.” He injected a hint of censure in his voice—people were always more pliable when off balance.

“I’m so sorry.” Her eyes darkened with regret. “I’ll start work on the Ridgemans right away.”

Ah-ha. He had her now. He stretched his arm across the back of the swing, unable to resist fingering a tendril of her silky hair. “No need to rush,” he said. “Relax and have another cup of tea first.”

***

Jenna stared blankly at her phone. ‘David Ridgeman, widowed,’ but the rest of the words turned to black squiggles. Despite her best intentions, Burke was getting to her. She’d never been so intensely aware of a man’s movements—his frown when he read something that displeased him, his bold scrawl when he made notations, the absent-minded way he stroked her hair.

He was a generous lover, a fabulous lover, and it seemed that her body had implanted the memory and now leaped to his faintest touch.

‘David Ridgeman, widowed,’ she read again, trying to make her brain work, trying to be like Burke who never had the least trouble concentrating. He’d been jotting notations for the last half hour, completely at ease, while she struggled with what had happened last night.

Just sex but it always seemed to arouse her needy feelings. And this time she couldn’t bolt. He was always around, always anticipating; it was impossible to lock her defenses into place. Too bad he wouldn’t leave today, just fly away to another job before she was sucked in too deep.

After last night, she wouldn’t need sex for another year, maybe three. She sighed and leaned into him, not intending to cuddle but somehow he’d found the spot, that nagging shoulder soreness, and his hand felt so good. He cradled her against his chest with no pause of that swiftly moving pen, though he obligingly continued rubbing.

She hoped her little sigh of contentment had been inaudible. It was nice lounging around with a man—usually she bolted long before breakfast but it was difficult to leave when she was already home. His touch was soothing too, although surely he’d scold if she didn’t snap out of her daze and finish the research.

Or maybe not?

His fingers drifted along her inner arm, her shoulder, along the curve of her collarbone. He wasn’t even doing anything, his touch so light it was surprising she felt it. But she did feel it, every single stroke, and her nerves quivered beneath her skin.

She looked into his dark eyes, unable to move as that slow finger moved along her body, tracing her with such tenderness she wanted to cry.

“Don’t fight things so much, honey,” he said. “Everything will be okay.”

But it won’t
. A lump balled in her throat as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She wasn’t like a normal woman. She should be ecstatic to spend time with such a wonderful man. Instead she was terrified.

“I have to go to the Center now,” he said quietly. “Why don’t you come with me?”

“No.” Her voice rose. “I have to finish this research.” And he was too magnetic, too overpowering. She needed to be alone, needed to reclaim her independence.

“Okay.” He shuffled his papers and slipped them into his briefcase. “Guess you can see Nifty tomorrow.”

“He’s here?” She scrambled to her feet. “But of course, I’ll come with you. Please wait a sec.”

He grinned and she rushed into the trailer. Changed into jeans, pulled on her worn boots and stuffed a pair of thin leather gloves into her pocket. He was waiting in the car when she scrambled into the passenger’s seat.

“Looks like you’re planning to massage,” he said, his eyes narrowing on the gloves.

“Just a quickie.” She jammed the gloves deeper into her pocket, wishing he wasn’t quite so observant. “I want to see how he feels in the hind end. With a glove, the blisters won’t bother me at all.” He looked so skeptical, she laughed. “He’s a Derby winner. Of course, I’m planning a massage. But I’ll do all the Ridgeman and stud fee research first.”

“You can work on that in my office,” he said.

“Okay.” She jammed on her seatbelt, eager to see Nifty, then realized she’d just agreed to another intensive day in his company…along with the next two nights. Her chest kicked with an equal portion of dread and longing. It would be much wiser to hang out in the staff room, away from Burke.

“We should probably get Nifty out to loosen up after his trip,” Burke said, as he backed the car from the driveway. “Want to go over to the track with me? See how he moves?”

“Oh, yes. That would be great.” She bounced in the seat, forgetting her reservations. She loved watching morning gallops but it ate up a lot of work time, and Wally had never approved of staff hanging around the oval. She stiffened, realizing she hadn’t talked to Wally since he’d turned in his resignation. “Does Wally know Nifty’s here?” she asked.

Burke stepped on the accelerator and the car sped up. “He’s not a Three Brooks employee anymore.”

“Of course. But this is a very famous horse, and I’m sure Wally wants to see him.” She picked up her phone.

“I’d really prefer that you didn’t call him.” Burke’s voice was silky smooth, but there was no mistaking its ring of command. “At least on company time,” he added with a tight smile.

His smile was the clincher and she pocketed her phone. Besides, she’d rather speak with Wally when Burke wasn’t within earshot. It seemed strange Wally would quit when he’d been so determined to hang on. And she wanted to know all the details.

They pulled alongside a gleaming silver trailer parked by the receiving doors. The ramp was down and the trailer was empty, except for a bored driver lounging behind the wheel. Clearly, the groom had already unloaded the horse.

“Did you ever see Nifty before?” She unbuckled her seatbelt, waiting for Burke to park, almost quivering with excitement.

“I was at Churchill the day he won the Derby. His stud value skyrocketed so they retired him early. He’s a walking bank machine and deserves the best of care.”

She bit her lower lip, her enthusiasm flattened. Nifty was a star and to Burke, it was all about book value. Beloved animals like Peanut and Molly were worthless so didn’t rate the Center’s care. The stark economics of his world were depressing—and rather chilling.

“Top care. Absolutely,” she muttered, gripping the door handle. “I’ll lay down my life for him.”

Burke reached over, covering her hand with his. “No need. Save that for me. Or at least three nights of it,” he added softly. “And start thinking about what you want this evening.”

Her gaze cut to his mouth and she gulped, no longer thinking of Nifty. “You mean, like…to eat?”

“Of course. What did you think I meant?”

His lip twitched and she blushed, but the pressure of his hand was so intimate, she couldn’t help but remember what they’d been doing a few short hours ago. What they’d probably be doing again tonight.

He finally pushed the door open. She scrambled out, grateful for the cooling breeze, determined to steer her thoughts back to Nifty. And away from sex. This was turning way too intense. It would be wise to make up some excuse, to snuff out these feelings before it went any further. Conversely, if he were leaving soon she’d have no worries anyway.

She blew out a sigh of indecision and circled to the front of the car. “Are you interviewing any more managers today? When exactly are you leaving?”

He closed the driver’s door, seemingly preoccupied with some data on his phone. “The groom is called Tank,” he said, “although I guess you know that from your research this morning?”

“Yes, he’s been with the horse for six years and three months.”

Burke smiled. “Very good. Now let’s go meet Tank and Nifty.”

He always changed the subject when he didn’t want to answer her questions, but at least he didn’t lie. Besides, she was keen to see this big horse. Nodding, she followed him inside.

Tank was short and wiry and lingered around Nifty’s stall as though on guard. “I was told to put my horse here. But there’s not a single window.” His brown eyes flashed with disapproval.

“Mr. Ridgeman requested this stall,” Burke said. “He thought Nifty would be less agitated.”

Tank snorted. “Nifty’s never agitated. Some food, a mare and he’s happy.”

Jenna pressed her face against the mesh, studying the stud. Chestnut with a blaze. Three white feet. Standing square, appeared beautifully balanced and already eating hay as though unperturbed with his new home.

He raised his head and approached the screen. Sniffed her hand curiously, his eyes large and luminous, then moved over to the door and nudged Tank. Turned back to his hay and resumed chewing. Calm, composed, confident.

“What a cool horse,” she said.

“He’s Mr. Cool,” Tank said. “But I still don’t understand why he had to come here.”

“We’ll get him feeling better,” Burke said. “Get his sex life back on track.”

“There’s nothing wrong with his sex life. It’s much better than mine.” Tank shook his head. “You’ll get him out every day?”

Burke checked his notes. “Jog a couple miles a day but watch for stiffness in the hind.”

“I haven’t noticed any stiffness.” Tank frowned, obviously unhappy with his orders to leave. “But I will miss him. He likes his peppermints and a carrot or two.” He looked at Jenna, obviously realizing Burke wasn’t the type to feed a horse peppermints. “Will you give him his treats for me?”

“Of course,” Jenna said. “We’ll take good care of him.”

Tank sighed and gave Nifty an affectionate pat. “Then I’m taking some vacation.
Hasta luego
.”

He shuffled out the door, hands in his frayed pockets, not once looking back. Nifty charged to the front of the stall with an ear-splitting neigh but Tank had disappeared.

Nifty called again, his nostrils flaring a bright pink. “He’d probably be happier closer to the other horses,” Jenna said. “Especially his first days away from Tank.”

“He’ll settle.” Burke had already turned and gestured for Nifty’s new groom to bring another hay net.

But Jenna lingered by the stall as Nifty circled, rustling the straw in obvious agitation. He was the only horse in this wing and with his trusted groom gone, the stud was definitely upset. The only person around was the technician attending the oxygen chamber. Clearly Nifty wasn’t accustomed to solitary confinement. David Ridgeman was an idiot.

Her gaze cut back to Burke. “Couldn’t we move him to the main wing? The Ridgemans probably won’t be visiting for a while.”

Burke’s scowl was quick and disapproving. “This stall was already discussed. They want the horse alone. I’m surprised you’d even suggest a switch. It was an integral part of the agreement. Non-negotiable.”

His rebuke stung. He was so inflexible. If he gave his word, it was good but any deviation was considered an absolute betrayal. Not a good person to lie to. She rubbed her arms, trying to ward off the sudden chill.

Burke’s voice softened. “We’ll get him out for some exercise later this morning. That’ll help him relax and we can see what his problems are. Who’s our top pony rider?”

“Wally is the best one to ask,” she said, still gripping her arms.

“But I’m asking you.”

“Guess it would be Terry and his quarter horse gelding,” she muttered.

“All right. They can pony Nifty.” His voice softened. “Jenna, the Ridgemans own this horse. If they want us to paint him pink, we’ll do it. Never forget who calls the shots.”