At Long Odds (A Racing Romance) (6 page)

‘I went to meet Kerry’s aunt, Sally G.’

‘That’s nice. You should have said. I cooked dinner for you, but it’s probably dried out now.’

Ginny frowned down at her clasped hands.

‘Sorry, Mum. I’ve told you not to cook for me though.’

‘What sort of a mother would I be if I didn’t feed my children?’

‘Well, that’s the thing, Mum. I might be your child, but I’m also an adult now, not a child.’

Beth looked surprised, as if this was news to her and Jim, hearing the seriousness in her tone, pressed the mute button on the remote control and turned his full attention to her. Ginny hesitated, not knowing how to start.

‘It’s just that for the past few years I’ve been living by myself, totally independent and it’s difficult coming back to live with you guys. Lovely to be home but
difficult
.’ She paused again, to see what sort of reaction she was getting. Beth still had a look of astonishment on her face. Jim was nodding sagely. ‘And that’s why I went to see Kerry’s aunt this evening. She wants a lodger, and I’d quite like to take her up on that. It’s only down the road.’

Beth looked confused and Ginny winced, knowing it was more than her mother’s pride that she’d hurt.

‘But lovie, why do you want to move out? What have we done wrong?’

‘Nothing, Mum. It’s wonderful being back, but like I just said, I’ve been independent in South Africa for so long, it’s hard going back to live with one’s parents.’

Indignancy replaced the original confusion in Beth’s expression.

‘So you don’t want to live with your parents? Where you have everything you need: a loving family, three meals a day – when you decide to come home, rent-free accommodation and work right outside the front door. Well, I’m sorry if that’s not good enough for you!’

‘No, Mum, it’s not like that,’ Ginny said, exasperated. She looked to her father, to see if he understood her and was relieved to see him nodding again.

‘Ginny’s not denying she has a loving family, dear. She’s just pointing out that she’s grown up now.’

‘She’s only twenty-five!’

‘So what, Mum? I’m supposed to have become an adult when I was eighteen! Ray’s younger than me and you don’t seem to have a problem with him living away from home.’

‘Ray has Sarah to look after him.’

Artistic and away with the fairies for most of the time, Sarah was hardly up to looking after herself, let alone Ray, Ginny thought.

‘But I don’t need looking after.’ Ginny tried to keep her tone reasoning. ‘I want to be able to live my life without having to check in to make sure it’s all right with you. That’s fine when you’re a teenager, but I’m an adult now.’

Beth pursed her lips.

‘I still don’t see what the problem is. I never knew that caring for one’s children was a crime.’

Ginny closed her eyes and counted to ten, but her father spoke for her.

‘Beth,’ he said with authority. ‘Ginny is her own person. She’s come halfway around the world to do us a favour. She’s old enough to make her own decisions, and if she doesn’t want to live here, then that’s her choice. Not yours and not mine.’

Beth got to her feet and as she stalked out, threw over her shoulder,

‘Don’t forget your food, Virginia. We wouldn’t want you to go hungry now, would we?’

‘Dad?’ Ginny said helplessly.

‘Don’t worry. She’ll see sense once she’s had a think about it. She’s not completely unreasonable.’

Ginny hoped so, feeling bolstered by her father’s reassurance.

‘Are
you
okay with me living at Sally G’s?’

‘Fine by me. Means I can watch
Match of the Day
rather than the latest reality TV show.’

‘Rubbish. You hate football.’

‘So I do. I’ll talk to your mum later. Don’t worry.’

Chapter Five

The arrival of Mark Rushin’s horse, Kenya, was eagerly received a few days later by everyone at Ravenhill Stables. Ginny stood, running a critical eye over the copper-coloured bay filly as the hired lad led her out of the horse box. She was small and pretty and despite her owner playing down her accomplishments – possibly to stop Ginny feeling uncomfortable about not knowing of them – she had had a promising, if a little inconsistent, debut season, winning two races and placing in three others.

Once she had made sure her new charge was comfortable, and hadn’t suffered any ill effects from her journey, Ginny walked over to the office to phone her owner. He answered his mobile phone on the third ring.

‘Rushin,’ he said, in a deep confident voice.

‘Hi, Mr Rushin, it’s Ginny Kennedy from Ravenhill Stables.’

‘Ginny! Great to hear from you,’ he said, sounding genuinely pleased. ‘And for God’s sake, you don’t need to call me Mr Rushin. Just Mark. Did my nag arrive okay?’

‘Yes, she arrived about half an hour ago. She’s a lovely horse. I’m sure we’re going to have a lot of fun with her. Thank you for bringing her to me.’

‘Don’t mention it. You should be thanking that cowboy Charlie, if you’re going to thank anyone. Listen, I can’t talk long now, but I’ve got to go away on business for a few days, and I was hoping you – er – might like to continue this conversation over dinner when I get back?’

Ginny’s heart skipped a beat. It touched her that this successful confident man sounded so unsure about asking her out. At the same time, alarm bells sounded in her head and the oldest of clichés
Don’t mix business with pleasure
, flashed repeatedly before her mind’s eye. She should know that by now, yet she heard herself say,

‘That’d be lovely. Shall I wait to hear from you?’

‘Wonderful! Yes, that’d be best. I’m not sure if work will need me to stay on or not, so best we don’t arrange anything right now. Of course, I could have waited until I got back from business to ask you, but…’

‘Oh, of course. No, a few days’ notice is much better, I think,’ Ginny gabbled. She wasn’t sure what his ‘but’ was going to be, and honestly, she wasn’t certain she wanted to know just yet.

‘Great, I look forward to it,’ Mark said, his deep voice dripping like melted caramel.

Despite her severe warning to herself, Ginny’s eyes drooped with lust and a satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He was impossible to resist.

‘Me too.’

As she rung off, Ginny’s hand paused over the telephone receiver. So, his job took him away on business. She shook her head and laughed at herself. They’d just had a conversation talking about his work yet she still didn’t know what he did.

*

Walking back to Sally G’s house later that afternoon, Ginny’s mind was comfortably wrapped up in imaginings of her forthcoming dinner date with Mark Rushin. Mentally, she went through her closet then half shut it again when she realised she really needed to know what sort of restaurant they would be going to before she could choose an outfit. So lost in her wardrobe, she didn’t notice the person walking towards her along the pavement until he greeted her.

‘Good afternoon,
mademoiselle
.’

Ginny inwardly groaned and wondered if she could get away with a curt nod and be able to walk past Julien Larocque without having to say anything.

‘At last, I am given the opportunity to be the friendly neighbour,’ he said, tucking his hands into his pockets and stopping in front of her so she couldn’t get past without stepping onto the road.

Ginny gave him a withering glance, becoming more annoyed when he only smiled in response.

‘I have been seeing you walk past my driveway many times now these past days. I’m thinking you are either spying on my yard or you have started a new exercise regime.’ He allowed himself a brief once over of Ginny’s figure and she felt her cheeks tingle with heat.

‘Neither,’ she relented. ‘I’ve moved house.’

Julien tutted in mock sympathy.

‘Your parents have enough of you,
oui
?’

‘No, I –’ She paused to think of a way of politely saying she’d had enough of her parents but suddenly felt indignant at having to explain anything to this man. ‘You don’t want to hear the details. It isn’t any of your business, anyhow.’

‘Ah, you feel you are mature enough to live away from your parents, is that right?’ guessed Julien, surprisingly insightful. ‘But as you say, it isn’t any of my business, anyhow.’

Listening to him quoting her, Ginny felt about as mature as freshly churned cheddar. And far from trying to overcome this, she wanted to stamp her foot and barge past Julien Larocque or kick him in the shin for making her so mad. It didn’t proclaim maturity, even in her biased opinion.

‘I have to go now,’ she said.

‘Let me walk you home. It is getting dark and a young lady walking alone is an easy target.’

‘Thank you but that won’t be necessary.’ Ginny tried to edge past him.

‘But of course it is. How would I feel if I let you go alone into the night and then find you have been attacked and that you have severely injured some unsuspecting mugger?’

Ginny snorted and at last smiled up at the Frenchman.

‘Bugger off, Larocque,’ she said companionably. ‘Or you will become that unsuspecting mugger.’

Julien grinned, bowing before her and stepping aside to let her pass.

‘Have a good night, Miss Kennedy.’

Chapter Six

Standing in front of the long mirror in her new bedroom, Ginny looked critically at her reflection. She was wearing a dusky pink off-the-shoulder top, lightly covered by a cream pashmina, and a knee-length cotton skirt. Sensing someone looking at her, she turned and saw Jack, Sally G’s Siamese cat, lounging on her bed and looking at her with pale blue eyes.

‘What d’you think, eh, Jack? This tan won’t last forever, I might as well make the most of it even if I freeze to death.’ She giggled as Jack gave a rumbling purr and, closing his eyes, smiled at her. She pulled a brush through her long hair, and let it settle feathered around her face and silken-covered shoulders, resisting the urge to tuck it behind her ears.

The sound of the door knocker downstairs made her drop the brush. With a little yelp of panic she hurried out of the room then dashed back into spray some sweet perfume onto her throat and wrists. Jack sniffed the air as the scent wafted over to him and sneezed.

‘Oh, God. Too much, Jack?’ She shook her hands in a vain attempt to rid herself of some scent. ‘Hell, never mind. Wish me luck,’ she muttered and whisked out the room again, snatching up her purse like a relay runner’s baton as she went.

Outside, she found Mark Rushin standing a few feet away from the door, his hands tucked into the pockets of his charcoal grey trousers, looking like a clothing catalogue model. Ginny smiled, only her white-knuckled fingers clutching her purse betraying her nerves.

‘You look – and smell – lovely,’ he murmured.

‘Thank you. Um, so do you,’ she replied as a waft of pleasant aftershave drifted over to her.

‘Shall we?’ Mark said, offering his arm.

Ginny took it a little timidly and let him lead her up the path, concentrating on not stumbling in her high-heels. Outside the rose-clung fence, a sea-green Jaguar smouldered on the pavement. She felt like royalty as he held the passenger door open and helped her inside the plush leather interior of the car.

As Mark turned on the ignition and let the car glide forward, the purr of the engine was hardly louder than that of Jack, the Siamese.

*

The restaurant Mark had made reservations at was in a nearby village, a classy dining venue with just enough formality to make one feel special. Mark ordered some Dom Pérignon champagne once they were seated at their table near a front window then settled back to study the menu. Ginny followed his lead and did the same, feeling a little panicky when she saw none of the meals had prices next to them. What if she ordered something hugely expensive? Would Mark think she was taking advantage of a free meal ticket?

‘I’m going to have the mussels for starters, I think,’ Mark said, glancing above his menu at Ginny’s expression. ‘Order whatever you like.’

‘I’ll have the Cajun prawns then,’ she said, relieved.

Mark repeated their order to the waitress when she returned with their champagne then expertly poured bubbly into their flutes. He raised his in a toast.

‘To a long and successful partnership,’ he said huskily.

Ginny decided to disregard the meaningful undertone of his toast and clinked her glass against his.

‘A long and successful partnership,’ she echoed.

‘So, Ginny, I’ve been dying to know, how someone like yourself could get dragged into racehorses?’

‘Someone like me?’

‘You’re wasted on racehorses. I’m sure they don’t appreciate you quite as much as you deserve.’

Ginny giggled and took a hasty sip before replying.

‘I’m not looking for appreciation from my horses, I’m looking for respect, and ultimately, results. Preferably good results.’

‘How did you get involved in the industry? Charlie said something about your father being in it, is that right?’

‘Yes, he is – or rather, was – a trainer. He had a heart attack earlier this year when I was in South Africa so I came back to take over. I grew up following him around, and it was the obvious line of work for me to take up when it came to leaving school. There wasn’t ever really any question about it.’ She fiddled with her napkin as she considered her next words. ‘I feel I should know, so excuse me because I don’t, but – er – what line of work are you in?’

‘I’m a professional gambler,’ he said, then laughed at Ginny’s look of surprise. ‘I gamble with the stock market. Boring stuff really, but I seem pretty good at it,’ he explained with complete lack of conceit.

‘It must be fairly interesting. You’d be following the form of the market, wouldn’t you?’

‘Something like that,’ he laughed. ‘But believe me, if I started talking about my work you’d be asleep by the time your prawns arrived. You, on the other hand,’ he smiled, resting his chin on his palm and giving her a meaningful look, ‘are a much more interesting topic of conversation. How did you meet Charlie, and how the hell did he get a pretty girl like you to go with him to South Africa?’