Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (108 page)

She knew where to park so no one could see and eased up to the back door of the barn. It was a longer walk to the guesthouse, but she could cut down the aisle and give some carrots to Lyric. And to Echo as well, although she certainly wasn’t going to hold them. Slow eaters like Echo were a bit irritating when you had other things on your mind.

She opened the back door, feeling her way through the darkened corner, to the muted aisle lights around the corner. It seemed ages since her first night visit when Slim had been working with Hunter. Thanks to Martha, she’d learned so much.

A few horses poked hopeful heads over the doors, and she hid the carrots beneath the waistband of her pants, feeling guilty she hadn’t brought enough for all.

“No treats, see?” She waved her empty hands.

Lyric wasn’t fooled and nickered impatiently. Becky opened the stall door and slipped in, pulling out three carrots and enjoying the mare’s eagerness as she gobbled them up. Nothing was ever slow about this horse.

Lyric nuzzled at her chest, wanting more, but Becky gently pushed her head away. “That’s all, sweetie. I only have four, and we should save at least one for your buddy.”

She fastened the stall door and stepped in with Echo. Pulled out the carrot and held it in her hand, resigned to at least a three-minute wait. The filly opened her mouth, grabbed it, and the carrot vanished.

Crunch, crunch
.

Becky blinked. This made no sense. But the carrot was really gone and Echo sniffed for more. Tonight, the filly was an even faster eater than Lyric. But the last time she’d been offered one, she’d been tentative, nibbling like she’d never seen a carrot.

Nibbling like Chippy after his race.

She rubbed her forehead, struggling to separate the two horses. She’d fed Echo in the stall the night before the race but not Chippy who had been on the hot walker. And Chippy had been calling from the dark, like a horse who hated to be alone. Calling like Echo.

She braced against the wall, staggered by suspicions. Slim knew she couldn’t tell the two chestnuts apart. Maybe it had been Echo on the hot walker and Chippy in Echo’s stall. Forced exercise would explain the filly’s exhaustion on race day.

She shook her head, struggling to remember, but the details remained hazy. And even if Slim had switched horses, it still didn’t make sense. He’d been the one who was adamant about Echo racing. What an asshole.

Anger swept her. She rushed from the stall and headed for Slim’s house. A few lights glowed so clearly he was awake. Squaring her shoulders, she cut through the dark, stumbling once but walking more evenly as her vision adjusted.

Gravel shifted beneath her feet, a solitary sound in the still night, reminding her that she was very much alone. Her steps dragged as she approached the guesthouse. She wasn’t doing anything wrong—shouldn’t feel so reluctant. Merely intended to ask a few questions. But she stooped and picked some clover, practicing what she would say, aware she was stalling. Slim could get very belligerent when put on the defensive.

Sucking in a resolute breath, she continued toward his house, uncertain if she should go to the front or the back. The house was the same general layout as Dino’s but lacked a porch. Light glowed from a back window, probably the kitchen, but the front lights were off.

She circled toward the back door. Stepped into inky blackness and painfully rammed her knee into the bumper of a car. Not a truck so obviously a visitor’s. She groaned, wondering if Slim also slept with someone on staff. Wouldn’t that be ironic; Dino, at least, was up front about it.

Obviously it wasn’t a good time to knock on Slim’s door. Not unless the visitor left soon.

Curious, she placed her palm over the hood. Still warm. The front had a distinctive Mercedes emblem. Her throat went dry. Ted drove a Mercedes.

She inched back, hugging the shadows. Her hands were clammy and she wiped them on her pants. Couldn’t be Ted. He didn’t even know Slim. If she wasn’t such a coward she could find out. Just creep up to the window and look in.

But her heart kicked and tension cramped her stomach. She glanced over her shoulder. The barn was only two hundred yards away, and Dino’s house was just beyond it. Out of sight, but not too far.

She drew in a shaky breath, edged to the side of the house and flattened against the wall. No voices. The windows must be shut. She’d have to move a little closer. No big deal.

She wanted to move but her legs refused to leave the sanctuary of the wall, and the fifteen feet between the wall and lighted window stretched like a football field. Her heart pounded and all she could do was hug the wall.

She sensed movement. A door clicked.

“It’ll be done,” Slim said.

“Make sure.”

Ted’s voice. Unmistakable. She squeezed her eyes shut, afraid her gaze might draw his attention when he walked to his car.

She kept her eyes clenched shut even as his headlights slashed the darkness, hitting the back of the house. Felt their brightness and cringed as rough wood pricked through her thin shirt. Gravel crunched. She pried her eyes open.

The car was still moving. Hadn’t stopped. She sighed with relief as the lights turned along the driveway and down the road. Her top lip tasted salty. She wanted to wipe her damp forehead but knew Slim lingered by the door. Feared he’d sense her movement.

An owl hooted. Something scurried past and she jumped, rattling the gravel, barely able to contain her frightened squeak.

“Thought I heard you out there,” Slim said. “Come on.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, sucked in a resigned breath and prepared to step out. At least he didn’t sound angry.

A plaintive meow sounded. A cat. Slim was talking to his cat. Claws scrambled on the steps, the door slammed and she sagged against the wall, too weak with relief to move.

***

Dino savored his beer as he studied the form of the speed horse in Echo’s race. The fleet California filly, Country Zip, would be her main threat. If the two hooked up on the front end, the pace would be suicidal. Echo could close but preferred to stalk. A lot would depend on post position. God, he hoped she didn’t draw the rail.

A knock sounded on the door, too tentative for a horse emergency. He frowned and checked the kitchen clock. Nine-thirty. Stephanie maybe? She often dropped by to watch race video although she was never tentative. He eyed his case of beer. Only three left, and he wanted them all.

He rose from the chair, tossed the
Form
on the table and swung open the door. Took an involuntary step back. Becky in mugger clothes?

“May I come in?” she asked, her voice oddly husky.

She looked like a night pixie, her hair swathed in a voluminous dark scarf. A black shirt was tucked into some sort of pajama pants, and a belt cinched her small waist. Her eyes were brown slashes in a pale face, and her pockets bulged with grass.

He grinned. “Did Martha have a masquerade party?”

Her smile was so brittle, he thought her face would crack. “Come in and sit down,” he added quickly. “There’s beer or I can make you a cup of coffee. Or maybe you’d prefer tea?”

“Okay,” she said.

He guided her to his big chair close to the kitchen. She moved stiffly and he lingered, reluctant to leave her. “What’s wrong, honey? Is Martha okay?”

“She’s fine.”

“Good.” He paused then crossed to the kitchen and grabbed his coffee pot. Three hours old, relatively fresh. He remembered she liked milk and checked the fridge. Gave the carton a cautious sniff before splashing some in her cup. He passed her the mug, hooked a chair with his foot, pulled it close and waited.

She sipped the coffee as though unaware of his scrutiny. Her tension seemed to be easing though, until she glanced down the hall. Her face filled with dismay. “Did I interrupt you? I meant to check for another vehicle but forgot.”

“I’m alone. You refused my dinner invite, remember?” He smiled but she didn’t smile back. Didn’t even react. He grabbed her hand, shocked by its coldness. “What’s wrong?”

“I think Ted and Slim know each other.”

“Okay.” It didn’t sound like a big deal, and his gaze drifted to her lips. She had such a sexy mouth when she pulled back her hair. Of course, her mouth was always the same, but it was far more noticeable when she tied her hair back. More distracting too.

“Ted said he didn’t know Slim. But he was at Slim’s house tonight. He must have stopped by after dinner with Martha.”

“I see,” Dino said, absorbed by the movement of her lips. Her top lip had a fascinating arc. It had looked pale when she first arrived, but now the pink color was returning.

“And I think Slim may have had Echo in the hot walker instead of Chippy.” She raised her head, staring at him like she’d just announced a state secret.

“Slim said Echo was in the walker. That’s not unusual.” He dragged his attention off her mouth. Obviously she was upset about something, although the raw fear he’d sensed earlier had faded.

“But what if Echo was forced to walk around all night?” She wrung her hands in dismay. “Wouldn’t that make her too tired to race? Wouldn’t that explain why she laid down?”

“Becky, nobody would leave a horse on a walker all night, and Slim wanted that race. He needs the money as badly as I do.”

“But there’s also that horse, Ebac, the one I don’t know, the one who was marked on the clipboard.” Her words came out in a rush. “Ebac could stand for Echo Beach and Arctic Chip. That would explain why Slim didn’t want me around the barn, even though I couldn’t tell them apart.”

“I never heard of a horse called Ebac,” he said. Her chest heaved, and her shirt tightened over her breasts. He yanked his gaze back to her mouth but then was distracted by the dark smudges on her nose. “Did you put black cream on your nose? Were you spying on Slim?”

“Of course not. I don’t spy on anyone.” But she averted her head as she struggled to pull off her scarf. Her evasiveness was obvious.

“I’ll ask Slim about this tomorrow…now, if you prefer. We’ll straighten it out. But please, don’t go walking around in the dark.”

“Tomorrow’s fine,” she said. “Thank you.” But her tremulous smile tugged at his chest.

He didn’t like to see her scared, didn’t like that pinched expression. Pieces of grass had fallen from her pocket, and he picked a stalk off the floor. “Were you ignoring the ‘Keep Off The Grass’ signs,” he teased. “Want to go back and pick some more?”

She grabbed his fingers, and he stopped talking. The trusting way she looked at him, the way she clung to his hand sent his thoughts careening back to that kissable mouth. “Or maybe we should just stay here,” he said gruffly, sliding his left hand under her chin.

She stared up at him, her mouth slightly parted. Such a sexy little mouth. He tilted her head and lightly kissed her, brushing her soft cheek with his thumb. When she didn’t pull away, he slid his tongue in, savoring her sweetness. Her hands crept around his neck. He tugged her closer, cradling her bottom, swinging her around so she straddled him.

God, she was all rounded curves, and he was surprisingly aroused. He deepened the kiss, holding her head still with one hand and pressing her against him with the other. Not that she seemed to want to go anywhere. Her legs were spread over his thighs, her breasts nice and accessible, and her hot mouth made him throb.

He slipped his hand under her shirt, exploring her velvety skin. Sweet, soft and—thank you, God—willing. A quick twist, and he unhooked her bra. Her tongue entwined with his, turning him on with her little gasps, shortening his breath. He slid his hand along her rib cage, sighing with pleasure as he cupped her breast.

Her nipple pebbled between his fingers. God, he wanted two mouths. No way was he moving his lips away from such a hot kisser but her breasts cried for attention. He pried his mouth off hers, shocked by his ragged breathing.

“Take your shirt off, honey,” he murmured, keeping his hand filled with the firm roundness of her breast.

She’d stiffened before his mind made the connection something was wrong. A second later she stumbled from the chair, leaving him with a blast of frigid air and a raging hard-on.

He squeezed his eyes shut, didn’t want to reveal how badly he wanted her. “What’s wrong?” he finally asked, opening his eyes but not moving from the chair.

“You want me to take my clothes off.” Her voice was shrill with accusation, and she stared at him like he was a criminal.  

“Of course I do,” he said. “That’s generally what people do when they have sex.”

“But I don’t want to have sex.”

Could have fooled me, he thought, but she looked so distraught, he nodded and straightened in the chair. “Fine, Becky, we won’t. It’s not a big deal.” His gaze drifted ruefully to the bulge in his jeans. “Although for the record, I think it’s an excellent idea.”

“I didn’t sneak down here for sex. I’m not interested in that. It’s just…not right.” Color flagged her cheeks and she stared at the floor, her mouth trembling so much he thought she might cry.

“Hey, honey.” He rose and gently pulled her to him. “It’s okay. Don’t get all shy on me again. Sex is just sex. It’s not a big deal if we do. It’s not a big deal if we don’t. Nothing’s different.”

But she felt stiff in his arms, and he sensed something was very different. “Come on back to the chair. Relax and tell me about Slim.” He guided her to the chair and pulled her on his lap, determined to restore her balance. “It’s all right,” he said when she tried to pull away. “I’m just going to rub your back. You’re tighter than a drum.”

She relaxed under his slow massage and when he finished, she was cuddled against him like a kitten. He redid the clasp of her bra, pleased when she didn’t move, didn’t stiffen.

“You’re finished with the backrub?” she asked with obvious regret.

“For tonight.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m meeting with Slim tomorrow morning at six. I’ll ask him about the hot walker and your mystery horse. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said. He heard her suck in a deep breath. “And I’m sorry about earlier. I have a thing about taking off my clothes.”

“Why’s that?”