Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (50 page)

“They’re in,” he said. He’d lowered his arm, but his warm breath feathered her hair. “The one horse has early speed. If she doesn’t get the lead, it means the rail is slow.”

Good grief. She was intensely attracted to this man, yet he was immune to her. She stood silently beside him while he rattled on, explaining stuff about fractions, surface and the track bias.

“They’re off!” the announcer yelled. The crowd roared as the horses exploded from the gate, but she was slightly numb. How could he ignore her? Men never ignored her. She’d even freed her ponytail. She automatically cheered with the crowd as the horses galloped down the backstretch and her hip grazed his thigh. He immediately eased away.

She pretended to watch the race but was too conscious of Mark’s hard body only inches away. He hadn’t moved
really
far away though, and it seemed as though his heat radiated like a wave. Curious, she edged closer, deliberately brushing his leg. When the horses rounded the turn, she leaned sideways to graze her breast over his forearm. She heard the sharp intake of his breath, but he didn’t move again. In fact, his big body turned very still.
Ah, ha
. Now he wasn’t ignoring her.

The crowd cheered at something the horses were doing, and she added another jump and wiggle. Nothing too obvious—

His arms jerked out, trapping her wrists. Her heart slammed against her ribs. He smelled like pure male now, hot, aroused and angry. “I don’t play games, Jessica,” he said.

She stilled, trying to decide if she should answer or pretend she didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. The horses swept around the track, but she was oblivious to the jumbled mass of horses, the cheering spectators. Was conscious only of the virile body pinning her against the rail.

A charging chestnut passed Radcliff’s four horse in deep stretch to win the race by a length.

“You lose,” Mark said. He dropped his arms and left her alone at the rail.

***

Mark waited near slot six as the horses for the second race were led into the saddling enclosure. He didn’t see Maria or My Silent Miss but when the crowd chuckled, he guessed they’d arrived.

Flexing his knuckles, he turned, reluctant to look. Stared down the walkway. Goddammit.

Nothing was silent about Missy today. Gaudy braids of pink and purple highlighted the filly’s mane and tail. She wasn’t usually an aggressive horse, but now her head was bent to her chest, pulling at the bit as she pranced beside Maria.

He kept his face impassive and prayed Radcliff wasn’t around to witness this debacle.

“Oh my, she’s beautiful! Thank you for the wonderful turnout.”

A hand tugged at his sleeve, and he looked into the glowing face of one of Missy’s two owners. The New Jersey ladies made the drive to Belmont every time their horse ran and always appreciated Missy’s efforts, no matter where she finished. Sometimes they were almost too appreciative. Both ladies were single, eager to enjoy life. When they went for dinner, he was careful never to go alone.

“You like the braids?” He couldn’t keep the disbelief from his voice.

“Love them. So do the fans. Look at the little girl in the flowered shirt taking pictures. It makes the day extra special.”

Mark stopped fisting his hands. A couple of trainers pointed and shook their heads but hell, if the owners liked it, and Jessica and Maria had fun doing it, he wasn’t inclined to make them stop. He even smiled as he signaled Maria to lead the filly in for saddling.

“What do you think of her turnout?” Maria asked with shy pride.

“Not my favorite colors, but the owners like it.” He softened his words with another smile. Maria was one of his best grooms but for some reason was shy around him. Quite the opposite of Jessica who didn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone and certainly wasn’t shy. She must have felt his reaction when she’d rubbed against him, reducing him to a horny asshole in seconds. He’d hated it.

He saddled Missy, automatically following the pre-race routine, but his thoughts swerved back to Jessica. She was smart, fun, beautiful and brave. Also an owner’s granddaughter. He wasn’t going there. Didn’t need that kind of trouble.

He tightened the girth too abruptly. The filly leaped forward, knocking him with her shoulder. Maria expertly brought her under control and backed her up.

Jessica and Dino watched from the public side of the enclosure and he shot them a dark glower simply for being there. Dino looked puzzled, but Jessica flashed a saucy smile that made his thoughts careen.

Man, she was screwing up his day. He wasn’t ready for this race, didn’t know what his jockey instructions would be—stay on the rail, or go wide. He hadn’t been able to analyze the race or the way the ground played, not with her hot body rubbing against him. Strange, because he usually had plenty of control, didn’t think of sex at the track. Didn’t want to be like his father—

“Should I lead her around now, boss?” Maria stared, her forehead creased in confusion.

Mark nodded and searched for his rider as the jockeys filed into the paddock.

Steve, a seasoned veteran, looked disconcerted when he saw the pink braids but quickly rallied. “Usually I’m prettier than the horse,” he said with a grin, twirling his stick in the air. He shook hands with the owners and turned to Mark.

“You rode the first race,” Mark said. “What’s the rail like?”

“Sticky. Best to go wide if the filly will take me.”

“Do it. She’s got some air and should be running at the end. Good luck.”

At the call for ‘riders up’ he legged Steve into the saddle. Maria led the filly into the tunnel. And that was it. Up to Missy and Steve now.

He smiled at his beaming owners, enjoying their excitement. Hopefully Missy would run well. She was moody and could throw a clunker but when she was on her game, she was brave enough. One just never knew what Missy would do. It was much easier to train colts and geldings. Fillies, like women, were forever frustrating.

He escorted the owners up the steps to his box, where they had a perfect view of the finish line. Good view of his staff too. Jessica’s hair was blowing and her blond streaks shone. She gestured with her hands when she talked. Something she said made Dino laugh. Mark wondered what it was—she always made him laugh too. He jerked his head away.

“Is Maria ever going to join us?” the younger of the two owners asked.

“She likes to watch from the rail,” he said, glancing back to where Maria stood beside Dino and Jessica. A skinny boy in a black T-shirt squeezed in beside Jessica, then abruptly turned and bolted. Jessica wheeled with indignation.

Mark watched from his vantage point as the kid scooted through the crowd and joined a man at the edge of the grandstand—a stranger, possibly of Middle East descent. At least the kid wasn’t hooked up with Manuel who was ostentatiously a trainer but in reality controlled the drug traffic that too often derailed the lives of many workers.

If the kid were a pickpocket, he wouldn’t have filched much from Jessica. Just that morning she’d triumphantly delivered him a list of ten horses and their morning temperatures. He’d felt sick realizing she’d been handling rambunctious colts and snapped at her when she’d asked for a raise. But, Christ, he didn’t want her to get hurt. It was a mystery why Boone’s granddaughter was so broke—why she was working so hard—but her presence in his shedrow definitely added spice. Not that he wanted spice.

No fucking way.

He tightened his mouth and turned his attention to Missy, guiltily aware he hadn’t watched her warm-up. At least the owners were unaware of his distraction. Their binoculars were fixed on the horses circling behind the gate. Missy usually loaded well, but Mark blew out a relieved sigh when she walked in and the gate crew slammed the door shut.

The crowd hushed. The horses were loaded.

“They’re off!” the announcer yelled as jets of color burst across the track.

The filly broke hard and was near the front, but her speed was limited and three horses stormed past. She galloped fourth down the backstretch, a distinctive splash of pink and purple, with the jockey’s silks matching her braids.

They covered the first quarter in just over twenty-three seconds. She seemed to be running easy, but coming into the turn a blue-blinkered horse loomed on her outside. The front runner weakened, and the crowd groaned as two horses burst past the favorite.

“Not yet, Steve,” Mark muttered, but the filly surged forward, propelled by the onslaught of horses. At the top of the stretch, she’d already seized the lead.

Mark’s two owners jumped up and down, ecstatic to see their horse in front. They pumped his arm, spilling their drinks, screaming encouragement. Mark muzzled his concern—it was way too early.

The filly charged down the stretch, three lengths in front, her colors vivid against the dirt. Mark’s fists clenched, hoping she’d hang on for the win but knowing the fractions were too fast, the stretch too long.

The horse on the sticky rail floundered and was no longer a threat, but a small gray closed like a missile on the outside. Steve smacked Missy twice but the filly was exhausted. The gray swept by, full of run. Missy staggered across the line in a photo for second with a hard-charging bay.

“What a fun race!” The owner clinging to his arm squealed. “I think she came second. What do you think, Mark?”

“I think the bay got it,” he said watching the tote board with a sinking sensation. “Are you ladies dropping by the barn?”

“Definitely, and we’d like to take you and Maria out for dinner. A win is marvelous, but a second is good too.”

“How about a third?” he asked wryly as numbers flashed across the tote board. What shitty luck. The filly had lost second by a nose. “I want to talk to the jockey,” he added. “Be right back.”

He joined the knot of trainers and grooms waiting on the track and studied Missy as the jockey trotted her back. This was always his most anxious moment, waiting to see if his horse returned from the race healthy.

“Sorry, Mark. I couldn’t hold her once she saw daylight,” Steve said, his voice uneven as he tried to regain his breath. “I’d sure like to ride her again though.”

“Sure,” he replied, helping Maria control the dancing filly. “We’ll work her in company. Teach her to relax a little more.”

Steve nodded, his teeth white through his dirty face. He vaulted off, unbuckled the saddle and headed to the scales.

“I’ll need you tonight, Maria,” Mark warned, giving the gutsy filly a pat. “The owners want to have a quick dinner. Nothing to worry about, real casual.”

Her glum nod made him smile. She hated spending time with owners, avoiding them like a plague.

Mark glanced at Dino and Jessica who lingered at the rail.

“It was a whisker for second,” Dino said mournfully. “Eight thousand bucks down the toilet. Guess it’s pizza again tonight.”

Jessica just grinned. She was a quick learner but there was much she didn’t know. Probably thought they raced for fun. Her work stint was a lark, something to appease her grandfather. But to the stable, placings were critical. Worker bonuses were calculated on percentage of the purse, and everyone benefited. Or not.

He’d known the filly was in tough, but it had been so close. Disappointment churned in his gut: for Maria, for the dedicated owners, for all his employees. Tomorrow he only had two horses running, and one was Buddy—Buddy, who hadn’t managed to win in two years. It could be a lean week and Breeders’ Cup, with its lucrative purses was still a month away.

Curbing his frustration, he studied Jessica’s face. At least she’d enjoyed seeing Missy run; her skin still glowed from an adrenaline high and her vitality was contagious. Suddenly, he didn’t feel quite so disappointed.

“Our newbie hit the trifecta,” Dino said. “She might not know much about horses, but she sure knows how to bet.”

A trifecta! So that explained her excitement. Mark twisted, checking the board. Unbelievable. Somehow she’d picked the first three finishers in the exact order. And the gray had been a longshot so the payout was substantial. “Not bad,” he said. “One hundred and sixty-four bucks on a two-dollar bet.”

Dino chuckled. “She bet twenty. Raked in sixteen hundred bucks tonight.”

“Good God!” Mark shook his head in disgust. “You made more money than me. Maybe now you can quit.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, boss,” Jessica said. “I’m not quitting.”

He hid his spurt of relief. “Congratulations then. Lucky betting.”

“It wasn’t luck,” she said. “I stayed up all night studying
The Form
. But at least now I can replace my stolen phone.”

“I saw a kid running away,” Mark said. “Did he swipe your cell?”

She gave a rueful nod. “I was watching Missy, barely felt anything. Just a tug—and poof, it was gone.”

“He’s young. Probably works with someone,” Mark said. “I’ll have a talk with Manual. See what he knows. We can’t have our top handicapper being hassled.”

The smile she shot him was so grateful, he didn’t add that her phone was likely long gone. Manuel didn’t stoop to petty theft. And Mark hadn’t recognized the bearded man. No doubt it had been lifted by an outsider, a random incident that was irritating but definitely not life-threatening.

Chapter Seven

Money bulged in Jessica’s pocket as she crouched to check Buddy’s legs. She stuffed the precious wad deeper, reassured by its presence. Just thinking about working for her grandfather almost made her sick. She’d hide the winnings in her coffee can later but right now, she wanted to savor the knowledge she’d earned it—on her own—and no doubt could do it again.

Numbers had always been a cinch. Now that she knew how to analyze
The Racing Form
, she was keen to bet again. Maybe she’d be able to raise enough to bankroll her own dog business. She gave a little fist pump, delighted she wouldn’t have to borrow money from Gramps. Buddy stopped chewing for a moment and eyed her curiously.

She gave his neck a reassuring pat, thinking of Mark’s statement that she’d been lucky. Sure, a bit of luck was involved, but she’d studied the horses’ forms. It had been simple to narrow the race down to three or four contenders. A quick look in the paddock trimmed it further. And if Mark had a horse entered, it was bound to run in the top three—she’d checked all the trainers’ stats, and Mark had one of the highest win percentages. No wonder her grandfather had entrusted him with Assets.