Heat Wave (Riders Up) (7 page)

Cassie thought the
animal would make a good claim since she believed the current trainer had
dropped Jill’s Pride out of the allowance ranks to pick up a relatively cheap
win. The bettors thought so too—the filly was the current betting favorite. Yet
there was also the possibility that something was physically wrong with the
horse.

Crossing her
fingers and toes, Maggie thought time stood still while the horses entered the
starting gate. She knew unless there was a competing claim, she’d own Jill’s
Pride when she crossed the finish line. win or lose, or even if the horse
dropped dead out of the starting gate. She didn’t want to think about that.

Although the
winning time for the sprint would only take about a minute and twelve seconds,
for Maggie it might as well have been an hour and twelve minutes. Mercifully,
the race came to an end with Jill’s Pride finishing a respectable second.

Maggie followed
Cassie to the track where she placed her lead rope on the horse and led her
toward the barn area.

“She won’t do her
best until she can race around two turns, I know it,” Cassie said. Jill’s Pride
pranced lively beside her new owner and trainer, as if she hadn’t even been in
a race.

“I think you’re
going to like this one,” Cassie said, running her hand down the horse’s
shoulder. “She’s got the spirit.”

Maggie nodded,
hoping she would soon be able to identify horses that had
the spirit
. She
hugged herself, trying to comprehend fully the magnitude of the day, of the
Chicago trip. There was no more questioning it—she was up to her ears in
thoroughbred horseracing.

If she had been
seeking some adventure in her life, which she admitted she had been, then she
had found it at the track. Horseracing was filled with emotion, from bitter
disappointment to breathtaking elation.

The pulse of the
crowd stimulated her senses. The horses strutted around as if they knew they
were among the most powerful athletes on the face of the earth. And those small
people, the jockeys, moved about with tremendous pride. Cassie had told her
that jockeys had tested out to be more in shape than any other group of
athletes. Maggie didn’t doubt that.

As they watched
Jill’s Pride cool out on a hot walker, Cassie explained some of the workings of
shedrow. Maggie paid close attention. She couldn’t wait until she could have
daily hands-on experience. Looking at the filly, she said, “They sure are
majestic looking creatures, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Cassie responded,
grinning at Maggie. “They can quickly get in your blood, can’t they? Though
being involved with race horses can be almost as nerve racking as a love
affair.”

“So, Harrington
raced horses here?”

“Sure. Here, and at
Hawthorne in the city. When we raced at Hawthorne, his string was usually
stabled down the same row but in the next barn. I often thought he was too
close for comfort.”

“Oh.” Her eyes
clouded. If it hadn’t been for his misfortune, she would never have met him. Nor
would she have met the Travers. And she wouldn’t be standing here, a neophyte
horse owner. And she wouldn’t be pulling her hair out trying to decide what to
do about Harrington.

Observing Maggie’s
faraway look, Cassie’s features softened. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

“What? What do you
mean?” Immediately on guard, Maggie wished her face wasn’t so damn expressive.

“Harrington is
coming to mean more to you than a way to learn how to handle race horses.”

“I don’t know what
you mean,” Maggie stammered, bending to remove bits of straw from her slacks.

“It’s okay. I don’t
intend to pry. Give yourself time. He’s a good man, who, with your help, is
overcoming a lot of pain.”

Maggie stared at
her trembling fingers. Could it really be happening? It had been so long since
she’d felt anything for a man, she couldn’t trust her memory or her emotions. What
would he be like? She listened to her bones, but they were silent.

Oh my God, she
groaned to herself. Here she was away from her children, spending money like it
had no end, fantasizing about things she had no business imagining.

He’s a good man
. How good?

 With the sun
lingering on the western horizon, Maggie leaned against the rail fence
contemplating the next day’s trip back to Iowa. She was looking forward to
going home. And it had been a fruitful trip.

Maggie glanced
quickly over at Harrington, standing beside her. What was he was thinking? Was
he as satisfied as she was?

The two yearlings
and a couple two-year-olds in the next paddock would provide him with the raw
materials he needed for teaching her about training race horses. A four year
old gelding and a six year old mare needing rest from their racing campaigns
grazed in the paddock closest to the Travers barn. The six horses would be
loaded into the trailer early the next morning.

What would the kids
think of the horses? She’d talked to them daily. They seemed to be enjoying
themselves, maybe too much. Wait until they got back with the horses—then the
work would really begin for everyone.

Maggie closed her
eyes, asking herself for the millionth time whether she’d gone certifiably
crazy. What if she failed? She couldn’t fail. She wouldn’t allow that to
happen.

Besides, she had
Harrington. Right. He was a top-notch trainer. How long would he stay with her
if the Chicago stewards lifted their ban against him? Likely not any longer
than it would take him to pack his bags.

“You’ve done very
well, Maggie.” Harrington broke into her reverie. “A good dozen horses to start
with. I’m looking forward to working with the young ones. They have nice racing
pedigrees and are well conformed and should do you proud. We can spruce up the
gelding and the mare some before sending them back to the track. I expect the
horses Cassie’s training for you will do well here on the Chicago circuit. They’ll
have off days and poor racing luck, but they are good looking contenders.

“And that regal
looking black mare grazing to your left, she’ll be an excellent foundation
broodmare, if you want her.”

“Is she for sale?
She’s gorgeous.” As if in response, the mare lifted her head and broke into a
trot, showing off an elegant stride. “She’s so fluid. There’s something about
her that’s more striking than any of the other horses we’ve seen.”

“You’re developing
a good eye,” Harrington praised. “That’s class you’re seeing. That mare is well
bred and was an excellent runner. The question is whether her offspring will
be. Chances are good. You don’t have to make a decision about buying her until
the fall. For five thousand, Clint will give you first choice before he sells
her to anyone else. That money will be ten percent of the purchase price if you
decide to buy. She’d be a super broodmare for you.”

Maggie beamed. “For
that price, she’d better be. But if her offspring take after their mama, they’ll
be first rate. Sounds like you think she’s worth the initial investment.”

Harrington nodded.

Taking a deep
breath, Maggie scrunched her toes together. “Let’s do it. I believe in destiny.”
She turned and spoke directly to the mare. “Our paths crossed for a purpose. We’ll
make a good home for you come fall, young woman.” The mare pricked her ears
forward, listening intently.

“Ed, do you know
her name?”

“Midnight Dancer. She
has some Northern Dancer in her bloodlines, and she’s as dark as midnight on a
clear, moonless night.”

“That she is. We’ll
call her Dancer for short. She’s as graceful as the most accomplished
ballerina. It’s a lovely name, and fitting too.”

Harrington shrugged.
“Guess so, if you’re into names.”

“Come on, Ed,” she
cajoled, “she’s a creature of beauty. You can see that. She deserves a name
worthy of her heritage and presence.”

“Yeah,” Harrington
agreed. “I just didn’t know you were such a romantic. Remember, I’ve warned you
about getting too attached to your horses.”

“I know. I know. A
horse can die from eating a poisonous plant, from twisting in its stall, from
heat exhaustion, seemingly from crossing its eyes.” Maggie sighed heavily,
clasping her arms across her breasts. “Sometimes I think all of this is too big
to get my head around. Four months ago, I hadn’t even heard about horse racing.
Now, I’ve read more than I ever imagined was written on the subject. I’ve gone
to a track for the first time. I own nearly a dozen thoroughbreds. We’ve
selected a fantastic foundation broodmare. I’ve got Cassie and Clint working
for me here in Chicago. And I’ve got you. It’s almost too much for an Iowa
country girl.”

She turned to face
him, holding his gaze steadily.

“Damn, woman, you
have the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen,” Ed mumbled, keeping his hands
stuffed deep in his pockets.

A brief smile tugged
at the corners of Maggie’s mouth. “Looks may be deceiving. Maybe you should
find out for yourself.” Standing on tiptoes, she leaned into him, offering her
parted lips.

“Oh, shit.” Ed’s
hands leaped out of hiding to pull her against his body. He settled his mouth
atop hers.

Behind closed
eyelids, Maggie luxuriated in their delicious kiss. She traced his lips and
invaded his mouth. She warmed to the sensations of his hands roaming her back
and buttocks. Clasping his taut shoulder muscles, she marveled at his firmness.
She could feel his arousal pressed against her pelvis. Even her fantasies were
not this good. Her brain turned to soup. Her body tingled all over. His tongue
played with hers. They shared an intimate game of oral tag.

And then he pulled
away abruptly. Ed glared at his hands as if they had betrayed him.

“I’m sorry,” he
stammered. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’ll never happen again. You can count
on that.”

Maggie gasped at
the terror in his eyes. She started to sputter a response, “But…”

Ed spun on his heel
and moved rapidly toward the barn. Only the horses heard her protest.

Breathless,
slouching against the fence for much-needed support, Maggie let the tears flow.
What was wrong with her? She had seduced her hired man. He’d wanted her, but
had more restraint that she did. Thank God for that.

How far would she
have gone? She had kids. She was a widow. She had a farm to save.

But why couldn’t
she have a life too? Why did she have to deny her emotions—yes, even her sexual
needs?

God, she loved the
way he’d crushed her to his hard body. She thought she’d been well loved
before, but never had she felt so desperately, passionately needed. She had
been a source of new life for him, yet he walked away from her without even
glancing back.

For how long? Once
a bubbling spring burst above ground, it was next to impossible to push it back
underground. And she wasn’t entirely convinced they should try the impossible.

- o -

Ed was much less
ambivalent.

“Son of a bitch. You
damn fool,” he harangued at himself, pacing back and forth in the barn driveway
where he’d found a badly needed retreat. “What do you expect from that woman?” He
slammed a fist into an empty stall door. He pulled back in pain. Hell, she
should fire him on the spot.

She’d picked him
out of the gutter, and he’d nearly taken advantage of her excitement about
buying race horses.

He closed his eyes
and pinched the top of his nose. A headache threatened to make a bad evening worse.

Maybe she did feel
some attraction to him. God knew he couldn’t understand why. But if so, it was
only how the rescuer felt for the person being rescued. He’d even heard stories
of female volunteers falling in love with prison inmates.

Maybe she’d been
too long without a man. But when it was time for her to get involved
romantically, Maggie Anderson needed a real man, not some empty shell she’d collected
outside a Des Moines flophouse.

Ed crouched down on
his haunches. He tried to catch his breath. Damn, never had a more delicious
taste crossed his lips. All her curves seemed to fit so naturally. Even now his
heart skipped several beats. She’d tasted like crushed mulberries. It was her
tongue that had entered his mouth seeking, exploring. And he’d suckled it like
it was the only life force available to him. He could still smell her lavender
scent and feel her quivering body. Where would it have ended if he hadn’t
walked away?
Run away
was more accurate.

He’d have to be
extra careful, for both of them. Surely, giving her time to think would help
her see the futility of what she’d begun. They had no future together—not
romantically.

And to think they
had nearly jeopardized their chance of building a racing stable. He had an
opportunity to reconstruct a career. She had a shot at saving her precious
land. None of that would happen if they succumbed to raging hormones like a
couple starry-eyed teenagers.

There would be no
more kissing those delightfully kissable lips. He couldn’t allow that to
happen. He wouldn’t.