Mr. Miracle (Harlequin Super Romance) (21 page)

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Authors: Carolyn McSparren

BOOK: Mr. Miracle (Harlequin Super Romance)
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Mike continued, “Pat told me to tell Melba Hannaford how much she misses her. She wants me to convince her and Walter to fly down for a week or so. There’s plenty of room in the condo in Wellington.”
“Melba told me she’s enjoying the vacation. It’s the first she’s had since she became Pat’s nanny. And now that Pat is too old for a nanny, I think she’s putting out feelers for another job.”
“She’d better not!” Mike said. “We are definitely going to need her once we get into that house of yours. Liz certainly doesn’t have time to cook—”
“And she never learned how to clean properly.” Vic laughed.
“Besides...”
Again Vic caught that hesitation in his voice. He wasn’t a man you could push for information if he didn’t want to give any.
He changed the subject abruptly. “I’m almost afraid to ask. How is my first excursion into the world of horse buying working out?”
“Uh, Mr. Miracle? He’s great.”
“We need to talk seriously about his future over lunch.”
“Fine.” She heard background noises.
Mike groaned and said to someone in the room with him, “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’m coming. Keep your shirt on.” Then to Vic, “Sorry. Got to go. All hell’s breaking loose here.” He hung up without a goodbye.
Vic let out a breath. Saved. At least for tonight.
 
VIC AND JAMEY LOLLED at opposite ends of the big clawfoot tub in her bathroom. From time to time they sipped their white wine. The room was redolent of incense from the Christmas candles Jamey had discovered in a box in the corner of his bedroom.
“Mm. This is decadent,” Vic said dreamily. “All we’re missing is about two pounds of chocolate-covered strawberries.”
“That’s beyond decadent. That’s sinful,” Jamey said without opening his eyes.
“Absolutely.” She walked her toes up his chest.
He caught her ankle in his left hand and nibbled her toes. “Better than chocolate.”
“You’re crazy. Oooh,” she said as her eyes popped open. “Are you supposed to be having this effect on me?”
“If I’m doing it right.” He ran his hand up her leg until it disappeared under the bubbles.
She closed her eyes and arched her back against his touch.
“Shall I stop?” he asked with a grin.
“If you do I’ll drown you.”
He reared up in the water and lowered himself on top of her. Her arms slid around his flanks to pull him toward her.
She lifted her legs out of the water and propped them on either side of the tub as he slid into her. He moved slowly, gently, his mouth on hers, his tongue meeting hers.
She no longer needed the long foreplay. It was as though her body was rebuilding sensual muscles after a long period of disuse.
They were already learning each other’s bodies so that their hands and tongues seem to find the right places to touch, to caress, to taste without conscious thought.
Afterward he rested his cheek on her shoulder.
“The water’s cooling,” she said.
“We’ve been generating enough heat to boil it.” He got to his knees. “Come on, love, time for bed.”
“I can’t move. I think I’ve melted.”
They dried each other off and slipped naked into Vic’s big bed. With Jamey snuggled against her back, Vic asked, “Who taught you?”
“Huh?” he said sleepily.
She was suddenly wide awake. She turned over and raised herself on her elbow. “You didn’t learn all that by instinct.”
With his eyes still closed, he said, “Would you believe me if I told you I read books?”
She chortled. “Not for a minute.”
“Let’s say I had some good tutors. Or tutoresses.” He opened his eyes and smiled up at her, awake now, at least for the moment. “How did you leam?”
“I didn’t. That ought to be obvious. I was taught that I was supposed to act like a lady all the time, even in bed. And if I’d known how to act like a whore, I think Frank would have felt extremely threatened.” She lay back and stared at the ceiling as though rerunning an old movie in her head.
“When Frank and I were first married, I tried romantic candlelit dinners and things. He never responded. He seldom touched me unless it was a prelude to ‘getting it on.’ His term. I was never sure whether that was the way it was for everybody or just for me. After a while I was glad when he left me alone because making love was simply another chore in an already busy life.”
“Damn fool,” Jamey murmured.
She rolled over again to snuggle against his chest. Which one of them was a fool? Her or Frank? Both, probably.
The shared bubble bath had been her suggestion. She had offered it timidly, in such a way that if he laughed or looked as her as though she’d taken leave of her senses, she could say the idea was a joke.
Instead, he’d been delighted, and had added the candles and wine. Amazing feeling. Liberation of a part of her she’d never acknowledged. Like breaking the lamp and letting out the genie. How on earth was she ever to get it back in again?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
V
IC OPENED HER EYES to see that the clock on the bedside table read three-seventeen. She rolled over and groped for Jamey; he wasn’t in bed. No wonder her back was cold.
She raised her head to see whether the bathroom light was on. Nope. Surely he wouldn’t get dressed to check the horses at three in the morning. She padded to the bedroom door in the dark. The door was ajar, the kitchen light was on. She stopped with one hand on the doorknob.
Jamey sat naked at the kitchen table with his head in one hand and the telephone in the other. Who on earth could he be calling at this hour? And in whispers? She had no intention of eavesdropping on his conversation, but as she turned to go back to bed, she heard him snap, “No!” in a decidedly exasperated tone.
His next words kept her hand on that doorknob.
“You’ve handled disasters without me before. I know what I said, but I can’t possibly leave before this weekend. Vic’s riding Roman in a local dressage show on Saturday. I have to be there for that at least, see how he does,” Jamey said in a whisper just above a hiss. “Whitten’s in town now, this minute. We need more than fifty-five thousand bloody pounds.”
She froze, her body suddenly flooded with adrenaline. She would listen no more. Wide awake, she crept back to bed and pulled the covers up to her neck.
What was he talking about? Riding a Roman what? Leave this weekend? What did he need money for? Why did Mike’s arrival have anything to do with him? He was obviously in trouble—money trouble. He must be calling his uncle in Scotland. With the time difference, three in the morning was not an odd time to call.
Apparently something had happened at home for which they needed him immediately. She felt her stomach knot. But this weekend? And he sounded as though he’d always planned to leave then—not six weeks later as he’d promised when she’d hired him.
But so much had changed since then. Then he was merely an extra hand—someone to exercise horses until Liz got back to take over. Now he was...
What was he, exactly? Her lover? The man who had cajoled her back onto a horse, who was rebuilding her nerve and her skill with consummate care? Who had awakened her senses and her capacity for love as no other man had?
He was the man who had asked her to come to Scotland with him. For a moment she considered getting up again and simply stepping through the kitchen door and asking him to explain, but she hesitated.
Surely he’d tell her in the morning. Was he planning to ask Mike for a loan? He certainly knew that she didn’t have any money to give him—not that sort of money, at least. He sounded as if he’d planned to meet Mike, but he’d had no way of knowing Mike’s connection with ValleyCrest before he arrived.
As much as she hated to admit it, Albert was right. She really didn’t know much about Jamey. He’d said from the beginning he would cause her pain, but she’d assumed he meant when he left. Surely he’d had no ulterior motive for choosing ValleyCrest. There wasn’t anything here that anyone would want.
Whatever his problems, if he would share them, she would help him solve them. She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe softly. She didn’t want him to know she’d been eavesdropping.
She heard his soft footfalls in the room, felt him slide into bed behind her. When his icy feet touched her she shifted, turned over and opened her eyes. “Jamey?”
“Just went to the bathroom. Go back to sleep, love,” he whispered, and kissed her. He turned over so that his back was to her and pulled her arm across his waist.
She lay there wide awake. He’d lied so naturally. Her sense of unease grew. How many other things had he lied about?
Nonsense. In the morning he’d tell her what was going on. She’d give him every opening possible.
But just to be on the safe side, she’d call Marshall Dunn to see if he knew what was happening back in Scotland.
 
JAMEY TOOK A DEEP BREATH. He could feel his heart pounding beneath his ribs. His feet were freezing, but he hadn’t dared risk putting on clothes before he called Hamish. Fifty-five thousand pounds! That wasn’t nearly enough to offer Whitten for Roman. He’d have to hope Whitten would accept that as a down payment with terms for the rest.
He probably shouldn’t even make the offer. They’d have one hell of a note to pay as it was, with McLachlan Yard just getting back on its feet. And now Hamish and Vlado were dealing with anxious owners who wanted their horses trained by Jamey personally. He’d known that might happen—he simply hadn’t expected it so soon. Scotland’s unusually warm spring had made everyone eager to begin conditioning their horses early. Francis Harrington had already removed two of his Thoroughbred steeplechasers. Other owners were making noises about following suit.
Jamey had to get home fast.
Home? He pulled Vic against his back. Home was where this damn bloody woman was, even if that wound up being on the far side of the moon.
But he couldn’t stay here with her forever as a groom and an exercise boy, abandon Hamish and Vlado and all the others who depended on him.
Too many salaries, school fees, car and house payments depended on the income from the yard. He owned it, managed it, trained for it and ought to be home running it, not larking about here with the woman he loved. He’d only come to steal Jock’s stallion.
Well, he couldn’t. Not from her.
But if he couldn’t buy Roman outright from Whitten, he’d have to leave, anyway. Which meant that either he betrayed his love or he betrayed Jock.
 
“MIKE’S PICKING ME UP at eleven for lunch. Albert begged off. Do you want to come? Give you a chance to meet him,” Vic said. Now if that wasn’t an opening, nothing was.
Jamey shook his head and caught her around the waist as she bent over to pour him another cup of coffee. “Have your lunch without me. He is coming back to the barn with you, isn’t he?”
She nodded and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “Jamey, is everything all right?” She wanted to bite her tongue the moment the words left her mouth.
He gave her a startled look. “Perfect!” He pushed his chair back from the table, caught her arm and drew her across his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face into her shoulder, then smiled up at her. “I never intended to love you, lass. Run away to Scotland with me. It’ll be good. You’ll see.”
The words that should have lifted her heart, instead, cut through her like a claymore. It was true. He was leaving. He simply didn’t know how to tell her. “You can’t stay?”
“I wish with all my heart I could, but I can’t.”
“And I can’t go.”
“You could as a married woman.”
“What?” She stood and backed away from him.
He held out his hands to her. “I’m dead serious, woman. Marry me.”
“Jamey, I can’t.”
He went to her, but she held her hands in front of her and shook her head. “What would all your friends think?”
“That I’d blessedly married a beautiful woman. What should they think?”
“And your family?”
“They’ll love you.”
“Oh, Jamey, I can’t leave here any more than you can leave there.” She turned back to him and put a hand on his arm. “Why can’t we keep things as they are? If you have to go back to Scotland, then go, but come back when you can and stay as long as you can. We’d still see each other.”
“That’s damned well not good enough! I want you in my bed, in my life, in my house every day and every night for the rest of our lives. I want to stand up before the world and say that you’re my wife and my love. That we belong to each other.”
“This is so much better than we had, isn’t it? Oh, Jamey, I do love you, with all my heart and all my soul...”
She felt it coming. The blurred vision, the pounding heart, the cold sweat running down her back, the adrenaline heat that flooded her, the choking nausea and the pressure across her chest that was like a heart attack.
Not now
! she begged.
Please, dear God, not now!
How could Jamey, the man she loved better than life itself, provoke a panic attack? He’d been the one who’d stopped her attacks.
“Vic,” he said with sudden awareness. “Vic?”
She tore herself from his grasp and ran to her bedroom, then through it and into the bathroom. She threw the lock behind her. Her face in the mirror was flushed, her pupils dilated. Her mouth felt as though it was filled with wood shavings right off the stall floor.
Jamey pounded on the door. “Vic. Let me in.”
“Please, Jamey,” she choked. “Please go down to the barn. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“No! I won’t leave you like this.”
“Go!” She couldn’t keep the anguish from her voice. “For God’s sake, go!”
“Hell!” She heard his boots stomp the floor and the slam of the front door. She wrapped her arms around her body, sat down on the closed toilet and rocked back and forth. She’d been so casual talking to Albert about accepting the pain Jamey would bring. She hadn’t had a clue what it would really be like. She put her head between her knees and tried to focus. The panic began to recede. She found herself humming Jamey’s little melody. She leaned back and took deep breaths. There. Better.
Five minutes later she let the dogs out and walked down the driveway to the barn. If she could handle that, she could handle anything.
She saw him standing in the doorway waiting for her, but the moment he spotted her he turned around and disappeared. She found him cleaning a stall at the far end of the barn. He didn’t look up. He was obviously furious at her. She didn’t blame him. His marriage proposal had provoked a full-blown panic attack. Hard on the old male ego.
She felt incredibly guilty, and then she began to feel angry, too. Why couldn’t people stop pulling at her? Why did everybody want things their way? Why couldn’t she and Jamey simply enjoy loving each other?
She walked into the office and opened the desk drawer. Marshall Dunn’s telephone number was in both her address books—the one at the house and the one here. Frank had accumulated telephone numbers from all over the world. She had seen no reason to start from scratch after he died. She dug out the ratty old leather binder and looked under the
Ds
.
She found the number and reached for the telephone just as a knock sounded on the door. She started guiltily. she really didn’t want Jamey to find out what she was doing. “Yes?”
The door opened and a very large man filled the doorway.
“Mike, you’re early!” Vic said. She went to him, hugged him and brought him into the office. “Good Lord, look at you!”
Mike Whitten laughed. Vic didn’t think she’d ever heard the sound before. He wasn’t a laugher, or he hadn’t been before he’d married Liz.
“Your hair’s longer,” Vic said.
“Liz says the Nero look is out. Besides, I couldn’t find a decent barber in Wellington.”
“And you’re so tan.”
“All that Florida sunshine at ringside. And we’ve been sailing a couple of times.” He ducked his head sheepishly.
Vic laughed. “When are you buying the sailboat?”
“We-ell,” he hedged, “not for a few years. But I’ve convinced Liz to try bareboating in the Caribbean sometime. Between horse shows, that is.”
“Marvelous.”
“I drove up to the big house before I came down here,” Mike said, dropping into the director’s chair across from Vic.
She had forgotten how tall he was. His long legs stretched nearly to her desk. He looked unbelievably relaxed—an entirely different man from the uptight corporate bigwig who had stalked into their lives last year.
“It will be ready by the end of the month,” he said with satisfaction. “On budget. I have made whatever decisions needed to be made, and I think I’ve put the fear of God and civil litigation into a few contractors’ hearts. They shouldn’t be bugging you any longer. I warned you it would be a hassle, remember.”
“I know you did. I didn’t bargain on all the conflicting male egos.”
He sobered and said quietly, “Why didn’t you tell us about Angie’s broken collarbone?”
“Uh...” She gulped. “Who told you?”
“I called her this morning to see if she wanted to join us for lunch. She does.”
“Wonderful. Albert doesn’t, by the way.”
“I’m not surprised. He hates that sort of thing.” Mike crossed his arms over his chest. “So who’s been exercising horses for you?”
She took a deep breath and said brightly, “We had a marvelous piece of luck. Marshall Dunn from England sent us a really good exercise rider. He’s also been mucking out and grooming right alongside Albert. Benito hasn’t come back yet.”
Mike sat up straight. “You’ve been doing all this without Benito?”
“I assure you, Mike, we’re not overworked. The weather’s been so lousy that nobody much wants to ride, so Jamey is exercising, and we’re doing the minimum amount of work otherwise.”

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