Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (54 page)

“My turn,” Sophie said. Somehow Jessica was shuffled back and Buddy’s owner sidled forward, smelling of wine and cigarettes.

He dodged her eager mouth and instead brushed his lips over her clammy cheek. “Congratulations, Sophie,” he said. “We need to get to the winner’s circle.”

She looped her arm through his, abandoning her husband as she gushed about how she’d absolutely known Bobby was going to win today. Jessica grabbed Devin, who immediately brightened and set down his drink. Sophie’s husband definitely had the better of this deal, Mark thought wryly.

They hurried down the steps, past sharp-eyed security and toward the winner’s circle. Mark stepped out to catch Buddy as the victorious horse trotted back. Both Buddy and Emma Rae were streaked with dirt, but it didn’t diminish the jock’s gleaming smile or the way Buddy strutted.

“Congratulations. Good ride.” Mark shook Emma Rae’s hand as Jessica proudly led Buddy into the winner’s circle. They grouped around the horse, cameras clicked and the presentation was made. Emma Rae twirled her stick and leaped off.

“Thanks for the ride, Mark. Those braids gave us luck. That gray sure didn’t want to let us out.”

“Radcliff is an old friend of mine,” Mark said.

“Friends like that, you don’t need enemies.” Emma rolled her eyes, pulled off her saddle and strutted to the scales.

Sophie waved a manicured hand, keen to reclaim the spotlight. “We must celebrate.” Her eyes flickered from Mark to Jessica. “I suppose you have a boyfriend you’re busy with?” she asked hopefully.

“No boyfriend,” Jessica said.

“You’ll drive to the restaurant with me, Jessica,” Mark said firmly, squashing any more of Sophie’s manipulations. No way was he eating solo with Buddy’s owners. Dino was trailoring a horse tonight, and he needed someone to deflect Sophie. Besides, Jessica was enjoyable company, very enjoyable. With her around, dinner might be halfway fun.

He dragged a hand through his hair as anticipation jangled with the warning in his brain. Not only was she an employee, but she was also Boone’s granddaughter, and he was starting to look at her in a most unprofessional way. Nothing he couldn’t handle though. There were plenty of other women around, and there was no way he’d ever risk pissing off Boone. No way.

Chapter Ten

“I want to look good tonight,” Jessica said as she and Maria mixed the evening grain. “Is there a yard sale anywhere? I need a dress.”

Maria’s face clouded with sympathy. “Is Mark making you to go to an owner’s dinner? I hate those.”

“Oh, he’s not making me. I want to.” She still bounced after Buddy’s amazing performance, and the thought of eating a good meal only increased her excitement. Of course, it was apparent her role was to keep Sophie from plastering herself over Mark, thereby preserving owner/trainer relations. No problem. She could do that. But she also intended to eat and drink, in honor of Buddy, her very own wonder horse.

Maria banged the lid shut on the bin and tilted her head in open appraisal. “You’re taller than most women around here. But Tricky Dick usually has something.”

Must be a cross dresser, Jessica thought, nodding eagerly. Five weeks ago she would have been appalled at the idea of buying secondhand clothes, but as she propelled Maria out the door, all she said was, “Let’s go see Dick.”

***

Tricky Dick’s dorm was in the west end of the backside, an area Jessica hadn’t yet explored.

“If my bike was fixed, we could’ve ridden double,” she said, conscious of Maria’s labored breathing.

“I gotta lose weight.” Maria patted her rounded stomach. “But then, Mark might fire me. He has no restraint around women.”

“He’s restrained around me,” Jessica said, hating the wistfulness that crept into her voice.

“I expect he already has another woman. That scrawny Trish was the last I know of.” Maria’s voice faded as she ducked beneath a sagging clothesline.

“Trish sure is tiny,” Jessica said, skirting a dripping cotton shirt. “Guess Mark likes his girlfriends small?”

“Yup,” Maria said. “According to Dino, that’s why he prefers big women on staff. So he doesn’t mix them up.” Her eyes narrowed as she glanced back at Jessica. “Although he must not like tall, skinny women either because he hired you.”

Jessica blinked. She’d never been called skinny before. She smoothed her shirt, wondering if she’d lost any weight. But all her clothes felt the same, even her jeans, and, for sure, she’d never get any shorter. So if Mark had a preference for petite girlfriends, she was definitely out of luck.

She remained glumly silent as Maria pointed to a second-floor apartment. They clunked up the wooden stairs, and Maria rapped on a panel door.

A slender man with a hooked nose cracked the door open.

“This girl needs a nice dress, Dick,” Maria said. “Can you help?”

“Come back Saturday. I’m busy arranging racks.” He pointed over his shoulder at the mass of clothes behind him.

Jessica peered in, straining to see. “Oh, my. What beautiful things you have. Is that Dior?”

“Yes, an original.” Approval brightened Dick’s long face, and he waved them inside and slammed the door. “Okay, but be quick. What do you need?”

Maria gestured at Jessica. “She has to go out with fancy owners tonight and only has jeans.”

“I see.” He cocked his head and studied Jessica objectively. “Tall. Thirty-six inch bust. Good hips. Drop your pants. Let’s see your legs. Quickly.”

Jessica stared.

“Come on. Hurry.” Maria shot an anxious look at Dick.

Apparently, Tricky Dick’s time wasn’t to be wasted. Jessica unzipped her jeans, raising her head as she stepped out, conscious of her ugly knee and daring him to comment on any swelling.

“Tiny waist. My, yes!” Dick cooed, clapping his hands. “And I have just the dress to show off those gorgeous legs.”

He swept into another room and moments later emerged cradling a tiny black sheath. “Slip it on. I’ll be back with the perfect shoes.”

Jessica glanced down, relieved he hadn’t commented on her swollen knee. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. It hadn’t hurt lately even though she hadn’t seen her doctor since she’d moved to the track. She’d skipped the regular treatments her grandfather had insisted upon, since it was much too difficult to travel to the doctor’s office.

“Hurry,” Maria urged.

Jessica stripped and pulled on the dress, a Nina Ricci she confirmed after a peek at the label. “Where does he get all these gorgeous clothes?” she whispered.

“Donations,” Maria said. “He resells on the Internet and gives all the profits to Anna House. He’s a groom but spends his spare time fundraising. Lives somewhere else in the winter.”

“What is Anna House? The money from Lefty’s bike was for that too.”

Maria smiled as she helped Jessica with the zipper. “It’s our childcare center, named after Mr. Eugene Melnyk’s daughter. He donated a lot of money to start it up. And now that my English is good, I can volunteer there. Oh, my!” She stopped talking for a second, her eyes widening. “You’re beautiful!”

“Is it okay?” Jessica twisted, looking for a mirror.

Dick appeared in the doorway, jerked to a stop and let out a low wolf whistle. His eyes narrowed. Based on their very male gleam, Jessica decided she looked just fine.

“I’ll take it,” she said. “How much?” She knew it would be costly, but her coffee can had money, and she needed this dress.

Dick shook his head and shoved a pair of black stilettos in her hands. “My clothes are expensive. But track workers are welcome to borrow if they make a donation to Anna House and return the outfit clean and undamaged. Everyone needs to dress up sometime.” He waved his hand. “Now, change and go. I’m behind in my cataloguing.”

Despite his impatience, Dick’s generosity was staggering. Jessica paused. The entire backstretch was supportive, more like an extended family than co-workers, and the urge to contribute swelled. She’d never volunteered before, thought it was something people did if they were bored or lonely, but maybe that wasn’t true. After all, Mark helped his staff with English lessons, and he was the busiest person she knew.

“Maybe I could help with the cataloguing?” she asked, half expecting Dick to turn her down.

“That’d be nice,” he said. “Tomorrow at eleven.”

Her eyes widened in dismay. That was her nap time. But he studied her with open cynicism, as though expecting an excuse, as though aware she really was a selfish person.

“See you then,” she said, surprising Dick—and herself.

Chapter Eleven

Mark grabbed his dinner jacket and strode from the office into the barn. Some feed and bedding still had to be ordered, but it was unlikely Jessica had anything suitable to wear and they’d need to detour for some hasty shopping. No doubt she had an elaborate wardrobe somewhere, but her fancy clothes certainly weren’t at the track.

He checked the stalls as he passed, ensuring every animal was tucked in for the night, an ingrained habit developed from a lifetime of caring for horses. The sweet smell of good hay, the munching of contented animals, the serenity of a well-kept barn always filled him with satisfaction.

Assets stretched his neck out, clicking his teeth and pretending to bite. Mark stopped and opened the door, pushing the colt’s head away until he behaved. Unfazed, the horse pulled at Mark’s hand, eager for attention, just a bored colt eager to play.

“Play all you want—just keep winning,” Mark said as he scratched Assets’ jaw. He liked the colt’s attitude. Assets was brash, precocious and fast. If he ran in the Breeders’ Cup as he had in the preps, no one would catch him. Even the sheikh’s powerful entry was thought to be running for second.

The colt quit trying to grab Mark’s sleeve and stared regally down the aisle, looking every inch a champ. Only nine months earlier, he’d been green and undeveloped but now exceeded everyone’s expectations, and he’d earned big praise for Mark’s training program.

“Three more weeks,” he said, giving Assets a final pat before checking his watch and reluctantly leaving the stall. Sophie and Devin had reserved a table for eight, not much time if Jessica needed something to wear. She’d mentioned Maria might help dig up a dress, but he guessed that was wishful thinking.

Bump
. He rapped on her door, puzzled by the banging sound coming from her room. A vacancy had opened in one of the dorms, luxurious accommodations compared to the tack room, but she’d turned it down; he suspected it was because she wanted to stay close to Buddy.

Still…he glanced down the long aisle, noting the isolation. She’d lasted much longer than either he or her grandfather had expected. Boone was oddly quiet when Mark reported how well she was doing but, heck, the man must be proud of her. Even Mark was proud of her. She’d learned so much—

She flung the door open. “Oh, good. Can you help me with my bike? I’ve been whacking it with the hammer but the seat’s still twisted.”

His breath oozed in admiration, and he could only stare. It seemed she’d stepped from a sexy magazine—chestnut hair swept elegantly to the side, eyes dark and mysterious beneath the makeup, full and luscious lips—

“Please, Mark,” she said, misreading his silence. “It will only take a sec.”

He tore his gaze from her mouth and stared dumbly at Lefty’s bike, propped between her legs. Jean-clad legs. Still, no restaurant would refuse her entrance. No maitre d’ could possibly look beyond that stunning face.

“The seat’s twisted.” His voice sounded rough.

“That’s right.” She thrust a rusty hammer in his hand. “It’s been busted since that kid tried to steal it. Remember, I told you and Dino all about it.”

He kept his attention on the bike, but goddammit, she was gorgeous. He vaguely remembered her talking about some kid, but his brain often stalled around Jessica. He wiped his warm neck and stared numbly at the seat. “I doubt anyone would want this wreck,” he mumbled, tossing the useless hammer on the cot. She was standing so close, he could see her bare toes, toes with happy purple-painted nails, peeking out from the bottom of her frayed jeans.

“But he did try to steal it,” she said. “That’s how the seat broke. Can you fix it?”

Anything for you, sweetheart, he thought as he wrapped his hands around the seat, trying to twist it back into position. But it only shifted an inch. Definitely stuck. He flipped the bike upside down.

“That’s the trouble.” He pried a black phone from beneath the coils. “Your cell was blocking it.”

“That’s not mine. My phone is pink. And the kid stole it.” She grabbed her bike and straddled the seat. “That one must be Lefty’s.”

Mark pressed the power button, but the display remained dark. “No one knew Lefty’s relatives. Maybe it lists some contacts. I’ll hunt around for a charger and let the police know.”

He slipped the phone into his pocket, watching as she bounced on the seat, clearly delighted with her bike’s restoration. He’d never seen her with makeup or fancy hair, but now it was easy to imagine her entrenched in high society. She should be lounging in a Jaguar, not perched on a decrepit bike in a dusty horse barn.

“Ready?” he asked, more curtly then he intended.

“Yes. Thanks for fixing it.” She scrambled off and propped the bike against the wall. “I just have to slip my dress on. No, Kato!” Her eyes widened as sharp needles stabbed his ankle.

“Christ!” Mark jumped, shaking his leg before realizing what it was, then bent down and gently unhooked the beast from his pants. “This kitten turned into a guard cat.”

“Sorry.” She laughed and scooped up the cat, dipping her face in his gray hair. “Kato just has a thing about attacking ankles, but he’s really quite cuddly. He sleeps with me every night.”

“Lucky cat.”

Her eyes widened at his impulsive comment but she didn’t step back. Her mouth, that delicious mouth with the pouty lower lip, thickened. He swallowed but couldn’t pull his gaze away, couldn’t stop staring at the delicate curve of her neck, the sweep of her chest, the way Kato’s indolent paw rested on her breast. Christ, now his own hand twitched.