Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (55 page)

Kato twisted and leaped to the floor. Mark gulped and stepped back, anchoring himself against the door and resolutely locking his gaze on her forehead. “You found a dress to wear then?” It was a struggle to push the words past his dry throat.

“Yes. I just have to slip it on.”

He nodded, backed out and shut the door. Jammed his hands in his pockets, annoyed at his reaction. Wished she’d leave the track then wished she wouldn’t. Fucking impossible situation.

A car idled outside, its brake lights casting an eerie red glow over the shedrow. Welcoming the distraction, he strode to the end of the aisle, but the vehicle powered away in a cloud of gas fumes. He swore, resenting that his horses had to breathe the mess.

Probably another reporter. In spite of the tight security, visitor flow had tripled and with a Breeders’ Cup favorite, it would only get worse. Tomorrow he’d hire a full-time guard to keep the gawkers away, to ensure his staff and horses weren’t disturbed.

Down the aisle, a door closed. One good thing about Jessica was that she dressed fast. Actually there were many good things about her. He pivoted and his hands, still crammed in his pocket, fisted at the sight. His first thought was that a model had been dropped into the middle of his shedrow, and it was fortunate his staff wasn’t around to be distracted. And then he simply stopped thinking and just stared.

Her dress was black and molded to her curves, showcasing shapely legs that didn’t seem to stop. Creamy shoulders, no straps. Generous breasts strained at the fabric as though eager to escape, as though eager for his hands to free them.

“This just gets worse and worse,” he muttered.

She didn’t pretend not to understand, just gave him a teasing smile and patted the black jacket slung over her arm. “If I’m too hot for you, boss, I can always add the jacket.”

“Best slip it on, sweetheart,” he said, no longer trying to hide his slow perusal. “At least give me time to adjust.”

***

Dinner dragged. Ever since Jessica removed her jacket, Devin’s gaze had been riveted to her chest; it was a struggle to concentrate on Sophie’s prattle. That man was a rude lout, Mark thought, as Devin passed Jessica the salt, practically drooling as he peered down her dress.

Sophie squeezed Mark’s fingers, reclaiming his attention. He forced another nod, unable to garner much interest in her mind-numbing chatter.

“And we are so pleased to have you for our trainer. Penny Bremner, she’s the president of our society, told us you had a horse running in the Breeders’ Cup. When she heard you trained our dear horse, Bobby, she decided she must come and watch his next race.”

“I thought you agreed to retire Buddy.” Mark laid down his fork, using the maneuver as an excuse to escape her clinging fingers.

“Oh, but he ran so well today, and I do want my friends to see him win.”

Mark folded his napkin, appetite lost. He nodded at the hovering waiter to remove his plate. “The horse can’t keep going,” he said. “Buddy’s running on guts alone. He’s had fifty-six starts. Let’s just be grateful for what he’s accomplished and do the right thing.”

“Oh, pooh.” She flicked her hand in dismissal. “One little race won’t hurt. Not with a trainer like you. One more race, and then maybe we’ll sell him as a riding horse.”

Jessica’s arm brushed Mark’s wrist as she leaned forward. “How much do you want for him?”

Mark shot her a warning look before turning his attention back to Sophie. “The best way isn’t to sell but to place them with an adoption facility. They can retrain and take the time to find a suitable home. It ensures a good future.”

“But if we can make money selling, I’d rather do that.” Sophie’s voice rose. “I don’t want to just
give
him away.”

“How much do you want for him?” Jessica repeated.

Mark’s mouth tightened as she leaned past him, ignoring his signal to back off. Damn. Now she had Sophie thinking money instead of a simple retirement.

“You really like my horse,” Sophie said, looking at Jessica for the first time that evening. “How much, I wonder?”

Jessica’s gaze flickered, and Mark saw the panic in her eyes as she realized her mistake. “I just want him to have a good home.” She shrugged and fingered her wine glass, but the damage was done.

“You’d probably get a thousand, maybe two, off the track,” Mark said reluctantly. “Buddy doesn’t have the movement for dressage, but he might make a nice hunter.”

“So you’re saying his value as a racehorse is zero.” Sophie’s lips compressed. “Okay. I’ll sell him to your groom for two thousand dollars, but only after one more race.”

“Then I’m sorry,” Mark said. “But I won’t train Buddy. You can move him to a different barn tomorrow.”

He ignored Jessica’s gasp but felt her hand tighten around his knee in a desperate plea. Sophie plopped two sugar cubes into her coffee and stared with stony eyes.

He crossed his arms and leaned back, equally inflexible. Jessica’s hand rested on his leg, but she remained silent as though aware they were in the middle of negotiations. Her fingers edged up his thigh, but he concentrated on holding Sophie’s stare.

“I don’t want to move Buddy to another trainer, but I promised my ladies’ group a day at the races,” Sophie said. “Surely you can agree to one more race?”

“Not fair to the horse.” Mark shook his head, trying to ignore the sensual movement of Jessica’s hand. Buddy had seemed a little stiff after the race. No obvious pain or swelling, just a shortness of stride. Nothing the track vet would notice. Still, it worried him. And it would be nice if the horse retired on a win. No, he wasn’t budging on this call.

Jessica’s fingers drifted, tracing a circle on his thigh, and his thoughts scattered. Just an inch to the left, he willed. He crossed his arms, fighting the urge to grab her wrist and place her hand in a more satisfying position. The little minx. Sophie wasn’t the only one deep into negotiations.

“One more race and I promise to sell him. Two thousand dollars,” Sophie said, “no matter how he runs.”

Mark remained motionless, caught between the two women. He wanted to tell Sophie to shove her last race. Wanted to tell her to consider the horse. But most of all he wanted attention for his throbbing erection.

“All right,” he finally said, blowing out a shattered sigh. “I’ll train him. One more race.” However, resentment thickened his words, and the knowledge that he’d been swayed for the wrong reason made him ball his napkin in disgust.

***

Jessica bounced at the front of the walkway as they waited for the valet to deliver Mark’s car, her euphoria only slightly tarnished by the fact that she didn’t have two thousand dollars. Asking her grandfather for a loan wasn’t an option. He’d claim it breached their agreement and use it as an excuse to drag her into his company.

Yet two thousand dollars wasn’t entirely impossible. She had almost fifteen hundred remaining from her track winnings and, with a paycheck or two, could scrape the money together. She continued bouncing, ecstatic she’d talked Mark into keeping Buddy.

Well, maybe not exactly
talked
. The sexy dress she’d worn had helped. He was a typical man after all, although she feared he affected her much more than she did him. His presence always left her exhilarated—a wonderful feeling but usually better if shared. She tilted her head, letting the crisp air fan her cheeks, feeling intensely alive and eager to discover what the rest of the evening might bring.

Whispers caught her attention. She glanced sideways, watching as two women ogled Mark. As usual, he was oblivious, face impassive under the canopy. Jessica gave them a knowing smile. She’d deliberately left her jacket off in spite of the cool air, but Mark hadn’t looked at her, hadn’t even spoken since they’d left Sophie and Devin’s table. He was definitely zoned out, no doubt thinking of horses.

Still, it had been an enjoyable evening, despite being stuck with Devin. The salmon was delicious, the wine unending and, best of all, she’d managed to keep her horse. The thought of Buddy being walked to another trainer’s barn tomorrow had filled her with panic, and she’d been desperate to sway Mark.

She shot him a grateful smile, but he only stared down the street, watching as his car eased to the curb. A wiry attendant with a nose ring jumped out. Mark opened the passenger door, his gaze hooded as she slid in. He tipped the valet and joined her in the car, still silent as he accelerated away from the restaurant.

Jessica felt a twinge of unease as she studied his flat mouth, the way his hands gripped the wheel. He seemed angry even though she’d done her job—chatting up Devin all night, leaving Mark free to humor Sophie. The car’s speed increased; she twisted in the seat, scanning the blurring sign posts.

“Isn’t that the exit to Belmont?” she asked.

“I assumed you were going home with me.”

She gave a haughty sniff. He hadn’t spoken for ten minutes yet had the arrogance to think she would accompany him back to his bed. Without an ounce of sweet talk which, she admitted, was all she really needed. “That’s quite an assumption.”

“I assumed that was your hand under the table,” he said dispassionately. “That you were trying to show me something.”

His detached tone hurt, and she crossed her arms. “I was just showing you how I feel about Buddy. It doesn’t have anything to do with how I feel about you. Or Devin,” she added, guessing that lumping him with Devin would hurt any man’s ego. “So you can just turn—”

She was abruptly tossed forward, gravel ricocheting as he veered into a rutted parking lot. The seatbelt dug into her shoulder—her sore shoulder—but Mark didn’t seem at all concerned. His voice was crisp and unapologetic as he switched off the ignition.

“Then perhaps you better explain how you feel about me,” he snapped, “now that I agreed to run Buddy against my better judgment. Feel clever playing your little games?”

Ah, ha
. So that explained his anger. He hated to think a woman could influence his decisions. It hadn’t been a game though. She’d been desperate to keep Buddy but would never have stooped to such behavior with another man. It was Mark’s attention she wanted as much as the horse. The knowledge scared her, and she hid her feelings behind a condescending tone. “If a woman’s hand on your leg blows your mind, then I understand why you prefer to hire big people. I have control but you really need to practice yours, maybe—”

His body slanted, blocking out the road lights and then his mouth covered hers, hard and punishing. One hand held her head in place, the other trapped her arms, and she couldn’t move, could hardly breathe. But at her muffled protest, his mouth immediately gentled. Turned coaxing, teasing, until her lips parted.

Ah, this was better, much better. He was such a wonderful kisser. She sighed and arched toward him, her arms slipping around his neck as she surrendered to the hardness of his body, his minty taste, the sureness of his hands when they unclipped her seatbelt.

His tongue mated with hers and when his bold hand caressed her breasts, it felt so right. He peeled down the top of her dress and his fingers stroked her nipple, sending out waves of pleasure while his mouth sizzled a trail from her neck to her chest.

She moaned and arched against him, not caring that he’d rolled her dress to the waist, that he was sucking her breasts, that he’d quickly filled her with a throbbing need.

The sudden slap of cold air was shocking.

She opened her eyes in confusion. Mark had settled back in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead as he turned on the ignition.

“I’ll take you back to the track now,” he said.

She stared at him in disbelief then lowered her head, fumbling to replace her dress. The fabric was clingy, her fingers awkward as she tugged it into place. She jammed her arms in her jacket, holding it tight, needing protection against the chill. And her shame.

He drove fast, threading through traffic as though eager to be rid of her. A red Explorer cut in front of them, and he slammed on his brakes, tossing her against the dash.

“Fasten your seatbelt,” he said. Nothing more.

By the time they pulled onto the track grounds, her embarrassment had swelled until she wanted to shrink into the seat. The car stopped near the barn entrance. She grabbed the door, fumbling with the handle, but the lock depressed with an ominous click.

“Let me out,” she said, her voice surprisingly level. “You proved your point, and I deserved it. No need to humiliate me any further.”

He turned, his face enigmatic in the shadows. “I want you to quit.”

Panic balled in her throat. Only three weeks left, and he was going to fire her because she’d been stupid, impulsive and lovesick. Her grandfather would win. She’d end up working at Boone, reliant on his every whim. Controlled by him.

“I can’t.” She almost choked on her desperation. “Please. I have to finish out the meet.”

He shifted in the seat, his voice flat. “I don’t know why you’re so keen to prove something to your grandfather, Jessica, but everyone has options.”

“Not when you have no money.”

“You’re a smart girl. Hard worker. You don’t need your grandfather’s money. And you already have connections…I really don’t want you here.”

She squeezed the door handle, his words exacerbating her plummeting self-worth. She couldn’t even hold her first job, a manual job she enjoyed. Hell, a job she loved. “Please don’t fire me.” She swiveled, looking directly at him for the first time since he’d stopped the car.

“I’m not going to fire you.
You
haven’t done anything wrong.”

The bleakness in his voice made her feel guilty but at the same time, she pushed her advantage. She had to stay until Breeders’ Cup, the last weekend of the meet. “Then you promise you won’t fire me?”

He stared straight ahead, silent, his fingers gripping the steering wheel. Finally he turned to her. “I won’t fire you, Jessica. But don’t test my control again.” He pressed a switch on the panel of his door, and the locks rose. “There’s not much left.”

His gruff warning sent a thrill shuddering through her. She opened the door, somewhat mollified by the knowledge he wasn’t unaffected. She turned to say good night, but he’d already stepped from the car.