The Riding Master (25 page)

“He insisted you two needed to get away for the weekend and that you wouldn’t go unless you knew that thing you call a dog was cared for. Why can’t you just board him like a normal mongrel owner?”

Rayne hefted the saddle and blanket onto Bob’s back and turned to Rebecca. “Frank is not a mongrel, and I could never leave him in a kennel with strangers. He knows you.”

“He hates me,” Rebecca countered. “Every time you bring him to the stables he looks at me as if I’m a slab of ham.”

Rayne tightened the saddle girth beneath Bob’s belly. “He looks at everyone that way. It’s a sign of affection.”

“It’s a sign of inbreeding.” Rebecca stepped over to Bob and patted the horse’s long neck. “Where is that handsome riding master of mine, anyway? He hasn’t been here the past two afternoons.”

“He’s got another consulting job in Louisiana. He’ll be back Saturday morning.” 

Rebecca ran her hand over Bob’s thick shoulder and down his front right leg. “He’s looking real good, Rayne.” She stood up. “Did your boyfriend tell you I sent in the entry fee for you and Bob for the Golden Farms Horse Show next month?”

“No, he didn’t tell me.” Rayne secured the buckles of the girth without looking up at Rebecca. “And that’s the second time you have called him my boyfriend.”

“I was wondering if you were going to say anything.” Rebecca wormed closer to her side. “So how is it going with the two of you? That he wants to take you away for the weekend is a good sign.”

“It’s not what you think. We’re going to a formal party in the city and he wants to stay overnight in a hotel so we don’t have to drive all the way back to Lewisville in the middle of the night.”

“Same room or adjoining rooms?” Rebecca’s playful brown eyes glistened with curiosity.

“You’re joking, right?” Rayne went back to her tack room door.

“So what are you going to wear to this party?”

“I still have some gowns in the back of my closet from my days with Foster. I’m sure I can find something,” Rayne reasoned from inside the tack room.

“Just make sure you look amazing, Rayne. I have a feeling he’s taking you to this gig to show you off.”

Rayne came out of the tack room clutching a dark leather bridle. “I think I might have just the right dress. I only wore it once years ago, but it should do.”

“If it clings to your ass and shows off your boobs, it will be the right dress.” Rebecca gave Bob’s neck a celebratory slap. “That will get his engine revving.”

Rayne shook her head and veered back to Bob. Unclasping his blue halter, she placed the flat of her hand under the bit and gently pushed it into Bob’s mouth. After he had taken the bit, she slipped the bridle up his long head and secured it behind his black-tipped ears.

“Well, I may not be the only one around here trying to rev his engine.” Rayne rubbed the white star on Bob’s head as Rebecca gave her a questioning glance. “He told me about his meeting with you and Selene. I thought you wanted to get rid of her.”

“I did, until Judge Kendrick begged me to intervene on his ex-wife’s behalf and smooth things over with Trent. And that is one man I want to owe me a favor, if you know what I mean.”

“I understand. It’s business.” Rayne shrugged her shoulders. “Trent made it sound like Selene was happy about keeping her job. I even found a lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt after your meeting. She must have been real grateful.”

“Grateful?” Rebecca snorted with contempt. “The slut basically used Trent’s body as a stripper pole after she kissed his ass to keep her job.” She paused and eyed Rayne for a moment. “When you saw his shirt was it coming off or going on?”

“Rebecca,” Rayne chastised with a scolding gaze.

“All right, none of my business.” Rebecca apologetically held up her hands. “And don’t worry about Selene, sweetie. If you ask me that lipstick stain was probably planted on his shirt, hoping you would see it. She wants your guy, there’s no question about that, but he only has eyes for you.”

Rayne wished she could wholeheartedly believe in Trent, but still doubts still plagued her. “Sometimes I think he’s still too good to be true.”

“Why? You’re a hell of a catch, Rayne. I’ve always told you that, and Trent sees it. He’s lucky to have you.”

Rayne grasped the reins in her hand. “If I’m such a catch, then why didn’t Foster want me?”

“Foster was a back-stabbing, conniving, selfish pig, who was stupid to let you go. Forget about him.” Rebecca patted her arm. “Now you’d better get out to the ring before it gets dark. You have a show to get ready for, and you had better bring home the blue ribbon.”

“Thanks for the extra pressure, Rebecca. Not only do I have to please Trent, now I have to please you, too.”

“Yeah, but I only need to be pleased vertically, kiddo,” she chuckled with a wink. “Your man requires a different kind of horizontal pleasure.”

“Christ, Rebecca. Are you always thinking about sex, or do you just pretend to be?”

Squinting her brown eyes, Rebecca pondered the question. “No, I’m not pretending. I’m always thinking about sex.”

Clucking to Bob, Rayne urged him to follow her to the stable entrance. “You should have been born a man.”

“Maybe in my next life. In the meantime, bring your flea motel to my place before you two head into the city Saturday. I’ll have my grandkids come over and wear his furry hide out.”

“Frank will like that. He loves kids.” Rayne started down the shed row with Bob.

“And Rayne?”

Rayne halted and turned to Rebecca.

“He won’t hurt you. It’s real obvious he’s crazy about you.”

Rayne drew in a shaky breath. “Yeah, I’m crazy about him too, Rebecca. That’s what scares me.”

***

The following Saturday night, Rayne was caressing the soft fabric of her dark green gown as Trent opened the passenger door of his car. The empire-waisted, halter design hugged the curves of her hips and accentuated her full breasts, making Rayne feel more self-conscious than attractive.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” Trent articulated as she stepped from his car.

“No. When you picked me up, your first words were ‘Let’s not go,’ and, ‘Take off that dress.’”

Trent shut the car door and fidgeted with the black tie of his tuxedo. “I was excited. Any man seeing you in that dress would be excited.”

“Thank you…I think.” She brushed a speck of lint from the lapel of his black tuxedo jacket. “And you look pretty damned handsome in that.”

His hand ran around her back and rested on her butt. “I’ll let you strip it off me later.”

“I’m counting on it,” she taunted, tracing the curve of his clean-shaven jaw with her finger.

Letting out a ragged breath, Trent took her hand. “You’re going to be the best-looking woman in the place.”

Rayne cast her eyes to a contemporary one-story, natural stone home nestled on two lush acres. With a myriad of pricey imported cars parked before it, the house seemed out of place and better suited for a Texas ranch rather than a luxury mansion.

“It’s not what I expected from an oil tycoon,” she admitted, eyeing the array of trimmed white crape myrtle, white birch, and dogwood trees in front of the structure.

“Just wait.” Trent nodded to the house. “It’s a lot like Tyler Moore; simple on the outside, but very impressive on the inside. He bought it after he married Monique a few months back. But don’t be fooled; he and Monique are really down-to-earth people. Especially Monique. She’s from New Orleans, like you.” He took her elbow and guided her to a walkway that meandered through the trees, leading to the home.

“You didn’t tell me she was from New Orleans.” Her high black heels clicked on the cement as they strolled along.

“Her professional name is Monique Delome. She writes romance novels.”

“
The
Monique Delome?” She glanced over at Trent. “I can’t believe it. I’ve never read her books, but Lindsey, my friend at work, has.”

The idea of a party sprinkled with celebrities and the socially well-to-do brought to mind her life with Foster and all the misery she had endured.

Trent stopped in mid-stride. “You’re shivering. Do you want my jacket?”   

“No, it’s just that…well, this reminds me of my marriage. I feel like I’ve gone back in time; the fancy clothes, fancy cars, expensive homes, and famous guests.”

“Do you want to leave?”

“Of course not.” She clasped his hand. “This is your friend, not some business associate or charity event where I have to smile, say nothing, and look like attractive arm candy.”

“Well, you definitely look like candy to me.” His eyes glided over her outfit. “I’d eat you.”

“Are you sure you and Rebecca aren’t related in some way?”

His brow crinkled. “I don’t get it.”

“Forget it.” She waved off his confusion. “I just hope Frank survives the night with her.”

“I hope she can sleep through his snoring.” Trent’s troubled eyes inspected her face. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She started down the walkway, ignoring his concern. “I want to meet your friends. It might give me a little more insight into you.”

He came alongside her and hooked her arm through his. “You already know everything about me.”

His comment ricocheted about in her heart, reawakening her uncertainty. “I don’t know everything, Trent.”

“Well, you know a lot, Rayne. And just tell me if tonight gets to be too much. We can sneak out and head over to the hotel.”

“I will.” Rayne took in a fortifying breath when she spotted the flowing gowns and tuxedos of the other guests heading toward the entrance of the home.

“Promise? I don’t want you putting up with something that makes you uncomfortable for my sake, Rayne.”

A little stunned, Rayne gave him a perplexed side-glance. “That’s a first.”

“What is?”

“Being with a man who cares more about my feelings than his.”

He patted her hand as they came to the edge of the gardens on the side of the portico. “That’s the way it should be.”

They made their way under a wide porch to a pair of open dark red double doors with circular, bright brass knockers. As they waited for guests ahead of them to trickle inside, Rayne rolled Trent’s words over in her mind. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be with a man. Never before had she known such contentment and such happiness. As long as Rayne lived, she would treasure this moment; that nanosecond where long-wished-for dreams merged with the reality of one’s life, making everything seem absolutely…perfect.

Chapter 19

After wading through the crowds at the entrance and passing a bottleneck of colorful gowns, shimmering jewels, and varying cuts of black tuxedos, Rayne and Trent managed to squeeze their way into the home. They meandered along a narrow corridor with gray marble floors and thick glass windows on one side. Glancing out the windows, Rayne slowed, awestruck by the view.

A center patio, edged with thick green shrubbery and gray slate, surrounded an I-shaped pool and spa that was lit with ethereal blue and green lights. On either side of the pool, twenty-foot high walls of glass and thick wood beams allowed a clear view of symmetrical living rooms and fireplaces.

“It’s stunning,” Rayne remarked.

“The home backs to Turtle Creek and was designed by an old friend of mine, architect Hayden Parr of Parr and Associates. Behind the house are wandering paths of gardens, stone walls, and ponds that lead to the creek.” Trent urged her further into the home. “Let’s find our hosts.”

Guiding her past a drawing room of high peaked ceilings, hardwood floors, and another wall of windows, Rayne took in the airy use of space and light around her. But when they stepped into one of the living rooms, her eyes grew round with astonishment.

Rectangular in shape with a fire pit fireplace at one end topped by a colossal tarnished metal hood, the living room had an iridescent pearl-covered bar with an elongated fish tank built into the wall behind it. Soft taupe leather sofas and chairs complemented the pale paneling on the walls, while metal and glass tables sat atop a muted beige Berber carpet. Guests were seated at high backed leather stools about the bar, where a black-tied bartender was serving drinks. Others were taking in the serene views of the gardens and grounds through the windows that made up two of the twenty-foot high walls in the room.

“I don’t see them.” Trent swept the room with his eyes. “Let’s try the kitchen.”

Taking her arm, he escorted her back into the narrow hallway and passed doors of opaque glass with veins of metal that looked like sticks of wood embedded in them. Rayne browsed a few black and white framed photographs of New Orleans landmarks on the walls, and wanted to stop and study the pictures in detail, but Trent encouraged her onward. Soon, Rayne was standing at the entrance to one of the most spacious rooms she had ever seen.

One long, rectangular room was comprised of a family room, kitchen, and dining area. There were no walls or partitions between sections, only two oval islands of oak cabinets topped with black granite were set in the center, designating the kitchen area. Three of the walls were inlaid with windows, overlooking gardens bathed in amber and yellow light. The remaining wall was covered from floor to ceiling with oak cabinets and inlaid niches for knickknacks and family photos. In the kitchen, the cabinets were broken up by black granite countertops, and then a Viking cooktop, double oven, and built-in glass refrigerator created a shiny centerpiece.