The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty (13 page)

Well, with good reason, she admitted. He was…a lot. And it was all good.

She slumped against the rack and took a deep, steadying breath as she replayed, truthfully, what had just happened in here. It had been good fun between two consenting adults. Nothing more, nothing less. Certainly nothing to get all worked up over. Fortunately, Tracey hadn't stepped in any earlier than she had. So, no harm, no foul. Just a brief little interlude that was now over. She was back in control, if not of him, at least of herself. And out there, in the ring, she was the boss. He would see she wasn't some pushover he could just do with whatever he pleased.

She snorted a little laugh, because her body was already responding to even the merest thought of him doing what he pleased. “Oh yeah, you're the boss of you, all right.” She closed her eyes, willing herself, almost desperately, to take a quick moment to gather her wits before having to face him and his knowing smile again. A smile that held all kinds of promise. Promises she knew he could keep.

Scowling, she folded her arms across her still-damp-from-his-mouth nipples and pushed off the rack with a bit too much force, almost overturning the whole thing. After juggling the gear back onto the pegs, she grabbed the bridle she wanted and stomped out of the room.

Coffee. She should have started the day with coffee.

Instead, she'd started it with a taste of Rafe.

She slowed. Sighed. And admitted the truth. It wasn't as if he'd scarred her for life. But spoiled her a little? Perhaps. How could she not be left wanting more of that? More of him?

Leave it to her not only to get tangled up when she least needed to, but with a man who was far too astute for his own good, and hers.

“You sure know how to pick 'em,” she mumbled.

O
kay, so maybe that hadn't been the smartest thing he'd ever done, but not because of that nonsense about there being a conflict of interest. Although she had no idea just how conflicted his interest in her really was.

No, playing with Elena Caulfield had been a very bad idea because, rather than making his distraction with her manageable, it had been like striking a match to dry kindling. He'd thought—hoped—the reality would be a letdown compared to the fantasy. Instead, she'd been so incredibly responsive that he'd taken it much, much further than he'd ever intended. Which had only served to whet his appetite for more.

He reached Petunia's stall and hung the saddle and pad over an empty stall door across the aisle before turning his attention to her.

The mare sauntered up and stuck her head over the stall door, checking him out with doleful brown eyes.

“Don't look at me like that,” he told her. “It wasn't my idea to drag you out of bed at this hour. I'd just as soon be back in my own as well.” Only now he wasn't picturing himself there alone.

Elena's body had been more hard than soft, which hadn't surprised him. What had been a surprise was how swiftly he'd responded to her taut, toned lines. She was both grace and power, and he'd wanted, badly, to learn more of what all that grace and power would feel like, wrapped around him. And then there was the incongruous, almost voluptuous softness to her lips. And her even softer sighs. He usually liked his women soft all over, but, as it turned out, the combination of a strong, lean body and pillow-soft lips was all kinds of enticing.

Petunia made a soft, whickering sound, bringing him out of his thoughts. He drew closer and she dropped her head to snuffle around at his hands.

“I didn't bring you anything,” he said, with true remorse. “Not such a good date, am I? Drag a girl out of bed at the crack of dawn and don't even bring her flowers. Which, in your case, I'm guessing you'd just eat, but—”

“She, uh, she likes sweet feed. There's a bucket of it in the rack at the end of the aisle.”

Rafe turned to find Tracey walking toward him from the opposite end of the stable. She had a halter and lead rope in each hand and a heavy blush still tinting her cheeks as she gamely offered him a smile. He gave her a lot of credit for that.

“Thanks,” he said, sincerely. “I appreciate the inside information.”

“No problem. Petunia's a dollface. She deserves the pampering.”

“Good to know.”

Tracey moved on to another stall door and haltered the horse inside. He had to say something, but this wasn't a situation he'd ever found himself in before. He'd meant what he'd said to Elena, about not being embarrassed, or sorry to be caught in a private moment with her, but he also recognized that, had Tracey shown up a few minutes sooner, there would have been more than red cheeks to deal with. He wanted to make sure she didn't feel she'd been inadvertently put in the middle of anything.

As she opened the door and led the horse out, he finally spoke up. “Listen, about earlier, I'm sorry if we embarrassed you. This early, I honestly didn't think anyone else was around, or I—we, wouldn't have been carrying on like that.” Which wasn't completely true, as he'd completely forgotten where they were.

“Oh, no, don't worry, it was my fault. I heard voices, but I didn't know you two were—or I wouldn't have intruded. I—”

“You couldn't have known.” He smiled. “I just didn't want you to think that Elena would be that cavalier, and—well, it was my idea.” He didn't feel the need to explain himself, but if he'd put Elena at a disadvantage with her staff, he wanted to make that right.

“I haven't worked with her very long, but I consider myself very fortunate that I do,” Tracey said, hero worship clear in her blue eyes. “She has the most amazing gift with horses—it's a pleasure just to observe her. I'm learning a great deal.” She led her horse into the aisle and closed the stall door behind him. She slung the other halter on a hook by the next stall door, and leaned inside. “I'm coming for you next, Rocky, so no point trying to play invisible.”

She turned to lead her horse toward the rear paddock, then paused and looked back at him, cheeks pink again, but eyes twinkling as a grin spread across her young face. “I think Elena is a pretty smart woman. That opinion hasn't changed.”

Before Rafe could respond to that blatant endorsement, Tracey turned and was gone. Or had Tracey meant Elena was smart to humor his attentions due to his position in the Dalton Downs hierarchy?

Elena chose that moment to come bustling through the middle crossover, bridle in hand, and spied him still staring after Tracey. She glanced down the aisle to see what he was staring at, then back at him. “Did I miss something?”

Rafe shifted his attention to her. “No. Your young barn helper was just here singing your praises.”

“Oh.” Elena glanced down the now empty aisle again, a frown creasing her brow. “I really think I should go talk to her.”

“I already did.”

Elena looked surprised at that. “She wasn't—she didn't act uncomfortable because of…you know. Did she?”

“Did she act weird because she saw me embracing her boss? No. In fact, I'm pretty sure she gave you a high five.”

Elena's mouth dropped open, then snapped shut gain.

“What?”

“Men.”

“Proudly, yes, but why is that a strike against me in this case?”

She paused, as if weighing the value of speaking her mind, then said, “Not that sharing a private moment with me wasn't enough, but having the conquest affirmed by another clearly makes you even happier. It's a guy thing. I don't hold it against you.”

He grinned. She was very cute when trying to establish boundaries. Boundaries he had no intention of letting her resurrect. Not if he had anything to say about it. “So, you're saying that the fact that your assistant blushes every time she looks at me, and said you were a smart woman for going after what you wanted—” He pointed to himself. “Me, again. That you don't feel even more justified in enjoying yourself back there? Just a little?”

She walked closer and hung the bridle on the rack next to the saddle. “What I think is that we're wasting precious lesson time.”

He sighed in mock frustration. “Women.”

She cut him a look and he shrugged, fighting a smile.

“If you don't like the course of the conversation due to its logical, rational content, then it's perfectly okay to shut the conversation down rather than admit I have a point.” He smiled. “But, I know, it's a woman thing. No harm, no foul.”

In response, she merely tossed the halter to him. “Remember how to put that on?”

He nodded, but didn't bother to hide his satisfied smile. He'd caught the twitch at the corners of her mouth even as he caught the pile of nylon and rope against his chest. He liked that she could dish it and take it. She was sharp. And smart. And he already wanted to taste that smart tongue and those so-very-soft lips all over again. Preferably without interruption this time.

A really bad idea. Probably.

But it didn't make him want it any less.

He turned back to Petunia. “You won't hold my guy qualities against me, will you,
mijita
?”

Petunia responded to his low, soothing tone by pressing her nose against his shoulder and nudging him. He laughed and scratched between her ears before rubbing a hand down her neck.

“Of course you won't. You know I'll take care of you.”

He thought he heard an “oh brother” muttered behind him, but it just made the smile spread that much wider.

“Come on, let's get you out in the morning sun,” he said, keeping up a steady banter as he slid the halter over her muzzle and strapped it on, then led her from her stall. He managed the cross ties all on his own, under Elena's steady regard, then turned to the saddle and bridle. “Which do I put on first?”

He knew the answer, but he wanted to engage her in conversation again. He wanted to engage her, period. And it had little to do with uncovering more information about her past. Not that he wasn't finding himself more than interested in learning more about her, but he'd be lying if he said it was merely to protect Kate and her young campers.

“Saddle, then bridle.”

Elena helped him adjust the stirrups and the straps after he slipped the pad and saddle in place, then instructed him on how to put on the bridle and adjust the bit, while taking off the halter. She let him undo the cross ties, then handed him the reins.

“Lead her out to the front paddock. We'll mount and have our lesson from there.”

He nodded and Elena walked out with them. “When do you think I could move beyond the ring for a trail ride?”

She cut him a look. “You've been on a horse a total of one time. Patience.”

“I'm not suggesting I'm ready now, I'm asking when you think I will be.”

“If Mac is pressuring you, you really need to—”

“No, it has nothing to do with Mac. And I'd rather attempt it on my own first, anyway.”

“Well, it's never wise to head out on a trail alone. The terrain here is well known, but any number of things could happen. Even with cell phones and—”

“I know. I was thinking you and I would go for a test drive. As a lesson,” he clarified, although who needed the clarification more, he couldn't say.

Initially, Elena looked wary at the request—he couldn't really blame her, given that he hadn't exactly planned on making it until his mouth opened and the words popped out. But before she could respond, one of the other class instructors stuck her head out of the stable office door and called Elena's name.

“Call for you.”

Elena turned. “Who is it? I have a lesson.”

“Some insurance salesman, I think.”

Elena frowned. “I don't have time for junk calls.”

“He asked for you by name, said it was something about Charlotte somebody? I'm not sure what he meant. He's on a cell, I think, and the connection isn't great.”

At the word
Charlotte
, Rafe's attention went on full alert. As in Charlotte Oaks? What other Charlotte could it be? He looked at Elena, but she was still looking genuinely confused.

“Take his number,” she shouted back, “and tell him I'll call him back in an hour.”

The instructor nodded and ducked back in the office, shutting the door behind her.

Elena turned back to Rafe, all business. If the call shook her in any way, there was absolutely no evidence of it. “Okay, time to mount up.”

“What was that all about?” he asked casually as he approached Petunia and stroked the side of her neck.

“Haven't a clue. I don't know anyone named Charlotte and I'm not in the market for insurance.”

“Maybe it's about your former place of employment. Charlotte Oaks, right?”

Elena's brow smoothed. “Right. I didn't put that together.” She laughed a little. “See what happens when I don't start the day with my much-needed dose of caffeine?” She glanced at him and the most delightful shade of pink colored her cheeks, but she didn't make any mention of how she had actually started her day, or that he might be the cause of her discombobulation.

Worse was that he didn't mind being the source. In fact, he'd like to be the source again. Preferably soon. In fact, the horse lesson seemed like the worst idea ever at the moment, when compared to how he could be spending the next hour.

“Probably someone who got my name from their employee list. I changed insurance companies to the plan Kate offered recently after I hit the thirty-day mark. I never filed a claim or got so much as a checkup with my old plan, so I can't imagine what they want from me now.”

“Hard to say. Guess you'll find out when you call.”

She just shrugged and Rafe wondered if she'd even make the return call. He wanted to dig a little more, wanted her to want to dig a little more, but there wasn't much he could do without making more of it than the subject warranted. “My experience with those guys, both personally and professionally, leaves a lot to be desired,” he said, sliding the reins from Petunia's neck and putting them both in one hand as he prepared to mount. “Tenacious lot.”

“I guess,” she said absently, turning her attention to the horse. “You remember how to do this?”

Conversation over
, Rafe thought. How was it that each occasion he had to spend time with her only left him with more questions and fewer answers? It was both frustrating and undeniably intriguing. Not that she was trying to be mysterious. Under other circumstances, she'd have struck him as someone who was very direct, with little subterfuge.

But there were circumstances, ones that prevented her from being as forthcoming as she'd likely otherwise be. He'd bet money on it. He just didn't know what those circumstances were yet, exactly.