The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty (14 page)

“Okay, Petunia. Be gentle with me,” he said, but just as he put his foot in the stirrup, the office door opened again.

“Elena, I'm really sorry, but it's that guy again. He says it's imperative he speak with you now. I don't start with the kids until nine, so I can take over for you if you'd like.”

Elena swore under her breath, then looked at Rafe, clearly torn. But now he saw something more than simple annoyance in her expression. He'd bet money this was no ordinary insurance call, and he was pretty certain she'd come to the same conclusion.

“We can do this another time,” he offered, mentally scrambling to come up with a reason to follow her into the office so he could eavesdrop.

“Jackie is a great trainer,” Elena said reluctantly. “She can put you through your paces. You'd be lucky to have her.”

“I'm sure I would be. I want you.”

Her pupils instantly shot wide and her mouth parted slightly. And his body went hard in places that would make it really uncomfortable to mount a horse at that particular moment. He had to remember that he was equally affected here, but it was so out of the ordinary for him, it would take some doing. Besides, he'd only told the truth. He did want her. Right here, right now. Baggy overalls, bare-faced, braided hair, and all.

“Rafe—”

“Does the name Geronimo mean anything?” Jackie called out.

Elena froze. Only for a second, but it was telling. To Rafe, anyway. It surprised him how disappointed he was to see even the slightest proof that his suspicions might be on track. Even if he still had no clue what it was he suspected her of doing. Exactly. Whatever it was, couldn't be good. “Maybe he's an insurance investigator, not a salesman,” Rafe suggested, poking a little. “That was the name of the horse who died in the fire where you used to work, right?”

Elena stared at him, instantly wary. “You know about that?”

Rafe shrugged, not wanting her to be suspicious of him, but, for the first time, he felt guilty about his less-than-honest reasons for being out here. “Who doesn't?”

She held his gaze a beat longer, as if searching him out for any other possible explanation before going on with what she'd been about to say. “That happened a long time ago. Surely they've wrapped up all their investigations by now. And what in the world would he want to talk to me about, anyway?”

“Have no idea,” Rafe said.
Although maybe it has something to do with why you're white as a sheet.

His heart sinking, Rafe slipped the reins over Petunia's neck, then turned to Elena. “Come on.” He touched her elbow.

She moved her arm away. “Come on where?”

He lifted his hands. “I thought I'd go with you. You look a little…unnerved.”

Color flooded back into her cheeks, but he couldn't have said whether it was from guilt or anger. “I can handle my own phone calls, but I appreciate the offer.” She hadn't said it unkindly, but she was clearly distancing herself from him as fast as she could, without looking panicked about it.

But he was finally—finally—on to something, and there was no way he was letting the ball drop now. One way or the other, he was going to get to the bottom of this. He'd examine later why it suddenly meant a whole hell of a lot more to him than a normal case would. “If they're harassing you for some reason, I might be able to help. I have some experience in dealing with pushy people. In fact, you might say that's my specialty.”

“I honestly don't know what they want, but I know how to hang up on someone as well as the next guy.”

“If it has to do with the death of that racehorse, and the guy is being that pushy already, I'm guessing it's not a solicitation call.” He watched her reaction, but she was already shaken. His comments weren't helping any, but then they weren't designed to. He just hadn't counted on feeling so conflicted.

“I'm not sure how you think you can help.”

He smiled. “I'm amazingly resourceful.”

“I figured that much out,” she murmured, looking more than a little wary. “What I haven't figured out is why.”

“Why what?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Why all of it. What happened earlier in the tack room. Your being so willing to help me now.”

“I have to have a motive? Other than wanting to taste you? And, having done so, wanting to put myself in your good graces in hopes it will happen again?”

Splotches of color bloomed in her cheeks, but her eyes were still guarded and her mouth a bit pinched at the corners.

“I seem to recall a pretty decent response on your part,” he mentioned, cursing himself for putting her on the defensive. He needed to stick close, not have her push him away. “What was your reasoning?”

Jackie called her name again.

Elena waved to her. “Coming!” She looked back at him. “You're…a lot.”

“A lot. Meaning I overwhelmed you, then? What, with my animal magnetism?”

“Something like that.”

“You routinely manage to control beasts several times your size and many times your weight. I'm thinking you could have easily resisted my advances if you were so inclined.”

“I went with the moment. Now that the fog has cleared, I'm just wondering about a few things.”

“Such as?”

“You made it pretty clear that I wasn't your type, yet you hit on me anyway. Why?”

“Chemistry works in mysterious ways. I try not to overanalyze.”

“Something tells me you rarely do anything without giving it some thought.”

“Most of the time. There are exceptions.” His lips curved. “Notable ones, on occasion.”

She didn't respond to that, but she didn't have to. The quick, unthinking way she'd wet her lips was all the response he needed. Why she was being so contrary about the attraction they shared—and it was indeed shared—he had no idea. Whatever was going on with this call had completely yanked her out of her comfort zone. Maybe this was her way of getting it back.

“I better go field this call. I'll send Jackie out. Take the lesson. She's good.”

Rafe knew he couldn't push much harder. But he couldn't let her back away, either.

“One thing,” he said, when she turned to walk away. She glanced back and he said, “If you were going with the moment, why not just continue and see where that leads? The moment was pretty good.”

She paused, then said, “I'm not sure. It's just a feeling I get about you. Your type, anyway.”

“I have a type now?”

“Yep. The white knight type.”

He laughed. “And that's a bad thing?”

“It is when it prevents you from seeing that not everyone needs your help to handle every little thing. I know some women love to be taken care of like that. I just don't happen to be one of them.”

“Point taken. For the record, I didn't offer to help you because I thought you were too weak to deal with it—”

“I believe the term you used was unnerved.”

“You were.”

“So? Stuff happens. I get unnerved. Doesn't mean I can't go on to take care of business.”

“I have no doubts about that. It was only an offer of help. One person to another.” He smiled a little. “Not even a person hoping for extra-special treatment in return for said help.” He settled his gaze on hers and spoke as sincerely as he could. “Elena, we all need help from time to time. I wasn't patronizing you. In fact, I'm here taking lessons because I needed your help. Maybe I was just trying to return the favor.”

She nodded. “Point to you. I'm sorry if I overreacted. It was just, you're right, the call rattled me a little. Mostly because I was still a little rattled from…before. And then you offer to help and kind of step in a little, and, well, some men—”

He moved closer. “One thing you should know right off. I'm not ‘some men.'”

A light entered her eyes. “That much I've figured out.” He shifted closer still, but she stepped back. “I'll send Jackie out. Take your lesson.”

“What about the trail ride?”

“One lesson at a time.”

“And the next lesson will be…?”

The teasing glint faded as her gaze shifted to her office door and the waiting call. “We'll catch up again at some point, I'm sure.”

Not unless you can help it
, Rafe thought, watching her all but sprint toward the office. And away from him. He wasn't sure which she'd rather avoid more, him or the phone call she was presently taking.

“That went really well.”

Rafe turned to find Mac with his elbows propped on the fence. “This day just keeps getting better and better.” He swore under his breath. “And you've been standing there how long now?”

“Long enough to wonder how the hell it is you score so many hot women.”

“Maybe because I don't see it as keeping score so much as enjoying someone's company when the time is right.”

Mac just grinned. “You're so full of shit. But I bet women eat that stuff up.”

Rafe glanced in the direction of the barn office. “Not all women.”

“Something to ponder, that's for sure.”

He looked back at Mac. “Why are you down here? Assuming it's not to gloat over my abject failure to get anything going on this case.”

“Oh, is that what that little dance I just witnessed was? You trying to get something going on a case file? Because, while it definitely looked like you were trying to get something going on, it didn't strike me as—”

“She's in the office right now talking to some insurance investigator about Geronimo. I was trying to get her to take me in with her.” He looped the reins over his hand and absently stroked Petunia's mane when she nickered at him. “So, yeah, I was working the case.”

Mac frowned. “Insurance investigator? Are you sure? About the dead racehorse?”

“Pretty damn sure. Guy said he was with an insurance company, dropped Geronimo's name, said it was urgent.”

“What could they want with Elena? And why now, after all this time?”

“I have no idea, which is why I was trying to talk her into taking me into the office with her. As for the rest, you know as well as I do—better, being a former cop—how long investigations can drag on, especially if there's any hint of arson. Just because the police can't seem to build a case doesn't mean it didn't go down that way. Maybe the insurance team has found something they want to pursue. They're not going to pay until they've exhausted every angle.”

“An angle that involves Elena,” Mac added. “Not good.”

“Neither was the way she went sheet-white when the name Geronimo came up in conjunction with the phone call.”

“Hello, Mr. Santiago, Mac.”

Rafe turned to find Jackie, the instructor, approaching with a smile. “How come I'm Mr. Santiago?” he said in a quiet aside to Mac.

Through his nodding smile to Jackie, Mac replied, “Because I'm down here being friendly and approachable, and you're always skulking around, all aloof, wearing uptight designer clothes.”

“So, I don't happen to dress like I'm still doing undercover work for street gangs,” he said, with a pointed look toward Mac's ragged jeans and aged hooded sweatshirt. “Doesn't mean I'm not a nice guy.” He smiled and nodded at Jackie as she got closer. “And I don't skulk.”

He was trying to think of a way to get out of this lesson, but there didn't seem to be an easy escape route, so he went with it, hoping he could keep it short. He debated on poking around a bit and seeing what Jackie's take on her boss might be, but if she went and told Elena he'd been asking nosy questions, that might not help his case much.

But, at least this way he could keep an eye on the stable office door and see what state Elena was in when she finished with her call. If he timed it right, he could catch up with her after class, scope things out a little.

“You probably have other things to do,” Rafe told Mac as Jackie joined them. “Please don't let me keep you.”

Mac just grinned and settled his weight against the fence. “Nothing so important I can't stick around and lend a friend some moral support.”

“Right.” Rafe turned and shot Jackie a quick smile. “Up and at 'em, right?”

She nodded and smiled. “We've found it works better if you're up on the horse for the lesson, yes.”

Mac snorted. Rafe ignored him and turned his attention back to Petunia. He leaned in close, stroking her neck and mane. “Don't suddenly turn into a psycho horse on me, okay? Thirty-four years of integrity are on the line here.”

Petunia made a little whuffling sound and Rafe wished he could sneak her a bribe or something, but she'd been pretty docile up to now, so he just had to hope for the best.

He checked the straps, then planted his foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up. Hardly a bobble. He might actually get used to this.