Leaping Hearts (11 page)

They just seemed to fit.

He thought of Mercy and, to avoid his feelings, he began calling out gait and directional changes. A.J. and the stallion spent the next hour going through a gradually escalating workout. When he was satisfied with their efforts, Devlin called them to the center of the ring.

A.J.’s smile was as blinding as the afternoon sun. “Isn’t he wonderful!”

“He has his good moments but there’s a lot of work ahead of us. That horse has his own ideas of how things should go and he’s got to learn to be more disciplined.”

“On the bright side, he hasn’t tried to ditch me for over an hour.”

“He puts up quite a fight, doesn’t he?”

She nodded.

“How’s he feel?”

“Smooth as water,” A.J. said, taking her helmet off and brushing some hair from her face. “It’s like swimming. As long as he isn’t fighting with me.”

As he looked at her, Devlin realized he loved watching her move. There was something innately fluid about her strength, something womanly and totally appealing. She might be lean but she was tough and resilient and yet still very feminine.

He smiled. “When he hits his stride, he’s quite a looker from ringside.”

And the horse wasn’t the only appealing thing to look at, he thought.

A.J. grinned down at him as she replaced the velvet helmet. “Maybe he just gets bored easily.”

“Then let’s give him something to think about.”

Devlin held up his clipboard and described a course of jumps. His sequence started with some straightforward uprights of low height and increased in difficulty. The most challenging of the group was an oxer combination. Each single oxer was made up of three upright rail fences that gradually got higher and tested height as well as distance. A combination meant that there were two or more of the same jumps separated by a single stride between them.

“I would have you try the water jump but I didn’t have time to fill it,” he said. “If Chester comes, he’ll get it set up.”

“Chester?”

“An old friend,” Devlin replied, and changed the subject.

A.J. shrugged off her curiosity and asked for some clarification on distance and strides. He answered her questions and told her what he was looking for. Each jump was a test of a particular skill, either for her or the horse, and she was impressed with his thinking.

Harebrained scheming aside, one thing was clearly in her favor, she thought, turning the horse around. Her trainer sure as hell knew what he was doing.

A.J. set Sabbath into a light canter at the rail and they approached the first fence tensely, both battling over the reins. Sabbath won and took his head, galloping over the simple upright with a huge leap and clearing it with far too much room to spare. They landed like a sack of oranges hitting the floor. Charging around the ring, the round went from bad to worse, and by the time they cleared the final oxer, A.J. felt like she’d been in a paint mixer.

When she directed the stallion over to Devlin, she felt defeated, ready for his criticism. “So much for smooth as water. I think my molars are loose. That was a travesty.”

A.J. frowned as she saw his expression. “Why on God’s green earth are you smiling?”

“He’s a temperamental giant. And he’s rough around the edges but he’s got a great stride and he’s fast as a hot rod. He could be one of the great ones.”

“Are you out of your mind?” she said, her arms feeling like noodles from fighting the stallion’s mouth. “I might as well have been on the ground doing commands in semaphore for all he listened to me.”

“We can teach him to pay attention to you.” Devlin’s hazel eyes were rapt. “What we can’t do is motivate him. This horse is thirsty to feel air under his hooves and he’s taking these fences like they’re flat as mud puddles.”

“I think it’s a case of too much air between the ears,” she muttered. “He takes his head all the time. I’m just luggage on his back.”

“That’s what training’s for.” Devlin nodded to the jumps. “Now do it again.”

It was growing dim by the time A.J. put her saddle away in the tack room and paused to watch Sabbath munch on some hay in his stall. Her arms were numb, her hands were throbbing and she felt the beginnings of a headache. It was as though she’d been on a speeding train all afternoon and, even though her feet were now on solid ground, she still thought she was moving.

So much for a strong start, she thought, arching her back and feeling nothing but aches and stiffness.

The rest of the jumping hadn’t gone much better than the first round and the afternoon had been a blur of wild leaping and hard landings. As she lamented the session, she decided there was nothing like reality to get in the way of a fantasy. It looked as if a good round in the training ring was what she should be shooting for, to hell with winning a championship.

A.J. sensed Devlin’s approach.

“You did good work today,” he said, standing in the stable’s doorway.

She turned, not bothering to hide her disappointment, and found some relief. Beyond his wide shoulders, the sun was settling over undulating green hills. Its liquid gold light spilled across the grass and drifted into the stable’s interior
like honey. She could smell the sweet perfume of fresh hay and hear the reassuring grinding of Sabbath’s teeth. But more than all that, there was a tenderness in Devlin’s eyes that went further to replenish her spirit than any words he could have offered.

As she faced him, Devlin knew he was looking at someone whose energy was spent. There was a pall of fragility hanging from her, as if she were on the verge of shattering. Not that he blamed her. He knew only a handful of riders who would have been up to the task of tackling that black beast’s headstrong ways all afternoon.

He was totally impressed. She’d muscled Sabbath around those jumps countless times, reeling the stallion in before each fence, pulling him through the corners, fighting to make sure his strides were right. It’d been exhausting just to watch but she’d kept at it. Every time Devlin had commanded her to run through that course, she’d done it, over and over, without a word of complaint. To say he’d been surprised at her grit was an understatement. Spoiled little rich girls didn’t behave like that. Hell, a lot of professional riders wouldn’t have put up with the demands he’d laid on her or the bad behavior of that stallion.

But then, she’d really awed him. Without asking for help, even though she looked ready to pass out from exhaustion, she’d carefully tended to the stallion’s needs as meticulously as if she’d spent a lazy afternoon puttering around the barn. Her time in the ring had been about determination but her behavior outside of it was character.

“I think it’s time to call it a day,” he said, hanging the clipboard back on its nail.

“Let me just check on the tack.”

“I’ll take care of that,” he said. “You need to head home.”

“It’ll just take me a—”

“Go home and get some rest.” He watched as she tried to hide a yawn with the back of her hand. “What time can you be here tomorrow?”

A.J. grimaced.

“What?” he said. “Don’t tell me you want to sleep in here with him. Haven’t you had enough for one day?”

“Actually…”

“You can be sure he’ll be fine here. You want one of those baby monitors?”

“I want your couch.” Her words came out in a rush. “Mind if I bed down in your living room again tonight?”

Devlin looked surprised. “Are you that tired?”

“No.”

He frowned. “Your father’s mansion is big enough to house a small liberal arts college. He suddenly decided to offer classes or is this more fallout from the split with your family?”

“Space is not the problem.”

“This isn’t just for one night, is it?”

“No.”

Devlin’s eyes grew remote and she could see his mind working.

“I can pay you,” she offered.

He rolled his eyes. “Not that again. Like I said, money’s not a big enticement to me.”

“I wouldn’t want to take advantage of your hospitality. I know it’s an imposition.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” he said under his breath. He wasn’t sure he could share a bathroom with someone who made him feel like she did.

This woman moves in, he thought, and he’d be lucky if he didn’t grind his teeth to stumps with sexual frustration. He’d be sucking meals through a straw and mumbling incoherently inside of a week.

Abruptly, Devlin pictured her coming out of his tub, skin flushed from hot water, mist swirling around her like an incantation of ecstasy. He tried to derail the fantasy and failed. With a harsh movement, he stuffed his hands in his pockets to be sure he kept them to himself.

If she stayed here, it would make training easier, an inner voice said. Less commute time for her, more time with the horse.

An argument ensued in his head between his professional responsibilities and his base instincts, a pair of dueling mental banjos that drove him nuts.

Finally, he decided. “If you want to trade in a feather bed for an old couch, it’s okay with me.”

A.J. sagged with relief. “Thanks. I know you don’t have to do this.”

“Right now, I’m thinking of it more as a public service. You don’t look like you should be operating heavy machinery and that includes flashy red convertibles.”

They walked out to the car to get her luggage, both fully aware of the position they were now in. They were two people linked by a powerful attraction they were committed not to give in to. Who were going to cohabitate for two months. Right before one of them faced the most grueling event in the equestrian world.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, A.J. thought, feeling like she could begin giggling with hysteria at any moment. She was going to live with Devlin McCloud.

“Good thing you came prepared,” he said, picking up one of her bags.

“It was either you or the exotic one-star motor lodge, Nero’s Palace.” She took out the other one and then put up the roof.

When they got to the farmhouse, Devlin held the door open for her and she brushed against him as she went inside. She felt a shock from the contact.

“I’ll take care of dinner,” he said, dropping her bag next to the couch. “You know where the shower is.”

A.J. thought he seemed in a big hurry to leave the room. After he left, she put down the luggage she was carrying, hung up her coat and wondered whether she should follow him into the kitchen to help. Looking down at her dirty hands and feeling her hair itch from having been under a helmet for the afternoon overrode her desire to be polite so she headed upstairs.

The bathroom wasn’t big but it had every modern amenity, including a whirlpool bath, which she eyed with naked lust. Cranking on the water, she watched greedily as the deep tub started to fill and the jets began working their magic. She fished through her bag and found some bath salts, which she sprinkled into the frothing water, releasing a delicate lavender scent.

When was the last time she’d taken a bath? Some dim memory from the previous winter came to mind. She’d
been sick, if she recalled, with a nose that looked like a clown’s and a honking cough to fill in for her lack of a circus horn. At that time, her submersion had been medicinal.

Now it was going to be pleasurable.

Despite her exhaustion, A.J. shed her clothes with glee and stepped into the undulating, perfumed water. The tub was big enough that she could lie down and be fully immersed while the jets sent pulses of warm water to her aching muscles. When she stepped out much later, pink and glowing, she felt renewed. Toweling off, she slipped into a comfortable pair of khakis and a cream knit sweater. She left her hair to dry in loose waves over her shoulders and headed downstairs feeling more herself.

Things only got better when A.J. hit the ground floor. Some heavenly smell was drifting out of the kitchen and her stomach grumbled with appreciation as she walked into the room. Devlin was at the stove, stirring the contents of a pot. On the table, there were two deep bowls flanked by man-sized spoons on neatly folded dish towels. The only other things on the rugged surface were wooden salt and pepper shakers and a basket of bread.

“Take a seat and I’ll dish it up,” Devlin said.

“Smells wonderful.”

All the obvious attractions and talents
and
he cooks, she thought as she sat down and spread the gingham towel across her lap.

When Devlin reached over to pick up her bowl and returned it filled with a hearty beef and vegetable stew, she smiled. The meal was a far cry from the sparse gourmet food served on delicate china that she got at the mansion. The menu that came out of Regina’s kitchen was restricted to skeletal pieces of meat or fish that were accessorized with flamboyant but insubstantial vegetables. For someone whose only exercise was admiring herself, it was a fine diet, A.J. had always thought. It was far from sufficient for an athlete, however, and she’d long before learned to tuck a spare sandwich under her arm on the way to bed.

But this is what I call dinner, she marveled, looking down at the food.

“You can stop staring at it,” Devlin said, sitting down
with his own hefty portion. “I know it’s not lobster Newburg but it won’t poison you, I promise.”

“I was just thinking how grateful I am. I’m tired of dinners that are heavy on preparation and light on the plate. If I never see another damned crepe or something with a garnish of endive, it’ll be too soon.”

“Well, you’re safe here.” He laughed. “I’m a meat-and-potatoes kind of man.”

Devlin watched as she sampled the stew, thinking what a tangle of contradictions she was. A wealthy dilettante who cleaned her own tack and wanted to sleep on his couch instead of in a castle. A driven competitor who was looking too fragile to have fought the stallion all afternoon. A seductress who made his blood pound but seemed totally clueless about how beautiful she was. A woman who was raised on gourmet food who was now eating his stew like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

Maybe I’m not attracted to her, he thought. I’m just confused.

When she took another mouthful of the stew and sighed with contentment, her eyes flashed up at him. “And to think I used to believe laundry fresh out of the dryer was the pinnacle of bliss.”