Unforgettable: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Cajio, Linda

  This time, though, she was the one to break the embrace.

  She pulled out of his arms and straightened. “I’m not one of your fluttering women, James, who collapses at your feet the moment you kiss them.”

  He stared at her. “What fluttering women? What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind,” she said, waving a hand. “Don’t kiss me again, okay?”

  “Why not?” he asked, knowing she was attempting to erect walls between them. That was another thing he wouldn’t allow to happen again. “Are you going to tell me you don’t like it?”

  “I like it too well,” she said honestly. “That’s the problem.”

  “Not from my side of it.”

  “James, I have a policy of not involving myself personally with my owners.”

  “You’re about to make an exception.”

  “No, I’m not. And I have a child’s feelings to consider. I won’t ‘indulge’ myself at his expense.”

  “Anne.” He took her arm as she began to walk around him toward the front door.

  She shook him off. “I’ll call you when I get Battle Cry’s test results.”

  As she left the room, he decided he might have a few more obstacles with her than he’d first thought. Still, the thaw was on. All he needed now was a plan.

  He was still staring at the open door when Lettice appeared.

  “My granddaughter is stomping through the house again. It’s nice to see her back to normal.” She smiled when he laughed. “I’m glad you’re back, James.”

  “So am I.” He walked over to Lettice and took her arm to escort her from the room. “I suppose I should go see that trouble-making horse of mine.”

  “Did Anne remember her manners for once and ask you to stay for dinner?”

  James grinned. “She was … busy.”

  Lettice’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? Doing what?”

  “Kissing me.”

  Lettice smiled, and James realized he had an ally in Anne’s grandmother. Somehow that didn’t surprise him. He remembered years before their families used to joke about him and Anne. No joke now, he thought.

  “Ahh. Then I take it you’ll stay for dinner?” Lettice asked.

  “Oh, absolutely.”

  He had a feeling Anne wasn’t going to like it. But she better get used to it. He planned to be around a long time.

  All he had to do was convince her of that.

  • • •

  Anne wasn’t pleased to see him at the dinner table that evening, but he figured it was a major step in the right direction when she didn’t get up and walk out.

  In fact, she was almost congenial by the time they reached the lemon sponge cake. But the way she glanced at him with such wariness, or the frown that appeared whenever he talked to Philip, told him things wouldn’t be as easy as he might hope. And truthfully, he wasn’t quite ready to tell her all about himself.

  Taking things slow seemed to be the best way to deal with Anne. He’d have to control his reaction to her. The thought was depressing. Still, restraint made sense only until they’d worked through these little bumps.

  “I have to go out again,” she announced, pushing her barely touched dessert away. “I want to che—make sure everything’s secure for the night.”

  Philip nodded, unconcerned, while Lettice frowned at her. James smiled nonchalantly. Anne would have an escort, he decided. A very platonic escort this time, but one just the same.

  The telephone rang, and she got up to answer it. To James’s surprise, Lettice turned her frown on him. He had no idea what he’d done to displease her, but pushed it out of his mind when he heard Anne say the word test His stomach crawled as he leaned forward in anticipation.

  “You’re sure?” she asked grimly. “I see. Thank you for calling me directly. I really appreciate it.”

  She said good-bye and hung up the phone. Her expression was angrier than he had ever seen before.

  “What?” he asked. “Did they find the problem with Battle Cry?”

  “They found it all right.” She was silent for a long moment, as if controlling herself. “It seems someone has been systematically feeding him steroids.”

  “Steroids?”

  She nodded. “They build muscles and give an animal a super-healthy look. They can also make a stallion sterile very quickly. That’s one of the side effects. One of the gentler, temporary ones.”

  “I take it steroids are not on the vitamin and feed schedule,” James said, anger coursing through him as the implications sank in.

  Anne smiled bitterly. “They are not.”

  Somebody wanted to ruin Battle Cry, he thought. And Anne.

  He had no idea why, but he vowed that somebody was going to pay. He’d make sure of it.

  Eight

  “Somebody’s tryin’ to ruin my boy. Why? Why?”

  Anne almost cringed at Mac’s words. They were a lament that had run through her head over and over.

  “We don’t know why,” James said gently.

  Anne glanced at James, grateful for his presence this morning. She hadn’t been looking forward to telling the old man about the horse. The vet had just left after examining Battle Cry again, and Mac had been asking questions, questions she had to face answering.

  Battle Cry’s sterility was temporary, thank goodness. She was damn glad James wasn’t blaming her. Another owner would have, she knew.

  “ ’Tis a jealousy,” Mac said darkly. “There are those who are jealous of a horse like that.”

  She bristled. “Are you suggesting someone on this farm would do such a thing?”

  Mack gave her a blank look, then shook his head. “You’ve got good people, miss. I’ve seen that myself. But I should have taken better care of my boy. Everybody’s had a carrot or a sugar cube for him. Other owners, their guests, even delivery men. All of them wanted a look-see at him, and I, in my pride, let everybody close.”

  Guilt assailed her. She was the one who should have been more careful with Battle Cry and beefed-up her security measures. But who would bother with a horse put out to stud? It was the fabulous racing purses that attracted sabotage.

  She laid her hand on Mac’s arm. “This was my fault, not yours—”

  “Yes, it is,” Mac said, pulling his arm away. “This is a shoddy—”

  “That’s enough!” James snapped, glaring at his employee.

  Mac hung his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Anne. I’m just that upset over my boy.”

  She forced away any anger toward the man. “I understand, Mac. Believe me, I understand.” She turned to look at Battle Cry grazing contentedly in the pasture. “The steroids should leech out of him very quickly, fortunately. But it explains why he’s been almost jumping out of his skin lately. I wish I knew how he was getting the drugs.”

  “If we knew how, then we’d know who,” James said.

  Anne heard the emphasized pronoun we, and both pleasure and resentment ran through her. She couldn’t help feeling James was being too nice about this. Her confusion about him was mounting—as was her desire. She was afraid she was already in the throes of a crush. Again.

  Returning her attention to the problem of Battle Cry, she said, “Curtis and I have talked it over, and nobody, Mac, is allowed near him, especially to give him treats. Curtis will be the one to mix his feed and bring it to him. No one else. Battle Cry’s to stay in the pasture next to the barn, where he’s visible at all times. The only owner allowed down here is James. No guests, no delivery men. The other stallions will be brought down to the house should their owners visit. They won’t like it, but that’s too bad. If anyone asks, say we just want to give Battle Cry some peace to adjust to his new life. I know I’m closing the barn door after the fact, but it’s the best I can do. At least it’ll keep Battle Cry from getting more steroids.”

  Mac tipped his head in acknowledgment.

  She and James left the barn a few minutes later. They stopped by mutual silent consent at the fence enclosing his horse’s pastu
re. Despite her worries, Anne was all too aware of James’s body so close to hers. She felt almost hemmed in. But to move away would look childish, and she refused to be childish.

  Instead, she leaned on the top rail and stared at the horse, placid and intent on finding the sweet grasses. That restless energy was fading already. He might not look so vigorous on the outside, but he was growing healthier on the inside.

  “I’m sorry, James,” she whispered.

  “Anybody ever tell you that you blame yourself for everything?” he asked, his smile belying his angry tone. “I told you last night to stop it.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “Lord, woman, you want the earth.” He grimaced. “How could you have known anyone would try such a thing? Even now, knowing that someone has tried to hurt him, it still doesn’t make any sense. What’s to be gained from it?”

  “Ruin for somebody,” she said, then took a deep breath. “Probably me.”

  She’d said it out loud finally. It had kept her awake the whole night. The only explanation for “why” was that somebody was trying to ruin her farm. Somebody must hate her with a terrifying passion to do such a thing. And she had no idea why.

  “No. Not you,” James said, covering her hand with his. His touch sent sharp signals pulsing through her body. She couldn’t pull her hand away without looking silly yet again. Acting one’s age certainly had its drawbacks, she thought in disgust.

  Oblivious to the torment his touch created, James said, “I’ve thought about that since last night when we got the report. It could just as easily be me. I could name a number of people who wouldn’t mind seeing me take a bath on that horse. I’ve been very successful in a cutthroat business. Anyway, I can’t imagine you having any enemies. You’re much too sexy.”

  She blushed and ducked her head so he wouldn’t see. His words gave her more pleasure than they should. When she had her face under control, she turned back. “Very funny, James. I’ll tell Eddie Murphy he’s got heavy-duty competition.”

  “If you don’t want to discuss how sexy you are, then just say so,” he said, grinning at her.

  She pulled her hand away. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  He eyed her sourly, and she couldn’t help chuckling. “Turning back to the topic at hand, then,” he said, “the question is who.”

  “And how,” she added, following his lead and turning her mind back to the problem with Battle Cry. Her body objected strenuously. She ignored it and said, “I can’t imagine somebody injecting him with the stuff regularly over several weeks. They would have been seen, surely. And Mac’s an old hand. He would have noticed the small welts a needle puncture would leave. That’s why I think someone’s been feeding the drug to him. We take precautions for burglars and vandals, but that’s clearly not enough. I cringe when I think of the visitors and deliveries made every week. It’s just that there are so many people who come and go here on legitimate business.”

  “You’ve never had any problems before,” he reminded her. “So why should you have been worried when there was nothing to worry about? You’ve secured the stallion barn area.”

  “Too late,” she muttered, feeling overwhelmed again.

  “I have a feeling now that this method has been discovered, it won’t be used again.”

  She straightened. “What are you saying? That there will be more?”

  “Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble here for some reason,” he said, his expression thoughtful. “What was done to Battle Cry wasn’t a lark, but a very calculated move. I doubt they’re going to stop just because we’ve discovered the game.”

  She could easily sense the anger in him … and an odd hesitation. Immediately, she knew he was about to say something she wasn’t going to like.

  He did. “I can’t help thinking that we were meant to discover this. That worries me … about you. I think I should be around more—”

  “How much more?” she broke in, her suspicions rising at an alarming rate.

  “About twenty-four hours more—”

  “Twenty-four hours!” she exclaimed, staring at him. “That’s day and night!”

  “Very good, Anne,” he said in a schoolteacher’s tone. “You get an A.”

  “And you get an F if you think you’re moving in.” The notion sent fear raking through her—fear for how fast she would fall for him if he were around all the time. “I might have a problem, but your moving in is hardly necessary.”

  “I think it’s very necessary.” He pointed to Battle Cry. “Somebody who’s not very nice is up to mischief around here, Annie. And I think you need some protection—”

  “Oh, no, I don’t! I have Tibbs—”

  “He’s too busy getting fussed over by Lettice.”

  “I have employees.”

  “And I have a personal stake in this. What are you afraid of, Annie?”

  That, she thought. The way he said her name, the way he looked at her. The way he touched her, and the way he didn’t. She was afraid of all of that.

  “I understand your wanting to watch over your horse,” she said, picking her way carefully through the mine field he was laying. “But I don’t need someone to watch over me.”

  “Yes, you do—”

  “No, I don’t. I’m hardly helpless.” She refused to look away, keeping her gaze steady on those green eyes that haunted her sleep. “If you want to move Battle Cry, I understand. But under no circumstances are you moving in.”

  She pushed away from the fence and walked down the path.

  James caught up with her. “Anne, be reasonable.”

  “Oh, I am.” She smiled sweetly. “I appreciate the offer, James. Really I do. Only I must say, Thank you, but no.”

  “I don’t like it,” he said grudgingly.

  She was tempted to tell him to sit on a tack if he didn’t, but she decided to be gracious. “I’ll be fine, James. I promise to stick close to Lettice. Between her and Tibbs, the s.o.b. who’s doing this doesn’t stand a chance.”

  “Let me hire a security firm,” he offered, trying another approach.

  “No. I won’t have the routine of the farm disrupted.” She stopped and faced him. Shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, she added, “James, please. Allow me to handle this.”

  “At least think about it, Annie.”

  She frowned. She wasn’t being obtuse; she really didn’t want the routine of the farm disrupted any further. Still, maybe she should consider outside security. “I’ll think about it.”

  “And if anything else does happen, I move in,” he said.

  “No. I told you that was hardly necessary.”

  He gazed at her, his eyes unfathomable. “Anne, I have this need to watch over those I … care about.”

  She turned away and closed her eyes against the emotions knifing through her. Mr. Perfect strikes again, she thought. She knew better than to attribute his offer to anything other than “caring” for an old friend. That was all it was.

  “Thank you, James, I appreciate that,” she murmured, opening her eyes.

  “So you agree?”

  “Oh, sure,” she replied in a careless tone to get him to drop the subject.

  “Good.” His smile was dazzling.

  What a guy, she thought sarcastically. And that was her problem.

  What a guy.

  James smiled to himself as he helped Lettice set the table for dinner.

  So Anne didn’t want him to play twenty-four-hour bodyguard. Although he was disappointed, he had to admit her reaction was promising. She hadn’t liked his suggestion one bit. The implications were interesting.

  He nearly tripped over Tibbs, who growled a warning at him.

  James was tempted to growl back. The damn thing had adopted Lettice, as if she were its long-lost mother. Wherever she was, Tibbs was. Underfoot.

  “It’s not James’s fault that you insist on lying rig
ht in the pathway,” Lettice told the animal. “Now go lie under the table.”

  With a dejected look the dog slunk between the chairs, out of sight.

  James chuckled, then turned his attention to his second major problem. He was worried over what had happened with Battle Cry. And he was more than worried that there would be another incident. He had a feeling Anne was the target. If somebody wanted to get at him through the horse, they would have simply eliminated the animal altogether. He wanted to protect her.…

  “I didn’t know setting a table could elicit that much of a frown, James,” Lettice said.

  “I was thinking of something,” he said.

  “My granddaughter, no doubt.”

  He laughed, and Lettice smiled.

  Anne walked into the dining room just then … and stopped cold when she saw him. James found his gaze focusing on her breasts. The small yet full curve of them demanded appreciation. He was more than happy to give it.

  “James is staying for dinner,” Lettice announced, her voice daring her granddaughter to object.

  “So I see.” She slowly walked farther into the room. “It’s hard to believe you two would be setting the table.”

  “Snob,” Lettice murmured, then added, “so what have you decided to do about James’s horse?”

  “We’re still ‘discussing’ the matter,” James said, still looking at Anne.

  Lettice glanced between the two of them. “I see.”

  “Where’s Tibbs?” Anne asked, clearly not wanting to continue their “discussion.”

  “Under the table, where I told him to go,” Lettice replied.

  Anne bent down and lifted the lace tablecloth. But instead of calling to the dog, she straightened and stared at the material in her hand.

  “This isn’t mine,” she said. “At least I don’t think I have a tablecloth like this.”