by Susan Fox
As he made his way up to the lodge, he wondered about “home.” Where did she and Dave live? It irked him to know so little about her, and to know he had only himself to blame.
Yesterday, he’d been almost tempted to ask Will and Kathy about her, but it had seemed like an invasion of her privacy. Bad enough he was deceiving Jess; he wouldn’t go behind her back to gather information.
He cursed, and Joan, who’d been walking up the hill near him, shot him a startled glance. “Sorry,” he murmured. “My backside’s killing me.”
She grinned. “Boy, do I know that feeling. So are my feet. I’m heading to my cabin to soak them.”
It sounded like a great idea to him.
Evan spent the afternoon in his room on his laptop, working through the lengthy e-mail from Angelica. He felt alternately frustrated at being so cut off and pathetically grateful that the Crazy Horse did have one guest computer. He copied his completed file to the USB drive and went over to the lodge.
Kathy raised her eyebrow when she saw him at the computer again, so he said, “I’m trying to keep up with work.”
“It’s a pity you can’t leave that behind and just enjoy the holiday,” she said sympathetically.
He figured it wouldn’t go over well if he replied that work was the only thing that made this “holiday” bearable.
Half an hour later, as Jess put him and Rusty through their paces in the outdoor ring, he thought grimly that when he was back in NYC, he’d be able to claim that damned plaque if he wanted to. It might be the only thing he had to show for the week. His teacher seemed no more inclined to chat with him about her horsy dreams than she had earlier in the day.
The sun that had been gentle in the morning had turned vicious. Jess had stripped down to a figure-hugging tank top the same blue as the sky, and wasn’t wearing her hat. When the lesson finally ended and she slid off her horse and came to assist him, his gaze caught on her bare shoulders and the nape of her neck peeping out from under her glossy ponytail.
Suddenly, he remembered the sight of her at Zephyr Lake, naked in the moonlight. She’d taken his breath away then, and she did now. She was slender but strong, her firm muscles a perfect compliment to her gentle curves. There was something ineffably female about her body, something earthy and so different from Cynthia’s fashionable, gym-toned sleekness.
Arousal stirred his blood and guilt consumed him. He swung awkwardly off Rusty and tied the reins to the hitching rail as Jess instructed.
“You’re done,” she told him brusquely. “Good job, Evan. See you in the morning.”
She had tied her own black horse to the right of his, and now turned her back on him and walked over to unsaddle it. He watched her over Rusty’s back, admiring her natural grace and the slenderness and deftness of those grimy fingers. Why did he keep imagining those fingers touching him intimately?
Clumsily, he loosened Rusty’s cinch. He hoped the activity would tame his growing erection, but his body had a mind of its own.
“Don’t worry about it.” At her words he jerked upright and saw she’d come to peer across Rusty’s back.
“The saddle,” she said. “Leave it. Aren’t you ready for some R&R?”
His body was indeed sending him that message, unequivocally, but the R&R it craved wasn’t the same thing she was talking about. He wasn’t about to walk out from behind Rusty anytime soon and reveal his aroused state. “I want to learn,” he muttered. For whatever reason, he needed to prove to both of them that he could become at least semicompetent at this horse stuff.
“Good for you. I’m impressed by your willingness.”
She carried her horse’s saddle toward the barn and Evan, watching the firm curves of her butt, groaned. If she had any idea how willing he was, she’d be shocked.
He fought with the unfamiliar bits of leather and metal on Rusty’s saddle, and his pulse rate returned to normal.
Jess came back, carrying something he recognized from his reading as a halter, and went back to her horse. “Are you coming on the hayride tomorrow night?” she asked over her shoulder.
A hayride. Could there be a bigger waste of time?
As if he’d spoken aloud, she said, “Didn’t think so. Too hokey, eh?”
“Does it have anything to recommend it?”
“A ride in a hay wagon, a sing-along, some dancing. With any luck, a clear sky and stars on the ride back. You have to experience it to believe it.”
He figured it was an experience he could happily live without. He hauled the saddle off Rusty. “Shall I put this in the barn?”
“Thanks. I’ll show you where.” She hooked her horse’s bridle over her shoulder and started across the yard.
Carrying the saddle awkwardly, he followed. “Are you going on this hokey hayride?”
She tossed a grin over her shoulder. “You betcha. I even have to wear a fringed buckskin skirt and vest.”
“Sounds . . . cute.”
She snorted. “Playing dress-up isn’t my favorite part of the job, but it beats wearing a tie every day.”
“In your humble opinion,” he said mildly. Evan wore silk ties, expensive tailored suits and shirts, and Italian leather shoes proudly, as symbols of how different life was from the miserable childhood he’d left far behind.
As they walked into the cool, dark barn, he thought it smelled pleasant—of something grassy, with undertones of leather and apple. There was a faint stink of horse, but mingled with all the other scents it was quite bearable.
Jess turned, and her eyes twinkled in the dim light. “If you come on the hayride, you can laugh at me in my Annie Oakley getup.”
He dumped the saddle where she indicated, on a wooden bar bearing Rusty’s name. “Hard to say no to an offer like that, but it doesn’t sound like my kind of thing.”
She gave him a level stare. “What’s the matter, Ev? Scared you might loosen up and actually have fun out here in Hicksville?”
He grimaced at the disparaging term he’d once flung about with such abandon. Why had she been so nice to him when they were kids, when he’d been such a little shit?
She moved away to hang up her horse’s bridle. The peg was above her head and Evan watched her stretch up. The tail of her tank top pulled out of her jeans. She finished with the bridle, gave a haphazard shove to the shirttail, and Evan’s mouth went dry.
“She’s married,” he whispered to himself. And then, belatedly, “And I’m with Cynthia.”
He was making an utter mess of this. He was supposed to be doing his homework for Gianni, which meant pumping Jess about her business plans. Instead, he was lusting after a married woman when he was almost engaged to Cynthia.
Jess headed out into the sunshine, where she showed him how to swap Rusty’s bridle for his halter. Then they went back to the barn, the bridle slung over Evan’s shoulder. She pointed to a peg beside the one she’d used earlier. “Here, Rusty’s is beside Knight’s.”
“Knight is the horse you ride? Is he yours?”
“Nope. He belongs to the Crazy Horse. I bought him for Kathy and Will a couple of months ago and I’m still training him. He’s skittish. Not ready for guests yet.”
“You do all the buying and training?”
“It’s one of the best things about the job.”
“Let me guess. Along with the Annie Oakley costume, the dudes are the worst.”
She collected a couple of rubber brushes he guessed were used for grooming. “They have their good points, but sometimes they try my patience. It’s great that they like horses, but they’re not real horse people. It’s a holiday experiment, not real life. That’s why I want—” Abruptly, she cut herself off.
He knew she was about to tell him about her no-frills riding idea, the camp she wanted to create for real horse people. Why did she hold back? “This isn’t where you dreamed of ending up,” he commented, hoping that would prompt her to share her latest scheme.
Jess walked outside again, with him trailing behind. When
they reached the horses, she said “currycomb” and handed him a brushlike rubber tool with short teeth on one side. “Go in circles to work out dirt and stimulate his skin. Avoid his face and legs; the skin’s too thin there.”
She walked over to Knight, then glanced back. “I haven’t given up on the dreams yet.” She disappeared behind the horse.
“Oh? Tell me the latest.”
“Some other time.”
He frowned, sensing that if he pushed, she’d retreat further. Puzzling over the problem, he slid his hand into the grip on the currycomb and began to brush Rusty. The repetitive motion proved to be surprisingly soothing. The sun pressed down on his head and shoulders. Rusty leaned into him slightly, Evan pushed back gently, and there seemed to be an equilibrium between them. If Cynthia could see him now.
Cynthia. He’d hardly thought of her all day. Only when he was feeling guilty about being turned on by Jess.
Jess had said she had a crush on him, back in high school. That blew his mind. Thank God he hadn’t realized back then; the knowledge would’ve shot his hormones completely out of control.
Obviously she’d grown out of it. She’d ended their friendship two months later. At some point, she’d married Dave. She’d ended up loving Dave.
Most of the girls in their class had been crazy for Dave Cousins. He was good-looking, a good student, captain of the basketball team, class valedictorian. To top it off, he’d been nice. Even to Evan the geek. But Evan had spurned him, professing to consider him a dumb jock. The truth was, he’d envied Dave. Back then, Dave had it all. And later, he won Jess Bly.
“You two about finished?” Jess asked.
He looked up to see her holding out an apple. “Uh, thanks.”
She swatted his shoulder. “Idiot. It’s for Rusty. To help the two of you bond.”
“Oh, sure. I knew that.”
He handed her the currycomb and took the apple, hefting it gingerly. “What do I do?”
She demonstrated, feeding Knight his own apple, then wiping her hands on her blue-jeaned backside. Evan tore his gaze away from those seductive curves and cradled the apple in his palm, noticing how its curves mirrored the lines of her butt. He managed not to jerk away as Rusty’s huge lips descended toward his hand. The horse took the apple politely and crunched it.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Evan said.
Rusty eyed him calmly, then snorted, blowing a froth of crushed apple and juice all over the front of Evan’s shirt.
Jess gave a delighted hoot. “Applesauce.”
He scowled down at himself. “Disgusting. Thank God this place has laundry service.”
She touched his shoulder again, this time a quick, gentle squeeze. “You’ve done great today, Ev. I never would’ve believed it. Don’t spoil it and get all hoity-toity, okay? Why don’t you go and strip off those dirty clothes and have a nice relaxing sauna?”
He forced himself to breathe deeply and imagine a cold shower. Her touch, together with her suggestion that he strip, had set his blood to boiling again. “How about you? You’re heading back home?”
“Soon as I turn these guys out to pasture.”
He was achy and filthy, not to mention struggling with lust. A cold shower, then a massage—from a masseur, not a masseuse—and a sauna sounded like bliss, yet he found himself following Jess as she led the two horses across the yard to a fenced pasture. That curvy backside had the most seductive sway in those formfitting jeans....
“How is Dave?” he asked abruptly. He didn’t really want to know. He could pretty much guess. President of the chamber of commerce, no doubt. Evan just needed to make the fact of her marriage more concrete.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Dave? He’s fine. Owns the Wild Rose, the best hotel, dining room, and bar in town.”
“President of the chamber of commerce?”
She gave a puzzled frown. “No. He was, a couple of years ago, but now he’s heading up the Heritage Committee. And coaching high school basketball on a volunteer basis.”
“Yeah, he would be,” Evan muttered.
“What?”
“I said, good for him. And the two of you are, uh, happy?” He told himself he really wanted Jess to be happy. And he wanted—no, needed—to think of her as happily married.
She didn’t reply. Instead she opened the gate and led the horses into the pasture, where she removed the halters and gave each horse a slap on the rump to send it away. With the fence between herself and Evan, she turned to face him. “We’re good friends. But we’re not married anymore.”
His stomach lurched and his heart raced. “I didn’t realize. Sorry.”
“No problem.”
Jess wasn’t married. What was he going to tell his hormones now? Cynthia. He had to keep reminding himself of her.
Jess turned away and whistled loud and clear. In a moment a horse appeared, running toward her. Jess greeted it with a hug as it head-butted her. “Speaking of good friends, this is Conti. He’s mine. Isn’t he fantastic?”
Evan stared at the horse, which looked pretty much like any other horse. “Fantastic.”
“He’s part Arab and part quarter horse. I’ve had him five years.”
He thought of the first horse she’d owned, the one she’d raised from a foal. “I guess Rascal is . . .”
“Yes.” She gave a nostalgic smile. “He lived a long and happy life, died of old age, and is now in horse heaven.”
“I remember the Christmas your parents gave him to you, before he’d even been born. You were so excited.”
“It was the best gift ever.” She turned as another horse came up to her and nudged her shoulder. This one was blond, and moved more slowly than Conti.
“Another of yours?” he asked.
“No, Petula belongs to the Crazy Horse. She’s semiretired.” She hugged the horse’s neck and kissed her on the forehead. “Aren’t you, sweetie?” she said to the horse, who bobbed its head, either in reply or in a request for an apple.
Jess produced apples for both horses, then said to the blond one, “Go hang out with your friends, Pet. See you tomorrow.”
Pet turned away and Jess came through the open gate with her own horse, Conti, following. She swung Rusty’s and Knight’s empty halters, but didn’t put one on Conti. After closing the gate, she headed toward the barn with the horse trailing her like an overgrown dog. “I rode him over this afternoon, so I’ll saddle up and we’ll ride home.”
“Where’s home these days?”
“My folks’ place. I moved back after Dave and I split up. Pa’s health isn’t what it used to be and I help out with the ranch. And Mom helps out with—” She moved away quickly.
“Pardon? With what?”
Jess stopped, and a long moment passed before she turned. For a rare moment, her face was expressionless. “With Robin. Dave’s and my daughter.”
A mother! That was an even greater shock than her divorce. “I had no idea. How silly of me. I always knew you wanted kids.” Ten years had passed, and she’d been married. Of course she’d have a child.
“And now I’ve got one and she’s terrific. And Dave’s a wonderful father.” She turned on her heel and stalked into the barn, leaving him standing beside Conti. He’d follow, but her body language was as effective as a slammed door.
After a few minutes, he called, “You coming out?”
“I have things to do. Go get cleaned up for supper.”
Odd. But then so was everything between him and Jess now. Conti gazed at him and he shrugged. “See you later,” he called into the barn.
“Yeah.”
He hobbled toward his cabin, each step making him more aware of pinched toes and muscles seizing up. Plus, he stunk of apple juice and was attracting the attention of a couple of huge wasps. What a day it had been. Gianni Vitale was going to owe him, but big.
A noise made him turn around. He saw Jess and Conti go flying down the road in the other direction.
So Jess had a daughter. Evan was p
retty sure he didn’t want children, though that was a topic he and Cynthia had yet to resolve. But still, when he thought about Jess and her daughter, he felt the oddest sense of yearning.
Chapter Five
Jess freed her hair from its ponytail and let the wind whip it back as she rode home.
It was so unfair that Evan Kincaid still got to her. When she’d seen him grooming Rusty, her heart had turned over. For a moment, she’d almost envisioned a different future, a future that didn’t have him returning to New York.
She hadn’t been that stupid back when she was a teenager. Evan had known where he belonged and she’d believed him completely, and wanted it for him. Her love for him had been that strong.
She hadn’t planned to tell him she had a daughter—her tongue had raced ahead of her brain—but in retrospect she was glad. Someone, Madisun or Will or Kathy, would mention Robin, and Ev would wonder why she hadn’t said anything. And, after all, what was the big deal? Why would he suspect that Jess and Dave’s daughter had anything to do with him?
All the same, she’d best make sure Evan and Rob never met. She’d have to find an excuse for canceling the Saturday afternoon exhibition she and her daughter traditionally put on for the Crazy Horse guests: she and Robin with their horses, Conti and Concha, doing cowgal tricks.
A part of her was curious to see Evan and Robin together. Father and daughter. Just once. But she couldn’t take the risk.
Thanks to a school project last year, Rob had an e-mail pal in New York City and was long-distance crazy about the city. She’d be all over Evan like fresh horse dung on a newly polished boot. They might bond, and then . . .
Then what? Ev wouldn’t notice the clues any more than anyone in Caribou Crossing had. Rob was Dave’s daughter. She’d picked up some of his facial expressions and turns of phrase, and they shared a number of personality characteristics.
The risk might be slim, but Jess couldn’t take it. She owed it to all of them, not least to Evan. He’d always been clear that he never intended to have children. When she’d first seen him at the Crazy Horse, she’d panicked and wondered if he was here for Robin, but now that she’d spent time with him, heard him talk about his life in New York, she knew differently. She was as sure now as she’d been ten years ago that he wouldn’t want to know he’d fathered a child.
