by Cora Seton
Giving up, he made his own way out into the bush, crouched among a cover of bushes and went to town. He imagined Bella in every position he could want to have her—some probable, some as impossible as his current situation. Finally he came in a shuddering spasm, washed himself as best he could in the water from his drinking bottle, set things to rights and took the long way back to the camp.
Better.
Kind of.
Stopping mid-plunge last night was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Bella had been so close to coming, and he’d been right on her heels, but in a stupid attempt to leave her dazed and confused, and shake her confidence during the challenges to come today, he’d pulled out before the event’s conclusion. She’d certainly been confused, and she’d waited for some time to see what he’d do next, but when he’d pretended to fall asleep, she’d simply pleasured herself—and seemed to have a lot of fun doing it—and settled down to sleep.
Why hadn’t it occurred to him that she’d solve her problem all by herself, leaving him hanging—hard as a rock—through the rest of the night? Bella had gotten plenty of sleep, but he’d gotten practically none, and when he did doze off, he’d had x-rated dreams that woke him up again before he got any satisfaction in them, either.
He was a mess—physically, psychologically—but he was more determined than he’d ever been in his life. He planned to win this contest and marry Bella, and spend the next year screwing the daylights out of her.
Except he’d make it a little more romantic after the first fifty or so times.
He spotted her at the breakfast buffet, selecting a muffin, her beautiful, curly hair spilling out under her trademark cowboy hat. She smiled at the woman behind the table, made a comment that garnered an answering laugh, and moved away.
That was his Bella. Sweet, charming, bringing light wherever she went. He bet she knew the names of all the crew. He was sure they were all rooting for her to win this contest. Probably the audience would be, as well. She was the underdog, of course. The beautiful, broke veterinarian.
And he was the merciless capitalist pig.
He didn’t care. He was going to be the merciless capitalist pig that won the show and took home a wife.
* * * * *
As Madelyn gathered them in for the final day of filming, Bella was disgusted to find herself close to tears. The more she thought about it, especially given his furtive looks her way this morning, the more she felt sure Evan had planned last night’s shenanigans ahead of time. He’d deliberately taken her to the height of passion, and pulled away—literally—and left her hanging with all that pent-up desire.
And the only reason he would do such a thing was because he wanted to win this contest so badly he’d do anything—even something so treacherous.
He’d used her—manipulated her like she meant nothing to him, like all their talks were worthless, the secrets they’d shared just so much information he’d extorted out of her with his velvet interrogations. He didn’t care for her at all. He probably wasn’t even attracted to her. It sickened her that not only had she told him some of her darkest secrets, but that she’d shared her body with him—she’d made love to him.
Only someone truly despicable would seduce her in order to triumph over her. And only someone truly stupid would fall for his trick.
Why would a handsome, accomplished, fabulously wealthy man who could have any woman he chose want her, anyway? What did she have to offer him? A bunch of homeless, mangy animals? A provincial, small-town outlook on life? A wardrobe of jeans and cowboy hats?
She was such a fool.
She caught his eye and glanced away again quickly, feeling her cheeks heat and wishing she could crawl into the tent and hide. Damn him—he knew everything about her now. He knew about her past and her dreams.
He knew every inch of her body.
He knew how to make her thrum with desire.
He knew how to drive her wild.
And he knew how to plunge in the knife and twist it until he’d cut out her heart. She’d fallen for a man who didn’t exist. All the time they’d spent together, the laughter they’d shared, the pain they’d endured side by side—the craziness of this whole adventure—none of it was real.
Damn it—how was she going to get through this day? She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. Wouldn’t Madelyn love that? She was sure even now a camera was focused on her face. She couldn’t slip—couldn’t show for an instant how she felt.
She glanced at Evan again, despite her best intentions. He was watching her and his eyes widened when they met her gaze.
Shit! She was about to lose it. Bella dropped to her knees, untied one lace and wiped her cheek against her knee as she re-tied it more tightly.
“Bella?” Evan said, moving closer. For God’s sake, was he going to make this even harder? Surging to her feet again, she hurried away.
“I’ve got to go pee,” she said to the crowd. “Sorry, Madelyn—be right back.”
She dashed off before anyone could focus on her and reached the bush before Madelyn could answer. Looking over her shoulder to make sure Evan hadn’t followed—or one of the cameramen—she scrubbed at her face with the tail of her shirt.
She couldn’t fall apart now. Not now.
Kittens—think of kittens. Kittens hungry, kittens thirsty, kittens needing shots and food and care and cages and buildings to house them. Kittens, kittens, kittens.
Taking a deep breath, Bella fought for control. She had to win. She had to. She couldn’t stand to lose now, knowing Evan had used her, touched her....
“Come on, Bella,” Madelyn hollered.
“Coming!” She wiped her cheeks again and told herself to smarten up. She had one shot at changing her life today. One shot to get the resources to save every stray pet in Chance Creek. No time for whining or crying or wishing for something that didn’t exist.
Evan Mortimer was a jerk—a cold, hard, capitalist who cared nothing for animals or people.
Evan Mortimer had to be stopped.
She was the one to do it.
* * * * *
He’d made Bella cry.
Evan marched along the path toward their first challenge numb with shame and remorse. She’d let no tears pass her lids while the cameras were on her, but he’d seen that swipe of cheek against knee when she tied her shoe, and caught a glimpse of her face as she’d raced off into the bush for her second bathroom break.
He’d made her cry. He’d befriended her, teased out all her secrets, enticed her into his bed, made love to her, and made her cry.
He felt like crying himself.
What the hell was wrong with him? When had he stepped over the line from human compassion and become as big a monster as his father was? Wasn’t the sole purpose of his life to steer clear of following in his father’s footsteps?
Maybe it was impossible to run a corporation like Mortimer Innovations without losing your humanity. Maybe making decisions that affected hundreds—if not thousands—of other lives twisted you into some unrecognizable shape.
He wanted to scream with frustration, or better yet—bash his head against a rock. He wasn’t like his father—he didn’t manipulate people into doing his dirty work. He didn’t play psychological games. He didn’t ferret out information and use it against his adversaries.
Oh, who was he kidding? Of course he did. And he’d done it again—to Bella.
He’d made her cry.
He’d used a highly intimate moment to humiliate her—and he knew exactly how that felt.
Taylor Remington.
Hell, the name still made his gut twist. He’d dated her for a few weeks, thinking like usual that maybe she was the one to get him over his aversion to relationships. She’d befriended him at one of the first big conventions he’d attended on behalf of Mortimer Innovations. Lost among a sea of people, he’d been more than grateful when she sat down beside him during a panel discussion and made small talk effortlessly as they waited for the sessio
n to begin. Later they went to lunch, and met again for dinner. He hadn’t expected it to go any further, but dinner turned into drinks and somehow they ended up back in her room.
His brand of claustrophobia made relationships with women all but impossible. Not the act—no, that was possible in a wham, bam, thank-you-ma’am sort of way. But Taylor wanted to cuddle afterwards. She wanted to talk about the future. She admitted she’d been looking for him since she arrived at the conference, eager to see for herself the handsome heir to billions.
The familiar tightening of the muscles around his neck and shoulders had warned him an attack was coming on. As she outlined her plans for them, including her intention to meet his parents when she moved to San Jose the following month, Evan panicked. He leaped out of bed and kept on running.
The next day he tracked down her number and apologized, but it was too late. Taylor went on a one-woman warpath, spreading lies about him to everyone who would listen.
His lack of sexual know-how.
The unimpressive size of his manhood.
His impotence.
He still burned with embarrassment when he thought about it. His father’s money paid for a countercampaign that erased her tweets, blogs, and forum posts when possible, or buried them with favorable replies. Suddenly he gained quite a reputation in the industry as a player and a stud.
But his father never let him forget it.
He believed the lies. He believed in Evan’s inadequacy.
Why wouldn’t he? Evan never brought home another girlfriend in the years before his father’s death. Instead he lived with his dad’s none-too-subtle gibes and kept away from women—far away—while the humiliation spurred him on to succeed in every other realm in his life.
He wanted to turn around and apologize to Bella, but he wouldn’t do that to her on camera. He could tell she was barely holding it together—she refused to meet his gaze, or anyone else’s, her expression stony, eyes on the ground. What should he do? Win the remaining contests and spend the next year making up for his crappy trick? He could buy her ten animal shelters, save every pet in Chance Creek, expand her services, hire her employees—whatever it took.
Or should he throw the challenges and lose gracefully so she could do all of that for herself?
Without him screwing up her life.
They burst into a clearing and Evan stumbled to a stop, his jaw dropping open at the sight before him. A horse stood tied to a post at one end of a fenced-in field. Saddle and tack lay in a heap on the ground near it. A large sign detailed the proper procedure for saddling it, each step laid out complete with illustrations. A course of obstacles filled the rest of the fenced-in space.
Evan began to laugh. He shouldn’t have worried at all about whether or not to throw this contest. He couldn’t compete on horseback against a cowgirl who’d been riding all her life.
He had his answer—the universe had issued it loud and clear. Evan was going to lose by a mile. Bella would win, take the money, and leave his life forever.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Bella fought the urge to throw up. She knew her face was pale and waxy, and if anyone had touched her brow they’d find it damp with sweat.
A horse.
Damn it—that was a horse. Madelyn couldn’t expect her to go anywhere near it.
Could she?
She could, if her eyes weren’t deceiving her. The challenge was all too clear: saddle the horse, and ride a circuit of the course, guiding it over five obstacles. Bella’s experienced eye told her none of the obstacles were difficult for an experienced rider. She wasn’t an experienced rider, though. Not lately, anyway. She was probably the only woman her age in Chance Creek who hadn’t been on a horse for twenty years.
And there was no way in hell she’d get close enough to one to saddle it, let alone climb on top of it.
Evan was laughing. Probably just another trick of his to throw her off. He called out, “Guess you’ll take this one,” over his shoulder as he stalked off toward the horse. He stood in front of the sign and read the steps one by one, and it wasn’t until he moved to sort out the pile of tack that he looked back and noticed she hadn’t budged. “Sorry, this might take a while, but I’ll figure it out in the end. I may be beat, but I’m going to give it my best shot.”
Terrific. She hoped he did figure it out, rode the course and got out of here. Hell, why was she even standing around here waiting for him? She hadn’t been able to ride a horse in years; there was no way she could do it now.
She wouldn’t score a point in this challenge, so she might as well head right on to the next one.
She walked forward, straight past Evan and around the corral, heading in the direction she hoped led to the next section of trail. Her vision blurred from tears and she picked up her pace. She was done for now. No way to win if she skipped a challenge entirely. Paul and Nita followed her, muttering to each other in confusion. If they moved in front of her they’d see she was one second from falling apart. She was so close to having enough money to finally right all her wrongs and now fate dished out this. She should have known better than to think she could win.
Memories beset her, flashing images of the day she’d ruined her family’s lives.
Caramel racing after the ball and bringing it back to drop at her feet.
Hugging the dog and burying her face in her fur.
The commotion behind her, Caramel’s sudden barks.
Looking up. Seeing the hooves flailing above her.
Her father’s shout: “Bella!”
His body flashing between them. The stallion twisting away in fear.
Hooves flashing, the horse’s giant body falling. The sickening crack as its foreleg shattered.
Her own fear bitter in her mouth. Caramel twisting around their feet.
Her father’s hand upraised.
She blinked faster and picked up her pace some more, trying to leave those memories behind.
“Bella?”
Damn. She broke into a run, unable to control her tears any longer, the pain of her memories finally catching up to her. She’d vanquished that awful day from her mind for so many years, refusing to speak of it because nobody else in her family spoke of it.
“Bella, stop—where are you going?”
Bella ignored Nita’s call and dashed onward, unaware of her surroundings. She was back on the family’s ranch, back in the chaos of men running, the stallion falling, Caramel barking, her father watching his dream implode.
This time the voice was Evan’s. “Bella.” He caught up to her and pulled her to a stop. “What are you doing? Come back—ride the horse. It’s okay—you’re going to win fair and square, I can’t complain. Bella?” Lifting a hand to trace the tears running down her face, his expression changed from laughter to concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t…” She couldn’t breathe for tears, couldn’t dispel the images from her mind. The dust kicked up by the horse’s hooves, Cyclone’s scream as his foreleg shattered.
Her father’s face.
“I can’t ride…I can’t…”
And her brother wild with grief when he found her in the barn that night.
It’s all your fault, he said. Caramel’s dead. Cyclone’s dead. It’s all your fault.
“I can’t…” Bella sobbed, her breath coming in great gasps. She clung to Evan, felt his arms go around her.
She couldn’t save Caramel. She’d run and run but she’d been too late. She couldn’t save Cyclone; his broken leg was his death warrant, and the destruction of her father’s business. She couldn’t save herself, either. She’d as good as died that same day, at least in her father’s eyes. He’d never seen her again; she’d simply disappeared. No matter what she did, she couldn’t fix it.
And she’d spent a lifetime trying to fix it. She’d spent a lifetime trying to save something—anything—to make up for what she’d done. But no matter how hard she worked, no matter how much she learned, no matter how much she earned—
she couldn’t bring Cyclone back to life. And everywhere she looked there were more animals—more suffering—more sickness—more neglect—animals abandoned, hiding, starving—animals dying…and she couldn’t save them, she couldn’t…
“Come on, Bella, you have to ride. You’re going to lose if you don’t.”
Lose.
She was going to lose everything. Just like her father did.
Another image flashed before her eyes. Her father dashing between her and the stallion, protecting her from his wheeling hooves. Cyclone crashing to the ground, the sound of his foreleg shattering.
Her father’s dreams shattering.
Her father’s face as he watched everything he’d worked for slip away.
Raising his arm.
Bringing it down on Caramel’s back.
Her father hit Caramel. Caramel ran into the street.
Bella staggered, blindsided by the realization. All this time she’d blamed herself for Caramel’s death, because her father had blamed her. He barely talked to her since that day. Barely looked at her. Kept her awash in guilt and pain.
And it was all his fault. All his fault. Not hers. But he’d blamed her all this time.
Evan leaned in closer and dropped his voice. “Sweetie, it’s going to be okay no matter what. Even if you lose I’ll take care of you, I swear.”
Bella’s gaze snapped up to him. Her adversary. The man standing between her and the means to fix everything. Did he think she would fall for his scheme? Did he think he could manipulate her feelings and ruin her life, just like her father had? Were all men like this?
“You’re the one making me lose,” she said and shoved him. He stepped back, but recovered quickly and came at her again.
“What? Bella…”
“You tricked me! You’ve been tricking me all along!” Anger, thick and hot swirled up within her. It filled her until there was no room for sadness. No room for fear. If it wasn’t for her father’s manipulations she would have gotten over Caramel’s death and gone on to live a normal life. If it wasn’t for Evan’s sweet-talk, his kisses and caresses and pretense that he cared for her, she’d have won this contest long ago.
