“No, it won’t destroy it, Slade,” she said solemnly, holding his dark gaze. He looked as if he were going to cry. Slade swallowed several times as if choking back the tears. Her heart burst open with such pain for him. “You’ve done everything right,” Jordana whispered. “And I can’t believe the cosmos is going to take this ranch away from you.”
Slade didn’t have the heart to tell her she didn’t stand a chance of winning. Hell, she’d be lucky to finish the race at all because it was such a wicked and challenging one. Instead, he rasped, “I can.”
Shaking her head, Jordana said, “I wish I had the money, Slade. I’d give it to you. This ranch is beautiful and you’ve worked hard to keep it in good condition.” She couldn’t imagine what he would do if he lost it. Yet, it looked as if he would. Her heart tore more for him. Slade was suffering so much, struggling to keep how he really felt away from her.
“You’re as poor as I am,” he reminded her. Slade knew she was living from paycheck to paycheck. Yes, he’d lowered her training rate to one thousand dollars a month, but that put him into an even worse financial hole.
“I can loan you that extra thousand dollars a month,” she told him, a fierceness in her husky tone. She gripped his hand hard. “Slade, for once, take some gifts from someone else. You’re not alone in this fight!”
He grunted and pulled his hand away from hers. Because if he didn’t, he was going to kiss her until she melted into him. It was driving him hard, and Slade was too anxious about the loss of his ranch staring him in the face to divide his energies right now. “I’ve been alone since my parents died in that damned car accident, Jordana. Every day is a fight. You’re around here enough to see that.” His nostrils flared as the shock of losing his ranch was imminent. Nothing had hurt so bad as this. He wadded up the bill in his right hand and threw it on the pine table.
“Oh, Slade,” Jordana whispered, “this isn’t over! I can loan you the money. I have a thousand dollars a month. I won’t charge you interest—”
“Dammit, Jordana, I can’t do that!” he exploded. Slade shoved the chair away and stood, fighting back a real need to sob. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat being pushed down once again.
Standing, Jordana heard the cry of anguish in his growling tone. No longer was she afraid of his irritable and snarling disposition. She’d come to realize that when Slade was under pressure, he was that way. But she’d seen him when he wasn’t, and he was a man that any woman would desire. Without thinking, she threw her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself to him. The startled look in his eyes told her he wasn’t expecting this. Well, that was fine because she was being driven to pull him out of the throes of his anguish.
Leaning up, Jordana pressed her lips against the hard, flat line of his mouth. Instantly, Slade groaned, and he rocked her hard against him, his arms moving like steel bands around her slender torso. The breath was crushed out of her. Jordana kept her eyes closed, her arms tight around Slade, and rocked his lips open. There was a tremble that rolled through him as her soft mouth pleaded with his to open and allow her entrance. Something primal and raw pushed Jordana. Her world melted into a fiery heat as his mouth turned mobile and hungry, and he took her with savage intensity.
An explosion of incredible heat tunneled through Slade. Kissing Jordana was the last thing on his mind in his crumbling world. Yet, the soft insistence of her mouth, the movement of her full lips gliding teasingly against his dragged a volcanic and animal response from him. It had been years since he’d kissed a woman. Her breath was moist and caressed his cheek. He’d shaved this morning, but already his beard was growing back. Her face was like velvet, and he was starved for her touch. Slade’s mind melted, and all he focused on was her breasts pressed against his massive chest, her mouth wet and hungry against his, her breath moist and the scent of pine in her silky hair.
Moaning, Jordana surrendered fully to Slade as a man. His arms were powerful, his mouth ravenous against hers. The texture of his beard against her cheek was proof of his masculinity. He swept his hand down her back, his fingers memorizing the curve of her spine. Sliding his hand over her hip, Slade pressed her insistently against him. Jordana became aware of just how much he wanted her. She relished the incredible virility of him. Slade’s mouth was hungry, and so was hers. She couldn’t get enough of him, enough of his mouth ravishing hers with an animal-like need. Wasn’t she needy? Oh, yes, it had been too long without a man who stirred her heart and her body. Slade did both. As his hand ranged up her spine, Jordana trembled inwardly. He was strong, and yet he didn’t hurt her. He was monitoring the strength of his touch. When his hand moved across her back to graze the curve of her breast, she moaned. The sound echoed between them.
What was happening? Slade felt drugged, his mind turning into useless mush, his body throbbing with white-hot need of Jordana in every way. He wanted to lock himself into her willing body, feel every curve and valley, drawn in by the throbbing heat as he plunged into her welcoming depths. If he didn’t stop, he’d haul her into his arms and carry her off to his bedroom. And he’d love her until she moaned with utter pleasure. As Slade tore his mouth from hers, he opened his eyes to mere slits. His breathing was harsh and ragged, but so was hers.
Jordana moaned as the kiss abruptly ended. Lips throbbing from the power of his searching kiss, she wanted more. No…she wanted Slade…all of him. Her mind whirled, and she felt as if she were floating in a way she never had with a man. Slade was incredibly masculine in a way she’d never experienced. And the boiling tension in her lower body ached to pull him deeply into her and consummate something Jordana felt was inevitable. As she forced her lids open, she burned beneath Slade’s predatory look. Here was a man who was as raw and untamed as the wilderness he lived within. She felt his hands roaming across her back and hips, as if remembering her and burning every curve of hers into his mind.
Slade pulled away. He didn’t want to, but he had to. Jordana was too willing, too beautiful and he was in such a hell of a mess with his ranch and life right now that he couldn’t take this on, too. His mouth tasted of hers. She liked to chew peppermint gum when riding, and he could taste it now. “We can’t do this,” he growled unsteadily. “Not now, Jordana.” Not ever. All Slade saw was another Isabel Stephens debacle. “There’s too much at stake,” he managed in a raw whisper. “I don’t want to lose my ranch. I have to focus on that…not…us.”
Hurting for Slade and knowing her spontaneous kiss was healing to him on one level, Jordana understood. She touched the strands of hair against her cheek and pulled them aside. “Sure, Slade. I understand.”
The quaver in her husky voice tore at him as nothing else ever had. He saw disappointment and hurt in her large blue eyes. She was guileless, Slade realized as he stood before her, tense and unmoving. His heart told him Jordana was not another Isabel Stephens. His mind shouted at him that she was. Every woman was a temptation because he’d gone so long without real nurturing from one. Raking his fingers through his hair, he said, “I appreciate your care, but right now, I need to focus on a way to keep my ranch.”
Her whole body was burning and throbbing like a flame flickering in the wind. How badly Jordana wanted to consummate their relationship. She saw the raw need and anguish in Slade’s narrowed gaze that never left hers. “It’s tough to balance off financial stuff against a new relationship,” she acknowledged in a hoarse tone. “I do understand, Slade.” Jordana lifted her chin and held his stare. “But I’m not sorry I kissed you.”
She had such guts, Slade decided in that moment. Jordana was a fierce warrior, afraid of nothing. “I’m not, either,” he confided more gently. Opening his hand, he offered, “But right now, I can’t, Jordana. I’m sorry.” And he was. God, how sorry he was. How could he explain that he distrusted her because of Isabel? That he saw all women as waiting to steal his family ranch from under him? Yet, Jordana had offered him a thousand dollars a month to make up that difference. Pride wouldn’t let Slade accept t
hat offer.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“ARE YOU READY?”
Jordana nodded. She was holding the reins on Thor tightly because he was pawing and ready to get on with the fifty-mile run. Slade stood next to her. They were at the beginning of the actual endurance starting line. His hand was on the slope of the stallion’s shoulder. It was barely dawn; and she could just see the trail ahead. “I am.”
Worried, Slade knew his stallion was more than ready to do a test run across the entire course. This was the first time Jordana would take the route. “You got your iPhone with the maps?” They had worked a week to input the information into her Apple iPhone so that it would be on her, and she could use it during the ride.
Patting the iPhone strung around her neck and hidden beneath her sweater and Kevlar vest, she said, “Got it.”
“Okay, take it easy. Don’t let him run full-out. I’ll time you, but don’t try and push him.”
“Right,” Jordana said, excitement thrumming through her. She smiled down at Slade. Since the unexpected kiss, they’d danced around each other, never really mentioning it. The past two weeks, she’d ridden three times a week on the thirty-mile circuit on the Elkhorn ranch, fine-tuning Thor’s endurance and preparing him for the race. How badly she wanted to speak to Slade about their kiss, but he’d withdrawn since then. Jordana tried not to be hurt by it. After all, neither had expected it.
Patting Thor’s taut, arched neck, Slade murmured, “Okay. We’ll be in constant contact by radio,” and he pointed to the one hooked on his belt. “At every five miles when you hit a point, you call. If you don’t call, I’ll know you’re in trouble.”
Nodding, Jordana knew he was nervous for her and his horse. “I’ll do it, Slade. And I’ll be okay.” She wanted to reach out as she had done before the kiss, but after it, he’d really retreated, and Jordana had forced herself to stop touching him from time to time. The race and learning the trail and handling Thor was paramount right now. Jordana wanted to win that money for Slade. And nothing else mattered at this point. They could talk about their kiss after the race.
“Okay,” he said, holding up the stop watch, “take off….”
Thor heard his master’s voice and reared, fighting the bit.
Jordana laughed and eased the reins. Instantly, the stallion dug in with his hind legs, dirt and rock flying as he hurtled down the path strewn with rocks and grass. The wind sailed past her as she settled into a fast trot with Thor. Very quickly, they were swallowed up by the thick stands of evergreens across the slope of the mountain. The trail started at six thousand feet and quickly climbed to ten thousand. Thor snorted violently, continuing to fight the reins, but Jordana held him at a ground-eating trot.
Slade watched as the pair disappeared up the winding, twisting trail. The last two weeks had been hell on him in so many ways. As he walked back to his truck at the trailhead, he was glad to be rid of the damned cane. Climbing in, he felt his leg that was still tender and sore. He’d never realized that a puncture wound of this size could cause so much havoc. Cursing Diablo under his breath, Slade started his truck. He would drive to the first checkpoint twenty miles into the ride. It was a high meadow at nine thousand feet and was accessible by vehicle. It would be there that the first vet station check would occur for all riders.
Even though he wasn’t a vet, Slade knew what to look for. Thor would come into the station, and Jordana would dismount. The vet and assistant would check Thor’s pulse, his blood pressure and look over each leg very carefully for any signs of injury or swelling. Shorty would walk Thor for twenty minutes, cooling him down. Thor would then be checked again by the vet team. He would be given water to drink. If Thor’s pulse and blood pressure had settled to a normal rate and his legs passed inspection, Jordana would be given permission to continue on for the next twenty-mile leg. This time, Slade would be doing the checking.
As Slade drove slowly out of the huge, oval gravel parking lot, he knew he had to have Jordana run the fifty miles at least three times before the actual race. There were plenty of other horse trailers and pickup trucks around, signs that other endurance riders were familiarizing themselves with the challenging trail. What he didn’t like was seeing the bright red trailer owned by Curt Downing. He was already on the trail ahead of Jordana, but Slade didn’t know how far ahead. Worried, he hoped they wouldn’t meet. And Slade knew that every one of these riders would have assistants waiting at the first checkpoint.
As he drove down the long, flat graveled road within the Tetons National Park, Slade’s mind and, if he were honest, his heart, centered on Jordana. He’d dreamt every night about that unexpected kiss that had exploded between them. And then, his torrid dream would melt into the nightmare of his past with Isabel. The last year of their marriage had been a daily donnybrook. She would scream, curse him and call him a loser. Slade had taken it all, and he’d felt relief when Isabel had finally had enough, packed her bags and flown back to her rich parents’ penthouse. He’d felt even more relief when the divorce papers had been served on him. Cutting Isabel out of his life had been like getting out of prison to Slade. Rubbing his unshaven chin, Slade braked at the stop sign. At 5:00 a.m. on this August summer morning, few tourist cars were on the highway. Turning left, he kept the truck at the twenty-five mile an hour limit. It would be no time before he was at the vet-check meadow.
The sky was turning pink as the sun rose in the east. Herds of elk were here and there near the highway. One thing about the Tetons, the wildlife was not afraid of park visitors. And one had to be careful about driving this time of morning because all the deer, elk and moose were grabbing their last grass meal before settling down to sleep during the daylight hours. Often, they were near the road. Too many crashes at dawn had occurred because of this situation.
What was he going to do about Jordana? Clearly, she liked him. Hell, he liked her. Slade knew he was in no position to start a relationship as bad as his body and heart keened for it. Isabel had just done too much damage to him. His brows fell. Finally, Slade admitted he was afraid. Afraid of another failure. Oh, no question there was a chasm of difference between Isabel and Jordana, but his mind balked anyway.
Soon enough, the exit came up for the twenty-mile stop. Slade turned and drove slowly down the six-mile gravel road that would end at the trailhead parking area. When he arrived, he saw about fifteen teams waiting for their riders to come in. Parking, Slade knew every one of them. Some waved to him. He waved back. His gaze moved across the large, oval meadow. It had been mowed, so it was easy to work with incoming endurance riders and their sweaty mounts. Wearing a red T-shirt, Chuck Merced, Curt Downing’s assistant, stood away from the other endurance crews, his wrist held up as he looked at his stopwatch.
Climbing out of the truck, Slade knew that twenty miles at a trot would bring Jordana and Thor in at a certain time. He was content to lean against the front of his truck and watch because she’d been the last of all these riders to start the trail. When had Curt Downing started? That worried him to no end. What if Jordana came upon him and that black Arabian stud of his? Stallions, when together, automatically wanted to fight one another. He’d repeatedly warned Jordana about this. She’d never seen two studs go at it, but he had. It was visceral, primal and brutal. Stallions fought to win, and their intent was to inflict as much damage upon their competitor as they could.
“Hey,” a male voice called, “Slade! How are you?”
Turning to his right, Slade recognized red-haired Bart Peters. He was the husband of Bernadette, a champion endurance rider.
“Hey, Bart,” he said, greeting the forty-year-old man with thick glasses with a smile. “What time did Bernadette start the course?”
Walking over and smiling, Bart looked at his stopwatch. “She started off at the trailhead thirty minutes ago.”
Nodding, Slade said, “And how’s her mount?” He knew her Arabian gelding, Smithy, had been retired last year. They had bought one of Thor’s offspring from him, a pa
rt mustang and part Arabian gelding called Checkers.
Leaning against the truck front with Slade, Bart said, “Checkers is doing great. You know he placed fifth in the Tevis Cup?”
“Yes, I heard. That’s damn good for a first timer.” And it was. Thor’s stamina and endurance being passed on to his offspring was well known. People brought their Arabian mares to be bred to him. The resulting offspring had shown consistently in the past ten years that Thor’s genes were winners.
Bart grinned. “It sure was. Bernadette was surprised. So was I.” His green eyes danced as he held Slade’s gaze. “Your stud is remarkable. We’d always heard how good he was, but Checkers is just blowing us away. He’s six years old and just starting his career. It’s hard to believe he took fifth place in the Tevis.”
“That was a combination of Bernadette’s riding skills and her horse,” Slade murmured. One could have a great horse, but if the rider wasn’t up to snuff, there would be no winning anything.
Smiling fully, Bart agreed. “Hey, we were really sorry to hear you aren’t competing this year. We heard on the circuit one of your students, a woman, is riding Thor instead? We never thought you’d let anyone ride that stud of yours. What changed your mind?”
“Dr. Jordana Lawton is riding him,” Slade said. He didn’t want to tell anyone.
“This is the first female student you’ve had, isn’t it?”
Uncomfortable with the fact that his business as a teacher and competitor was public knowledge, Slade frowned. “Yes, it is.”
“She must be exceptional,” Bart said, watching the other teams going out to the meadow with buckets, brushes, stethoscopes and towels in hand.
“She is,” Slade agreed.
“Is she new? Bernadette and I haven’t heard of her being on the circuit before.”
“She’s competed at the lower levels for many years and is moving up.”
The Last Cowboy Page 18
