“Yes, but I’m working so I’ll find you. Thanks, Mark.” She brushed his cheek with a kiss and left.
He flipped through his catalogue, scanning the older horses. There were several three-year-olds that looked promising and two of those he’d checked outside their stalls, mainly because Jessica had been interested. They’d even watched some race video. She had made extensive notes; he hadn’t. At the time he’d been concentrating on finding something young for Boone.
“Let’s get out of here,” Boone suddenly said. “I have some important calls to make.”
Ian leaped from his seat, but Jessica rose with a mutinous expression. It was clear Boone liked to be in control and equally clear she resented it. Maybe one of Boone’s calls would require urgent attention, and he’d have to fly out tonight, Mark hoped as he trailed them up the steps of the amphitheatre.
“We have dinner reservations at Dudley’s for seven,” Boone said, looking up from his phone to Jessica. “What are you going to do now? I assume you need money for a dress?”
“I’m fine, Gramps,” she said, but despair thickened her voice, and a wave of protectiveness propelled Mark forward.
“I have to buy a horse for another client,” he said, “so I’ll meet you at the restaurant. I would appreciate seeing your notes though, Jessica, so I can remember which ones we liked.”
“Then you’ll take care of her?” Boone asked. “Get her to the restaurant on time?”
“Jessica can take care of herself. I’m the one who needs help with the horses.” Mark tried to keep his tone light. Boone didn’t realize he treated Jessica like a rebellious child, and Mark understood now why she hated the idea of working for him. It would be torture.
Boone pushed open the glass doors. Mark’s shoulders relaxed as the man vanished in the crowd, trailed by the fawning Ian.
“Are you really buying another horse or do I owe you a thanks?” Jessica asked, her voice subdued.
He didn’t insult her intelligence by pretending he didn’t understand. “Your grandfather loves you, Jess.”
She shook her head in resignation. “He was like that with Mom too. When I was nine, Dad was killed in a car crash, so we moved in with Gramps. Said he’d lost his only son and didn’t want to lose his granddaughter as well. Made Mom feel guilty if she ever mentioned moving. It’s no problem. I’m used to it.” Her face brightened as she glanced at her catalogue. “Are you really buying another horse?”
“Yes. For new owners who want a horse ready to run. But sixty thousand is their limit.”
“That’s the type of horse I’d want,” she said wistfully. “They’re just as much fun and a lot less pressure.”
“We have plenty of time to find one.” He checked the hip numbers circling outside the pavilion. “Let’s go back and check the horses you liked. That’ll be a good start.”
She poked his ribs, her teasing smile back now that her grandfather was gone. “I bet you want me to waive my usual finder’s fee.”
“Heck, no.” He looped his arm around her slim waist and propelled her toward the barns. “I’ll pay double what you charged your last client.”
“Oh, goodie,” she said.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“And the oysters on a half shell are for you,” the waitress said, sliding a square, white plate in front of Boone.
“The papers say the colt looks good,” Boone said, ignoring the waitress as he spoke to Mark. “Two more weeks until Breeders’ Cup. What are our chance of beating the sheikh?”
“Your colt has faster times and has already won at Belmont. Assets seems to have a good shot. Of course anything can happen.”
“You trainers always expect the worst.” Boone scooped out a glistening oyster. “What’s the harm in saying he’s going to win? Sounds like he has to fall on his face to lose.”
Mark flinched. His recurring nightmare was that Assets stumbled coming from the gate. “Your Afleet Alex filly, Belle, is running on Friday,” he said, switching the subject. “She has a good chance too.”
“Maria is very excited about that.” Jessica smiled across the table at Mark.
“Who’s Maria?” Boone asked.
“A groom, like me.”
“You’re much more than a groom, Jessica.” Boone set down his fork and wiped his wet mouth. “In fact, Ian here is heading up a development in New Hampshire. It’ll have some of the best skiing anywhere in the east and is the perfect entry point for you.”
“Entry? Entry into Boone?” Her voice rose. “But I only have two weeks to go.”
“Surely you won’t be foolish and squander this opportunity.” Boone frowned. “I thought a ski project would interest you much more than a dog business. That’s one of the reasons I’m investing.”
Boone looked so puzzled, Mark felt a spike of pity for the man.
“Sorry, Gramps.” Jessica raised her chin in a stubborn gesture Mark had seen before. “I’m holding you to our deal.”
Boone’s mouth tightened. “You’ll never make anything of your life if you waste time on manual labor, be it dogs or horses. It’s the people at the top who always benefit. You tell her.” He glanced at Mark. “What percentage of trainers are rich?”
“Not many,” Mark said. “Of course it depends on your definition of ‘rich.’ But we all love our work—”
“Not many. Exactly.” Boone turned back to Jessica. “And I want much better for you.”
As though on cue, Ian extracted a glossy brochure from a briefcase. “The condos will be here.” He tapped the page with an eager finger. “The mountain has two faces we’ll develop with beginner and advanced terrain. I’m the project manager and it will truly be an honor to work with you, Jessica.” He gave her a smarmy smile.
The entrees appeared on beautifully garnished plates, so Ian reluctantly folded his brochure.
“Salmon. Lamb. Another lamb. And steak for you, sir,” the waiter said placing the last plate in front of Mark.
Silverware clinked; otherwise the table was blessedly silent. Mark glanced at Jessica, but she was too busy eating her salmon—no, not busy, just toying with it, and his irritation with Boone grew. She loved salmon and needed a good meal. Had enjoyed her fish so much with Sophie and Devin, and the food here was superb. Much too good to waste.
He paused to sip his wine, noting Boone’s expression. The man had thick white eyebrows that almost touched when he was unhappy. Or when he was thinking. And right now the man seemed to be doing both. It was a shame he couldn’t stop his manipulating and let Jessica find her own way.
Mark ate fast, desperate to escape. The downside of horses was that owners came with them. Even Ian looked uncomfortable, cutting pieces of his lamb and checking Boone’s expression before every bite.
“Sorry for interrupting, Mark,” Cathy said, materializing by their table. “But we’re all eager to hear how you made out today.” With unerring instinct, she zoomed in on Boone. “I’m Cathy Wright,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Boone leaped to his feet and shook her hand. “Please join us,” he said graciously. “I’m Edward Boone, and this is Jessica and Ian.”
Jessica and Ian didn’t rate last names, Mark noticed as he sank back in his chair. It was a relief Cathy had stopped. She was always a pleasant diversion and could eat men like Boone for breakfast.
“Did you buy a horse today too?” she asked Boone. “Mark is absolutely one of the best trainers. We’re so lucky to have him.”
Boone nodded, but it was clear from his blank expression that he thought all trainers were basically the same.
“We’re sitting at that corner table,” Cathy added, “and wanted to know our horse’s name so we could proceed with a proper toast.” She gestured at a throng of waving hands and raised glasses. Clearly celebratory. Mark wished he and Jessica were seated with them.
He glanced at Jessica. “Why don’t you tell her the name of the horse we bought for them?”
“TV Trooper,” Jessica
said with a big smile. Cathy’s eyes widened with delight.
“The name was pure coincidence,” Mark said. “He was the best of the bunch. Got him for fifty-five. Pretty nice fellow.”
“With a name like that, it doesn’t matter if he can run a lick.” Cathy’s grin widened. “It’ll be a blast. The guys are already talking about doing a documentary on the pros of shared ownership.” She flashed her table a thumbs up, and they cheered, ignoring the headwaiter’s disapproving frown.
“Okay, party’s on,” Cathy said. “Thanks, Mark. And good luck to you, Edward. Maybe I can interview you during the Breeders’ Cup?”
“It would be a pleasure,” Boone said.
She nodded politely at Jessica and Ian and turned to Mark. “Give me a call next week and let me know when Trooper arrives. Trooper, I like the sound of that. Rugged, tough.” She gave him a wicked smile and left.
“Nice lady.” Boone watched Cathy rejoin her table.
“Yes,” Mark said, turning his attention back to his steak. They’d dated sporadically, but he couldn’t remember the last time they’d slept together. Sometime in the spring, maybe before she went to Dubai. His gaze drifted back to Jessica. She wasn’t eating, hadn’t touched her vegetables which she damn sure needed, and his irritation with Boone swelled.
The man needed to back off. Women were like horses. You couldn’t rush them. Best to wait them out. They’d let you know when it was time to step it up a notch.
“Finished with your meal?” he heard the waiter ask Jessica. “Maybe you have room for dessert? The Chocolate Bliss is very popular.”
Jessica cocked her head in thought, but Ian whipped out his stupid brochure, and she leaned back. “No, thank you,” she said to the waiter with an apologetic smile.
Ian looked over at Boone who gave a negligible head shake, and the brochure disappeared.
Mark leaned forward. “So your new horse will be shipped to the track. We’ll bring him in and start galloping. See what we got.”
“Fine,” Boone said, glancing up at someone behind Mark.
“Good evening,” a coolly familiar voice said. “Good to see you again, Edward.”
Paul Radcliff. Mark turned and nodded a reluctant greeting, but Jessica made no pretensions and simply glared.
Didn’t matter. The rude son of a bitch concentrated on Boone, not acknowledging anyone else. Radcliff had once trained for Boone. Mark didn’t know all the history, although the two men were obviously still on speaking terms.
“We’re just leaving,” Radcliff was saying. “I have a limo picking up my party.”
“You better hurry then,” Mark said, unable to resist a jab. “Think I see the car now.” He probably should have booked a limo for Boone too. No doubt the man enjoyed that type of display, although Mark rarely bothered with such indulgences. Of course, when owners had a horse running in the Breeders’ Cup, they deserved anything they wanted.
“Another time, Edward,” Radcliff said with an exaggerated plumy accent before weaving through tables, nodding and bestowing greetings like royalty.
Jessica watched him go, then looked at Mark and rolled her eyes, clearly sharing Mark’s opinion. Ian looked horrified at her breach of etiquette, but her grandfather was oblivious, more concerned about his buzzing phone. He reached in his jacket pocket and checked the display.
Just turn the sucker off, Mark thought, glancing at Jessica. She wanted time to chat now that Ian had put away the company brochure. Probably wanted to tell her grandfather about Buddy’s win, her pet cat and even the second mare she now rubbed.
Whenever Mark mentioned how hard she was working—how much she was learning— Boone had brushed it off, predicting she wouldn’t last much longer. But he must be proud of her. Jessica had been dumped into the bottom of a foreign, class-conscious society, slept in a tack room with mice, ate cold beans from a can and rose every morning at four. And she hadn’t only coped, she’d flourished.
Hell, he was proud of her, and he wasn’t even her grandfather; he was only… He didn’t know what he was. Displaced lover? Soon-to-be ex employer? But maybe she’d drop by the track occasionally. Better yet, dump the jockey and drop by his house.
Boone now tapped messages on his fancy phone, so Mark signaled for the bill. He had no desire to prolong this agony with dessert and coffee. It was already clear Jessica had finished eating; she and Boone could take their meeting elsewhere.
“Jessica, you’ll ride back to the hotel with me,” Boone said. “Mark, I’ll call you next week. Ian, get the car.”
Ian scurried away. Jessica rose, the expression on her face mirroring his own relief.
He dipped his head and murmured close to her ear, “Dino called with a funny story about Buddy. Come by my room when you’re finished with your grandfather, and I’ll fill you in.”
Her eyes widened with alarm. “Is Buddy okay?”
“He’s fine. I’ll tell you later.” Perfect. That would bring her to his room yet still give him time to meet his new owners, the lively ESPN group, and he’d also be able to see Dutch and catch up on news from home. Finally the evening was looking up.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“We had a deal, Gramps, and I expect you to keep it.” Jessica crossed the room and splashed more scotch in her glass. “I appreciate the ski venture, but I’m just not interested. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking though and instead of the dog business, I want to set up a Thoroughbred retirement farm.”
She lifted her head and held his stare. The retirement idea had been brewing for weeks, but this was the first time she’d acknowledged it, even to herself. Yet it made perfect sense. She loved caring for horses, and if she could place them in good homes, it would be the most rewarding work she could imagine. She could help nice horses like Buddy. Maybe if she had her own farm, she could even keep him.
Her grandfather snorted, clinking the ice in his glass. “And who would pay you to do this charitable thing?”
The dismissive way he spoke made her stiffen. “Well, start-up money will come from you.” He raised an eyebrow, but she forged on. “Of course, only the equivalent of what a dog place would be. And I’ll repay every cent. The rest I’ll raise from horse lovers, and anyone who admires the animals. Most of the owners I’ve met are very conscientious.”
His mouth thinned at her veiled barb, but she was running on passion now and the vision bloomed. “I have a friend who raises money simply by knowing who to call, and I’m sure Dick will be happy to share his fundraising list.” Especially true if Dick were in the hospital and she could check his files, she thought wryly.
Gramps poured himself another drink, but she waved off his offer of ice, too excited to sit. “So, what do you think?” she asked.
“I think,” he spoke through thin lips, “that next month you’ll have a different plan and what you really need is firm direction.”
“What?” Heat flamed her cheeks. “You think so little of me? Even though I lasted at the track?”
“You still have two weeks to go. And if you do manage not to be fired, I’ll finance the dog care, as agreed, but definitely not the horses. However, the most responsible decision is for you to drop this foolishness now. Join the company. Don’t be like your mother. Let me show you how to make some real money.”
He paused, studying her face, his eyebrows leveled in caterpillar lines of disapproval. “You look like a grubby street brawler with that black eye.” His phone chirped, and he checked the display. “I have to join this conference call. But trust me. In a year, you’ll be grateful for my guidance. Glad I showed a firm hand.” He picked up his briefcase and strode toward the desk.
“Good night,” she said. Anger muddled her thinking, but she still had the presence of mind to grab his bottle of Glenfiddich before stalking from the room.
***
“No more for me, Dutch.” Mark drained the last of his beer and edged away from the bar. “I’ll let Dino know his old ranch might be for sale. And I’ll have a stall
ready. Let me know when you’re shipping.”
“Appreciate it,” Dutch said. “They’re not giving my little guy much of a chance, but he’s a true sprinter, and he’s won some tough races. I haven’t slept a wink since qualifying for the Breeders’ Cup. Seems like it’s changed my life, you know.”
“I know.” Mark shook his friend’s hand. “See you in a week.”
He headed back to his hotel room with thoughts of Breeders’ Cup ping-ponging in his head. Eight championship races were crammed into the main day, with purses ranging from a million to four million. Dutch’s horse was running in the Sprint, which was two races after the Juvenile. So Assets would be finished and cooled out, and Dutch would still be chewing his knuckles.
He opened his door, walked to the mini fridge and grabbed a beer. Kicked off his boots and sat back, staring at the dark television. It was incredible to think Assets was the favorite entering the race. Talk about an overachieving horse. But Dino, Carlos and his hard-working staff had done an excellent job. In fact, his entire stable clipped along at an impressive win percentage.
Even Buddy had stepped up for a win, mostly due to Jessica’s dedication. Yet when Mark had told Boone about her success with the horse, the man hadn’t seemed very interested. He was like a pit bull, so focused on dragging her onboard with Boone Investments that he dismissed her achievements—and anything else standing in the way.
Mark checked his watch, trying to control his growing disappointment. He’d hoped she would stop by after visiting with her grandfather, but it didn’t seem as though she wanted his company.
He took a thoughtful sip of beer. It had to be that new jockey from Canada; the guy was single, good looking, cocky as hell, and he’d ridden a few of Mark’s horses. She would have had plenty of time to meet him—and of course, the jock would have honed in on her like radar.
Rap, rap.
He leaped from the chair and yanked open the door. Jessica stood there with teary eyes and a great bottle of Scotch.
Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) Page 58
