“The new vet. He moved here hoping to get closer to Jenna, but she doesn’t want anything permanent. Now he occasionally dates Kathryn but it drives her crazy, always having to settle for Jenna’s leftovers.”
Wally shifted, lowering his voice and edging his chair closer to the desk. “Look, if you hire Kathryn, Jenna will be gone in a few months. And then she’d be in a real pickle. She’s sacrificed everything for her younger sister. Three Brooks owes her more than that.”
“Indeed,” Burke said dryly. “I like to think employees owe the company rather than the other way around. But if you’re adamant, we can certainly reach an agreement.”
He ripped his newly composed memo off the pad and slid the paper across the desk. “Sign and date this, Wally, and I’ll ensure Kathryn Winfield never bothers Jenna again.”
Please accept this letter of resignation effective immediately. I agree to vacate the Three Brooks Apartment by the end of the month and hereby waive any right to legal counsel as well as any past and future claims against Three Brooks Inc. Wally Turner
Wally’s throat moved convulsively.
“Of course, these details are confidential,” Burke added, averting his gaze, “and if I hear you’ve engaged in any behavior derogatory to Three Brooks, Jenna’s employment here would certainly turn fragile.”
“You sonofabitch!”
Burke faked a dismissive shrug and pulled the paper back. “Not a big deal to me if Jenna stays or goes. I’m sure there are other jobs around. Maybe that vet would hire her.”
“She wouldn’t accept a job from him! Independence means more to her than anyone I know. That’s why—”
Wally dropped his face in his hands, and for a moment Burke experienced a rare spike of pity. However, the man was a thief and a liar, something he never tolerated.
Wally raised his head, eyes defeated as he stared at Burke. A moment later, he yanked back the paper and signed his name in a ragged scrawl. “You can stick this job up your ass,” he said, rising so fast the chair toppled. He jerked from the office, the back of his neck a mottled red.
Burke picked up the signed memo, studying it with grim satisfaction. He planned to get rid of Kathryn Winfield anyway but this had turned out to be a bonus, a goddamn wonderful, unexpected bonus.
Chapter Eighteen
“And this is our hyperbaric oxygen therapy.” Jenna gestured at the airtight chamber. “It gives a hundred percent oxygen in a pressurized environment and provides the horse with an amazing boost.
“Oxygen is excellent for healing open wounds and for treating stubborn infections,” she went on. “It also helps heal lung tissue. A few treatments of about fifty minutes will show immediate benefits.”
David Ridgeman stepped closer, finally registering some interest as he studied the interior and exterior of the chamber. He turned to the large blinking console. “Is that thing complicated to work?’ he asked.
“Somewhat.” Jenna smiled at Debbie alert in the control chair. “But our experienced technicians are well trained in the procedure. The green button starts the oxygen flow. The horse is free to move in the chamber, and the door can only be opened from the outside. Monitors allow us to watch the patient and they can also see out the window. We’ve even had a horse so relaxed, he lay down—”
“Where are the tanks?” David interrupted, staring up at the ceiling valves. “Okay, I see,” he muttered, taking out his phone and snapping some pictures. “Then the oxygen tanks are on this side. I assume you have holding stalls in the area?”
“Yes, of course,” Jenna said. “The main barn area is down the aisle and through the door to the left. We also have three stalls adjoining the oxygen chamber. They’re especially helpful if an animal has severe mobility or breathing issues.”
“Show me the stalls please.”
“Certainly.” Jenna nodded her thanks to Debbie, glancing over her shoulder at Burke and Lorna Ridgeman who lingered on the other side of the room. Lorna was clearly disinterested in the Center’s holistic features, and it seemed that the decision to send their stud to Three Brooks would be entirely up to her brother.
Lorna reached up with a manicured hand and tapped Burke’s upper arm. His dark head politely inclined as he listened to another of her mundane comments. Jenna let the door swing shut behind her. Obviously David was the decision maker, and if he wanted to see the holding stalls, they could be included in the tour.
“The stalls are over here,” Jenna gestured, “just on the other side of the oxygen chamber.”
“Nice big stalls,” David said, stopping beside her and nodding approvingly. “Perfect for a stud.”
“There are no windows though,” Jenna said, “and we use them only as holding stalls.” Or for little ponies making a midnight trek.
“But Nifty gets upset and kicks the walls if other horses are too close.” David crossed his arms, his voice hardening. “For safety purposes, I’d like him stabled here. Would that be a problem?”
“Certainly not,” Jenna said quickly. “We’ll put in a mineral lick and have it ready for him. When will he ship in?”
“As soon as possible.” David gave a satisfied nod. “I’m very impressed with the facility and what you offer. I’d like some more material with complete specs though. But first, let’s find the other two and we can make arrangements to meet for dinner.”
Jenna’s shoulders relaxed. David had been hard to read, very controlled, sometimes abrupt, and at one point she’d even thought his interest was feigned. “We also have a one-mile dirt track and a seven-eighth artificial surface,” she said, “so horses can be kept in training. It’s an option that mainly appeals to our long-term clients.”
“Yes, Derek mentioned that on the phone. Nifty is used to controlled exercise so a few laps every morning would do him good. He can be ridden out or ponied.”
“Okay.” Jenna gestured at the door. “We can go out the back door and check the oval. Meet with some of the riders and Wally Turner, our in-house expert. He’ll establish an exercise schedule in conjunction with our treatment.”
She paused, not certain where Wally was. Hadn’t seen him since his enthusiastic display of the landscape additions earlier in the day.
David glanced at his watch. “The track isn’t important. I’d prefer to go back to the hotel and meet you later for dinner.”
Jenna let the inner door swing shut, hiding her surprise. Owners and trainers were usually anal about footing. In her experience, they always wanted to inspect the track and give detailed instructions to the rider.
Burke and Lorna stepped out of the oxygen room. Burke nodded at something Lorna said, but his mouth was taut with tension. From the moment the Ridgemans had arrived, it had been clear David was in charge. However, Lorna had latched onto Burke with single-minded zeal, and it had been up to Jenna to close the deal. For a man who needed to be in control, it must have been frustrating to be relegated to the clinging sister.
Jenna shot Burke a reassuring smile, and his mouth immediately relaxed.
“Would you like to meet some of our exercise riders, David?” Burke asked, easing away from Lorna. “Two of them graduated from the California Jockey School.”
David shrugged. “Not necessary. Jenna has answered all my questions beautifully. As long as our horse can have this stall right here—which she assures will be no problem—we’ll ship our stud this week.”
“Very good,” Burke said, his face impassive. “There are some forms we can review in my office.”
“Which we can do just as easily over dinner,” David said, clearly eager to leave. “We hope you and Jenna will join us later. Perhaps you can suggest a suitable restaurant?”
“We can go to the Hunt Club,” Burke said. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“Perfect,” David said. “Let’s go, Lorna.”
The door closed behind them and Burke turned to Jenna, his face creased in a grateful smile. “Great job, Jenna. We did it. Thank you.”
She shrugg
ed. “I didn’t really do anything. He wasn’t interested in many of the applications, only the oxygen chamber. Rather strange.”
“Doesn’t matter. We got the business. Thanks for stepping up.” His smile deepened. “Let’s celebrate. Ask Frances to order in a bunch of doughnuts or cake for the staff. Whatever you think. This is the first time the Center has been entrusted with a Derby winner. I’ll grab your tea.”
She nodded, flushed from his compliments. Sometimes he was so thoughtful. Everyone would be delighted to enjoy a rare treat, and her boss was even serving the tea. A simple gesture but it meant a lot. And he’d intended it to mean a lot.
She floated to the reception desk and shared the news.
“Mr. Burke wants to celebrate? Awesome!” Frances pumped her fist. “I think cinnamon buns would be best. Those big ones with extra icing. And maybe a fruit plate for the riders. But first I need to thank you, Jenna.”
Gratitude colored Frances’s face. “Mr. Burke is giving me a ten-percent raise. Said you praised my typing skills. And all raises are retroactive to April. He’s a great manager. I mean Wally was good but Mr. Burke is better.”
Jenna shuffled her feet, slightly uneasy. Burke had tightened his grip on employee loyalty and was clearly a master tactician. He’d even swayed the kids in the three-legged race, and children were always a tough sell.
“Kathryn Winfield sure didn’t look very happy.” Frances snickered, oblivious to Jenna’s discomfort. “She decided she’d rather work somewhere else, thank God. Mr. Burke walked her out the door himself.”
“That’s strange. I thought she was going to try the job for a while.” Jenna leaned over the counter, frowning. In the office, Kathryn had signed all the papers as though she intended to stay, at least for a while. Burke must have come down on her later, even harder.
At least he was focusing that unrelenting will on other people and not on her. She shivered, abruptly eager for a fortifying cup of tea. “I’ll see you later, Frances.” She turned and walked down the hall to Burke’s office.
“Come in,” he called at her light knock. He pushed his drawer shut and rounded the desk, pulling out a chair at the conference table. Carefully slid over her cup of tea and sat down in the chair beside her.
“Careful,” he said. “It’s hot. I think we need to turn the temperature down on that machine.” His gaze narrowed on her bandage. “Did you make a doctor’s appointment?”
“This afternoon. If you can’t drive me, I’ll ask Wally.”
“No, I’ll drive you,” he said quickly, his gaze flickering over her arm. “Thanks for coming in today and showing David around. Sorry you had to do the bulk of the work but he was obviously pleased.” He paused. “You heard him mention dinner?”
“Yes.” Her hand tightened around the hot cup.
“Then you’ll come?”
“I’d rather not.” The thought of sitting in the pretentious Hunt Club, making small talk with David while Burke pretended to listen to Lorna was unappealing. And Leo Winfield and his cronies would be there, and Leo was always hostile, no doubt influenced by Kathryn.
“But I need you.” Burke’s voice lowered and though he didn’t move, his shoulders seemed to shift closer. “We both agree David is more comfortable with you, right?”
She nodded.
“And the Center will benefit from his horse, correct?”
She nodded again.
“And you realize the most strategic moves are usually made outside the office?” His voice turned husky.
“Yes.” She nodded, feeling like a puppet.
“Then you realize you have to come. You have to help this horse. If they don’t sign the contract, Nifty is the loser.”
She nodded again, almost helplessly, then realized what he was doing and jerked her head up. “But I don’t belong in places like that. You saw how it was at the races. And this time Colin won’t be there to help.”
A muscle ticked in Burke’s jaw. “Sweetheart, there’s not going to be a repeat of that. I’ll have your back. Surely you know that?”
She wrapped both hands around her cup, absorbing its warmth, wishing she could be beamed up and dropped somewhere else. Maybe at college with Em. She shouldn’t care about snubs from people like Leo and Kathryn. Had worked hard to develop a thick skin, but it still hurt. Maybe if she had a degree, she wouldn’t have such a fragile sense of self-worth.
Burke must have sensed her weakening. “Pass me your phone.”
She slowly pushed it over, watching as he programmed in a number.
“If you want to leave the club,” he said, concentrating on the phone, “you walk in the bathroom and call me. Anytime. I promise we’ll leave immediately.”
“Even if you have to push Lorna off your lap?” she asked. “And risk losing the Ridgeman horse?”
“Even if,” he said.
***
Jenna paused outside the waiting room and carefully inspected her bare arm. It was ugly and mottled and blistered, but the doctor had recommended no more bandaging. Let the air touch it. She opened and closed her fist. The skin stretched but there was no searing pain. Burke had been right. Playing cards and using the phone had been great exercise.
The doctor’s visit had been reassuring—protect from the sun, apply lots of cream and there’d be no need for skin grafts. However, she would have preferred to keep her wrist wrapped. Looking at the pink skin made her slightly nauseated. She left the doctor’s office and stepped onto the sidewalk.
Burke’s car was still parked by the curb, powerful, sleek and patient. At her approach, he unfolded from the driver’s seat, his gaze flickering over her wrist. She pressed it against her side, trying to hide the ugly skin, and slid into the passenger seat.
He lowered himself back behind the wheel. “Do you need to go anywhere else? Drugstore maybe?”
“No, everything’s good. No more bandaging. And the doctor doesn’t think there’ll be any scarring.”
Burke’s hands relaxed over the wheel. He didn’t seem at all repulsed by her flawed skin. “Did he suggest anything else? Physio maybe?”
“No.” Her gaze drifted over the leather steering wheel, the sleek dashboard. God, she loved this car. “But he did say driving would help,” she added solemnly. “Not a standard, of course, but an automatic. An automatic just like this.”
Burke’s lip twitched. “I suppose the car should be black?”
“Black cars are the most therapeutic of all.”
Two hours later, she was still driving. Burke had relaxed enough to stop giving directions but not enough to pull out his phone, although perhaps he was too busy having fun. She smiled at him, no longer conscious of her ugly burn. Especially since he didn’t seem to notice.
“And that ridge is where we all went parking,” she gestured, continuing the impromptu tour, “before the summer cottages were built. One memorable night, my mom sent Wally to drag me home. I was mortified, especially since Kathryn Winfield was in the next car.”
“You’ve known Wally a long time?”
“Oh sure, he’s like an uncle. He helped a lot, especially when Mom was sick. Do you want to open the sunroof and go on the highway for one last spin?” Burke looked distracted, so she reached over and touched his arm. “Or maybe you need to go back to the office?”
He turned to her then, giving his rare, deep smile. “I choose sunroof and highway. I certainly don’t want to go back yet. But put on the four-way flashers and stay under forty.”
She laughed with delight and gunned it.
Chapter Nineteen
Jenna twisted, studying her reflection in the mirror. The black skirt was nice, but the blouse was much too dowdy. It was, however, the only one with long sleeves. She didn’t want to shock David and Lorna with the sight of her damaged skin. Be nice if she had something a little sexier though, something cut low in the front, maybe even lower in the back.
The type of clothes Em wore.
She hurried into her sister’s room and sca
nned the closet, crammed full of clothes even though Em had taken six bulging suitcases to college. So many clothes, some still with price tags. Oh, gosh. Jenna’s hand lingered over a hanger. This top was the perfect little number, if only it fit. Emily was a little bigger in the hips, smaller in the boobs, but maybe…
She tugged it on and stared in delight. Not bad, not bad at all. If she kept the palm of her hand down, no one would even notice the burn. She lingered for a moment, studying her reflection, then added a simple silver necklace and matching earrings. Checked the clock. Burke would be here soon. He wouldn’t make the Ridgemans wait. She swapped her leather purse for a sleek clutch and tossed in her phone.
A black car crunched into the driveway, familiar and confident, as though it knew the way. Not surprising since she’d been spending most of her days with Burke. She brushed aside a needle of worry. He’d be going soon and she was merely having some fun. It wouldn’t bother her in the least when he left.
She slipped on her heels and walked out to join him. “Remember your promise.” She dipped her hand in her purse and waved the phone.
He remained by the car, silent, wearing his designer suit as if it was made for him, which of course, it probably was. And he was looking at her oddly. Suddenly her cute little clothes felt gauche. Maybe she wasn’t dressed appropriately after all.
“You look beautiful,” he finally said. He swung open the passenger door with a flourish. “May I catch a pony, shingle a roof, slay a dragon? Anything, my lady.”
His compliment sounded genuine and did so much toward restoring her confidence, she impulsively rose on her toes and kissed him. He’d turned still so she lingered, sliding her lips over his mouth, absorbing his lips, the angle of his jaw, the spicy smell of his aftershave. Slid her mouth over his top lip then the bottom, exploring, enjoying, thanking.
Stepped back with a grateful smile.
He’d flattened his palms against the car, eyes half shut then slowly widened them. “You make me dizzy, Jen.” His voice was gruff. “Please kiss me like that at the end of the night.”
Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash Page 17
