by Ros Clarke
'How are your shoes holding up?'
She laughed. 'Perfectly.' She hadn't exactly taken Luke's advice to wear sensible shoes but she hadn't brought her stilettos either. Wedge-heeled sandals with leaf green ribbons that criss-crossed up her ankles and calves were perfectly summery and sexy, without sinking into the grass at every step. 'I made sure to put some spare knickers in my handbag this time, too. Want to see?'
Luke took a deep breath. 'Later.'
'Okay,' Fliss said sunnily. 'I think the race is about to start, anyway. I wouldn't want you to get distracted.'
'No.' He was already distracted by the very thought of her knickers. Fliss’s underwear was all exquisitely designed to distract. Delicious scraps of tactile silk and lace in vivid rainbow colours: turquoise blue, fuchsia pink, or tangerine orange. Maybe scarlet. If he was very lucky it would be scarlet. He sucked in his breath again and lifted his binoculars. Time to focus on his job.
The field were close together as they galloped down the track for a short six-furlong sprint. Less than a minute to win it. Half way through, a small group of horses began to edge ahead. The grey of Clanwilliam was easy to pick out among them. Fliss was cheering and yelling too. Fiendish Cat had found some unexpected form and was hanging on to the leading pack.
Clanwilliam was in the lead. Just one furlong to go. A hundred yards. Fifty. In the last ten strides, a black horse streaked past him on the outside.
On the nod. They called the photo-finish, but Luke had seen enough close-run races to know he'd lost. At least Fliss’s horse had done all right for her, though she didn’t realise it yet.
'Third,' she pronounced in disgust. Fliss pulled the ticket out of her pocket and was about to rip it up.
'No!' Luke put out a hand to stop her. 'Fiendish Cat came third.'
'So?' She shrugged. 'She didn't win.'
'She never had a chance of winning. I put your money on each way.'
'Each way?' she repeated blankly.
'You win some money even if the horse comes in second or third. At a hundred to one, you'll get paid out, um, ten pounds at a quarter of the odds. Two hundred and fifty quid. Plus the stake back.' He smiled at her, waiting for the delight to reach her eyes as she realised what she’d won.
It never came. 'You put my money on each way? Without asking me?'
'Yes, but...'
'No!' Golden eyes flashed at Luke in unmistakeable anger. 'How dare you? What makes you think you have the right to make that kind of decision for me?'
'I just thought it would be a better chance. And it paid off. You're two hundred and fifty pounds better off.' Luke smiled at her, pleased that she had some decent winnings.
'No, I'm not.' Fliss shook her head decisively, daring him to disagree. 'You put the money on. You take the ticket.'
'Don't be ridiculous. It was your stake.'
'Fine. You can give me the twenty quid back.'
He grasped her shoulders. 'Fliss, look. I don't need the money.'
She blazed with anger at that. 'And I do? I'm not a charity case. I pay my own way, Luke.'
'I haven't got time to discuss this now. I have to go and saddle up for the next race. Give me that.' Luke twitched the ticket out of Fliss's hand, turned on his heel and left.
She glared at his departing back until the crowds hid him from sight. How dare he behave like that? Making decisions for her as if she was a child who couldn't be trusted? And then patronisingly telling her that she needed the money more than he did. Unbelievable!
It wasn't as though she couldn't use the cash. But surely everyone could afford to spend twenty quid at the races, and anyone would be glad to go home with two hundred and fifty in their pocket? Clearly Luke's business was doing pretty well, but she'd seen his shabby home with its ancient carpets and curtains. He wasn't exactly loaded either. Why was he being so stubborn?
Fliss ground her teeth and tried to resist the temptation to blow all the cash in her purse on an outsider in the next race just to prove a point to Luke.
'Excuse me.'
The sultry voice of the most overtly glamorous woman Fliss had ever met interrupted her thoughts.
'You're here with Luke Caldecott, aren't you?'
She was poured into a tightly clinging red dress which showed off a spectacular cleavage and long legs that Fliss could only dream off. Dark hair was twisted up into an elegant style, with one curl trailing deliberately down her shoulder.
'Yes,' Fliss replied.
'Lucky girl.' The woman's dark eyes ran up and down Fliss's body assessingly. 'Very lucky girl to land a catch like that.'
'A catch?' Fliss shook her head. 'I've no idea what you're talking about. Or who you are.'
The woman laughed. It was nothing like Fliss's own giggle, nor Luke's rich chuckle. There was no amusement lurking in this laugh, only disdain.
'Luke knows who I am.'
'Well, Luke’s not here and I don’t.' Fliss started to walk away, thoroughly disturbed by the whole encounter.
'Don't forget to give him my love,' she heard, quite distinctly. 'And if ever you get tired of his millions, feel free to send him back in my direction.'
Fliss froze for an instant, her hands curling into fists as she fought the impulse to give the bitch as good as she gave. No, it was no good. She swivelled back, insults burning to come out. But the woman had gone and the words died on Fliss's lips. Damn.
Luke found her an hour later in the Owners and Trainers Bar.
'I've been looking for you,' he said with a hint of reproach in his voice. 'I hoped you'd come down to the paddock before the race.'
Fliss shrugged.
'I'm sorry,' he offered. 'I should have checked with you before I put the bet on. It was your money and you're entitled to waste it any way you want.'
She relaxed a little at his apology. 'Yes.'
He reached into his pocket and laid a roll of notes on the table. 'So, what should we do with this?'
Fliss cocked her head. 'Truth or dare?'
Luke's eyebrows rose. 'I beg your pardon?'
She giggled. It was so easy to tease him. 'Truth or dare. We take it in turns to ask a question. You can either answer - truthfully - or accept a dare. In this case, the dare is fixed. You have to take the money.'
He shook his head in disbelief. 'You're crazy.'
'I know.' She winked at him. 'Are you in?'
Luke spread his hands and sighed. 'I suppose so.'
'Good. Me first. How much do you fancy me?'
Luke grimaced. Then he eyed the money. He had to tell her the truth. There was no way he was taking her money. 'A lot.'
Fliss leaned over and kissed him briefly. 'Me too. Your turn.'
'What colour are your spare knickers?'
She laughed and picked up her handbag. He watched in agony as she hunted through the pile of junk she kept in their. 'Here!' she finally announced. 'Green.' Lime green. With navy blue lace. Luke's mouth went dry.
It was Fliss’s turn for a question and this time she went straight for the jugular. 'How did you get the scars on your back?'
‘Fell off a horse.’
She waited.
He sighed. ‘I wanted to be a jockey when I was a teenager.’
‘A jockey? But you’re too tall.’
‘Not for a jump jockey. Anyway, in my third race I fell off, got trampled by the field and decided to retire ignominiously before I got killed.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He ignored her sympathy and took his chance. 'How much is in your bank account right now?'
'None of your business,' she told him automatically.
'Truth or dare.’ He pushed the pile of notes a couple of inches towards her.
Fliss bit her lip, looked up at him pleadingly, then squared her shoulders. 'Fine. Fifty three pounds and sixty-five pence this morning. Overdrawn.'
Luke opened his mouth.
'And don't you dare offer me any money.'
'A loan?' he suggested, without any real hope she'
d take it. 'An advance on your salary?'
‘Thanks, but no thanks.'
'Fliss, you can't live on nothing. Take the money. You won it.'
She shook her head mutinously.
'Stubborn, aren't you? It's not a virtue.'
'You’d know about that. How much is in your bank account right now?' Two could play at this game.
'About twenty thousand pounds, I think,’ he answered easily, though he was obviously surprised to be asked.
Fliss shook her head. 'I don't believe you.'
'It's true. You filed the bank statements, remember? You can check when we get home.'
'No, I want to know where the rest of your millions are kept.' She had tried not to let it bother her. She knew she wasn’t after Luke for his money, but still she couldn’t quite bear that other people thought she might be.
'I have a portfolio of stocks and shares, a couple of companies that I invest in and several properties. I don't keep that much cash in hand. Only what I need for the day to day running of the stables. Why are you interested?'
'Just wondering why you hadn't told me.'
'I didn't think it was relevant. This was supposed to be fun. Temporary. Casual. Right?'
'Right.’ Of course he was right. There was no reason for Luke to tell her stuff like this.
‘How did you find out, anyway?’
‘Someone told me. A woman. She said you’d know who she was.’
He frowned. ‘I know quite a lot of women.’
‘I bet you do.’
‘Not like that.’
Fliss shrugged. ‘She obviously thought I was with you because of your millions.’
‘And are you?’
‘I didn’t know about them, remember?’ That was what stung, Fliss suddenly realised. Not the idea that a complete stranger assumed she was a money-grubbing tart. The problem was that it felt as though Luke hadn’t been honest with her. As though he hadn’t trusted her.
‘Fine. So why does it matter?’
‘You didn’t tell me.’
Luke looked away. Fliss instinctively reached out to grab his hand
'Sorry, forget I said that,’ she said urgently. ‘I don't know what came over me. You don't have to tell me anything.' Casual. Temporary. No strings attached to either of them.
'I'm not taking your money,' he warned her in a low voice.
'I've got a better idea. Let's choose another horse to put it on. If we win, we'll split it.' Fliss looked at him encouragingly, relieved when she saw the answering spark in his eyes.
'Fine. But I'll choose the horse,’ he insisted.
'No. We'll choose the horse together. Come on, let's go and have a look.'
Luke was absolutely determined that they should pick a decent horse. He wanted Fliss to have the money. The last race of the afternoon was a handicap for older horses. Only seven were entered and he had already written off four of them.
'These are the ones you can pick from,' he told Fliss, pointing to the names he'd marked in his race card. 'The grey on the far side of the paddock. The chestnut coming towards us now and the bay behind him.'
She raised an eyebrow at him. 'But I like this one.' She nodded to the horse just in front of them. 'White Hart. Look at the pretty purple ribbon plaited into his mane to match his jockey.'
Luke rolled his eyes. 'Not a chance. Look, he's come nowhere in his last three races.'
'And before that?'
'Pulled up.'
'Oh.'
'We're putting two hundred and fifty pounds on this race, remember. Let's try not to waste it completely.'
'Fine. What do you think of this one, then?' Fliss was looking at the bay, Dancing Queen.
'She's got a decent chance. She was second last time out on heavier ground than this and the weight's in her favour.'
Fliss smiled at him. 'That's what your head says. What about your heart?'
'I've tol d you before. This is my job. Emotion doesn't come into it.'
She sighed. 'Cold heart, warm hands.'
'I think we're done here. Let's go and find a decent price.'
'Fine, but this time I'm coming with you to make sure there's no funny business.'
He leaned down to kiss her briefly. 'I'm sorry about before. I thought you'd be pleased to have won something.'
'Forgiven. But don't do it again.'
'Lesson learned. In fact...' He pulled the roll of notes out of his pocket. 'You make the bet, this time.'
They wandered up and down the rows of bookmakers. Fliss was fascinated by the complex system of gestures that they used to keep track of all the fluctuating odds. Luke pointed out the men standing on boxes over by the rail, watching their competitors boards and communicating back to their own boss with a kind of semaphore called tic-tac.
Fliss made the bet, careful to specify that it was win only, and tucked the ticket into her bag.
'Let's go down to the finish post and watch it there,' Luke suggested.
'What, you mean cross the track?' Fliss teased. ‘Is that allowed?’
'I'll carry you over my shoulder, if you like.'
They ducked under the rails and ran across the grass hand in hand. Then they squeezed into the small crowd which had gathered by the post. They couldn't really see the starting stalls and Fliss could tell it would be impossible to know how the race was going when they were watching virtually head on. It would be even more difficult if Luke kept his tongue swirling around her ear and ducking down to kiss her throat.
'Are you trying to distract me?' she breathed.
'Mmmhmm. Is it working?'
Fliss gasped. 'I... Yes, I'd... say so. Do that again.'
He obliged, letting his hand rest on the rails in front of her and pressing his body firmly against her. 'Tonight,' he murmured, 'I'm going to distract you so much you won't even remember your own name.'
'Oh...' Fliss squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her legs together. 'Luke...'
He pulled away suddenly, leaving her whimpering. 'The race has started, sweetheart. Look.'
The horses were galloping towards them, still tiny, over a mile away. Fliss took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the announcer's voice telling them what was happening.
'And it's Dancing Queen, Dancing Queen as they come towards the two-furlong marker...'
Fliss was screaming. Behind her Luke was yelling and cheering.
'Dancing Queen who's made the running all the way, being challenged now by Fling A Ling...'
She redoubled her efforts as if somehow her screams could carry her horse over the line.
'And at the line, it's Dancing Queen, from Fling A Ling...'
Fliss threw herself into Luke's waiting arms. 'We did it! We did it!'
He kissed her then, wild and exuberant and hard and passionate. 'We did indeed.'
They shared the winnings equally.
'But I'm taking you out to dinner tonight and there is no way I'm letting you pay half,' he warned solemnly. 'Not because I happen to have more money in my bank account than you, but because I'm a gentleman and I always pay for the lady. Got it?'
'Got it. Reactionary chauvinist.'
Luke gave her a look but didn't rise to the bait, and secretly Fliss was rather glad. It made a change to go out with a man who liked to look after her.
Dinner was fabulous. Luke took her to a tiny restaurant where there were no menus. They simply sat at one of the few tables in the small front room and ate whatever the waiter brought out to them. He ordered a bottle of rich, deep claret, though he refused to drink more than a glass since he had to drive them home. Fliss savoured every drop of the exquisite wine with the decadent food.
By the time dessert was cleared away and the last, delicious, savoury had been served, she was all but asleep.
'Sorry,' she muttered, as Luke led her to the car. 'Early start this morning.'
He chuckled and helped her into the passenger seat. 'Sleep, if you like. It'll be nearly an hour before we're home.'
&nbs
p; Home. Fliss smiled at the thought and drifted off.
She woke in Luke's arms as he carried her up to his bedroom. 'Feeling better, sleepyhead?'
'Mmmm.'
'Glass of water? Coffee? Or straight back to sleep?'
Sleep was incredibly tempting. But... 'Are you chicken?'
Luke raised an eyebrow questioningly.
‘I thought you promised to make me forget my own name tonight.’
‘Ah, that.’
Fliss smiled lazily up at him. ‘Unless you’re worried you’re not up to it?’
‘Oh, I’m up to it.’ His eyes darkened purposefully and Fliss held her breath, wondering where his onslaught would begin.
Chapter Six
'Can you call the vet for me? Now.'
Fliss already had her hand on the phone. 'What's happened?'
Luke ran a hand over his face. 'Chrysanthemum has stopped eating.'
She nodded, already putting the call through while she carried on listening. 'I'll get him here as soon as possible. You go back to the stables.'
Luke turned on his heel, gone almost before Fliss had finished speaking. She spoke to the receptionist at the vet, doing her best to convey the urgency of the situation. This wasn't just any horse. This was the horse. The Derby horse. Fliss wasn't knowledgeable enough yet to be able to guess at the potential problems but Luke's face had been enough evidence for her to know that this was serious.
The receptionist put her through to Charlie Hawes, the same vet who had so kindly seen to Marshmallow.
'I'll be there in under an hour,' he told her. 'Tell Luke not to panic. If the horse hasn't drunk anything, a wet sponge around his mouth will help.'
'Okay, I'll tell him. Thanks.'
Fliss grabbed her jacket and ran down to the yard. Mike, the head lad, and two other stable lads were walking Chrysanthemum slowly around the yard while Luke watched through narrowed eyes.
'He's coming,' she said. 'He said that you could put a wet sponge round Chrysanthemum’s mouth if he hasn't drunk anything.'
Luke nodded without turning his head to look at her. 'How soon can he get here?'
'An hour.'
His lips tightened. 'Fine. Bring him over to the stable, Mike. It doesn't look like colic to
