by T. J. Kline
“Condoms?”
He needed her now.
“Bathroom, under the sink.”
When he returned, she rose on her elbows, watching him with appreciation as he walked back to the bed.
“You’re like a work of art.” The words slipped out, unbidden, and she bit her lip.
Travis ran a thumb over her mouth, growling as he tried to hold himself back. “Fallon, you have no idea how sexy you are, do you? Or what you do to a man when you talk that way.”
He tore open the wrapper and slid the latex over his length before hovering over her, positioning himself between her thighs.
“Who, me?” She sounded surprised.
She was Fallon Radcliffe, beautiful debutante, wealthy socialite, and intelligent businesswoman, yet she didn’t seem to realize her own attributes.
Travis trailed a finger between her breasts and over her flat stomach, taking in every gorgeous inch of her. “Yes, you. You’re enough to make a man forget himself.” His gaze met hers. “You’re sure?”
Wordlessly, she reached for his hips, pressing the head of him against her core—he groaned in agonized pleasure. It broke him. He buried himself in her, nearly coming unglued in the first stroke. She was heaven. Her body cradled his, taking her own pleasure as her hips rocked to meet his thrusts, her nails digging into his back. The doubts he’d harbored about the two of them faded. They fit together perfectly.
Every touch sent him spiraling higher. He wanted to draw out the exquisite torment but when Fallon gripped his hips, her body arching into his, and he felt her tremble as she found her own release, her body milked every ounce of pleasure from him. Relief gripped him as he plunged into her one last time, following her to ecstasy as she clung to him.
Travis dropped his forehead against her neck, holding his weight off her with his elbows. He was unsure if he would ever be the same. She’d done something no woman had ever done. She’d managed to make him forget who he was and where he’d come from. She’d made him want more and had convinced him, for a moment, that he could achieve it. And that made Fallon dangerous.
Because come tomorrow morning, he and Fallon would be back in their rightful places. She’d be completely out of his reach.
Chapter 16
Fallon woke the next morning, pleasantly sore, to the scent of freshly brewed coffee. She stretched as the sultry memories of last night swirled through her mind, making parts of her tingle with anticipation as she wondered what today might bring.
In spite of the fact that she and Travis made love, and that he’d curled his body behind her, allowing her to fall asleep tucked in his embrace, he hadn’t completely opened up to her. She’d sensed he was retreating from the moment he came out of the bathroom after cleaning himself up. He’d been gentle, tender, and attentive, but there was a sadness in his eyes as he pressed a lingering kiss to her lips before she’d curled against his chest.
Sliding from the bed, she tugged on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Fallon smiled, knowing the sight of her grungy, comfortable clothing would have given her grandmother a heart attack if she saw it, because for the first time in a very long time, Fallon didn’t care what anyone else thought.
She piled her hair into a messy bun atop her head and brushed her teeth quickly before padding into the kitchen, looking forward to spending the day working with Travis. This was a man who not only understood what she needed in the bedroom, but believed in her dreams and her ability to accomplish them. He believed in Dreamer.
Unfortunately, Travis was nowhere to be seen.
His coffee mug, the only sign he’d been in the house at all, was in the sink. Even the dishes from the meal they’d left behind last night had been cleaned up. It was almost as if last night had never happened.
Fallon stared out the window as she poured herself a cup of coffee and added milk and sugar, expecting to see Travis with Dreamer in the round pen. The early morning fog made it difficult to see, but the pen appeared empty.
She grabbed her cup and headed for the barn, catching a glimpse of Travis in the pasture behind it. Deciding to play it cool, she leaned over the railing. “Morning. How’s he doing?”
“Good.” Travis barely glanced her way, keeping his focus on the colt as he cued him over a jump right before Dreamer trotted over several poles on the ground.
“Cavaletti training?” It was a training used most often for jumpers and eventing horses. She’d never heard of it being used for a racehorse.
“Something new for him to think about.” His tone was clipped.
He obviously wasn’t going to make this easy on her. She sipped the brew as Dreamer leapt over the small jump again. “You okay?”
“Fine.” He kept his head down.
“Because you seem like you’re not.”
“I’m fine,” he assured her, his gaze flicking toward her briefly before returning to watch Dreamer take another set of poles. “Just concentrating.”
She could see the tension in his shoulders. Something was wrong but he was stonewalling her and she didn’t know why. “Dreamer’s okay?”
“Yeah, he’s actually doing great. I’ve changed up his feed from what Casper was giving him and he’s mellowed a lot.”
“Enough to—” A car coming up the driveway tore her attention from the pair in the arena. “Oh, no.”
Fallon cursed her luck as the limo drove past her and slowed in the circular drive. Her heart began its slow descent into the pit of her stomach and she closed her eyes, praying it was her brother returning home unexpectedly. Any hope she had crumbled as the driver held the car door open for her grandmother.
Even from this distance, she could see the sour look on her grandmother’s face. The green hills, fed by the recent rains, shimmered in the crisp Sonoma morning dew like a fairyland, but it didn’t impress Wilhelmina Radcliffe in the slightest. She wrinkled her nose as she moved aside, allowing Fallon’s parents to exit the car behind her.
This was the last thing she wanted to deal with today, especially when she was already trying to navigate an unpredictable horse and an emotionally detached man.
Chapter 17
“Oh, good heavens, child!” her grandmother exclaimed. “What in the world are you wearing? And what happened to your hair?” She reached forward, plucking at the pile of wayward curls atop Fallon’s head with her gloved fingers.
Ignoring her grandmother’s criticism, Fallon leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her grandmother’s cheek before repeating the same with her parents. “What are you guys doing here? Why didn’t you call?”
“Your father and I are on our way to Rachel Prescott’s wedding in Napa. You remember her, don’t you?” Her mother rolled her eyes. “The chubby girl with that messy long hair.”
Fallon remembered Rachel. A sweet, kind girl whose father was some sort of politician. Rachel had carried a little baby fat into high school and had been tormented about it, until she’d ended up in the hospital for anorexia.
“Will you be staying for lunch?” she prompted.
“I should hope more than that! They’re heading to Napa and I thought I’d come visit with you for a few days until they return,” her grandmother filled in. “Won’t that be lovely?”
Lovely wasn’t the word Fallon would have used. Misery and torture were the first words that flitted through her mind. She loved her grandmother, respected her, but the woman was the definition of trying. Not that Fallon would admit that aloud. A much safer response was simply to smile and nod.
“I’ll set you up in a room, then.”
Her grandmother took a step past Fallon. “Just a moment. That’s that security guard from the race who shoved you. What’s he doing here?”
“He’s a trainer. Why don’t we go inside and I’ll explain.”
Her grandmother turned back to her and shook her head. Fallon didn’t miss the disapproval in her ice-blue eyes, nor in her pursed lips. As her grandmother allowed Fallon to guide them toward the front door, Fallon couldn
’t resist one last look at the man working with Dreamer.
She needed to talk to him so they could at least lay their cards on the table, but that conversation was going to have to wait until her family left. And right now, she had no idea how long they would stay.
Her grandmother scrunched up her face as she sipped the coffee Fallon had prepared. It might not be as tasty as their chef’s at the mansion in San Francisco, but it wasn’t that bad.
“So, are you going to race that beast in the El Camino Real Derby or not? I can’t keep my schedule open indefinitely, you know.”
Fallon gave her a slight shrug.
Her grandmother frowned. “That’s not an answer,” she scolded.
Her grandmother’s harsh words haunted her from her childhood. A lady always uses her words. Don’t look ignorant by shrugging, Fallon.
She’d lived most of her life trying to alter her grandmother’s opinion of her. Fallon had never been smart enough, never quite pretty enough. She couldn’t dance as well as her sister and didn’t have her brother’s charm. In her grandmother’s eyes, she’d always been lacking in one way or another. She swallowed the bitter retort that fought to be released.
“Travis doesn’t think he’s quite ready yet.”
“Travis?” Her grandmother arched an eyebrow expectantly and Fallon’s stomach clenched as she realized her mistake.
“Mr. Mitchell,” she corrected. “My trainer.”
“Since when is Travis the one making the decisions?” She poked a fork at the store-bought Danish in front of her before pushing the plate away. “He is your employee, not the other way around, dear. You are the one calling the shots when it comes to your business. Never forget that.”
“I understand that, Grandmother, but he’s the professional. He knows how to prepare Dreamer for a race better than I do.”
“Hmph.” Her grandmother’s face didn’t hide her disagreement. “I was under the assumption that you were the one in charge of your future. Isn’t that what you told me?” She let out a disappointed sigh. “And I was so looking forward to watching your horse win a race in front of all of my friends. I had planned to brag about what a success you’ve become.”
Her grandmother wanted to show Fallon off to her friends? She was proud of her? That was a first. The envy Fallon had always felt for her siblings suddenly bubbled up, gnawing at her good sense. Sure, she’d originally agreed to let Travis have full rein with Dreamer, to train him how he saw fit, but that was before she knew that her grandmother wanted to take an interest in the career she’d chosen. That was before her grandmother had exhibited anything other than disdain for Fallon’s pursuits.
Travis had even said this morning that Dreamer was doing well. In fact, she’d never seen him this relaxed and limber.
“I’ll ask him if he thinks it might be possible,” Fallon offered.
Her grandmother scoffed with a slight laugh. “My dear, someday you’ll realize that we are Radcliffes. We don’t ask for permission.”
Chapter 18
Travis turned Dreamer out into the pasture, watching him kick up his hooves before running over the hill to meet up with the other two horses.
“There you are.”
“Rough morning?” Fallon sounded exhausted. Sympathy for her rose up as she ran a hand over her eyes and sighed. He’d been keeping his distance all day. He had to.
He’d spent last night making love to his boss. And she wasn’t just his boss—she was Fallon Radcliffe.
He’d crossed a line and wasn’t sure how to go back.
“You could say that. My grandmother is staying with me for the next two days.”
Her grandmother, the Wilhelmina Radcliffe? His brow lifted in surprise but he remained silent.
She turned toward him and threw her hands into the air. “Are you not much of a talker, Travis? Or is it me? Because it’s exhausting trying to figure you out.”
“I—” He shrugged slightly.
It would be better for her to think he didn’t like her than it would be to admit the ridiculous truth—that he was falling for his boss, a woman so rich and powerful, a woman so beautiful, that he didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of being anything but a quick roll in the hay to her.
She nodded, biting at the corner of her lip. His gut twisted at the insecurity he could see in her eyes, knowing he was the cause of it.
“Okay, then, I get it. Last night was fun, but we need to focus on the task at hand—getting Dreamer ready for the El Camino Real.”
“What?” He spun to face her, his hand gripping the halter he held. “He’s not ready to race yet. I told you this had to be slow. He needs time.”
“And I’m telling you that he’s racing in the El Camino Real. Make sure he’s ready.” Her voice was hard, making her a woman unlike the one he’d seen so far. She spun on her heel, squaring her shoulders and hurrying back toward the house. “I pay you for results, Travis. Make sure he places so we aren’t too far behind in points to qualify for the Derby.”
“The agreement was that I train my way, and that you wouldn’t interfere,” he reminded her.
“Well, guess what? Since you seem inclined to change your mind with whatever direction the wind blows, so can I.”
Chapter 19
February
Travis avoided Fallon for the next few weeks, and he knew it’d be even easier to avoid her in the hustle and bustle of the El Camino Real at Golden Gate Fields. He figured he could bunk in his truck until the race. Or maybe he’d stay in the barn, if there was room, but Travis doubted it. Either way, he wasn’t about to waste his limited funds for one of the expensive hotels nearby.
He loaded the horse into the trailer and slid behind the wheel when Fallon appeared at his truck window with a thick envelope. She held it out to him. “Here.”
“What’s this?”
“Cash for expenses. Food, a room, and whatever else you might need while you’re there.”
Her words were short, to the point, and tense. The same as they’d been in every other conversation they’d had since making love. If that wasn’t an indicator of how she felt about him, he didn’t know what was.
He opened the envelope and stared at the stack of hundred-dollar bills. He didn’t think he’d ever held so many at one time. There had to be at least five grand here.
“That’s a lot of expenses. Where do you think I’m staying? The Claremont?”
She shrugged as if she hadn’t handed him a crap-ton of cash. Hell, he wasn’t even comfortable carrying this much at once. “I’m sure hotels will be expensive this weekend. Consider it a bonus for making sure he does well. I know you aren’t keen on racing him yet.” As she spoke, she avoided his gaze.
Travis clenched his jaw and shoved the envelope back at her. “You think? Keep it. I might be the only person you know who can say this, but I don’t care about your money, Fallon. If I don’t think he’s ready on the morning of the race, I’ll scratch him. No amount of your blood money is going to change that.”
He twisted the key, disgusted by the thought of risking Dreamer’s health for money, and drove away without looking back.
Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. He looked back once to see her standing in the driveway watching him, her hands helplessly at her sides.
Chapter 20
Fallon slid through the doors of the Turf Club at Golden Gate Fields, brushing past several waitstaff to find her grandmother at the wall of windows overlooking the track. “Sorry I’m late. I was making sure there weren’t any problems getting Dreamer to the track.”
“And?”
“He’s good.”
Her grandmother’s gaze slid over Fallon’s designer pantsuit before nodding slightly and turning back to the group gathered around her. Biting back the bitter words on her lips, Fallon ignored her grandmother’s friends and held her breath, watching the parade of horses below.
Dreamer’s jockey was once again in her gold silks, shimmering brightly under the cold Bay b
reeze. Her bay colt pranced onto the track, his head bobbing as if he couldn’t wait to get out and show off for the crowd.
Fallon’s eyes fell on Travis, who was leading Dreamer himself. Unlike most trainers, he must have refused to turn the job over to a groom. His level of care warmed her, but it also made her worry about her decision to ignore his warning and race Dreamer today—even if the El Camino Real was one of the only races where Dreamer could pick up precious qualifying points for the Derby.
“Your grandmother says that Destiny’s Dreamer is quite the colt. She makes him sound like the next Secretariat.” Fallon turned to a portly gentleman beside her. “After listening to her, I had to bet on him.”
Several of her grandmother’s friends murmured in agreement and Fallon felt her stomach twist into a tighter knot of fear. People were betting their money on her success. This was no longer just about her gaining her grandmother’s approval.
If Dreamer loses…she reined in the thought quickly, sending up a quick prayer as she watched Travis hand Dreamer off to the gate crew. Fallon leaned forward, her face practically pressed against the window as she watched them try to load him into the starting gate. He immediately balked and she heard the titter of laughter from one of the women in their group.
“They say all the winners hate going into the gate.”
Fallon didn’t respond; she couldn’t. She was barely breathing.
“I’m sure he’s antsy to run,” another male voice chimed in, right next to her ear. Her grandmother’s associates had crowded closer.
Fallon could feel the crushing weight of her grandmother’s expectations. Dreamer had to win. He had to.
Behind the gates, Dreamer reared, but the crew managed to get him down. Seconds later, the gates burst open and the horses charged out, bunching against the rail. The animals practically merged into one body. Only the bobbing of their heads and flurry of hooves were distinguishable as the jockeys fought for the lead. A chestnut horse with blue silks pulled ahead and two horses fell behind the pack. One of them was Dreamer.
