Bruce frowned. He’d laugh, but she had the same effect on him, only he was thirty-two—and didn’t blush.
Greg handed Misty’s lead line to Bruce. “Need anything else?”
“No, thanks.”
“Hey, Greg. What do you do for breakfast in the morning?” Sarah asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Debbie said you eat here sometimes. You ever come for breakfast?”
Greg shrugged. “No.”
Sarah gave a curt nod. “You show up at six, and I’ll dish up a mean meal.”
“Sounds awesome.” A big smile formed on Greg’s face.
“Shouldn’t you wait to see if you get this job before you invite him?” Bruce raised an eyebrow at Sarah.
The corners of Greg’s mouth fell. “She will. Least I hope so. I’ll check before I come. If there’s anything I can say to—”
“Don’t worry, Greg. I intend to be here.” Determination rang in Sarah’s voice.
Bruce kept his gaze on her. She was full of surprises. Plenty of confidence, and she might even get the kid to work on time. But just because she could make pancakes didn’t mean she’d cut it as a farmhand.
“I’ll see you later.” Greg patted Misty and then headed toward the barn entrance.
The horse nuzzled Bruce and gave a little nicker. He might as well get things over with. One way or another, Debbie needed a report by the end of the day.
“This is Misty.” He ran a hand along the white streak on her nose.
Sarah reached out to pet her. Inches from Bruce, the sweet strawberry scent of her hair floated up. Made it hard to concentrate. He took a step back. “You want to brush her?”
“Sure.”
He showed her how to groom the horse and look her over for any possible problems.
“Am I doing this right?” Sarah asked over her shoulder as she brushed.
“Yes.” His gaze followed her body, stretching and flexing with every move. Blood blazed a hot path to below his belt.
“There.” She stepped back, whirled about, and almost knocked into him.
They stood inches apart, her pink lips slightly parted as she looked up at him with a glow of pride on her face. Her soft breath puffed against his neck and floated up to his mouth. He could all but taste her. Wanted to.
She swallowed, and his gaze fell to the elegant line of her throat. No doubt, her skin, so white and pure, would feel like velvet under his lips.
Misty neighed and pawed a hoof into the ground.
He shook his head to clear it. Sarah made him lose his mind. In a harsh voice, he said, “The horse is getting restless.”
Sarah held her hands up. “Just tell me what to do, then.”
Damn, she brought out the worst in him. Her eagerness to learn and take on any task spoke of her work ethic. And she didn’t mind getting dirty or wearing muddy boots. Still, no one should smell as good as she did in a barn, and those soft hands of hers would soon callus from hauling hay and turn rough from scrubbing buckets. That bothered him, which gave him pause. A hardness settled in his stomach.
Business. Keep it to business.
He showed Sarah how to put the saddle on and feed the bit into the mare’s mouth before buckling the bridle. “I told Debbie I’d give you a ride. Grab a helmet from the tack room.”
“Are you sure you—”
“Yes.” God forbid she missed a chance to argue with him about anything.
“Never mind.” She hastened down the aisle, and he led Misty to the arena and tied her to a fence post.
Sarah sauntered out of the stables carrying a helmet. She stopped in front of Bruce. “I think this is the right size. There were a couple to pick from.”
“Sorry. I should have checked them out. This looks okay.”
A car roared into the lot.
Sarah jumped and spun around.
Chapter 4
Where had his beautiful ballerina gone? He clutched the autographed picture of Sarah he kept on the kitchen table so they could have meals together. By now, he should have heard something from his source. He paid him good money to keep tabs on her. No news in a week since she’d left. Inexcusable.
He checked his watch and stood. Eighty-five seconds until eight o’clock. If he followed his rituals and kept to the routines, everything would be okay. The teakettle whistled on the hour, and he went to the counter to pour a cup. After he dipped his tea bag in the hot water exactly five times, he set the mug aside to steep and popped two slices of whole wheat bread into the toaster oven. He’d never own a toaster. Crumbs collected in the bottom of them. This had a tray he could pull out and scrub clean after each use.
When the timer bell rang, he placed the toast on a plate large enough for both pieces to fit without hanging over the edge and peeled back the foil of an individual butter serving. Every Sunday, when he ate at the diner, he snuck them into a plastic bag in his pocket. Six each time, to last the week. Toast buttered, tea steeped, he sat in the one chair at the round kitchen table. He took small bites, wiping his mouth after each one with the folded napkin.
The muscles in his neck tensed. Nothing would be right until he found her, and he’d never stop until he did. She belonged with him.
Over a year ago, he’d gone to the ballet and discovered her. His soul mate. One night, after her performance, he’d given her a bouquet he’d arranged with perfect symmetry. The big smile on her face told him she recognized the difference in his flowers. A few weeks later, he waited in line for her to autograph a picture, and she brushed his hand as she gave the photo back, a sign she loved him.
She shouldn’t have left town. He’d warned her to stop listening to the police and her family. They’d probably told her not to take his calls and to fight him if he ever showed up. He fisted his hands and winced. A week since she’d stabbed him with a glass shard, and he still suffered.
When she came back, he’d have to punish her for hurting him and leaving. She’d pushed him to the point of losing control. The way he’d left her apartment in total chaos and disorder still haunted him. A film of cold sweat formed on his arms, drawing goose bumps.
His Sarah would never want to harm him. After he got her away from the people who influenced her, she’d be able to show him her love. Their life together would be magical. He’d work on the computer during the day, and she’d dance for him at night. Oh, how they would look forward to the weekends when they had tea and muffins together and talked about his job.
Unlike the kids who had bullied him growing up, Sarah appreciated his intelligence. That’s why she’d let the police set up the cameras. With his technical expertise, she knew he’d find a way around them. Stupid cops. He took a sip of tea and placed the mug back in the precise center of the coaster.
Even his own parents hadn’t understood him. When he’d hacked into the school’s system, instead of praising his talents, they’d punished him and taken away his laptop for weeks. As if that would stop him. He’d simply gone to the library and used the public computers. In short order, he’d compromised dear Dad’s work database. His father’s boss had reamed the old man out for losing “sensitive” client files. Sweet revenge.
After finishing the rest of his toast, Leonard took the empty plate to the sink. Rinse, wash, rinse. Dry, dry, dry. He placed the dish back in the cabinet. Even though he didn’t use the dishwasher, he ran the machine on high heat once a week and left the door cracked open to keep mold from growing.
Sarah would be impressed with his clean, organized living space. She deserved nothing but the best. Unlike Audrey. His mouth twisted. If only he’d found Sarah first. Audrey hadn’t been worthy of him. She’d left him no choice but to end her life when she’d soiled herself with another man. That wouldn’t happen with Sarah. His beautiful ballerina loved him and only him.
He crossed through the living room to his office where pictures of Sarah covered every inch of the walls. Pausing in front of one, he stroked a finger down her face. “Where did you go?”
He sat at his desk and clicked on a video of her dancing. Every day he watched it at the same time. He’d memorized the performance. Each movement precise, graceful, and impeccably timed. One-two-three, lift two-three, down two-three. Yet another thing that bound them together, both being perfectionists.
Upon her return, she’d dance only for him. He clenched his teeth. No partners lifting or touching her. No other men in her life.
He slid aside the closet door, opened his safe, and pulled out a picture. Audrey’s lifeless eyes stared at him from what was left of her face. She’d taken the first shot in the mouth, for kissing another man. What a mess. He’d been unprepared for so much blood and had to burn all the clothes he’d worn.
After tucking the photo back into the vault, he picked up his pistol. The cold, metal weapon weighed heavily in his hand. He’d only use the gun to get Sarah’s attention and force her to come back with him. Hard to tell how much influence her family still had on her. He wouldn’t need the gun once they were alone long enough for outsiders to stop interfering. Then, she’d admit her love for him. After she announced it to the world, people would accept that she wanted to be with him.
From the back of the safe, he pulled out a set of pointe shoe ribbons. Soft, silky, and tied in perfect slipknots, one to restrain each delicate wrist.
He’d never need to use them. Sarah loved him and would choose a life together.
His phone beeped, signaling a new email from his source, and his pulse skipped. He put the gun away, locked the safe, and returned to the computer.
At last, some news.
Chapter 5
A red Jaguar convertible with the top down whipped into a parking spot by the arena. Sarah blew out a breath at the sight of a woman behind the wheel and turned to find Bruce staring at her.
Shit. She had to stop thinking every person who pulled into the lot was the stalker. She hadn’t told anyone where she was, so he shouldn’t be able to find her. But he was resourceful. If only she knew what he looked like, she wouldn’t panic every time she ran into a man.
“Is there a problem?” Bruce asked.
“No.” She shut down the thoughts, put the helmet on, and snapped the buckle with shaking fingers.
He reached a hand out and wiggled the top of the helmet. “Too loose.”
She fumbled with the chin straps to pull them tighter. He leaned down, bringing his face close to hers, and adjusted the band, brushing her skin. His breath tickled her cheeks, and the sensitive flesh of her neck tingled under his touch. The muscles in his arms firmed, and he yanked his hand away.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Just doing what I promised Debbie.”
Of course, it wasn’t like he wanted to help her. He must practice in the mirror at being so damn abrasive.
A car door slammed, and Sarah glanced at the lot, her nerves still on edge. A striking blonde wearing skinny jeans and a pink shirt that clung to her ample curves leaned against the side of the red Jag. Phone to her ear, she faced the arena. Her hand tapped her outer thigh. Because of the distance, Sarah couldn’t read the woman’s expression, but her body language spoke angry. The small hairs on the back of Sarah’s neck prickled. She frowned. Growing up, she’d learned to trust her instincts, and right now they were sending a bad vibe.
“Who’s that?”
“Morgan.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. So much information. She’d never process it all. “I meant who is she, not what’s her name.”
Bruce picked up something that resembled steps from near the fence and dragged them next to Misty. He pointed to a white mansion on a hill at the edge of the woods past the open fields. “She lives next door and boards here.”
Morgan had to be stinking rich.
“Climb up this mounting block so you can get on the horse easier.” Bruce held out a stirrup. “Put your foot in this and swing your other leg over.”
Sarah straddled the mare.
Misty pawed the ground and swiveled her ears.
“Hey, hey. What’s up, girl?” Bruce ran a hand down the side of Misty’s face, leaning closer. He rubbed her temples.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.
He stroked Misty and spoke in soothing tones to her until she somewhat settled. “She’s nervous, and this is the calmest horse you’ll ever find. She can sense when a rider is anxious.”
Great. Sarah couldn’t even hide her emotions from a horse. Yeah, she was always on edge, and cars screaming into the lot didn’t help. She had to get a grip. “I’m sorry. I haven’t ridden in a long time. I guess I’m a little tense.”
Bruce glanced up at her, still stroking Misty’s flank. “She’s used to novice riders. It’s more than that.”
Silence stretched between them. He held her gaze as if challenging her to deny it. Clearly, he hadn’t wanted her at the farm before, and now she’d made it worse by upsetting his horse. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and willed her body to calm down. Just like before a performance. She could do this.
Bruce placed a hand on her thigh. “Try to keep your bottom half relaxed and move with the horse.”
Heat spread up her leg from his contact. If she wanted to gain any respect at the farm, she had to ignore what his touch did to her and focus on learning the ropes. She nodded. “I’m ready.”
Bruce tugged on the line, and Misty walked. After a lap, Sarah relaxed a little. Her hips moved in rhythm with the horse. “It feels like I’m walking, but I don’t have legs.”
“Good. Keep it up.”
They rounded a turn and passed close to Morgan, who stood by her car, still talking on the phone. Her eyes narrowed to slits.
Sarah tensed, and Misty jerked forward.
“Whoa.” Bruce pulled on the lead. “Walk, girl.” He tapped Sarah’s thigh. “Relax your legs. You’re giving her the command to trot.”
“What?” Sarah dragged her gaze from the blonde.
“When you squeeze your legs, the horse thinks you want to go faster.” He rubbed his hand over Sarah’s knee. “Relax.”
She took a breath and forced her legs to soften. Not so easy with him touching her. She glanced down at him, and hot blood rose to her face.
He snatched his hand off and frowned. “Why are you here? You don’t know anything about horses.”
The truth stung. “The ad was for someone to cook, clean, and do barn chores.”
“This is a horse farm.”
“I’m a fast learner.” She sat taller in the saddle.
He shot a sidelong look at her. “We’ll see. I need to get ready for my patient now.” He stopped Misty near the gate and tied her to the post. “I’ll help you off.”
“I can do it.” Sarah swung her leg over the back of the horse but stumbled with a foot still caught in the stirrup. Shit. The straps had seemed lower when she’d mounted from the block. She seldom lost her balance, but did this time.
Bruce’s arms came around from behind, preventing her from falling. She yanked her foot out of the stirrup and fell back against his chest.
“Goddamn, you’re stubborn.” He spun her to face him.
Out of habit from ballet, she grasped his shoulders. Only they weren’t dancing, and she’d never been held by anyone like him. Rugged and hard with no soft spots. His muscles flexed under her fingers, sending a shiver through her. She craned her neck to gaze up at him, her breath shallow.
He swallowed and let go of her abruptly, all but pushing her away. “You could’ve gotten hurt. That’s twice today. You have to do what people tell you around the horses.”
Misty snorted and pawed at the ground. Bruce turned to her and once again spoke softly, stroking her side.
Sarah would never keep her job if she spooked the horses. And Bruce had a point. It wouldn’t look good for either of them if she broke a leg because she didn’t listen to him.
She touched his arm. “I’m sorry. You’re right. And thank you for the ride and lesson.”
He gave a
terse nod and continued stroking the horse. Sarah glanced across the rink to find Morgan glaring at her, a hand on her hip, off the phone at last. Maybe she was his girlfriend. That would explain the evil looks. Sarah raised her chin and stared back.
“I think she’s all right now. I need some gear from the stables. Follow me. We’re done here.” Bruce led Sarah back into the barn.
Greg met them at the entrance and gave Sarah a big smile. “I can’t wait for breakfast tomorrow.”
“You won’t be disappointed. I’m going to make banana pancakes and killer hash browns.” She kept her voice light. Maybe she would sound less stressed.
He licked his lips. “Sounds great.”
She grinned. Guys and their food. “If I can get some sausage, I’ll—”
“I know how much you two enjoy talking, but I need to get ready for Charlie.” Bruce faced Greg. “Can you take Misty to the trough for a drink? She’s tied up by the arena.”
Greg bobbed his head. “Sure. Sorry. I, uh—”
“Thanks.” Bruce nodded and proceeded down the aisle.
Greg scratched the side of his face. “Huh.”
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.
“Beats me. I’ve never seen Bruce act like this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like he’s in a bad mood or something.” Greg shot another look at him.
Sarah frowned. Probably her fault. If she didn’t need the job and a place to hide, she’d leave. But she had no other options, so they’d have to find a way to work around each other. She picked up a broom and sighed.
A tall, lean woman with long auburn hair tied back in a ponytail entered the barn, passing Greg on his way out. She approached Sarah with a warm smile. “Are you the new person Debbie hired?”
“Yes. I’m Sarah. It’s my first day. Do you board here?”
“No. I work with Bruce. I handle the horses for his therapy program. I’m Lynn.” She extended a hand.
When Sarah shook it, she caught her breath, and her gaze went to the cool, prosthetic hand she held.
Lynn gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I sometimes forget to warn people.”
Love in Hiding Page 4
