by Anthology
He came out and handed her the wet washcloth to clean her knee and turned with a grunt to pour them a drink. Oh, what he would give to kneel down in front of those legs and gently clean her injury, slowing kissing away the pain and…cripes! He had to get himself under control!
“Is white wine alright? It will help numb the pain.” he heard himself ask as he tried to put out the flames of his desire.
She chastised herself as she heard the harsh tone in his voice and cursed herself again for being such a klutz. He was obviously irritated with her for being so inflexible and task driven. “Yes, that would be nice. My knee actually isn’t that bad, I’m fine, really.”
He turned and she saw his eyes darken, his frustration so discernible that so she tried to lighten the mood. She smiled coyly and giggled. “I walked around for two weeks with a broken foot before I finally went to the doctor.” She saw his face soften as he handed her the glass of wine and she continued. “Another stupid mistake. I wore tennis shoes down to the barn and my stallion stepped on it, crushing the bones.”
She knew she was babbling and couldn’t stop herself so she took a sip of wine, allowing the heat of the alcohol to slowly fill her body.
He sat down in the chair next to her instead of the chair behind his desk and took a drink. “Didn’t that hurt?”
“Oh, yeah. But horses don’t know and don’t care if you’re hurt. Plus, I didn’t know I had broken anything, I figured my foot was bruised and I could just walk it off. Kip was the one who made me go into the doctor.” she trailed off as she remembered that day. He had berated her until she finally agreed to go in, then when it had turned out that most of the bones had been broken, had called her an idiot for letting it go for so long. He proceeded to go into a speech of how dangerous horses were and she should just get rid of them all and find a safer career. He ended up making her so angry that she refused to speak to him for two weeks.
Grayson heard the bitterness in her voice and knew her relationship with her husband wasn’t a good one. He also realized that they had one important thing in common, their fervor and love for their careers. And that justified the sacrifices that had to be made for them. Obviously her husband didn’t appreciate that kind of desire or need. To be the best doing something you loved. But Luke understood that all too well. From a young age, he felt misplaced and separated from his peers. He didn’t know his biological father and had nothing to do with his mother. She had married six times, given up her children twice, coming back for them after about ten months and both times with a new husband.
His childhood taught him that family was fickle, would abandon you in the blink of an eye. He hadn’t even been ten when he knew he needed to secure his own future and not depend on others. He had always found solace in music and taught himself how to play the guitar. He collected aluminum cans and did odd jobs to save the money for his first guitar and joined his first band in junior high. By high school, he’d failed most of his studies and dropped out to pursue his music career. Through determination and being blessed with a natural talent, he was able to play for several local clubs and his name quickly spread through the business. Soon he didn’t have to contact the clubs, they contacted him, and he was booked for weeks in advance.
It was at one of these clubs that an agent from Halo records saw him perform and offered him a contract. He was only nineteen-years old but knew this was exactly what he wanted to do with his life and his passion drove him to succeed, there was no other option. He signed with Halo and within the first five years, he had nine number one songs, two platinum albums and sold out concerts.
Patrick Johnson, a new manager in the business, had approached Grayson while he was relaxing in a pub in Ireland. Over a couple of pints and sharing some stories, Patrick convinced Grayson that he would be the best manager he could have. Grayson, feeling generous and a little buzzed, verbally agreed to hire Patrick as his manager and hadn’t regretted it. They made a great team, each one balancing out the other’s weaknesses and enhancing their strengths. They were more like brothers than business partners, often arguing, rarely coming to blows, but always worked things out and thus keeping their relationship strong. Patrick was the only one who understood his intensity, his desire and his drive to be the best.
Luke believed Rebecca felt the same way about her horses, he recognized the same determined look in her eyes. Nothing and no one would stop her from achieving her dream.
He knew then that without a doubt, he would allow her to use his music. There was no way that he would be the reason she wouldn’t fulfill her dream. He wanted to be able to help her, no matter how small a part he played. As he looked at her now and thought of their day together, he realized that he would like to be a bigger part in her life, not only to help her on her path to success but to be the one she could lean on.
Maybe the way he could help would be revealed during her business proposal. As the idea sparked, he became anxious to sit down and hear about her business life. “So, tell me about what you do, what this riding style is and about your horse. It is so beautiful.”
There was no irritation left in Grayson’s voice and she heard genuine attentiveness. She knew when people faked interest, just to be polite, Kip’s mother used to pretend curiosity. There was no falseness in Grayson’s voice. She took a sip of her wine, breathed in deep and cleared her throat. This is what she’d spent countless hours practicing and rehearsing. Showtime, she thought to herself.
“I started my ranch back in two-thousand and two with three mares and a gelding. After a couple of years working with a world grand championship dressage trainer, I was able…”
“No, I don’t want to hear your speech, though I’m sure it’s very good. I want to hear about you, about your passion and what you want your future to be. What are your dreams? What do you see for yourself?”
She was silent for a moment, her mouth still open slightly, trying to figure out what exactly what he wanted to hear. Her business proposition covered all of those things. She cleared her throat and started again. “Well, after winning standard dressage competitions two years in a row, I was able to breed my mare…”
“No, Rebecca, I don’t want your resume. You’re not getting what I’m asking. Let’s try this a different way. What’s the breed of horse I watched on your DVD?”
“He’s a Friesian stallion, they come from…”
“What’s his name?” he cut her off.
“His name is Othello.” she answered.
“And how many hours a day do you spend with him or the other horses and how many days a week.” He pushed, knowing that his next question was going to be dangerous.
“About ten to twelve hours a day, sometimes more, seven days a week.”
“Good, now, if you and your husband get a divorce, do you lose everything you’ve built? Is he entitled to half?”
Because the thought had been nagging at the back of her mind since she had seen Kip with that other woman and the question had been unexpected, she blurted her answer out without thinking. “He doesn’t get a dime! We have a prenup, his stuff is his and my ranch and horses are mine! I’ll be damned if he and that bimbo get anything that I’ve worked so hard for!”
They were both silent at her outburst, him because her explosion spoke volumes of her relationship with her husband and her because it solidified what she thought of her marriage. It was over. No do-overs, no going back, no saving what was dead. With the new insight, she burst into tears, feeling like a failure. Believing she had just blown the business proposition, she stumbled out of the chair to make her way towards the door and flee, hoping she could find her way out.
Before she could make her way to the door, she felt warm arms around her, enveloping her in strength and comfort. She tried to fight them off, embarrassed at what she perceived as weakness, trying to be her own hero but when his arms wouldn’t yield, when his scent filled her senses, she found herself weaken and lean against his warm body.
He knew all of he
r defenses were crushed, exhausted at trying to keep up the pretense that her life was perfect and that nothing bothered her. He felt the fight flow out of her and he tightened his arms around her, wondering if she would let him in or continue trying to hold up the hard exterior she fought so hard to keep in place. He knew about trying to hold up an image, to believe in your dreams and your hopes and ignore the reality. It was those images he held onto until they became a reality but he also knew how hard it was and at times, completely exhausting. He guessed she must be exhausted. He felt her soften and he squeezed his arms gently and rested his chin on the top of her head, smelling the wonderful lilac scent again.
“God, what have you gotten yourself into?” he thought to himself as he felt her yield in his arms. Here was a woman who knew what she wanted to do with her life, regardless of her personal issues, and fighting to make her dreams come true. Here he was, messing in her private issues so he could get her in the sack. What a jerk he could be.
But was it really just to get her into the sack? He was beginning to wonder. Any other model or actress, he could see their game a mile away and became bored with them within minutes of their first date. Sometimes, to change things up, he would go along with it and play their game. He knew Rebecca wasn’t playing any game, her emotions that were on display right now we’re real. Yet, he still wanted her, emotionally, physically, he didn’t know why but there it was. Now he had to convince her that he was sincere and not just some playboy. As he stood there trying to figure out how to show her that he was being straightforward with her, he enjoyed the feel of her body pressed against his. She felt warm and vibrant; he could hold her like this for hours. He was the first to pull away but couldn’t resist placing a kiss on her forehead.
“Let’s get something to eat, then we can talk some more, alright?”
She sniffed and nodded, moving away to try and compose what dignity she had left. She was angry at herself for losing her focus and allowing her personal life to interfere with her business. Of course he had every right to know whether she had a sound business or not and that included if she was going to be distracted in a messy divorce. He had no idea if Kip was involved with the horses or not. It’s not like Grayson was a mind reader. But damn, he had seemed to know that there were problems with her marriage without her even saying a word. Was she so transparent?
She followed him through the extravagant mansion, the beautiful paintings and sculptures lost on her as she mentally berated herself for her behavior.
Again, he was perplexed by the woman walking next to him. They were passing artwork and antiques that were worth millions and she glanced at them as if they were thrift store specials and Teen Beat posters. She was either ignorant to the finer things in life or she wasn’t a materialistic person. He would place his bet on the latter. She was obviously intelligent and educated but “things” didn’t appear to matter to her. The only things that seemed to hold her emotions were her horses and her career. That, in itself, he could respect. He bypassed the formal dining room and led her to the kitchen where he sat her on a high stool at the center island.
She couldn’t help but feel cold in the kitchen. Stainless steel appliances, though state-of-the-art, blended in with the bland, blue-gray walls and countertops. All of the gray, granite countertops were bare, void of any cooking utensils, fruit or vegetable bowls or even a flower vase. The center island had a cooktop and a deep, produce sink. Matching gray cupboards blended in fluidly with the walls and the appliances. There were so many of them that she wondered how anyone could remember where anything went.
“Do you like pasta? I make a mean sausage marinara and I just so happen to have made a batch yesterday.”
She looked at him and smiled. “You cook, too? When do you find the time?”
“Unfortunately, it’s very rare anymore but during my downtime, in between tours, I do a lot of cooking. It’s very relaxing and helps bring me down off the high that I get when I perform.”
She nodded. “I know that feeling. Before a big show and the night after I’ve shown, I’m so wired that I can’t sleep. I end up polishing my tack and cleaning my barn. My best friend, Megan, says I have the cleanest barn in the county.”
He laughed with her, each appreciating the other’s joy for their craft.
“So do you ever cook?” he asked.
“No, never was able to have the patience for cooking an elaborate meal for just one.” she trailed off and he decided not to bring up the aspects of her marriage, the pain obvious in her voice.
“But I can make a mean salad.” she laughed, her expression and her tone softening, which Luke found appealing and sensual.
“Well, that goes excellent with pasta. Would you do the honors while I start with the noodles?”
“I’m on it.” She stood up and tenderly made her way around the counter. “Just point me to where everything is.”
He showed her which cupboards she needed and also told her feel free to explore before they both settled into the easy movement of making a meal together. The conversation was light and centered on their childhoods and what pulled them into their current careers.
It was a comfortable, easy feeling being with him and she began to relax and really enjoy herself and the conversation. She’d never had this kind of an experience with a man before. Kip had never been interested in how she got into her horses, or her childhood. Sure, he asked questions, but it had been to fine tune his software program to sell to other breeders. She couldn’t recall laughing and enjoying a conversation as much as she was now.
Grayson watched Rebecca as she cut up tomatoes and shredded the lettuce, talking animatedly about growing up on the ranch and her horses and he was able to see the vibrant woman she really was behind the strict and serious business woman he had met earlier. The stern face he’d experienced throughout the day was gone and a light glow that emanated from her was staggering. She was absolutely beautiful and for the first time since meeting her in person, he saw the exquisiteness he’d seen on the video. He found it very hard to focus on preparing their meal and not throwing her up on the counter to ravage her, which was a first for him. The few women he had actually brought back to his home had been eager, sometimes impatient to make love. He had tried to prepare a meal for a couple of them but they’d ended up in bed before the meal was finished. After having to throw away expensive pans with burnt remnants, he stopped attempting to cook anything for his dates.
He knew he couldn’t do that with Rebecca. He was sure that if he even tried to kiss her right now, she would run and he didn’t want that to happen. He wanted to taste her, to ease the need for her but knew he had to bide his time.
They sat there at the center island instead of moving to the formal dining table, enjoying the meal they’d prepared together and continued their conversation. When they finished, she insisted on helping clean up and between the two of them, had the kitchen as spotless as they had found it. Grayson grinned knowing his housekeeper would be surprised and pleased that the kitchen would be as clean as she had left it.
He led them to his living room and poured them both glass of wine before going over and lighting a fire to take off the evening chill. They both sat on the couch, listening to the crackle of the flames. Rebecca winced as she stretched her injured knee, the inflammation setting in.
Grayson set his glass down and moved closer. “May I?” He watched her face, seeing the hesitation in her eyes but then she nodded. He removed her shoes and stretched her injured leg across his lap. He began to gently massage her foot, before slowly moving up her calf. He felt her tense up and he stayed where he was, waiting for her to relax again. “So tell me about the video you sent to me. When was it taken?”
She nervously took a sip of wine. “You saw it?”
“Well of course I did. You asked to use one of my songs for it.”
“Of course, how stupid of me. I just thought that your managers had seen it, that they were the ones who made the decisions.”
>
“You’re not stupid and you’re right, they are the ones who normally see these things and make the decisions. It just so happens I had writer’s block one night and as a distraction, I watched your video. When it was done, I decided to deal with this personally.”
“Oh, well thank you, I feel honored.” she stumbled.
“Actually, I’m the one who should thank you. You’re video inspired me and I was able to finish my song that night.” He could see that she was at a loss for words and decided to save her from obvious embarrassment. “So when was it recorded?”
“It was recorded this past fall in my arena; we had just come home from Nationals. I had chosen an older, classical song and we came in second, the winner had chosen a current rock song and swept all of the competition under the rug. The crowd had gone wild. It was then that I decided I needed an edge, a great song this year to win world grand championship.”
“And you chose me. Now I’m the one who feels honored. Why me?” he asked as he slowly began to massage her other leg.
“Your music is very popular and I find the words to your songs filled with emotion, which is what I want. When I show, my performance and my horses mean something to me; I want the music I use to help express that.” She took another drink.
“My songs are written from my life, from my heart and my feelings. It tells a story of my life.”
“I know.” she said softly. “That’s why I chose your song. It speaks to me.”
Grayson stared into her eyes for a moment, and then leaned forward slowly. “Rebecca, I’d like to do something right now but I don’t want you to panic or freak out.” he said calmly.
She felt her throat go dry and took another drink, trying to delay what she knew what going to happen, but found she wanted it too. “Okay.”
He moved towards her, leaning over her, watching her face. He slowly lowered his face and softly touched his lips to hers. Her lips tasted sweet from the wine and velvety soft. He lightly ran the tip of his tongue over them and felt her shudder. He pulled back against the couch, worried that he had gone too far but found her eyes closed, her lips quivering with anticipation.
