by Tracy Wolff
The fact that she came from money didn’t bother him—through the years he’d made a lot of money himself through his share of the winners’ purses as well as his hefty salary. Enough to start Cherokee Dreaming. Money wasn’t, and had never been, the issue.
What bothered him, what had always bothered him, was the fact that he and Desiree didn’t have a place of their own. A place that he had contributed to as much as, if not more than she had.
He threw away the pieces then crossed to the frame he’d knocked off the wall in his earlier fury. Without looking at the picture, he piled the broken glass on it before carrying it across the study to the trash can. It was only after he’d discarded the glass that he realized which frame had fallen.
It was then that he began to shake, even as he tried to ignore the yellowed newspaper article. Even as he told himself to remount it, to leave it on the desk, to walk away, he found himself reading the words Desiree had saved so long ago, and for a brief moment he was thrust back to where so much of this had begun.
And in horseracing news, Desiree Hawthorne, 23, only child of renowned Thoroughbred rancher and racer Big John Hawthorne, has wed Jesse Rainwater, 38, a man considered by many to be the best trainer in the business.
The two were wed in a quiet ceremony in Las Vegas and are currently honeymooning in Hawaii. The ceremony was attended by only two witnesses, as the bride’s father was not in attendance and the groom’s parents are deceased.
In a statement released earlier today, the bride writes, “Jesse and I are thrilled to celebrate our love through the lifelong commitment of marriage. After the honeymoon, we will be settling on the Triple H, where we will concentrate on upholding the legacy of one of the best and brightest Thoroughbred ranches in America.”
“ARE YOU SURE you want to do this?” Jesse asked, as he opened the hotel room door.
“I’m positive.” Desiree’s voice was firm as she preceded him into the room, but he saw her chin wobble a little as she spoke.
Dropping the bags, Jesse kicked the door shut with one booted foot before gathering her into his arms. His lips skimmed over her hair, down her cheek and he spent a moment, just a moment, reveling in the wildflower and honey scent of her. For the first time in memory she was stiff in his arms, her firm, rounded curves unyielding against him.
Her unusual reticence made him nervous. Pulling away, he said, “I mean it, Desiree. If you’re having second thoughts, we can forget about it. We can stay a couple of nights, have some fun, do a little gambling then head home—a minivacation.”
“Me?” She laughed, the sound more sad than joyous. “This whole thing was my idea. Why would I be the one to back out now that we’re here?”
He shrugged, going to the window to look out at the bright lights and milling people that made up so much of the Las Vegas strip. “You’ve been nervous since we got off the plane. I thought reality might have suddenly set in, that’s all.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
He turned at the sharpness of her tone, one eyebrow raised. “You’re not acting like the woman who proposed to me eight days ago or even like the one who got on the plane with me this morning. I’m wondering if maybe you think this is a bad idea.”
“Me? It took everything I had just to get you to the airport this morning.” Her arms were crossed defensively over her chest, and her lower lip stuck out in a definite pout. It was a look he’d never seen on her before and one he couldn’t help being a little bit aroused by.
“I’m here, aren’t I? And you’re the one who’s suddenly acting nervous.” He studied her, watched anger flicker in her slumberous eyes.
“That’s your big concession? That you’re here? Well, don’t I feel special now?” Picking up her suitcase, she hurled it onto the bed and began unpacking with stiff, uncoordinated movements.
“You know, you could just tell me what’s wrong instead of going through this asinine, juvenile game.”
He caught the hairbrush that came hurtling at him just before it collided with his eye. “I am not juvenile!” she yelled, even as she looked for something else to launch.
“I didn’t say you were.” He ducked in time to miss a flying red stiletto. “But then again, you are the one having the temper tantrum.”
She screamed, before chucking her makeup bag, a bottle of her favorite perfume and her hair dryer at him in quick succession. He ducked under the first, caught the second, but wasn’t fast enough to keep the third from banging painfully against his hip.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he roared indignantly. “If you don’t want to get married, then just say so!”
“I’m not the one who doesn’t want to get married, Rainwater.” Her voice rose with each word until he was certain that half the hotel could hear her. “Admit it. You think this is a horrible idea.”
Her chest heaved with each word. Fire was in her eyes, rage in the fists clenched on her hips, and she’d never been more beautiful to him than she was right then. Lost, he stared at her, hoping to find some clue on how to negotiate the suddenly rocky sea of their relationship.
She stared at him for a long time, waiting for an answer he couldn’t give. When it finally became apparent to her that he wasn’t going to say anything, she sank to the floor. With her back resting against the bed and her arms wrapped around herself, she stared straight ahead and silently rocked herself.
“Desiree.” He knelt beside her and tried to gather her in his arms, but she wouldn’t allow him to comfort her.
“It’s okay,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically subdued as she faced him. “It’s completely my fault. This was a stupid idea, totally ridiculous.” Her smile was grim, her laugh painful to hear. “It’s not your fault that you don’t love me.”
Shock raced through him, holding him immobile as precious seconds ticked by. By the time he regained his voice, he got the feeling that it was too little, too late. “Of course I love you. How could you doubt that?”
“You’re a terrible liar, Jess. Unconvincing and extremely slow on the uptake.” She tried to smile, but her lips remained curved downward. “It’s okay. I thought I could love you enough for both of us.”
“I do love you.”
She shook her head, then pushed to her feet and began picking up the things she’d thrown in her earlier rage. As if she’d already given up on him—on them.
“Stop it.” His voice was low, rusty with the panic skating over every one of his nerves.
When she didn’t look up or even acknowledge that she’d heard him, he crossed the room in a couple of long strides. Ignoring her squeal of protest, he scooped her up and tossed her onto the empty side of the lake-size bed. Before she could move or even protest, he’d climbed on top of her and straddled her hips with his legs.
She squirmed beneath him, tried to wiggle away. He caught his breath sharply as she rubbed repeatedly against him, his body responding predictably to her movements. He could tell by her sudden stillness, by the wariness in her eyes, that she had felt his response.
“This isn’t going to solve anything,” she said, her eyes widening as he lowered his mouth to hers.
“I think it’ll solve everything,” he replied right before he claimed her mouth with his own.
She felt amazing, had felt amazing from the very first time he had held her in his arms. How could she think he didn’t love her? He would die for her.
With a moan of surrender, she returned the kiss. The hands that had been pushing on his chest slid upward to his neck, anchoring him in place as she wrapped her suddenly pliant body around him.
He wanted to lose himself in the sweet, seductive haven of her arms. But he pulled away even as she whimpered, ended the kiss even as she opened herself to him.
She closed her eyes, turning her head away before he could speak.
“No, not this time.” He grasped her chin with gentle fingers, turning her face until he could look her in the eye. “This time we finish this.”
Rolling off her, he pulled her into his arms, his cheek resting on the top of her head. “How could you think that I don’t love you?”
She sighed. “Jesse…”
“No, I’m serious. How on earth could you not realize that you mean everything to me?” He clutched her hands in his own, pulling away slightly so that she could see what he felt for her. “Desiree, I love you more than my own life. I always have.”
Her eyes widened, but he could still see the suspicion. “You never said—”
Sighing, he allowed his forehead to drop until it rested against hers. “I know.”
“Not once.” Her voice was choked. “You never said you loved me. You never came after me. You never did any of the things a man in love does.” She pushed against him, her eyes bright with anger, fear and a burgeoning hope that was almost painful to see.
“I had to chase you. I had to strip naked and seduce you before you would even touch me. I was the one who asked you to marry me. I was the one who did everything.”
“I’m so sorry. I wanted to buy you flowers and take you nice places. I wanted to be the one who took care of you, who proposed to you. But I was too damn uncertain, too damn scared to do it.”
“What did you possibly have to be scared of? I was the one risking everything, Jesse. I was the one who dealt with rejection after rejection. Even when I asked you to marry me, you sighed and said, ‘I guess so.’ Who does that?”
“I didn’t want to mess up your life.”
“Bull—”
“No, you asked. Now you’ll listen.” He rolled away from her, stared up at the ceiling as he searched within himself for the words.
“I’m a half-breed Indian whose only talent in life is in dealing with horses. I come from nowhere, and before I found the Triple H, I was going nowhere fast.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re one of the most talented trainers in the country, Jesse. Everyone knows that—your future is as bright as you want it to be.”
“I’m the hired help, Desiree. I’m not like you. I don’t have a big, fancy horse-breeding pedigree behind me. I don’t have a fancy education or a guaranteed place in the horse-racing community.” He paused, raised his hands so that she could see the nicks and calluses that were so much a part of who he was and what he did. “Look at me. I’m making good money now—I can support you—but it’s not the same. I’m not as rich as your father or as fancy as all those men he’s spent the past year introducing you to.”
He rolled over, stared into her endless blue eyes. “I don’t want you to regret marrying me in a few years, or a few months, when your blinders come off and you see what everyone else does—the half-breed scrambling to make something of himself.”
Desiree shoved him away from her. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that.”
Her cheeks were red, her eyes blazing with indignation. “I love you, Jesse. The real you, not some man you think I’ve romanticized in my head. You are so much more than you think you are. You’re smart and brave and so incredibly talented that you awe me.”
She reached out, ran a hand through his hair. “God knows you’re not perfect, but I love you. I love you and I want to build my life with you. I don’t know how else to say it.”
He closed his eyes, thanked God for this most beautiful, most amazing woman that he had been gifted with. “Then let’s go get married, darlin’.”
Her smile, when it came, was brilliant. “Are you sure?”
He laughed, nuzzling her cheek with his lips. “Hell, no. I figure your father will kick us off the ranch as soon as he sees your wedding ring.”
“He’ll get over it,” she answered confidently as she ran her fingers lightly over the nape of his neck.
“Maybe in twenty years or so.”
She laughed. “More like twenty minutes or so. Daddy is nothing if not pragmatic. If he disowns me, who’s going to run the ranch when he’s gone?”
“I think he’ll be less than impressed with the idea of you running it while married to a half-Indian horse-trainer with a lousy pedigree.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She smiled mischievously. “You bring home the Triple Crown and all will be forgiven.”
“We’ll see about that.”
She flipped him over so that she was straddling him, her soft lower body rocking gently against his suddenly hard one. “You did remind me of something else we need to take care of though.”
He arched up, reveling in the little hitch of her breath as he did so. Reaching up, he caressed her breasts through the thin silk of her blouse. “What’s that, darlin’?”
Moaning as his hands found her tight nipples, Desiree let her head loll back as she moved restlessly against him. “Wedding rings,” she gasped, arching into the rhythmic stroking of his fingers.
He paused as her words sunk in, his mouth mere inches from her breast. Moaning her disappointment, she thrust herself against him even as he moved to lift her off him.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, her fingers moving swiftly over the buttons of her blouse.
“Getting your ring.”
“I didn’t mean now,” she pouted. “Come back to bed and finish what you started. We can go shopping later.”
Rummaging in his overnight bag, he tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “I don’t have to go shopping. I bought this for you two months ago.”
“Two months ago?” Sitting up quickly, her open blouse forgotten, she stared at him incredulously. “I just proposed to you eight days ago.”
“I know.” Returning swiftly, he crouched between her open legs and handed her a small, red box. “I’ve been carrying it around for weeks, trying to come up with the right way to ask you.”
She stared at him with her mouth half-open, completely dumbfounded. “You were going to propose to me?” she asked.
“Well, yeah. That’s what a man does when he finds the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.”
“But you sounded so unenthusiastic when I asked you that I nearly died.”
“I said yes, didn’t I?”
“Barely.”
“You caught me off guard.” He pushed a lock of hair away from his eyes so that he could see her clearly. “I didn’t have the ring on me, I hadn’t made any plans and there you were, jumping the gun on me—as usual. I wasn’t ready.”
“I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He nodded at the box in her hands. “Are you going to open that or simply stare at it all day?”
With a nervous smile, she flipped the lid open and gasped, one hand flying to her mouth as she stared at the engagement ring he had picked out after much deliberation. The center stone was huge—a two-carat, almost flawless solitaire—while the band was lined all the way around with smaller, channel-set diamonds.
“Do you like it?” he asked, more nervous than he liked to admit. He’d searched for days for the perfect ring and had fallen in love with this one the second he laid eyes on it. Elegant but fun, it seemed to fit both sides of Desiree’s personality.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” She started to take it from the box, but he stopped her.
“Allow me.” Grasping her suddenly shaking hand in his steady one, Jesse kissed her open palm lingeringly. As he slid the ring home, he murmured, “I’m going to make you happy, Desiree. I swear it.”
She cupped his face in her hands, the diamond on her finger gleaming brightly in the Las Vegas sunshine. “You already do.”
Smiling, she pulled him onto the bed with her, her eyes gleaming seductively as she slid her fingers inside the waistband of his jeans. “But I know how I can be happier.”
He tugged off his T-shirt in one smooth, coordinated move before slowly sliding her blouse off her shoulders. “Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll make you ecstatic.”
“I’m counting on it,” she murmured as she slowly stretched out over the brightly colored bedspread.
“Me, too, darlin’. Me, too.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
THIS WAS BETRAYAL. Desiree stared at the letter Rio had just handed her. She read it a second time, then a third, as she struggled to assimilate what it said. Struggled to deal with the fact that her husband and oldest son had conspired behind her back.
Everything inside her demanded that she attack, but she did her best to ignore the impulse. They might have blindsided her with this, but she refused to go off half-cocked and emotional.
“Mom.” Rio’s voice was low, pleading. “This is all I’ve ever wanted to be.”
“A veterinarian?” she demanded. She hadn’t fought as hard as she had to continue the ranch’s tradition only to have her son walk away from everything she wanted to give him. Shaking the letter for emphasis, she strode across the stable toward him. “You want to go all the way to Colorado State so that you can be a veterinarian?”
“It’s the best program in the country,” Jesse said as he put a hand on his eighteen-year-old son’s shoulder. “One of the top in the world.”
“It’s almost impossible to get into, Mom. But I did it. I made it and I want to go.”
“Why am I just now hearing about this? We sat down, the three of us, months ago and talked about your future. We talked about where you were going to apply and what you were going to major in. At no time did you bring up Colorado State or veterinary school. I would remember if you had.”
Rio looked at his father pleadingly. “Dad and I—”
“Oh? You did this behind my back?” she asked Jesse.
He cocked his head, stared at her with unfathomable eyes. “We didn’t want to upset you until we knew if Rio could actually get into a preveterinary program.”
“So you knew I’d be upset? Yet you did it anyway?” She paced away, her hands clenched angrily at her side. “What is wrong with you?” She whirled to face her son. “Your job is supposed to be this ranch, Rio. You’re supposed to go to school and study business so that you’re ready to run the Triple H when something happens to me.” God, what would she do if Rio wasn’t there to assume control? Would that be yet another way she failed to meet her father’s expectations?
