Читать книгу The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty - Donna Kauffman - Страница 10

Elena was still grinning as she stood behind the open stall door and watched Rafe lead Petunia out. She had no worries about the horse misbehaving. Barring Rafe doing something totally bizarre, Petunia would go through the motions on autopilot, as she’d done a million times before.

The one she needed to worry about misbehaving was herself. In any near vicinity, Rafe was potent enough. Up close in any personal proximity, he was downright intoxicating. He was intensity and charm, humor and the kind of focus that made her want to smooth her hair back and moisten her lips. Hell, if she were honest, he made her want to do a whole lot more than that. There had been a few moments where she could have sworn he was thinking the same thing—then the mood would shift, or Petunia would interrupt. For which she should be eternally grateful.

Even if Rafe wasn’t the enemy she’d feared—and she wasn’t certain about that yet—he wasn’t an ally, either. Of any sort. Couldn’t be, not in her current circumstances. She just hadn’t counted on that bothering her so much.

She closed the stall door as soon as the horse was out, then walked on ahead of them, toward the crossover to the other aisle.

“What if she doesn’t go?”

Elena paused and turned, only to find them still standing just outside the stall.

Rafe looked from Petunia to her. “I’m guessing giddyap is just something they say in movies?”

She laughed. He was so dry, and, up until today, had struck her as somewhat of a hard-ass. A really suave-looking hard-ass, but a hard-ass all the same. And, in some ways, he was. That unholy part wasn’t so hard to believe. His ready humor had been unexpected—it was that part of him, far more than his smooth good looks, that was working on her. “Well, it works when it’s accompanied by a swift nudge with your heels or a squeeze of the knees. But you have to be mounted for that to happen.”

Even fifteen yards away, she saw the quick flash of teeth, and that awareness in his dark eyes. And mentally kicked herself for the double entendre. She hadn’t meant it. She didn’t flirt. Not normally, anyway. In her world, a woman had to all but bind her breasts, chop off her hair, and lower her voice two octaves to get taken seriously. One bat of an eyelash and she’d be seen as nothing but a saddle tramp.

But she wasn’t in that world any longer. And men like Raphael Santiago didn’t stroll across her path very often. She had no experience with someone like him. He didn’t fit into any mold she was used to. And seeing as she still didn’t know if he had ulterior motives, she couldn’t afford to make any rookie mistakes. If she was going to even think about flirting, or what that might lead to, she’d be better off starting with someone a hell of a lot simpler than this man.

And since she had no business flirting with any man at the moment, that took care of that.

“I would love to be mounted,” he said, and she wondered if she was imagining the amusement in his voice. “But someone thinks I need to learn to take her out for a walk first.”

She folded her arms. “Given that you’re standing still at the moment, I’m thinking I was right.”

His lips curved. “You may have a point.”

For a suave hard-ass, he had no qualms about making fun of himself. It was far too charming. “In cases like this, it’s okay to step ahead of the horse and lead. As soon as she starts walking, though, shift back. She’s used to this routine—she knows where to go.”

“And if she doesn’t start to walk?”

“You can encourage her.” She made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Like that, or just cajole her a little. That shouldn’t be a stretch for you.”

This time she knew she hadn’t imagined the flash. “Are you saying you think I have experience cajoling members of the opposite sex?”

Elena smiled. So, she was officially flirting, and he was definitely flirting back. But it seemed that the most innocent conversation between them was going to have mixed overtones, and she wasn’t sure how to stop that. And to be perfectly honest, she didn’t really want to. It felt good. She had no business engaging in it, but that didn’t make it feel any less pleasurable. Maybe even more so because it was taboo. “I was saying that you’re probably good at getting them to do whatever you want them to.”

“Unless they happen to be my riding instructor.”

If you only knew. It wasn’t lost on her that he hadn’t denied her characterization of him, either. She really needed to stop the banter with him. Really.

With a little pat and a few softly spoken words Elena couldn’t hear, Rafe walked forward, and Petunia fell into step beside him. He gave her a half shrug when she silently applauded, which was cute and endearing and had her turning away before she opened her mouth and something else completely inappropriate popped out.

Rafe and Petunia made it to the other aisle without further incident, and it didn’t take long to run him through the procedure of putting her in cross ties. She kept it all business, at least outwardly, and shortly afterward they had the horse saddled and ready to mount.

Despite having no idea what was expected of him in this situation, he kept his motions steady and his tone smooth at all times. Which was working like a charm with Petunia. Unfortunately, it was working with her as well. She already knew, despite his apparent qualms, he’d be a natural on horseback. He had an easy rhythm to his stride and was comfortably in command of his body. He would adjust to the rhythm of the horse’s gait easily, as he had just walking Petunia over, neither letting her lead nor rushing her.

Which naturally led her to imagine how equally skilled he’d be at putting a woman at ease during sex. And God, she really wished she could be thinking about anything other than mounting and riding at the moment.

“So, chief, is there enough time left to take a trip around the ring? Seems a shame to waste all this preparation. Not to mention that we’ve gotten Petunia’s hopes up now.”

He had a point. Petunia looked at her and blinked a few times, looking quite winsome. It’s okay, she wanted to tell her. I’d want him to ride me, too, if I were you. “Okay, okay,” she said, relenting. “Take the rope.” She instructed him on how to unhook the cross ties, then said, “Lead her out to the paddock.” She didn’t wait for him, but turned and headed in that direction.

He didn’t say anything about her defection. A quick glance back showed he just went to work. Attempts to throw him off stride were clearly not going to work, just as he was making it very difficult not to like him, or at least respect him. He spoke his mind, and didn’t necessarily agree with her methods, but beyond that he’d followed her instructions and done as she’d asked.

Figured.

Once out in the paddock, she walked over to the fence and waited for them. “Drape the rope over her neck,” she told him, using hand gestures to show how he should do it. “Then hook it around, so it makes one big loop. You’ll use that as your reins.”

“I don’t need a bridle thing?”

“Not with Petunia.”

His expression was wry. “You gave me the easiest horse here, didn’t you? Did you think I’d be that bad?”

“I thought you’d prefer things not to be any more difficult than they had to be.”

“Well, you might have a point there.”

She tried not to smile, tried to think business, but as she closed the distance between them and walked around to where he stood beside Petunia, she felt a pull just this side of magnetic. Being close to him made it hard to think clearly. She shifted her focus to the horse, and only the horse, and pointed to the stirrup. “Hold the pommel with your left hand, left foot in the stirrup, and up you go. Right leg over the back end, one smooth lift as you push up on your left leg.” She held her hand up when he went to do as she’d directed. “Talk to her first.”

If she thought he’d roll his eyes or give her grief, she was wrong. Instead, that wry curve reappeared at the corner of his mouth as he casually leaned forward and stroked his hand down the side of Petunia’s neck. “What?” he asked, amusement clear in his tone.

She realized she was staring at his hand, the way he was stroking the horse’s neck, and quickly pulled her gaze away.

But not before he said, “I’m not entirely green. I do understand the benefits of putting my partner at ease before I, you know…” A twinkle entered his eyes that was either a trick of the sun descending in the sky, just low enough now to send its rays slanting into the stable interior…or utterly wicked. She went with the former, but only until he added, “Mount up.”

Had he really said that? Or had she just mentally filled in the blank? She resisted the urge to fan herself. Or look at his hands again.

“You did say we were going to be partners, right?”

“What?” she asked, faintly.

“Petunia and I,” he clarified, clearly enjoying himself. “You said I should think of it as a partnership.”

“Yes. Right. Exactly.”

With that half smile playing around his mouth, and that devilish light still in his dark eyes, he turned his attention to the horse, leaning forward and whispering something too low for her to make out.

Petunia’s ears twitched forward and back and she dipped her head a little, as if agreeing with whatever he’d said. She was a sweetheart of a horse, easily the most agreeable mare on the farm, but it seemed to Elena that there was a bond forming there that she didn’t normally see, especially with first-timers.

“Probably seduces any member of the opposite sex, without even thinking about it,” she grumbled beneath her breath.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, ever-so-innocently while looking anything but.

“I said you don’t want to think about it too much, just do it.”

“What do you know—that’s my motto, too.” And then he flashed her a grin that shot her pulse directly into the red zone, turned, and popped up on Petunia’s back as if he’d been riding his entire life.

She scowled. In some ways, he probably had.

She looked up at him, shielding her eyes against the setting sun, to find him staring back at her from behind a pair of black sunglasses he’d slid on.

He touched the brim of an imaginary Stetson. “Once around the ring, ma’am?” His southern drawl was atrocious.

And adorable as hell. She wouldn’t have thought adorable was going to be an issue where he was concerned. As it was turning out, everything was going to be an issue with him. Breathing was an issue.

Rather than respond directly, she stepped up and showed him how to use the looped rope as a set of reins. “Balance your weight, center it. Feet in the stirrups.” For the first time, she noticed he was wearing rather beat-up hiking boots.

He must have noticed the direction of her gaze, because he said, “Sorry, probably inappropriate footwear.”

“No,” she said, “they’re fine, I just—” She broke off as she realized what she was going to say, which was that she was surprised he owned a pair of worn-out anything. He was always so immaculately and sharply dressed. But that was a leading comment she definitely didn’t need to make. “Never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing. For what you’re doing, they’ll be fine. If at some point you find yourself doing any amount of trail riding, you might want to invest in a good pair of boots.” She glanced up. “Western. Although I could teach you how to ride English if you prefer.”

“Which is easier?”

“Western, like you are now.”

“Then let’s go with that.” He smiled a little. “For now.”

With the attention to detail she’d noticed in the clothing she’d seen him in so far, she could easily imagine him in a nicely cut, proper English riding jacket. For certain, those tight English riding pants would show off…well, what wouldn’t they show off was more like it. Not that he couldn’t do some damage in jeans and chaps, it’s just that he wasn’t the scruffy cowboy type. Far more lord of the manor. With a little Latin flair.

“Okay, now what?”

Now I need a fan, and something cold to drink, and an extended period of getting myself seriously under some kind of control, she thought. She motioned to the rope. “Hold it with some slack. Click a little, with your tongue, then nudge her with your heels or knees. She knows what to do.”

“How do I steer?”

“Tug a little on the left rein for left, right for right. Pull back and release to slow her down and stop. You don’t have to yank, just a steady pulling motion until she slows down to where you want her, or comes to a complete stop.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

She smiled. “Should be. Let’s see how you do.”

First, he leaned forward and spoke gently to Petunia, making her ears twitch forward and back. Then, he straightened and, after a gentle nudging with his heels, they moved smoothly along the fence line. She wished she could say she was surprised, but by now, she wasn’t.

“You’ll get used to her rolling gait. Just keep your weight centered, stay relaxed, knees with even tension, which is to say, very little. She’ll be very sensitive to the tension she feels in your body, which is mainly telegraphed by how tightly you hold the reins, and the pressure you exert with your legs against her sides.”

Not that he appeared to need this little bit of instruction.

She let them go around the ring once at a steady walk, then said, “Okay, now, slow her down. You can pull back slightly on the reins.”

He pulled Petunia to a stop right beside her.

“Pretty good,” she said.

“Pretty good?”

“Okay, you were very good.” Probably needed to hear that after every performance, she thought, knowing she was being less than charitable, but reaching for anything that would give her an edge against the effect he seemed to be having on her so effortlessly. “For a beginner.”

He took the comment in stride, but didn’t tip his imaginary brim again.

“Next class we’ll work on turning around and coming in to the center of the ring. After that, we’ll work on speed. Trotting, then cantering.”

“No galloping?”

“No galloping.”

His dark eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. “How about outside of the ring?”

She smiled dryly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

“Well, the idea is to eventually ride the horse in something other than an endless circle.”

“Yes. But this isn’t like the movies. I hate to break it to you, but trail riding rarely involves galloping.”

“Do you?”

“Trail ride?”

“Gallop your horse. In or out of the ring.”

“Neither at the moment—she’s pregnant.”

“But otherwise?”

She folded her arms. “Why do you ask?”

“You normally work with racehorses. I assume it’s rather like guys who work around race cars. Or Lear jets.”

“You think I’m a speed junkie?”

He looked down at her from his higher perch, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Actually, I don’t know what to think about you.”

“I could say the same,” she responded, before she thought better of it.

He held her in silent regard for a long moment. He seemed quite relaxed, but Petunia stepped a little restlessly, proving there was more tension in him than he was showing. “Could I interest you in grabbing a bite to eat? Later, once you’re free?”

The offer shouldn’t have caught her so off guard. They’d been circling each other almost from the moment he’d entered the stables. But it did. “I—I have chores. Then my horse…I have to see to her.” She was stuttering. She never stuttered. “I’d feel more comfortable if we kept this purely a professional relationship.”

“Okay,” he said, a little too easily.

Perverse creature that she was, she wished he’d at least been a bit more put out by her immediate refusal.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t share a meal, does it?” he went on, making her feel inordinately better, which was a double warning sign.

She didn’t want him pursuing her. On any level. No matter how good it made her feel. She couldn’t risk enjoying even something as simple as having her ego stroked. Much less any other part of her. She tried like hell not to look at his hands again.

He grinned a little. “We can discuss a strategy for helping me show Mac up when we ride together for the first time.”

She laughed in surprise. “So, that’s it, then. This is all just some kind of macho contest.”

“Where men and horses are concerned, isn’t it always?”

She chuckled. “Most of the time, yes. And yet, somehow I don’t see you as the cowboy type.”

“What do you see me as?” He laughed a little and shook his head. “Never mind. Maybe I don’t want to know.”

He caught her gaze and held it. The combination of that twinkle in his eyes and the laughter was downright lethal. Her nipples ached, her thighs were all twitchy, and there were butterflies dancing in her tummy.

“Or you can tell me over dinner.”

She’d never wanted to accept an invitation more. She had no doubt that if the two of them were alone anywhere outside of a business-only situation, dinner wouldn’t be all they’d be having. Reason enough to end this little banter session. “I’m afraid I can’t.”

She thought he might continue to press, and was surprised to find, even knowing better, she almost wanted him to. Maybe he’d find a way past her defenses, find a way to make it okay to take what she wanted and damn the consequences. Only the consequences, in this case, were huge. And didn’t involve only her. Knowing that didn’t make the ache go away, though. If anything, it only intensified. Her desires had always been career-oriented. She’d never wanted anything purely for the sake of having it.

But she’d be lying if she said that, right then, right there, she didn’t want him. Just for now. Or at least until he could make the damn ache go away.

“Okay, then,” he said, easily enough. Damn him. “Class over, I presume?”

She broke eye contact, praying that nothing of the thoughts going through her head showed anywhere on her face. He was far too astute as it was. “For this round, yes. You can dismount here. I’ll take care of the rest.” The faster she increased the distance between them, the better.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll do what’s expected,” he said. “Not fair for you to do my work.”

“First-timer’s pass,” she said. “We’ve gone a bit longer than I anticipated and I still have a list of chores to get through. It will go faster if I take care of her this go. You’ll definitely be in charge of that next time.”

“So, you’re willing to have a next time?”

Do I have a choice? she wondered, but didn’t say it out loud. Not that she thought Kate would lean on her to help out her friend, but Elena wasn’t a novice when it came to work politics. In her previous field, she’d learned quickly that getting ahead sometimes meant doing things because you might benefit later from the favor. Even if the short-term risks didn’t seem worth the effort.

“You’re a quick study,” she told him. “A few more lessons and you’ll have the basics down. Enough to trail-ride with Finn and Mac, anyway, if that’s your goal.”

“Okay,” he said, then hesitated for a second, as if he was going to say something else, but apparently changed his mind. “I appreciate you taking the time.”

“For a friend of Kate’s, not a problem.” Best he understand her motivation was purely professional, just in case he had other ideas. Especially if they were anything like the ideas she was having.

His wry grin reappeared. “So, how do I get down from here without blowing what little horse cred I built up tonight?”

She laughed again. He really had to stop making her do that. This would all be a lot easier if he’d stayed an enigmatic hard-ass. “Hand on pommel, body weight forward, swing your right leg behind you, kick your left foot out of the stirrup, and slide to the ground.”

“What do I do with the rope?”

She stepped forward and showed him, this time far more aware of his hands, his thigh brushing her shoulder, than she wanted to be. He slid off far too easily, and before she could step back, landing him once again deep inside her personal space. Right where she wanted him most, and least needed him to be.

He smiled as he handed her the rope, his knuckles brushing the inside of her wrist. A sensitive spot she hadn’t known she possessed until that exact moment.

“Not too bad,” he said, that smile flirting at the corners of his mouth—a beautifully sculpted mouth.

A mouth she had no business looking at.

“At least I didn’t end up on my ass.”

“Not this time, anyway,” she said, intending to create distance. But neither of them stepped away.

There was a tremendous pull in that tiny space between them, the kind of pull that made it almost impossible not to lean forward, or pray he did first, allowing her to indulge, just for a moment, without any of the guilt of having taken the initiative.

This close, she saw that his eyes weren’t black, but a brown so dark they almost matched his irises, but with just enough color in them to create that gleam, that twinkle. His skin was incredibly smooth, despite the hint of five o’clock shadow, with such a gorgeous golden tone to it, she imagined it would always be naturally warm to the touch. And yet the angles of his jaw, the hard line of his nose, his chin, the thin white scar that ran length-wise, just above one eyebrow, all combined to make him more rugged than pretty. Made her want to touch. Taste.

“Shouldn’t you hold on to this?” he asked, grabbing the lead rope from her suddenly lax grip. That teasing glint was back in his eyes, as if he’d been able to read her every thought. And, mortifying as it was to contemplate, maybe he had. She wasn’t skilled in these kinds of games.

It took enormous willpower not to snatch the rope back from his hand and drag poor Petunia away. “Thanks,” she said, as casually as she could manage. As if just looking at him didn’t make her want to get naked and do things she hadn’t thought about doing, much less needing to do, in a long time. “I can take it from here.”

He stepped the tiniest bit closer and for a second, she wasn’t sure what his intentions were. She went still rather than move away, her breath trapped in her chest. But he only moved between her and the horse, so he could stroke Petunia’s neck and murmur a few good-byes.

She felt supremely foolish until he turned to her with a half smile and a knowing look that suggested maybe he’d been using the horse as an excuse to get closer. Not that he needed an excuse.

“We still haven’t discussed your fee.”

Had his voice always been that deep? That smooth? Her gaze dipped to his mouth, unbidden, and she had to fight the urge to wet her lips.

“Elena?”

The way he said her name, with that hint of an accent, made her inner thighs twitch, made her wonder what her name would sound like when his voice was rough with desire and…then she realized she was staring at him like a half-starved wolf and jerked her gaze downward…to anything other than him. Twisting the rope in her hands, she stuttered her reply. “Uh…oh. Don’t—don’t worry about that. Favor for a friend, as I said.” She glanced up, smiled briefly. “Or my boss, whichever way you want to say it.”

“No. Kate isn’t involved in this. I’m taking up your free time, which you don’t seem to have much of as it is.”

She wondered just what he knew about her time and how she spent it, but assumed he was just being polite. Hoped so, anyway. What with all the hormones raging about, she’d forgotten all her initial suspicions. “Don’t worry about it.”

After one final stroke to Petunia’s neck, he stepped out from his spot between the two of them. “We’ll talk about it next time then.”

She smiled, mostly in relief. “If you insist, but—”

“I do,” he said.

“Fine. Next time, then. When did you want to—”

“I’ll find you.” Then he tipped his imaginary brim, grinned, and walked away.

She was still standing there, Petunia in hand, staring after him, until he was lost in the gathering shadows around the main house.

“He’s trouble,” she murmured, stroking Petunia’s mane.

The horse nickered softly and shook her mane, making Elena smile. “You think so, too, huh?” She rubbed Petunia’s muzzle and, on a long sigh, turned and led her toward the stables. “Yeah, we’re both in for it, aren’t we?”