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“No,” he acknowledged. “But it used to be we talked about things, made decisions together.”
“That was before you decided to leave.”
“Are you going to throw that up at me in every single conversation we have over the next nine days?”
“Maybe.”
His jaw tightened.
She sighed. “I’m sorry, Russ. I know that wasn’t fair.”
“I’m not abandoning you, Jewel.” The quiet words were filled with understanding.
She nodded, grateful that he didn’t say what they were both thinking. Like her mother. Like Thomas and Allan and everyone else who had ever claimed to love her. And she knew he honestly didn’t see his leaving as yet another abandonment—but it sure felt that way to Jewel.
Marcus worked closely with Russ over the next seven days, learning the routines of the farm and getting acquainted with the animals and the people who worked with them. He barely crossed paths with Jewel during that time and she certainly never stopped to engage him in conversation. In fact, the most response he ever got from her was a nod acknowledging his presence—certainly no more than any other employee.
At first, he enjoyed the novelty of being treated just like the other men. But after a few days, her indifference started to frustrate rather than amuse him. Until he realized it was studied indifference—and that she would only have to make such a deliberate effort to ignore him if she was as aware of his presence as he was of hers.
He heard her name come up in conversations and blatantly eavesdropped, trying to piece together a picture of who the woman referred to by most of her employees as “JC” really was. He was surprised to learn that she’d spent some time on the rodeo circuit before her father’s first heart attack several years earlier, after which she had come home to help with the running of the facility. He also learned that she was both liked and respected by the men in her employ, most of whom had been with the Callahan Thoroughbred Center for years.
The owners who came to the onsite track to monitor the progress of their horses weren’t as unanimous in their praise. While they thoroughly approved of the facility, they weren’t sure that “Jack’s daughter”—as Jewel was frequently labeled—had her daddy’s head for business. And then they’d look across the fields and shake their heads. Mac had yet to figure out what that was all about.
By the end of the week, he was exhausted. But it was a good exhaustion—the kind that came from hard physical work. His hands weren’t as soft as they’d been the first day he came to the farm, but the sting of blisters was a small price to pay for the enjoyment of working with the horses and the satisfaction of knowing he’d done a good job.
“Hey, Mac.” Crystal tossed him an easy smile and a quick wave as she passed by the track, where he was watching some of the yearlings work out.
“Hi, Crystal. Where are you racing off to?” he asked, falling into step beside her.
“Haven. And I’m late.”
“Where’s Haven?”
She stopped in her tracks and stared at him. “How long have you been working here?”
“My seven-day trial period ended today. Since your sister hasn’t fired me yet, I assume she’s willing to keep me on.”
“I can’t believe she hasn’t told you about Haven,” Crystal said, picking up her pace again. “She never misses an opportunity to rope someone into helping out, if she can.”
“Helping out with?” he prompted
She stopped outside of a barn that was on the far side of CTC’s property. He’d noticed the building before, but because it was so distant from the hub of CTC, he’d assumed it was owned by someone else. There was a brass oval on the door with the silhouette of a horse’s head inside it and the word “Haven” spelled out in brass letters above it.
“This is Haven,” she told him.
He followed her inside, immediately noting that it was as clean and organized as any of the buildings at CTC if somewhat more utilitarian in design. The floor was concrete rather than cobblestone and the names of the stalls’ residents noted on white boards rather than engraved on brass plates, but the stalls were still twelve-by-twelve and filled with straw bedding.
“Jewel started Haven for old or injured racehorses. The big money winners are well taken care by their owners, but those with less successful careers are sometimes neglected and often resented because of the high cost of their maintenance. Those unwanted animals come here until she can find them new homes.”
A huge draft horse tossed his head over the stall door and whinnied.
“That isn’t a thoroughbred,” he said.
“No,” Crystal agreed. “Some of them are, some aren’t. But they’re all horses that have been rescued or are in need of rehabilitation.”
“So this is what she does in her spare time,” he murmured.
“Jack Callahan established the Center,” Crystal told him. “Jewel took over running it after he died because she could, and because she loves horses. But CTC is a business. This is her passion.
“And this—” she indicated a powerfully built chestnut in the end stall “—is Cayenne. Also known as The Demon Stallion.”
“Temperamental?” he guessed.
“You might say,” Crystal agreed. “His trainer thought a heavy hand with the crop would teach him to obey. Instead it taught him to be mean. And then there was an incident in the stables and—” She shook her head. “Let’s just say his owners wrote him off.”
Marcus had heard about trainers like that and thought the crop should be used on them. How anyone could abuse such a beautiful animal—or any creature—was beyond him. And while he didn’t doubt Cayenne was capable of acting like a demon, right now the horse just looked wary, and scared.
He moved closer, keeping one eye on the stallion and his voice low.
“How did he end up here?”
“Jewel heard about him from a friend of a friend, or something like that. It’s hard to keep all of their stories straight sometimes.”
He was starting to realize there was a lot more to the story of Jewel Callahan than she wanted him to know.
“Anyway,” Crystal continued, “the owner was looking to unload him rather than invest in further training, so Jewel made him an offer. Now she’s faced with the challenge of undoing the damage that has been done so that she can find a good home for him.”
“Who decides what a good home is?” Mac asked.
“Jewel, of course. But never before a personal interview with the potential buyer and a thorough inspection of the premises.”
“Is there anything she doesn’t do?” he wondered aloud.
Crystal grinned. “She doesn’t make a cheesecake that compares to mine.”
“I have a weakness for cheesecake,” Mac admitted.
And he had a growing fascination with Jewel Callahan. The more he knew about the beautiful, stubborn woman who had reluctantly given him a job, the more he wanted to know. And he had a pretty good idea about how to get what he wanted.
Cayenne was in the paddock when Jewel returned to the farm after her trip into town, so she knew her sister was cleaning his stall. Knowing how much Crystal hated that job, she felt a twinge of guilt that she’d been gone as long as she had, but only a slight twinge. Crystal had been helping out at Haven since they took in their first horse, but with her own business turning into such a success, she’d had to severely cut back her volunteer time. Since she was only able to put in a few hours on Tuesdays and Fridays now, Jewel figured mucking out a couple of stalls was actually necessary to keep her in practice.
But as she carried the bags of vitamin supplements through to the storeroom, she couldn’t resist teasing. “You must be losing your touch, Crys, if you didn’t manage to sweet-talk some cute stable hand into doing that for you.”
But the head that popped up in response to her comment was neither blond nor female, and “cute” was far too bland a description to do it justice.
“Hey,” Mac said.
“Obviously she hasn’t lost her touch,” Jewel muttered beneath her breath.
But not so quietly that Mac didn’t hear, because he flashed her an easy grin that, even from a distance of twenty-five feet, made her tummy quiver.
“Does that mean you think I’m cute?” he asked.
She ignored the question. “You haven’t mucked out enough stalls already this week?”
“More than enough,” he assured her, leaning on the handle of the pitchfork.
“Where is my sister?” Jewel asked. “And how did she con you into doing her job?”
“She didn’t con me—she bribed me.”
“With?”
“Promises of homemade cherry cheesecake.”
Jewel began stacking bottles and jars on the appropriate shelves. “I’d say she got the better end of the deal, but she does make a spectacular cheesecake.”
“Pot roast was also mentioned,” he told her.
“Crystal invited you up to the house for dinner?” Not that she objected, exactly. And since Simon had a late meeting and Crystal would be dining with them, she had no reason to object. But she was still a little wary of her sister’s reasons for issuing the invitation.
“She thought it would give you and I an opportunity to talk about my duties for the next several weeks.”
“If you want to stay on, I’d be happy to have you continue doing what you’ve been doing.”
“I want to stay on,” he told her. “And I want to help out here.”
She closed and latched the door. “Why?”
“Because it’s obvious to me that you could use a couple extra hands.”
“I could use a dozen extra hands,” she admitted. “But Haven doesn’t have the funds to hire any help. Mostly we take on coop students from the local high school.”
“And you come in every day after they’re finished to redo what wasn’t done properly,” he guessed, tossing fresh bedding into the stall.
She shrugged. “They’re kids. They do the best they can.”
“And they’re scared to death of Cayenne.”
“There’s no shame in being afraid of a twelve-hundred-pound animal. Randy Porter trained horses for more than thirty-five years and even he watches his step around Cayenne.”
Mac finished spreading the straw before he turned to her. “I could work with him.”
She’d have to be crazy to let him. He’d proven he was a competent groom, but what he was suggesting was way beyond the scope of anything he’d been doing in the past week, and Cayenne wasn’t like any of the horses he’d encountered at CTC. The Demon Stallion had earned his nickname by being both difficult and unpredictable, and though Jewel had been working with him personally over the past couple of months, she’d made little progress.
But while she might worry about Cayenne’s inconsistent behavior, her own had been no better. When she’d started training him, she’d planned to spend a couple of hours with him every day. The reality was that she didn’t always have a couple of hours to spare, there were simply too many demands on her to be able to dedicate the time and attention he needed.
And there were too many reasons why she should refuse Mac’s offer, not the least of which was that if he started hanging out around the Haven stable, their paths would cross more often.
On the other hand, if she spent enough time around Mac she might become inured to his presence so that warm tingles didn’t dance through her veins every time he looked at her, and her heart didn’t skip a beat every time he smiled.
“Dinner’s at six,” she finally said. “We can talk about it then.”
Chapter Three
Jewel decided to grab a quick shower after she finished up at Haven and was just tugging on a clean pair of jeans when she heard a knock on the back door. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that it was almost six. Confident that the housekeeper would let him in, she didn’t hurry. She was combing her fingers through the unruly mass of hair she’d released from its ponytail when the knock came again.
Ignoring the socks she’d tossed on the bed, she made her way to the kitchen. Where she expected to find Bonnie hovering at the stove, she instead found a note.
Crystal is driving me into town to pick up a package at FedEx. Dinner is in the oven. Enjoy.
She noted the two place settings along with the candles and wine on the table and seriously doubted that there was any package. She’d invited Mac to dinner because she’d believed Crystal and Bonnie would also be there. But somehow her conniving sister had managed to take what was supposed to be a business discussion over a meal and made it look like a date. And while she understood her sister’s motivations, she had no intention of being manipulated.
She tucked the candles and wine into the pantry, returned the stemware to the cupboard and moved the place settings to opposite ends of the table before she went to answer the door.
The first thing Mac noticed when Jewel opened the door was that she’d showered and changed since she’d left the stable. Her hair tumbled freely down her back, her freshly scrubbed skin glowed and her feet were bare. She wasn’t wearing any makeup that he could tell, but she looked beautiful, natural.
She noticed the flowers in his hand and frowned. “You shouldn’t have brought me flowers.”
“They’re only for you if you cooked the pot roast.” He was pleased to note that his response had surprised her, because he suspected that the only way he was going to make progress with Jewel was to give her the unexpected and keep her off her stride.
“I didn’t.” She smiled wryly. “For which we should both be truly grateful.”
He smiled back. “Then the daisies are for Bonnie.”
“You’ve met Bonnie?”
“Not yet, but your sister did such a good job extolling her culinary virtues I almost feel as if I have.”
“Well, you won’t meet her tonight, either. She had an errand to run in town.” Jewel took the flowers from him. “But I’ll put these in water for her and tell you that she’d appreciate the thought.”
As he followed her into the house, he thought she smelled good enough to eat, though he didn’t think the citrusy scent was perfume. She didn’t seem the type to bother with such frills. More likely the scent was from some kind of lotion or cream that she’d rubbed onto her skin after her shower.
He firmly shoved that tempting image from his mind and glanced around the kitchen.
The table and chairs appeared to be solidly built and obviously well used. The dishes were stoneware rather than china, the cutlery was stainless instead of silver, the napkins made of paper not linen. It was a family table, and the rich aromas that filled the air were those of a good, home-cooked meal, and he found the simplicity of everything appealed to him.
As Jewel appealed to him.
Noting that the table was set for two, he said, “I thought your sister would be here for dinner.”
“So did I.”
Something in her tone suggested that she wasn’t only surprised—but annoyed—by Crystal’s change of plans. And he wondered if it was the thought of dining alone with him that bothered her.
“Does her absence mean there’s no cheesecake?” he asked.
“No.” She smiled as she carried a tray laden with thick slices of beef and chunky roasted vegetables to the table. “The cheesecake’s in the fridge.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” he said.
She gestured for him to sit, but he scooped the basket of warm rolls and the pitcher of steaming gravy from the counter to set on the table before she could do so.
She slanted him a look, as if his willingness to assist with domestic chores was something else she hadn’t expected, but silently took her own seat on the other side of the table.
He loaded his plate with a generous helping of beef and vegetables and noted that she did the same. When he passed her the pitcher of gravy, she smothered her plate with it.
They chatted casually while they ate, about the horses and the routines in her stables and then about thoroughbred training and racing in general. He enjoyed her company as much as dinner because of her sharp intelligence and wry humor and found he was reluctant for the meal to end.
When she got up to get dessert, she frowned at the clock. “Is it seven-thirty already?”
“Looks like,” he agreed. “Is there somewhere else you need to be?”
“No.” She slid a generous slice of cake onto a plate. “I was just wondering what kind of errand could have kept Bonnie out so long.”
As if on cue, the phone rang. Jewel passed him the plate then excused herself to answer the call.
“That was Bonnie checking in,” she said, when she returned to the table. “Apparently she and Crystal decided to stop for coffee and got caught up chatting with some mutual acquaintance.”
He stabbed his fork into the cake, noting that while she’d started to relax over dinner, she wasn’t so relaxed now. Was she anxious for him to leave? Or nervous because the phone call had reminded her that they were alone together?
She sat back down with obvious reluctance and cut herself a much smaller piece of cake.
“Tell me about Haven,” he said. “The more I know about it, the more useful I can be.”
“Why are you so eager to help out?”
“I figured that was obvious,” he said. “I’m trying to ingratiate myself to you so you’ll keep me around, maybe even consider having a hot and torrid affair with me.”
Jewel glanced at Mac across the table. “Was that comment intended to fluster or flatter me?”
He shrugged. “I’m guessing it failed on both counts.”
Actually it had succeeded on both counts, but she wasn’t willing to let him know it. Or know that she’d given some thought to the same thing.
“Are you always so suspicious when someone offers you help?” he asked her.
“Let’s just say that I’ve learned to look for the strings that are usually attached.”
“I like horses,” he said. “And, for some reason, I like you, too. Maybe it did occur to me that spending time at Haven might result in spending time with you, but my motives are no more nefarious than that.”
“Well, you were right about extra hands being needed at Haven,” she said. “And if you really want to spend your spare time there, I have no objection.”
“That’s incredibly gracious of you,” he said.
She smiled at his dry tone. “Yeah, Crystal’s always telling me I need to work on my social skills. But the horses don’t usually complain.”
“I’m not complaining,” he said.
She took the tray of leftovers to the counter to wrap up. She heard the scrape of chair legs on the floor as Mac pushed away from the table, too, then brought their plates to the counter.
“Are you going to question my motives for clearing the table, too?”
She bit down on her lip, because she’d been tempted to do exactly like that. Instead she said, “I appreciate your help, but I can handle it.”
He ignored her and began loading the dishwasher.
“You’ve got to be up early in the morning,” she pointed out.
“And you’ll be up just as early,” he noted. “Whatever time I walk into the stable, you’ve already been there.”
“It’s my stable,” she pointed out.
“No one’s disputing that.” He nudged her aside with his hip so he could move around to the other side of the dishwasher.
The brief contact shot arrows of awareness zinging through her system.
She stepped back quickly and braced her hands on the counter behind her. As she did so, her elbow bumped a water goblet on the counter and sent it crashing to the floor. The glass shattered, jagged shards flying.
Silently cursing her clumsiness, she started toward the closet for the broom.
“Watch,” Mac said.
“I am,” she snapped irritably, then swore when she stepped down on a piece of glass.
She lifted her foot, saw the blood was already dripping.
Before she could say anything, he scooped her up off her feet and lifted her onto the counter. Her breath whooshed out of her, though she wasn’t sure if that was because of the unexpected jolt when he plunked her down or the surprising thrill of being held by a strong man.
He took a step back and picked up her foot. His hand was warm, his touch firm but gentle, and somehow incredibly sensual.
“Mac—”
He snagged a paper towel from the roll. “Just let me take a look.”
She didn’t see as she had much choice in the matter. And when his thumb slid over her instep, she didn’t protest because she was incapable of speaking.
He dabbed gently at the blood. “You up-to-date on your tetanus shots?”
“I had one a couple of years ago,” she said.
“It doesn’t look like it needs a stitch, but it definitely needs some antiseptic cream and a bandage.”
“There’s a first-aid kit in the bathroom. If you let me get down, I’ll—”
“You stay put,” he said. “I’ll get it.”
“You give orders better than you take them, Mac,” she noted when he returned with the box of medical supplies.
He shrugged. “I didn’t figure you wanted to get blood all over the floor by hobbling around before that cut was tended to.”
She didn’t, of course, but that wasn’t the point. “I would have managed just fine if you weren’t here.”
In fact, she probably wouldn’t have knocked the glass off the counter if he hadn’t been there to distract her—not that she was going to admit as much to him.
She sucked in a breath when he wiped an antiseptic pad over the bottom of her foot.
“You’re being ungrateful again,” he told her.
She frowned at that. “I’m used to doing things on my own.”
“Then it’s not just me,” he noted, dabbing some cream onto the pad of a Band-Aid before affixing it to her wound.
“No.”
His fingers smoothed down the edges of the dressing, and caused those tingles to dance and swirl through her system again.
“Maybe,” she muttered under her breath.
Not quietly enough, obviously, because he looked up at her and grinned.
“That should take care of it,” he said, finally releasing her foot.
But he didn’t move away, and she was suddenly aware of the intimacy of their positions—of the cupboards behind her back, and the man standing between her thighs.
“I need to, uh, get that glass swept up.”
He stayed where he was, his hands on the counter, bracketing her knees. “Are you always this skittish when anyone gets too close?”
She laid her hands on his chest and tried not to think about the solid muscles beneath her palms, the strong beat of his heart, or the heat of his skin as she pushed him back a few inches.
The intensity in his gaze made everything inside her quiver, but she managed to keep her eyes level with his and her voice steady when she responded. “I have this thing about personal space—as in, I don’t like people in mine.”
Before he could say anything else, a flash of headlights warned of a vehicle coming up the driveway.
“That will be Crystal dropping Bonnie off,” she told him, torn between relief and disappointment that their time alone together was about to be interrupted. Because as much as she did tend to veer away from intimacy, she occasionally experienced pangs of loneliness, moments when she was sometimes even tempted to open up her heart again. Usually those moments were quick to pass and her life would go back to normal.
But Mac Delgado had shaken up the status quo the minute he walked into the Halfway Café, and Jewel didn’t know what—if anything—she was going to do about him.
Mac’s knowing expression suggested that he’d picked up on her mixed emotions, that he knew how confused she was and how tempted she didn’t want to be. She found it strange that a man she’d met only a week earlier should be able to see through all the layers she’d worked so hard to build up over the years and recognize the longing that was buried deep in her heart.
And she knew that if she wasn’t careful, he might find a way to tunnel through those layers.
As Mac found the broom and quickly swept up and disposed of the broken glass, Jewel promised herself that she would be careful. Very careful.