Conflicts of the Heart (7 page)

“Hello, Yin,” Patrick murmured into the ear of his splendid mare, slipping his palm with a couple of sugar cubes under her nostrils. With a deft swoop of Yin's tongue, the tall
brown mare lapped up the treat from Patrick's hand.

While gathering the reins and his saddle, thoughts of Dana at the picnic passed through his mind. He couldn’t shake the limpid eyes that suddenly turned to fear just before they broke apart at the end of the gunnysack race. This one's off limits. Be friendly. That's all. The beat of her heart against his chest and her soft, warm breath on his neck still lingered in his mind. He either was in deep lust, infatuated or obsessed. Not love! No, he stopped believing in love at first sight after his debacle with Elaine. He had never imagined a gunnysack could get a man in so much trouble. Or, had it been the gunnysack? From the first moment he laid eyes on her, she took first place on his “A” list that rumbled around in his thick head day and night. He needed a hard ride to clear his muddled brain of Dana Claiborne.

The loud clang from a tin bucket, kicked across the barn, took Patrick's mind off Dana. He spun around. “Ken, mornin’.”

“
Mornin', yourself.” Ken Burrack spoke in a gravelly tone.

Ken, a tall, lanky man of thirty, with wavy brown hair and dark horned-rimmed glasses perched on an aquiline nose, ambled up to Patrick. Even in his rumpled riding attire, he couldn't
hide his Ivy League demeanor. He owned a car leasing company and when PNA signed on, he and Patrick became fast friends.

Patrick and Ken were both divorced and now happily single after a failed marriage. Both liked long distance racing and gladly went into a partnership to buy Yin and Yang. They'd made a pact to protect each other from the pitfalls of anything resembling a permanent relationship with a woman.

“You've got a hangover?” Ken slapped Patrick on the back.

“No sleep. You ready to ride?”

“I have to be back in an hour.” Ken yanked his saddle and reins from the hooks on the wall and tossed them onto the back of his tall, brown Yang. “An early appointment,” he added.

Moments later, they headed out of the barn toward the bluffs overlooking the King's River. He enjoyed the cool morning and the hint of sage and orange blossoms lingering in the air. Trotting side by side, Ken asked, “So who is she?”

Patrick shot him a stern gaze. “What are you, a psychic?”

“Hell no.
I just know you, ol' snarly. If it's not a hangover, it's a woman. Your nose isn’t red.”

Yin snorted and nodded her head, as if she understood. They laughed.

“Between us, it is a woman. Not just any woman.” Patrick glanced over at Ken, ready for the standard lecture. A lecture he counted on since Ken treated him like the brother he never had.

“She's something else,” Patrick said in an offhanded way. “She's under my skin and I don't want her there.”

“Uh-oh, time for plan-A.” Ken laughed. The plan included a quick trip out of town and possibly a phone number change, depending on the type of woman involved.

“Can't.
She's negotiating the contract for Templeton.” “Jesus, man. When you do it, you do it big.”

Patrick gently nudged Yin's ribs, leaned forward, and broke into a gallop. Ken followed. When the sweat broke out on Yin's neck, he slowed her to an easy trot, ready for more lecturing from Ken, as they had agreed on.

“She must be something for you to get hung-up on so soon.” His voice vibrated with the horse's rhythm. “Have a fling. No one says you have to make a lifetime commitment.”

“Cold, man.”
This could have been good advice under normal circumstances, but when the woman happened to be Dana Claiborne, a fling just didn't sound right to him.

Picking up speed, they neared the bluff, where the roar from the raging river drowned out their voices. He knew in his heart he’d get his contract, then he’d be back in New York by early fall. Once he fulfilled the promise he made his dad, maybe he and Ken could develop that business in Ashton. Of course, his daughter must agree to move out here with him.

“What's her name?”

“Dana Claiborne.”

Ken slapped the horn on his saddle. “A little hanky-panky in the office, eh?”

“No hanky-panky. Besides, she's too much for me to handle. This one's on her way to the top.”

Ken palmed his forehead, chuckled. “Don't make the same mistake twice, bro.”

“You got it.” Not wanting to discuss the matter further, Patrick nudged Yin's flank with his heel and she broke into a full gallop, heading back to the barn for a cool-down and bag of oats.

Ken followed and then reined in a mile from the barn, a cloud of dust filling the air. “Patrick,” he yelled. “Lunch to the winner.” The two men sidled their horses up, broke into a run, as they did each morning, with a different bet riding on the outcome.

In minutes, Yin, a horse not to be beaten, nosed ahead of Yang. Hooves pounded against the hardpan road. Ken yelled “Rat fink” when Yin drew to a halt at the barn door, turning under Patrick's expert hand, and reared up to greet the losers.

They dismounted, turned their reins over to a young groomer who nodded to a fresh pot of coffee next to the door.

“Got time for a quick cup?”

Ken glanced at his watch “Ten minutes. When do you start negotiations with the lovely?” He sat in a rickety chair and sipped his steaming coffee.

“Tomorrow.”
Patrick slumped back against the wall. “If I weren’t in such a hurry for this contract, I’d stall her. Give myself some time to cool my heels. Wish there was some way to hold off for a week, but this little stick of dynamite is hot to trot.”

Ken laughed. “How do you mean that?”

He shook his head. “I mean work.” He paused. “I think.”

“Haven't seen you like this for a while. She must be something
else. When do I meet her?”

“Don't worry. She won't be showing up at any of our social events.” He leaned down and brushed loose straw from his pant leg. “You can count on it.”

“Gotta go.” Ken hoisted himself up, set his cup down on the table. “Take my advice and face this filly head on. Keep your cool. You’re on opposite teams. Remember?” He winked and sauntered to the door. “See you for lunch?”

Five

Dana sat at her desk staring out the window, feeling something she hadn’t felt since her divorce. An awakening stirred inside of her, one that she couldn’t acknowledge aloud. The last thing she needed to complicate her life. Her feelings were purely physical. She could deal with that. Feeling this way dredged up memories from her past. She tried
to hard to be independent, but a part of her yearned for a strong hand to cover hers. Going the rest of this journey with just Michael left her with a hollow, lonely feeling. She’d made this choice and now, in full throttle, she must cling to the promises she made to herself. No man, just a job and Michael.

Maria Vasquez burst into the office, rescuing her from her thoughts. The short, weighty Hispanic woman with her cheerful disposition thought nothing of barging in unannounced.

“The hotel just called to say they had a mix-up in their room scheduling. We can't get in until next week.”

The sudden change in plans brought Dana to her feet. Negotiations were to begin today. “They don't have a room for us? Not even a corner area? Why did they wait so long to call?”

Maria shook her head. “I tried everything. Seems they overbooked a convention and we're out.”

“Find us another place.”

“I've tried. This is June.
Convention and tourist season.”

“Patrick’s going to have a fit.”

An unexpected disappointment overwhelmed her when Maria left to call Patrick. At first, she thought of all the hard work she’d invested for this moment and now there’d be a delay, but maybe her not seeing Patrick Mitchell disappointed her more.

Dana picked up the buzzing intercom. “Yes?”
“Mitchell on line one.”

Dana hesitated before connecting. What kind of voice should she use?
Curt, businesslike or sweet? She hit the button. “Good morning, Patrick.” Her words came out clear and professional.

“You survived our little get together yesterday.”

“Indeed I did. Thanks for the invite.” She avoided the picnic. “I have some bad news.”

“Oh?”

“Unless you can come up with a meeting place, we're stuck until next Monday.”

“I guess a week wouldn’t hurt anything. Was this your idea?”

She expected him to be angry, but he seemed okay with the delay. He sounded almost happy about it. Absurd. He expressed an urgency to get negotiations underway. “We can use the hospital if you don't mind meeting on my turf.” She chuckled to herself, knowing they had to meet on neutral turf.

“No way.
How about my offices?” He retorted quickly.

“No way.”
She bristled. “Let me check around. I'll get back to you.” He hung up without a goodbye. Dana stood holding the cold receiver. She shrugged, hung up the phone, and sat with her hands folded in her lap. He’d brought her to her senses. What an abominable man. For a while, she thought she had him figured out, but now she wasn’t so sure.

Moments later, she went to her private bathroom and had a good heart to heart talk with her reflection. “What you need, Miss Dana, are pigtails and a nice row of freckles across your pudgy little nose, so you can look like a teeny bopper with a crush.” She wagged a finger at herself. “Now get to work and do what you've been hired to do.”
She left the small room feeling better.

Dana fumbled with her keys, trying to open her apartment before the phone stopped ringing. Sweat poured down her temples. These unholy triple digit days were getting to her. She needed to get the damn door open and answer that nagging phone.

Michael, unable to understand her agitation, began jumping up and down, yelling some unintelligible mumbo jumbo. Her groceries, which she leaned against the wall, tipped over, jettisoning her beautiful, expensive, shiny red apples across the landing. Two plopped over the edge. One exploded on the patio a flight below. The other rolled into the swimming pool. “Oh, jeez.” She raced to answer this call. She worked herself into a snit over what could be a hang-up or wrong number. The lock clicked. The door flew open. She grabbed Michael's hand and dragged him in with her, snatched up the receiver and drew in a deep breath. No buzz…only a hollow silence. Had she made it?

“Dana, this is John Meyer. Are you all right?” She spoke with John this morning and he took the case with a promise to call her back soon.

“Oh, John, I'm sorry. I was outside trying to unlock my door when I heard the phone ringing. I should have given you my cell number. Hang on a moment.”

Michael, still upset over her erratic behavior, stood in front of her, staring down at his feet. Pulling him to her breast, she hugged him so tight he grunted. She pushed his hair away from his forehead and kissed him, then sent him to his room with a tweak on his cheek.

After a deep breath, she sat in the chair next to the phone. “Sorry, but I've got my hands full here.”

“Would you like to call me back when you’re settled?”

“No, I’m fine. Just needed to catch my breath.”

“I want to get started right away. I'll need all the information you promised me. Can you fax it?”

“I'll take it to my office in the morning. When will you serve Joel?”

“As soon as I can get a court date.”
A moment of silence passed.

“Are you afraid?”

“No, but I think we should meet with him first to show him what we have. Maybe he'd rather work this out instead of going back to court.”

“I don't know. He might have time to adjust his income even more before we get him into court. Then you'd be right where you were the first time around. You know him better than I do, so I’ll leave that up to you.”

Joel used to be clever when manipulating his paperwork, and never gave a damn about her or their son. Maybe she should take John’s advice. “Surprise him.” She exhaled, knowing she made the right decision.

“If everything you say is correct, we should have no trouble tripling Michael's child support and getting Joel to take responsibility for some of those debts.”

What a God send. “He hasn't even been paying what he owes me now. I don't know how I'll get him to pay me more.”

“You don't have to put up with that. You just need to turn it over to Family Support. They'll get it for you.”

“I should have said something to the judge about his earnings the first time around. We wouldn't be going through this.”

“Why didn't you?”

“My attorney told me if I couldn't prove it, I couldn't say anything. I totally forgot about the box in my closet. Then the judge's ruling hit me like a thunderbolt. My attorney just wanted to get it over with.”