Beauty & the Beasts (9 page)

Because of how I look?
she wanted to ask, but chickened out.

“Thank you, kind sir,” she said, instead.

One eyebrow went up. “My male ego will be wounded if you don’t reciprocate.”

If she wasn’t scared to death of men, relationships and herself, it would have been a great kiss. Maybe, just maybe, if he kissed her again she would have the courage to find out where it led.

How to express any of that? “Ditto,” she said a little shyly.

A smile lit his eyes, softening the intensity. He leaned farther across the table. “Is that an invitation?”

She licked dry lips. “I—”

A man stopped beside Eric. Over her shoulder, he scanned the glassed-in room. “You got dogs?”

“I’m afraid not.” She sounded almost normal. “Ten Lives is a shelter for cats only.”

He grunted and moved toward the greyhounds. But Linda was coming out, followed by the two older women.

“I’d better get going,” Eric said, straightening. His expression was bland, but his gaze lingered on her face. “Like to try riding tomorrow after work?”

So soon. Her pulse leaped. She’d seen him yesterday and today, and now he wanted them to get together tomorrow, as well. He was pushing hard. And she could feel herself toppling. A somewhat
worrisome analogy, considering what men and women tended to do prone.

“Sounds good,” she admitted, trying for breezy and coming up breathless. “Do you want to give me directions?”

“I’ll pick you up this first time. Five-thirty?”

“I can manage that.”

“Good.” His smile was almost as sensual as his kiss. His mouth was so darned sexy. “Tomorrow.” He nodded and walked out.

Thank God the door was close or she would have made a fool of herself staring at his retreating back. And a very nice sight it was, with his lean hips and long legs in worn jeans and his broad shoulders covered by a faded gray T-shirt.

She let out an unconscious sigh when the doors swallowed him, and then reluctantly turned to the two older women.

“They’d like to adopt Fiddlesticks,” Linda said.

Madeline ignored the knowing looks on all three faces and drew the binder toward her, saying briskly, “Oh, that’s wonderful. Now, did Linda discuss our policies?”

I
N THE CAR
, utter silence reigned. Garth fidgeted and stole glances at his mother, who drove without once looking at him, her face set in rigid lines. It wasn’t like her. When he hadn’t come home last night or called to let her know where he was, he’d figured that today she would weep or storm at him or
something.
Not thank Will’s mother for keeping him, then
quietly tell him to get in the car, they’d talk about this later.

“Did you call Chuckie?” he asked, putting a sneer in his voice.

“I said we’d talk about this later.” Her voice was cold enough to make him shiver. “I meant it.”

She turned into their parking garage, smiled at the attendant as though nothing was the matter, then drove up three levels to their spot. She got out, locked her side and started toward the elevator.

“My bike—”

“Leave it,” she snapped.

From habit he locked, too, then hurried after her. He wanted to saunter, pretend he was cool with whatever was bugging her, but he couldn’t. He was scared. He hadn’t known you could do something to your parents that was unforgivable, unless maybe you murdered them with an ax or drowned your baby brother, but he had this sick feeling that his mother wasn’t going to forgive him for what he’d done.

The elevator took them to street level. The Walk sign showed a red hand, but Mom marched across, anyway, even though a car had to slow for her. She went up the steps to their town house without once checking to see if he was behind her.

He guessed she didn’t care if he ran away. Maybe he should. That’d show her.

His steps slowed, and he thought he might puke. It wasn’t like he had anyplace to go. Will’s mother had thought he had permission to spend the night. Next time she’d check. The parents of most of his
friends would, and they sure wouldn’t let him stay without permission.

He’d seen kids living on the streets; San Francisco was full of them. They had tattoos and sneers and a way of swinging their hips when they walked, but they were also dirty and skinny. He knew the stuff they had to do to get money to eat

“Go to your room, please.”

Jeez, he’d followed his mother in the front door like he was some little puppy dog. But he didn’t know what else to do.

“If you want to yell at me…” he said desperately.

“I don’t want to speak to you at all right now.” She almost looked like she hated him. “Do as I ask.”

Garth stared at her. She stared back without cracking. He opened his mouth to beg, but pride wouldn’t let him. Without another word, he whirled and took the stairs two and three at a time. He slammed his bedroom door so hard a pile of CDs fell off the shelf above his desk.

Anger and fear and nausea all balled up inside him, as if a huge tumor was growing in there, swelling and eating him up. He hated it, hated his mother, hated Chuck, hated his father. Hated himself.

A word came but of his mouth, one he’d never said before because even he thought it was kind of disgusting. But saying it felt good. He said it again, more loudly, then shouted it. At last, in anguish, he threw himself on his bed and cried.

“H
ERE.
“ E
RIC CUPPED
his hands. “Give me your left foot and I’ll boost you up.”

Madeline stroked the quarter horse’s powerful brown flank. The horse turned her head to gaze at this new human with one thoughtful eye. Tentatively Madeline said, “She’s awfully tall.”

“So are you.” Eric’s grin was heartless. “Think of it this way. Your feet will only be—” he flattened one hand next to the stirrup “—this far off the ground. You could easily hop down from something that height.”

“Most somethings that height are inanimate. They won’t throw me off.” Madeline took a deep breath. “Okay, okay. It’s just that the whole idea is a little scarier than it seemed when I was fifteen.”

He didn’t give her a chance for second thoughts. She’d barely lifted one foot off the ground when he scooped his hands under it and threw her up. Desperately clutching the saddle horn, Madeline swung her leg over the horse’s back. The mare shifted and Madeline squeaked.

“Relax.” Eric wrapped a hand around her booted ankle. “Honey’s a big baby. You’re safer on her than you were driving over here.”

How true, Madeline decided a moment later, after Honey had proved her kindness by patiently waiting for some signal from her rider. Madeline’s heartbeat slowed. Looking down at Eric’s silky blond head, she had no doubt that he was the biggest danger here to her.

She’d been absurdly nervous about today’s date. They would be alone at his place. Now that he’d kissed her once, would he expect things to progress from there? But so far, he’d been friendly, not touching
her unnecessarily. Only an occasional glint in his gray-green eyes warned that he was aware of her as a woman.

“You said you’d been on a horse a few times?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.” She made a face. “Years and years ago.

“Well, Honey neck-reins. To go right, you gently lay the reins across the left side of her neck.” His big hand closed on hers and demonstrated. A tingle traveled up her forearms. “To go left, vice versa.”

She nodded, and to her secret disappointment, he took his hand from hers.

“To stop, pull back. Not hard—you don’t want to hurt Honey’s mouth.”

Another docile nod.

“To go forward, you squeeze your legs. Harder if you want to trot. Give her a boot if you have a good grip on the saddle horn and plan to gallop. Maybe pen a steer.”

She shot him a look. “Sure.”

That wicked grin flashed across his lean face. “Go for it.”

“All right.” Madeline took a deep breath, looked around from her position high atop the horse’s back and thought about what she would have given for this chance not so many years ago. Well, now she had it, and she was determined to enjoy the experience.

She softly clicked her tongue and squeezed with her heels. Honey ambled forward along the fence line. The sunlight was warm, the rocking gait relaxing.
By the time the two had circled the entire pasture, Madeline’s confidence was growing.

“Can I trot?” she asked, when she arrived back where Eric was now sitting on top of the split-rail fence, his heels hooked on the bottom rail.

“Damn straight.” He instructed her to let her body stay loose, her hips move with the lurch of Honey’s back. “Sort of like—” He stopped abruptly, a crease deepening in his cheek. “Never mind.”

With a jolt Madeline realized in what activity a woman’s hips went with the flow, so to speak, and a flush warmed her cheeks.

Eric pretended not to notice. “Don’t worry if you bounce around at first. It’s really not as easy to fall off as you’d think.”

“How comforting,” Madeline said, her embarrassment fading. She knew how to do sex, the mechanical part at least. With luck, riding the horse would be more fun. Which wouldn’t necessarily be saying much. As she urged Honey into a trot, she felt a flicker of amusement, imagining what Eric would think if he knew how she rated the two activities.

Amusement didn’t survive the first meeting of her rear end with the hard saddle leather. It snapped her teeth together. Her hands frantically gripping the horn felt slick with sweat. Nothing would have made her let it loose long enough to pull back on the reins. Oh, God. Every bone in her body was rattling. The ground was so far away, and she knew she was going to hit it any minute. She almost wished she would— at least it was standing still.

But she didn’t do a swan dive for the grass; after a while she realized she was basically bouncing straight up and down. Okay. She squeezed her eyes shut. What had Eric said?
Relax. Let your hips move with the horse’s back.
Still holding tight to the horn, Madeline eased first one muscle, then another. She let her lower back go loose, felt her hips flex forward, back. Eric was right. It was rather like…

She opened her eyes. Hey, this wasn’t half-bad! Not smooth, exactly, but not bone-crunching anymore, and…well, exciting. If a trot was this much fun, imagine what cantering would be like!

Did she dare?

Honey took the decision out of her hands. The reins were lying slack, and she apparently felt frisky. Or maybe
her
joints were rattling, too. With a lurch that rocked Madeline back in the saddle, the mare swung into a canter that whipped Madeline’s hair about and stung her eyes.

Honey went right on by Eric, who’d jumped from the fence. Her eyes watering so that he was blurry, Madeline unclamped one hand from the horn and waved. She saw the flash of white teeth as he laughed. She grabbed the horn with both hands again and let exhilaration rip through her.

By the time she’d made it around the pasture yet again, she felt like a seasoned horsewoman. Poised in the saddle, back straight, in control. She did, however, have to let go of the horn to pull on the reins. Honey obligingly came to a stop right in front of Eric.

He took hold of her bridle and grinned up at Madeline. “You’re a wild woman.”

“That was…it was…it was fun!” How inadequate that sounded.

“Walk around one more time, and then we’d better call it quits for today, or you’ll be too sore to get out of bed tomorrow.”

“Walk?” she said in disappointment.

“Walk,” he repeated firmly. “Honey needs to cool down.”

“Oh, all right,” Madeline said.

“Try putting your foot back in the stirrup first, though,” he suggested.

So much for the seasoned horsewoman.

She and Honey ambled around the pasture, enjoying the sun and the view of White Horse, still snowcovered, at the head of the valley.
What a heavenly place to live!
she thought, without letting herself analyze whether she meant White Horse or this particular spot—Eric’s home.

To her surprise, when she slid off the mare’s back, her legs wobbled and she leaned gratefully against Eric when he came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her.

“I haven’t been on her that long!” she protested.

“Half an hour. The inside of your thighs will feel it tomorrow.”

Was he kissing the top of her head? If so, she didn’t mind. She felt…carefree. Young and foolish and reckless. Wisps of exhilaration still floated through her like memories or dreams. She should live a little, shouldn’t she? If Eric kissed her, this time
she was going to find out if she could feel anything more than she had the few times she’d experimented with men after achieving adulthood and independence from her mother.

He turned her, one hand still holding Honey’s reins. As he looked down at Madeline, a smile warmed his eyes.

“I think you’re a natural.”

“Really?”

“Really.” His voice roughened. “Your body moves beautifully.”

She ought to hate his choice of words. Captured by the heat that had burned away the smile in his eyes, she hardly noticed. “Thank you,” she whispered.

His head bent. “May I kiss you?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed, and lifted her mouth to meet his. Naturally.

L
IFE CHANGED
. Madeline felt like Sleeping Beauty, awakened by the prince’s kiss, and the comparison frightened her. Even as a girl, she hadn’t liked fairy tales where the princess was passive. Helpless. Needed rescuing by a prince. Yet the comparison was apt; she’d been in a kind of deep freeze, and Eric had thawed the ice that trapped her. And just as in the fairy tales, he had kissed her only because he found her beautiful. Or so she feared.

What the tales didn’t say was that the thaw hurt She was filled with churning emotions: regret, renewed anger, apprehension and outright fear. She’d missed so much by holding herself aloof, too much
ever to make up for. And this thing with Eric was an idyll, not a forever-after. That knowledge was a knife edge, even though she didn’t know yet whether she even wanted forever.

After that first riding lesson, she had a second on Thursday and a third longer one on Sunday. Of course, each time they’d had dinner together, and they’d had to talk about something, so she found herself telling him more about her life than she could remember sharing in years. About her mother and the distance between them—although she didn’t admit that she’d deliberately chosen the distance to avoid the alternative: confessing to her anger and bitterness.