Haze of Heat (7 page)

With his good looks and charm, not to mention the aura of walking sex that emanated from him, she could easily see that. Agents would have snapped him up in a heartbeat.

Even as she strained her brain thinking of a movie he might have been in, Porter added wryly, “Except I quickly found out I can’t act worth a damn. Put me in front of a camera and I turn into wood. Then one day I literally fell into stunt work.”

Okay. She could see that as well. With a shifter’s senses, lethal grace, super-speed, and greater healing ability, Porter had probably been in high demand. “Did you like it?” She found a towel hanging from a peg above the sink and patted the carrots dry.

“Loved it. Until I met my first horse.”

“On the set of that western?”

He grinned at her as she walked past, heading toward Daisy. She was going to start with the calm and gentle ladies first, then move on to the males. Keeping her mind on the conversation with Porter, rather than the mouth—and teeth—of the large animals helped to erase her nerves.

Equally soothing was the sound of bristles gliding over thick hair as Porter brushed Magnus.

“Exactly. There was an instant connection. I thought it strange, considering what I am, but then I found out the owner of several of the stunt horses was a leopard shifter. I was amazed.”

Rachel approached Daisy, keeping a careful eye on the animal as she held out one of the carrots. Daisy whinnied softly and took a tiny nibble. “I
am
amazed.”

“It was Joseph who explained that it wasn’t
what
we are, but
who
we are that horses respond to.”

Her brow furrowed. “But who you are is a predator. A jaguar.”

“Jags are also protective and territorial. We hunt because we enjoy it, but we don’t attack or kill indiscriminately.”

Rachel held in a shudder that had nothing to do with Daisy’s teeth getting close to her fingers. At times she wished she could shift, let her inner animal loose and run and run and run. But she had no desire to flush out prey and—yuck!—eat a rabbit or anything.

Keeping those thoughts to herself, she moved in front of Frieda’s stall, telling Ares when he snorted, “Ladies first,” and offering up the carrot to the gentle mare. “So you went from stunt work to training horses?” Like her own father, his life was beyond fascinating to her. All she did was sit on her butt and type.

“I did both for a while, working with Joseph whenever I could. When he got the call for a historical fantasy series on one of the premium channels, he hired me full time. It only lasted four seasons, but by then I knew what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. When Mom contacted me, asking for advice on offering horseback rides for the guests, I knew it was time to come home. How could I not when it combined the three things I love? My family, my home, and my horses. So I bought Montoya and Georgia from Joseph; Daisy, Ares, and Frieda from some other people I knew, and came home.”

Frieda finished her treat just as daintily as Daisy had, and by the time she was finished, Rachel moved with more confidence to Montoya. “Georgia?”

“Yeah. I lost her back in February.”

“Oh.” Well, crap. She hadn’t meant to bring anything sad up. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes remained on the horse in front of her because Montoya was eating his carrot with a lot more vigor than either Daisy or Frieda.

“It sucked, but I at least have the satisfaction of knowing she lived happily and healthily for six years longer than if Joseph hadn’t obtained her from her previous owners.” His voice faded slightly as he strolled down the hall and into the wash room, pausing only at the sound of running water. Crossing to the tack room, he returned with a saddle and blanket. “I thought Joseph nuts for taking her on, considering she was old at twenty-five and sick to boot, but he only gave me his look. We nursed her back to health and that was that.”

“I didn’t realize horses lived so long.” Rachel headed to Ares next, who startled her by sucking down the carrot in no time flat. “Oh!”

“Thirty-one isn’t exactly average, but it not unheard of.” Porter tossed the saddle blanket over Daisy as he spoke, sending Ares a baleful stare over his shoulder. “He’s a greedy one. We’re still working on manners with him.” The horse only made some strange sound and shook his head, not in the least intimidated.

Loath to be taken unaware again, Rachel held out the last carrot to Magnus with the same caution she would if she were hand-feeding a wild jaguar.

“I convinced Rafe to give me one of his Morgans as payment for Magnus’s training. Like Frieda, Plato’s gentle—plus they’re cousins—but he’s spirited like Ares. And too damn smart for his own good.” Porter chuckled at some inner thought. “Or Rafe’s. It’s a good trade. Are you ready?”

Magnus had been nibbling on the carrot as if afraid Rachel would pull it away, and when she turned her attention to Porter, the mischievous horse whipped it from her hand and pranced in a circle, the carrot sticking out of his mouth like a fat, orange cigarette. She grinned at the comical display. “Evidently.”

Chapter Seven

Porter led Daisy out to the corral, the horse’s hoofed footfalls overladen with the soft tread of Rachel’s sneakered feet. It wasn’t only his sensitive hearing that gave him the ability to pinpoint Rachel’s location. It was his nose.

The scent of her was a heady lure. An exquisite fragrance of jasmine and leather that had lingered in his head all damn night. Then again this morning. A wild siren’s call that, in the confines of the barn, had mixed with the delicate aroma of feminine desire. It had brought his jaguar to rapt attention. A sensual torment so exquisite, his claws had dug into the stall door. He’d wanted nothing more than to strip her naked and bury his face at the source of that scent.

Like he wanted to do right now. His animalistic nature was threatening to overrun his common sense once again, so he purposefully kept his eyes forward. Yet his mind wasn’t on where he was going. He walked past the mounting block and kept walking, desperately breathing fresh air meshed with the salty tang of the ocean.

Rachel’s presence disturbed him on every level. Sure, he’d wanted plenty of women. He loved women. Didn’t matter the age, shape, size, or color. They were God’s beautiful creation in Porter’s eyes, and he enjoyed them in every way. There was the easy flirting he engaged in with Katie, the sibling ribbing between him, Gwen, and Ria, the charm and honor he bestowed on Annie, the unbreakable bond and respect he had with his mother, and the wild encounters with his sexual partners. He took pleasure in every form of interaction between male and female.

And when it came to those who interested him in the most carnal of manners, he was old enough, experienced enough, that he had total control over his libido. His dick didn’t rise to the occasion indiscriminately.

Until Rachel. It was damn unsettling how much he wanted her. Even his jaguar was entranced. To what extent, Porter was unsure. The cat wasn’t howling
mine
in the irritating repetition Porter had been told occurred upon meeting one’s mate, but the feline wasn’t ignoring her either. He’d been intensely quiet. The kind of eerie stillness predators adopted when stalking prey. Listening. Waiting.

Nothing to say?
Porter asked along the mental connection shared with his feline half, searching for some idea of what was going on in that furry head. The warning growl he received was new, and not particularly welcome. It also put a whole new spin on the concept of arguing with oneself.

“Are we going anywhere in particular?”

Rachel’s voice brought his attention to the happenings outside his head rather than inside. Only then did he realize he’d walked straight out to the middle of the corral.

“I just wanted to stretch her legs.” Porter halted and slid one hand over the soft hair on Daisy’s cheek. As if she understood the fib—which she very well may have—Daisy’s large eyes gleamed, and Porter pursed his lips in a silent shush before turning to Rachel. “Give her a few strokes along her neck, like this. Long and slow.”

As Rachel shifted closer to bring her smaller hand alongside his to mimic his action, Porter stiffed a groan.
Brilliant. Because thinking about her hand stroking long and slow is going to help.

Knowing the drill, Daisy whickered her enthusiasm at the attention.

“Do you want to walk a little with her or are you ready to mount up?”
Shit
. Porter winced as an image of Rachel mounting
him,
all wet and naked and wanting, flashed across his lust-driven brain.

“I guess there’s no time like the present.” Rachel paused, head cocked as she contemplated the logistics. “What’s the best way?”

Training, you moron. Get your head out of the gutter and get back to training.
He cleared his throat and showed her. “Grasp the pommel like this, put your left foot here, pull yourself up, and straddle her.”

Straddle. Fabulous. And the hits keep coming.
Sure he’d enjoyed imbibing certain nuances of riding lessons with a hint of seduction to those females who’d garnered his attention in the past, but right now, with Rachel’s erotic scent making his head swim and his body burn, he was living in hell.

Especially when Rachel moved to place one hand on the pommel and paused. “She’ll stay still?”

“Yes.” It was a quiet mutter, one he was barely aware of. With Rachel’s back mere inches from Porter’s front, he indulged himself and breathed her in, his lids dropping to half-mast as the rich flavor and heat of her flesh intensified under the sun’s rays. Raw hunger tightened his body as everything intrinsically Rachel washed over him. He wanted nothing more than to pull her backside taut against his raging arousal, bury his face in the soft curve of her neck, and drink her in. He knew he shouldn’t, but that sense of right and wrong didn’t prevent his hands from rising, their target the slight flare of her hips. “You need help up?”

The words were barely understandable, his brain barely functional, until Rachel’s head jerked back when his hands brushed her hips, and connected with his mouth.

Smack
.

“Ow!” Porter raised his hand to his mouth, already tasting blood from his split lip.

“Oh!” Rachel lifted her own hand to the back of her head and turned. “I’m sorry!”

Porter was already shaking his head, his tongue probing the small hurt. “Nope. My fault.” And he knew it was. What the hell had he been thinking, sneaking up on her like that? And for what? A quick feel?

Actually, it was more like he’d wanted to take, and screw the consequences. It was as if his body was in charge, leading him down a path that would get him slapped at the least and unmanned at the most. Instinct told him Rachel wasn’t a quick and simple lay, a one-night stand. She might be a shifter, but she was still refined, gentle, and a little shy.

She was also witty, beautiful, and sexy as hell. She made his blood boil with a need that gripped him like a vise. But she was a lady, and deserved to be treated as such, no matter how much he ached to slip his shaft between her soft thighs and ride them both into exhaustion.

His feline half agreed, but with a low rumble of steady focus rather than the usual urge to pounce on prey and then move on.

That was the moment Porter understood something was very different about Rachel, and until he knew for sure, he needed to keep his hands off.

Talk about a difficult task. Shifters were tactile creatures, touch as necessary as breathing. Not touching what intrigued him would sorely test his control. The very idea made his lips stretch into a grimace, which tugged at his wound. The sting was insignificant, but it was enough to remind him to stay back. “How’s your head?”

“I’m fine. My braid took the brunt of it. You’re bleeding though.” Her eyes dropped to his mouth. The concern in those green depths darkened for a moment and her tongue came out to wet her lips.

His molars clamped together at the unconsciously sensual sight. “No biggie. I’ve had plenty of split lips. It’ll heal in no time.” He tore his gaze from hers and nodded at Daisy. “Want to try again?”

“All right.” She eyed him a moment and then turned back around, placing her hand and foot exactly as he’d shown her. With a deep breath, she lifted herself up and over, settling into the saddle.

Porter nodded in approval. “Excellent.” He checked the stirrup lengths, made some minor adjustments, studiously avoiding raising his eyes to the open V of her legs which was now easily at eye level. See? He could remain in control and be professional. Though his cock would probably bear the permanent mark of the buttons on his jeans. “I’m going to hold onto the bridle for now and guide her into a slow walk so you get used to the way it feels.”

“Okay.”

Several minutes into the easy pace, Rachel said his name in a soft question. “Porter?”

“Yes
,
mi amada
?” The endearment slipped from his mouth without thought, an easy familiarity that took a moment to register.

Where the hell had that come from?
Certainly endearments fell from his lips all the time, but those were the generic sugars, babes, and darlings that spilled from his lips, rooted in the same roguish charm of his personality. Never had he called someone his beloved.

Either Rachel didn’t notice, or more likely, chose to ignore the term of affection, much to Porter’s relief. “Rome told me you two were going to check out my car yesterday for a tracker. Did you also check out my luggage and did you find anything?”

Well, hell. So caught up in his own physical wants and needs, Porter had completely forgotten the whole reason Rachel was at the Orchards in the first place. He was such a selfish ass. And now a pissed-off one as well, since her question brought Rome’s summary of Rachel’s unsettling past couple of weeks looping in his head.

Tamping down the instinctive snarl at the thought of her in danger, he glanced up and over his shoulder. “No tracker on the car and no bugs in your luggage, purse, or phone.”

Her eyes dropped in a slow blink. “Bugs?”

Porter nodded and faced forward again. “Rome told me this stalker first broke into your house when you were away.” His hands tightened into fists at how the asshole defiled her bed, “Then he tracked you down at the hotel you were staying at. We simply wanted to eliminate the possibility of any listening devices, or bugs, on your personal items as well as a GPS tracker on your vehicle.”

“Oh.”

She sounded crushed, confused, and scared. It broke his heart, and geared him up for some serious ass kicking. “Your car and all your other possessions are clean, Rach. No bugs.” A reiteration to soothe and get through that wall of fear. After her slow nod of understanding, he added, “We’re also checking to see if he’s tracking you down through your credit or debit cards.”

Silence for a moment. “Is that why Melinda didn’t officially check me in yesterday?”

“One of the reasons.” Conversation at the dinner table last night had revolved around Rachel, something she’d probably be horrified to know, but everyone needed to be told and put on alert. That was the way the family, their pack, worked. Added to that, ignorance could get a body killed. But hearing Mom talk about Rachel and her family, the closeness she’d had with Rachel’s mother and aunt, Porter figured he knew what was going through his mom’s head. Most times, anyway.

Rachel wasn’t a customer or guest. She was a friend. One in need of their special capabilities. No one at the table believed differently.

“Do I want to know the other reasons?”

“You’ll have to take that up with Mom.” A smile hovered over his lips. “But I wouldn’t if I were you. She’ll have you twisted up until you think you’re doing
her
a favor by staying here.”

A soft rush of air. “Sounds like my mom.”

They made a half circuit around the corral with only the chirping birds and the distant noise of a small running motor to keep them company when a thought occurred to Porter. “Are you on any social media? Do any blogging?”

“No. Not really. I know where you’re going, but it’s a non-issue, Porter.” Her braid danced as she shook her head, the sunlight turning the blond locks into spun gold that he longed to see flowing free. Preferably over his pillow.

Concentrate
. He grit his teeth, cursing his rampant libido as sexually explicit thoughts of Rachel continued to challenge his sanity at an increasing level. “How so?”

“The police asked the same thing, but I’m not a well-known author. My books aren’t even in the top one hundred thousand. I do have a Facebook account, which has minimal personal information, but it’s in my real name. No references to my work or anything. I have it to stay in contact with my friends and family. See what’s happening in their lives.” He sensed her shrug and looked up to see her eyes flit away and stare out over Daisy’s head. “They just seem to have more interesting ones then me, I guess. Don’t get me wrong. I love my job. I just don’t do anything else to, well, write home about.”

“More interesting than being a shifter and having a stalker?”

Her lips curved and she peered down at Porter. “I can’t put that on there.”

He brandished a wink over his shoulder. “But you can put that you’re taking horse riding lessons from a devilishly handsome man who’s more charming and talented than anyone you could ever dream up.”

Her eyes rolled. “An audacious scoundrel is more like it.”

“Hey.” He brought Daisy to a halt and moved closer to Rachel, shooting her a toothful grin, his eyes shining with mirth. “As long as you’re clear about how devastatingly gorgeous I am, I’m good with that.”

As hoped, his comment wrought a genuine laugh to bubble out. “There’s simply no stopping you.”

Not when he wanted something, and he wanted Rachel. Not just physically, but to see the shadows gone from her eyes, the worry that caused her fair complexion to pale into exhaustion. He wanted to see that real smile, the one mirrored in those beautiful green eyes of hers, hear her laugh with happiness.

But once again, until he understood exactly what Rachel meant to him, distance was in order. He required a time out to gain some mastery over this compelling attraction. “I think you’re ready to go awhile on your own.” He handed her the reins, showing her how to use them to control Daisy’s movements. “Now gently press your heels into her flank and tell her to giddy-up.”

Her chest expanded as she drew in a slightly unsteady breath, drawing Porter’s admiring eyes to the soft mounds draped by her T-shirt. He felt his mouth began to water when she called his name.

“Porter.” It was a sharp reprimand and he knew he’d been caught ogling her breasts.

He just grinned. If he couldn’t touch, he was most definitely going to look. “Yeah?”

“I see now I shouldn’t have worried when I thought Magnus was about to trample you. Maybe a hoof or two to the head would have knocked some sense into you. Or at the very least, put a dent in your overblown libido.” She appeared as stern as his high-school librarian, who’d once caught him tickling a girl in the book stacks. Rachel even nailed the down-the-nose stare and the chilly verbal delivery. He knew he was in serious trouble when the disdainful combination only fanned the flames of his desire and determination to have her in his bed.