HORSES AND HEROIN (Romantic Mystery) (14 page)

He shifted a few inches, lowered his hand and slid his fingers along her hip. Her breasts brushed his chest, her legs pressing against his thighs. She fit against him perfectly. He held her for a long moment, savoring her closeness and looking forward to the remainder of the evening.

She was the first to break away, looking up at him with steady eyes. “I have to go at nine.”

“Nine? I thought it was ten.”

“Curfew is at ten but Lydia just asked me to feed the hay tonight.”

He almost winced, and his sharp disappointment surprised him. But he’d hoped for a little more time. A lot more time. “When did you see Lydia?” he asked.

“Just before I came. On the walkway, between the cafeteria and your place.”

Damn. So that meant Lydia knew who his visitor was. Weird. Had she hung around to check? His arms tightened protectively, but Megan was already looking outside at the bubbling hot tub.

“Guess we should get moving.” He checked the kitchen clock. “There’s a bathroom by the side door…or you can change in my bedroom.”

Unfortunately she didn’t choose his bedroom but instead slipped into the bathroom and closed the door. Still, it was only seven. They had until nine. She probably should stay awhile in the Jacuzzi. It had been a hard session today. He’d never admit it but his muscles were tight too, and he’d been riding with long stirrups and a western saddle.

He walked into the bedroom, yanked off his shirt and jeans, and quickly changed. Time was wasting and it was clear from his response to Megan, he was going to want much more than a kiss.

He lingered in the kitchen until the bathroom door clicked open. Glanced over his shoulder and gulped, hard. It might be a problem making it out of the hot tub. His body flagged at the sight. His wholesome little ranch girl had the body of a Vegas dancer.

He dragged his gaze back to her face, but a muscle ticked in his jaw as visuals of raunchy sex overpowered his brain. Hell. He was going to want a lot more than two hours.

She paused, alerted by his stillness. “Something wrong?”

“Why don’t I help you hay?” he asked, his voice husky. “And then you can come back and sleep here.”

“We can’t do that.” She laughed as though he’d made a joke. “I’m just getting to know the other students. And I’ve hardly talked to Ramon yet. It wouldn’t be a good idea for people to see us too chummy.”

Chummy?
He paused, watching her face, trying to understand her rationale. She worried about the students and Ramon but hadn’t mentioned Lydia. Yet Lydia was the authority figure for the exercise riders, and Megan seemed much too confident to care what other students thought.

“You don’t worry about Lydia?” he asked.

“Certainly,” Megan said. “But she already doesn’t like me.”

And that could get worse, he thought, with a spike of guilt.

“Besides, it’s the other students and Ramon I’ll be riding with,” she went on. “They’re the ones I want to get to know better.”

How much better? He wheeled and grabbed the closest bottle of wine, surprised by his spurt of jealousy. Of course, she wanted the camaraderie of other riders. And it was probably because he was bored that he wanted to monopolize her attention… Yeah, right.

“You could bring some of the students here. Use the hot tub,” he heard himself say as he splashed wine into two glasses.

“Really? Tami would love that. She had a fall today.”

“Well, invite her over.” He sucked in a resolute breath. Normally he wouldn’t want a bunch of students squealing in his pool, annoying him with their chatter. It had been an impulsive offer, made because Megan put him in an incredibly fine mood. And her company was worth a little inconvenience.

He stuck the open bottle under his arm, balancing the two glasses in one hand, and switched on the deck lights. She followed him onto the patio. The sky had darkened, and a half moon glowed just beyond the hedge. Garrett’s mansion was barely visible, shaded by the darker outline of a huge magnolia tree.

She padded past him, all long legs and voluptuous curves, and stepped into the bubbling tub. Seconds later, water concealed everything but the swell of her breasts. He’d never have guessed her faded jeans and T-shirt hid such a hot body. Most women would be flaunting it.

“Here.” He cleared the gruffness from his voice and pressed a glass into her hand then lowered himself in the water beside her.

“Wine, food, hot tub.” She gave an appreciative sigh and closed her eyes, resting her head against the back of the tub. Her hair was pinned up, exposing her elegant neck, her flawless profile. “This must really impress the students,” she said, oblivious to his scrutiny.

“I don’t want to impress students…just you.”

She opened her eyes and smiled. “But you already have.”

Relief swept him. He slipped his arm around her hip and tugged her off the ledge and onto his lap. He wasn’t usually uncertain with women, but there was a reserve about her, something that didn’t quite jive. A wall that popped up at the oddest times.

But hopefully not tonight.

She balanced the wineglass on his forearm and relaxed against his chest. “This Jacuzzi would really help my roommate. Tami’s only nineteen, quite resilient, but she’s been banged up by the gate. She has some huge bruises.”

“Your roommate’s only nineteen. How’s that going?” A strand of her hair tumbled from its restraint and he automatically tucked it behind her ear, trying to imagine sharing a tiny room again. In university, he and Garrett had constantly bickered until they moved out of residence and into an apartment. Admittedly, a bounty of fun-loving girls had played a big part in their desire for separate rooms.

“Tami’s great,” Megan said. “Everything’s great.” Light from the patio shadowed her face but he felt her hesitation. “I’ve lived alone for almost six years though. I miss my solitude.”

“You can come here for quiet. Anytime.” He skimmed his thumb along her collarbone. She stared up, eyes luminous, mouth slightly parted. “I’m not a big chatterbox,” he added, dipping his head and dragging his mouth along the side of her neck, following the trail of his thumb.

The peachy smell of her hair blended with night-blooming jasmine, and every one of his senses heightened. No headaches now, just a burning desire to know this woman. “Actually you’re welcome to come for other things too,” he said. “Food, sleep, sex.”

She laughed but it was a nice laugh, an inviting laugh. He slid his hand along the side of her ribs, grazing his thumb over the underside of her breast.

“That’s…interesting,” she said, covering his hand, stilling his fingers. Her voice lowered, so quiet he could hardly hear. “But is there another woman somewhere that might be hurt by that type of offer?”

“If there was, I wouldn’t have made it,” he said.

She linked her fingers through his, raising his hand to her mouth in a poignant gesture that made his heart kick. “All right then,” she said. And that was it. So sweet, so honest, so refreshingly uncomplicated.

He tucked her close to his pounding chest, savoring the bubbling water, the darkening night, this special woman in his arms. She still held his hand, tracing his knuckles before running her fingers over his wrist and along his forearm. Her touch was light, but exploratory, and made him stiffen with anticipation.

“How did you do this?” She lingered over a scar on his wrist.

“Football.”

She twisted, raising her hand to the side of his head, and gently kissed the raised scar. “Are your headaches better?”

“Much,” he said gruffly, too conscious of her breasts flattened against his chest to consider long answers. He unhooked the back of her swimsuit with a flick and tossed it beside the wine bottle. Her skin felt slick and smooth beneath the bubbling water. He cupped her breast, thumbing her nipple, watching as her eyes darkened. “You’re beautiful, Megan,” he whispered.

“Not as beautiful as you.” She gave a rueful smile and skimmed a hand over his chest. “I thought you were an athlete or Special Forces or something when we first met. You must work out a lot.”

He grunted, fascinated with her breasts, both accessible now, just below the erotic bubbling water. Light illuminated the side of the tub, shadowing her face but he could feel her, feel her everywhere. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, skin on skin, and a hungry heat pulsed through his body.

He plucked the glass from her hand and set it beside his then turned back, nibbling at her lower lip, teasing with teeth and tongue, coaxing her mouth wider. Couldn’t get enough, not of her lips or her tongue or the way that slick body pressed against his. She tasted so damn good, and she was moving against him now. He moved his hand higher.

A dog’s bark cut the night.

She pulled away, glancing over his shoulder. Her eyes were dark and slumberous, her lower lip thick.

“Just Garrett’s dog,” he said, tugging her back into position. He nibbled her lower lip then slid his mouth along the swell of her breast, finding her nipple. She gave a throaty groan, her breasts thrusting up for attention. He palmed the smooth mound, exploring the firm weight, the satiny skin, just perfect for his hand.

Rex barked again, an explosion of furious noise, so stark they both flinched. “Dammit,” he muttered. “Let’s go inside.” He scooped her up, spraying water over the side as he carried her from the tub. “It’s quieter—”

A yelp sliced the night, cascading into a string of painful cries. He jerked to a stop, his grip tightening around her. Clearly something was in horrible pain. Thank God, Megan was beside him, safe.

But the cries continued, razoring the night, calling him like a siren.
Jesus
. He dragged his mouth over her forehead in an apologetic kiss and set her down.

“Something needs help, sweetheart. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

He jogged around the back lawn, vaulted over the hedge and cut across the divider, ignoring the rocks biting his feet. Air chilled his skin and he wasn’t sure if the goose bumps were a result of night air, shockingly cold against the contrast of the hot tub, or because of the eerie cries, subdued now but still gut wrenching.

Garrett’s dog? Or a coyote? Maybe something had been hit in the driveway, although coyotes were generally more stoic about pain. His stride quickened, as he reached the smooth concrete.

“Oh, Christ!” He jerked to a stop beside a dumbstruck Garrett.

Rex lurched in panicked circles, crying and biting at his mangled leg. Bone protruded from the dog’s skin and gleamed beneath the driveway light.

“What the hell happened?” Scott glanced over his shoulder but both Garrett’s vehicles were parked benignly in the carport.

“You’ll have to shoot him.” Garrett’s voice cracked as he grabbed Scott’s arm. “He won’t let me near him. He bit when I tried.”

“What happened?”

Garrett shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. He was barking. I didn’t think too much of it, then…Jesus, the noise. I can’t stand it. He’s hurting.”

Rex lurched into a hedge and began another series of aching cries. Scott edged forward and tried to grab his collar but the dog twisted, teeth snapping.

“Easy, boy.” He glanced back at Garrett. “How close is your vet? Maybe we can throw a blanket over him. Get him in the car.”

“Here, use this.” Megan materialized from the dark and pressed a pool towel into his hands. She’d yanked on his T-shirt but her curves were visible beneath the wet shirt.

“I’ll get a blanket.” Garret turned and rushed toward his door.

“And warn your vet we’re coming,” Scott called, wrapping the towel around his left hand.

Rex appeared oblivious to his approach, but when he tried to touch him Rex twisted, grabbing Scott’s hand in a lightening fast reflex. The towel was too damn thin, but then Megan was beside him with a thick blanket, promising Rex that everything would be fine, and the dog seemed to believe her.

“Bring the car as close as you can, Garrett,” Scott said, watching as Rex let Megan touch his head. “He might bite,” he warned, but all the fight seemed to have leaked from the dog. Now shock glazed his eyes.

They wrapped him in the blanket and three pairs of hands eased him onto the back seat. Rex didn’t complain. His head was on Megan’s lap, his mouth half open, gums pale.

Scott noted Garrett’s white face, his uncharacteristic silence. “I’ll drive,” Scott said, sliding behind the wheel of the beemer. “Maybe we should stop by the tack room. Give him a shot for pain. How far is the vet?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Garrett said.

Not worth the extra time. Scott wheeled from the driveway and onto the main road. “Did you tell him we’re coming?”

Garrett nodded wordlessly.

Scott scanned the rearview mirror. Megan still murmured assurances to the dog but her face was pale. Pieces of hair tangled around her cheeks, the ends still dripping. He cranked up the heat, letting in a rush of warm air.

Her eyes met his in a silent question, and he managed a reassuring smile but damn, the dog was badly hurt. It looked like some bastard had used a club.

Scott turned to Garrett, keeping his voice low. “Who hurt him? Was it Miguel?”

Garrett shook his head and glanced meaningfully over his shoulder.

“We’re going to talk about this,” Scott said, pressing his bare foot on the accelerator, hoping there was no traffic.

The narrow road was twisted but empty. He flinched every time they hit a bump although Rex remained scarily silent. They only passed one slow-moving van before the road lightened with a sprinkle of houses and finally the streetlamps of a town.

“Turn right after the car dealer,” Garrett said. “Four blocks.”

They pulled up to the front door of the clinic. A short lady in a green gown rushed to the car. Her mouth tightened as she appraised the damage. “Bring him inside. Follow me.”

They walked through an empty waiting room carrying a dull-eyed Rex, he and Garrett at either end with Megan stroking the dog’s head.

“Do whatever you need to patch him up, Doc,” Garrett said.

“I’ll try. Sign those forms.” The vet motioned to an assistant who led Garrett toward a desk.

Scott turned with a sense of relief, and guided Megan from the clinic and out to the car. He’d known Garrett to make ruthless decisions but lucky for Rex, not tonight. Garrett clearly cared for his dog.