Microsoft Word - DeadHeat_wrp356.doc (14 page)

then to fall into the arms of waiting nightmares.

83

Pam Champagne

The first casualty in this weird scenario had been her

father. Deep in her gut, she knew everything happening

involved her. Did it also involve Charles Kincaid? Was he

the missing piece of the puzzle? She needed to talk with

him. Perhaps then she could figure it out, and discover

what she had to do to put an end to the chain of tragedies.

First thing tomorrow morning, she'd check on Rising

Sun, and then call Charles to arrange a meeting. The

sooner all the murder and mayhem ended, the sooner she

could concentrate on the future. Working for Rye was a

fantastic opportunity to prove her talent as a horse

trainer. Rye had told her she had a job for as long as she

wanted. He might be a rogue with the ladies, but he was

dead serious when it came to horses and business.

Jamal had admitted that Dimitri hurt Tsunami. Did

someone order him to injure the horse? If so, he'd done as

he was told, so why kill him? And why hang him in her

tack room? The more she thought about it, the more

confused she became. Jamal must know more than he'd

admitted. She’d add him to her people to talk to list.

Her thoughts came full circle back to her father. Why

would someone murder him? Brett said he'd fixed a race.

If the mob had forced him to fix the race, why kill him for

doing what they told him to do? Same scenario as Dimitri.

Another task to add to her list. Go through her

father's papers and files. They remained locked away in a

storage unit, along with his furniture.

The rattle of the doorknob put an end to her

planning. Turning on her side, she feigned sleep. The

bathroom light came on, casting a slight glow in the room.

Jenna sneaked a look through her lashes. Rye stood at the

end of the bed, watching her.

“I know you're awake.”

She sat up. “You woke me.”

His chuckle sent a spike of pleasure through her.

“You've been holding your breath for two minutes.” He

turned on the lamp.

“What are you doing here?”

His brows rose. “It's my bedroom.”

Her heart thudded against her ribs as the deep

rumble of his voice raised her pulse rate. Life was full of

enough intrigue without adding yet another complication.

84

Dead Heat

And Rye was one huge complication. “Is there another

room I can sleep in?”

“There is, but you're staying right here. Don't worry.”

He grinned. “I can control myself, if you can.”

Before she could respond, he walked into the

bathroom and shut the door. Jenna punched her pillow.

As soon as he lent her a car, she'd stay in a motel under

an assumed name. Living here with Rye was hazardous to

her emotional well-being.

She’d fix him. She climbed from the bed and pulled

up the top sheet on her side and tucked it under the

pillow. Satisfied with her work, she got back in bed,

pulled the comforter up to her chin. Who needed a top

sheet anyway?

Rye stepped from the bathroom and stood barefoot in

the doorway. The wet hair gave him a rakish look. He

didn't wear a shirt and his faded jeans clung to his

muscular thighs. Jenna's heart pounded and a surge of

heat shot through her. Damn him.

He turned off the bathroom light and silently moved

across the carpet toward the bed. She ogled his taut butt

as he removed his jeans. He slid under the sheet, and she

stifled a giggle when he reached for her.

“What the...” He sat up, flipped on the light and

yanked back the comforter. Jenna expected a burst of

anger, but he put his head back and laughed. “Is this your

version of a bundling board?”

“A what?”

“In the late 1600's, parents allowed courting couples

to share a bed as long as there was a board between

them.”

She laughed. “Every bed should come equipped with

one.” His gaze roamed her face. He reached over and

cupped her cheek, running his thumb over her bottom lip.

“Baby, if I wanted to touch you, a simple cotton sheet

wouldn't stop me. All you’d need to do is tell me you're not

interested.”

The touch of his fingers sent tiny slivers of desire to

her core. The kindness in his eyes aroused her as much as

his sex appeal.

“Goodnight.” She didn't recognize her own voice. Why

85

Pam Champagne

hadn't she told him she wasn't interested?

Letting her go, he reached over and shut off the

lamp. His lips feathered across her cheek. “Sweet

dreams.”

A voice in her head told her she was an idiot. Here

she was in bed with Rye Cameron. How many women

would love to be in her position? Jenna feared the man

had already won her heart. If she gave him her body, he'd

have her soul. And that might just kill her. She cursed

Fate for putting her in this position.

An hour later, she still tossed and turned. She

preferred to sleep on her right side, but that put her

facing Rye, and his clean manly smell drove her insane.

Made her want to snuggle against him. But he was no

teddy bear. Cuddling with him would have serious

repercussions.

“Will you be still?” His voice rumbled with irritation.

“You've been spinning around for the last hour.”

“Sorry. I can't get comfortable.”

He yanked the top sheet from underneath her.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked.

“Making sure we both get some sleep.” He pulled her

close and tucked her head into his neck. “Goodnight.”

She should argue, pull away, and sleep on the floor.

But she did none of those things because being next to his

warmth felt so damn good. At least until his erection

prodded her hip. She moved away.

“Sshhh,” he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. He

tugged her back, refusing to let her go.

Gradually, the last layers of tension subsided, and

her lids drooped. She drifted off to sleep, the pulse in his

neck hammering against her cheek, his hand curved

tightly around her butt. Her last thought was that it felt

so perfect.

86

Dead Heat

A twitching against her rear woke Jenna.

Momentarily confused, she blinked a few times in the dim

light. A lean hard body rested against her back. Oh my

God! She was in Rye Cameron's bed, and his erection was

speaking its mind against her butt. For a while, she

savored the delicious feeling of being in his arms, wanting

to squirm closer against his bulge. His arm curved around

her shoulder. If she moved a certain way, his hand would

fall on her breast. Or she could wiggle her hips, and his

hardness might fall between her legs. Imagining such

things made her wet.

A moist kiss on the back of her neck sent spirals of

lust down her spine. “Good morning.” His voice was low

and husky. And so damn sexy. His arms tightened around

her. Her breathing turned ragged.

Before she lost control of her senses, she rolled away

and turned over.
Big mistake, Jenna.
The sleepy blue eyes

gazing at her and the sensuous smile on a face with just a

shadow of a beard pushed her over the edge. His mouth

came closer. Oh God. He was going to kiss her. Her hands

reflexively went to his chest to keep him at a distance. He

smiled a crooked smile, picked up her hands and kissed

each palm, still gazing into her eyes. He didn't say a word.

He didn't need to. His eyes said it all. He wanted her. It

was up to her to say yes or no.

Her mouth opened to answer his unasked question

when someone knocked on the bedroom door.

****

frightened rabbit.

Rye sighed, resigned to the interruption. “Yes?”

The door opened. Brett stepped into the room. A

large frown furrowed his brow. His brother was not happy

at what he saw. “I thought you'd be up, but I can

understand why you aren't.”

87

Pam Champagne

Rye stiffened. Thick tension filled the room. “Brett,

you're a guest in my home. Keep your snide comments

and innuendoes to yourself.”

Brett sighed. “You're right. I apologize. To both of

you.” His look included Jenna. “I've got news. When you're

ready, come downstairs. Millie's putting breakfast on the

table.”

“We'll be down shortly.”

Brett nodded and after another look at Jenna, went

out. Once the door clicked shut, Jenna jumped over Rye

and out of the bed like it was on fire. Rye chuckled. Truth

be told, it almost had been.

She walked stiffly around the room, looking

everywhere but at him. “I need some clean clothes.”

“I'll get them.” He stood and came to her, taking her

by the arms. “Hey, look at me. No way am I going to let

you pretend nothing happened.”

“We don't need to pretend. Nothing did,” she replied,

her jaw thrust forward.

He shook her gently, and her sleep tossed curls

bounced in all directions. “I could prove you wrong.” He

released her abruptly and pulled on his jeans.

Damn her for lying. Nothing happened between

them? She'd felt the fire as much as he had. The sooner

they discussed the heat between them, the better. His life

had become complicated, and he didn't like it.

“Where's our houseguest?” Brett asked as Rye

entered the dining room.

“Taking a shower,” Rye snapped, pouring a cup of

coffee. She'd been in the bathroom when he'd dropped off

more of his sister's clothes. “She's anxious to get to the

track. She'll be down shortly.”

Brett spread Millie's homemade raspberry jam on a

piece of toast. Rye felt his brother's eyes boring holes

through him. “Sorry if I interrupted something this

morning. Are you sure you know what you're doing? She

grew up on the backside of the racetrack for God's sake. If

you're going to fall for a woman, at least fall for one with

class.”

Rye's anger rose, his fists clenched. “Don't go there,

Brett.”

Brett held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Take off

88

Dead Heat

your gloves. I get it. No more comments about Jenna.”

“Good. Because I'd hate to lose a brother over a

woman.”

“Sit down,” Brett indicated an empty chair. “I'll tell

you my news.”

Rye sat and piled scrambled eggs and bacon on his

plate. “Well?”

“Agents found the remains of the horse in the woods

about three hundred yards from the main road. Looks like

he’d been killed right there. Someone used a chainsaw to

sever the head.”

Rye's stomach lurched. The food no longer tempted

him. “So they killed the horse and carried the head to the

cottage. To what end?”

“Yeah, there's a trail of blood from the carcass to the

cottage. Which means the head wasn't covered or put in a

bag until right before they entered the cottage. What kind

of maniac cares if there's blood on the carpet?”

Brett bit off a piece of toast and continued. “Tire

tracks indicate a truck towing a trailer pulled over on the

shoulder of the main road. A popular brand of standard

seventeen inch tires, which entails a high percentage of

pickups in the area. No help there. All footprints

obliterated. I don't have a clue what's going on. There's no

pattern. The only certainty is that Jenna's in the middle

of it.” Rye pushed his food around his plate. “Not exactly

breakfast conversation.”

Brett attempted to smile. “Sorry. I'm going to replace

the two guards you've hired at the barn with two agents.

Okay with you?”

“Sure. Makes sense. Have you contacted the

Thoroughbred Racing Protective Bureau? A horse can't be

tattooed without a Certificate of Registration. There's no

way two horses could end up with the same number by

accident. So whoever managed such a feat had inside

help.”

“We’re working on it. I think you should leave Jenna

here with me this morning.”

Rye's hackles rose. “Why?”

“Two reasons. First, I'd like to talk to her. Maybe I

can stir some memories that will shed light on what's

89

Pam Champagne

happening. She must know something relevant —

something she might not be aware of. Second, whoever's

after her will expect to find her at the track. Why make it

easy for them to keep tabs on her whereabouts?”

Rye considered Brett's idea as he drank his coffee. He

understood Jenna's need to see Rising Sun. But Brett had

a good point. Keep the enemy guessing.

“Sounds good to me. I'd better go before she comes

downstairs. Otherwise, she'll never stay.” Rye gulped the

rest of his coffee. “I'll be back around noon.”

****

Jenna to linger in the shower longer than usual. She

seldom indulged in long showers. Had she been about to

ask Rye to make love to her? If she were honest, she'd

admit it. But she hoped she'd have come to her senses,