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danced circles around the room. He'd stayed. Life looked

brighter than it had a few hours ago. As soon as whoever

was behind these grisly murders was caught and put

away, perhaps she and Rye would have a chance at a

future together.

Of course, there was Laura to deal with. That is, if

the woman ever showed up. Jenna tried to dredge up

some emotion for her mother, but her heart refused to

cooperate. The sad truth was, the woman had been dead

to her for as long as Jenna could remember. To discover

she'd been alive all these years meant nothing. The fact

she'd threatened Jenna's father and ultimately been

responsible for his death killed any forgiveness Jenna

might have had in her heart.

After towel drying her hair, Jenna left it to do its

thing—curl like a bucket of corkscrews. She pulled on a

pair of shorts and a T-shirt. On her way out the door, she

glanced at the rumpled bed and smiled.

Brett's exasperated voice drifted into the foyer just as

Jenna stepped off the last stair. “Are you crazy? Screwing

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her the other night was bad enough. Now you've done it

again.”

“Leave it alone, Brett.” Rye sounded tired, defeated

almost. “It's none of your business.”

The hunger that had recently rumbled in her

stomach went south. The smile slipped from her face. She

stood in the hall, her hand resting on the polished

banister. The oily finish on the wood gave her a sense of

reality.

Should she slip back upstairs and pretend to have

fallen asleep or make her presence known? Brett had

never hidden the fact he didn't like her.

“Are you serious about her?”

“No, I'm not,” Rye answered with a calmness that

shattered Jenna's hopes. “So back off.”

Stunned at the certainty in Rye's quick reply, she

sank on the bottom step and listened to the pounding of

her heart.
Why are you shocked? He's told you the same

thing more than once.
She wanted to scream at the little

voice to shut up.

The overhead ceiling fan rotated slowly, making

shadows on the walls from the glow of the antique style

lights. Realization swept over her like a tidal wave and

dragged her into a dark cavern. Rye would never fall in

love with her.

She had to stop skirting the truth. It was time to

suck it up and face the music. With a heavy heart, she

rose and made her way to the kitchen.

The phone rang just as she stepped through the door.

Brett jumped up to answer it. Jenna pasted a bright smile

on her face. “Did you find something to eat?” she asked,

forcing cheer into her voice.

Rye gazed at her with tenderness. Tenderness?

Maybe...Stop it, Jenna. Next you'll be conjuring up the

wedding fairies.

“Turkey sandwich?” he asked, his mouth full.

Brett handed the phone to Rye. “Maria Gomez.”

Jenna's stomach clenched. Anything she put in her

mouth would never make it past the huge lump lodged

just above her tonsils.

Rye took the phone and put it to his ear, his eyes

never leaving Jenna. “Maria? Sorry. I totally forgot. I'll do

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my best.” He placed the cordless phone on the counter.

“Have a party to go to?” Brett asked the question that

kicked and screamed in Jenna's mind.

Rye released a long breath, sliding his gaze from

Jenna to Brett. “Maria invited me to a barbecue tonight.

It slipped my mind.”

“You going?”

Jenna fumed at Brett's obvious ploy to get Rye out of

the house.

Rye turned towards her. “Want to go with me?”

“Me?” Jenna eyed Brett lounging in the doorway with

his hands on either side of the opening. She was tempted

to say yes just to irk Brett, but even that satisfaction

wouldn't be worth putting herself through more pain.

“Thanks for asking, but I'm tired. I'm going back to

bed.” She hated the smug look her words put on Brett's

face. “You sure?”

Jenna nodded. “I'll see you in the morning.” Holding

her head high, she walked past Brett into the hall.

Rye caught up with her at the stairs. “What's

wrong?”

Just walk out the door. Spare me the agony and

heartache, Rye Cameron.
“Nothing's wrong,” she lied with

a straight face. “I really am tired. And we've got a big day

tomorrow.”

His eyes narrowed. He didn't believe her. “If you say

so.” “Have a good time.” She skipped up the stairs, her

foot touching the top step just as the front door closed.

On auto pilot, Jenna found her way to the bed,

stripped off her clothes and slid between the sheets.

Sheets that carried Rye's musky scent and that of their

recent lovemaking.

She might as well try to sack fog or nail gelatin to a

wall as to try to make Rye fall in love with her. She'd

known that from the beginning.
Must have been a

powerful brain cramp to make you forget it
. The sooner

she left this house, the sooner she'd regain her perspective

and be able to move on with her life.

Maybe she and Rising Sun could establish

themselves at another track. Santa Anita in California

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had always intrigued her. If Rising Sun proved to be the

runner she believed him to be, she'd have an open

invitation to any track in the country. She could build her

own small stable with Rising Sun's winnings. She drifted

off to sleep, dreaming about life as a famous horse trainer.

****

dial of the clock on the stand beside the bed. Midnight.

The witching hour. It had to be Rye. Who else would be

knocking? Did he just get home? Jenna flipped to her side,

facing away from the door.

Breathe in. Breathe out. She struggled to keep her

breathing even. The mattress dipped when Rye sat on the

edge.
Please don't get in bed with me.
Her heart beat

faster than a hummingbird's wings.

Roughened fingers feathered down her cheek. She

felt a gentle kiss on her forehead. Then the mattress

shifted as he rose. The door barely made a sound as it

clicked shut.

****

blankets look so sexy? Rye asked himself. He stood in the

shower, willing the hot spray of water to wash away his

fatigue.

The barbecue had been a bore. He'd only accepted

Maria's invitation in the first place to prove that Jenna

wasn't under his skin. The woman had stuck to his body

like superglue. Not even her husband's anger had

deterred her.

Thirty minutes after he arrived, he'd had his fill of

partying. He made a quick apology and left. For the next

three hours he'd driven around aimlessly, trying to figure

out how he'd fallen in love with Jenna Green.

Acknowledging that he loved her scared the hell out of

him. Memories of their recent love making jangled his

nerves. The fact that he thought of it as love making

instead of sex was enough to make him want to hide in a

dark closet. He stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel

and quickly dried off. Fear got the old adrenaline

pumping. He wanted...no...he needed to be with her. But

not tonight. Tonight he'd stay in his own bed. Together,

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they'd hash it out tomorrow.
You're chicken shit, Rye

Cameron.

Yawning, he turned the lights out, climbed into bed

and wished they'd made love in his bed so her scent of

lavender would be on his sheets.

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Pink and olive spread across the dawn sky, painting

the horizon a deep amethyst. The still air warned of a hot

humid day. Jenna twisted in the passenger seat unable to

stop the unrest in her soul as the car sped by fields of

bluegrass. Very soon she'd know if Rising Sun was her

ticket out of Kentucky. The thought of leaving Kentucky,

her only home, scared her.

This morning she'd been in the kitchen long before

Rye got out of bed. Other than a slight raising of his

brows when he walked in for his coffee, he'd made no

comment. After he'd left her room last night, she'd tossed

and turned. And worried and wondered. Had that fleeting

kiss on her forehead been his way of saying good-bye?

Rye gave her a teasing grin. “Ants in your pants?”

Startled, she glanced at him. “What?”

“You're as jittery as a jackrabbit looking down the

barrel of a shotgun.”

“Okay, I admit it. I'm a bit nervous.” She forced a

smile. “Don't tell me you're not excited.”

“I've got faith in Tsunami. He's bred for stamina. I'm

not worried. Except about you,” he added, concern lacing

his tone. “Don't be disappointed, or think Rising Sun's

less of a horse if he folds.”

Jenna turned her head to hide a grin. “I won't. I hope

you handle it well when Rising Sun whips Tsunami's ass.”

He laughed. “Touché. I know what my horse is

capable of.”

“Ditto,” she shot back.

“Jenna, we need to talk.”

She didn't like the urgency in his voice.
Great. I'm

damn sick and tired of hearing those words.
Swallowing

hard, she mentally prepared herself. “About what?”

“Us.”

Sweat beaded on her forehead. “Look. How many

times do I have to tell you? I'm not trying to hogtie and

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drag you to the altar. I'm not interested in white cottages

or planting freakin' rose bushes. And I'm sure as hell not

planning on decorating any nursery.”

His voice softened. “Hey, calm down. That's not what

I want to talk to you about.”

She turned in her seat and waved her finger at him.

“For your information, if my horse does well today, I'm

packing my gear and moving to Santa Anita on the first

available van.”

Rye's knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.

Good. She didn't give a rat's ass if he was pissed.

“Are you finished?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Yes.”

A frown creased his forehead. “You heard my

conversation with Brett last night.” It wasn't a question.

“No,” she denied, knowing she sounded as guilty as a

bank robber caught with the bag of money in his hand.

“I don't believe you.” He turned the SUV onto the

track, flashing his I.D. to the guard at the entrance to the

backstretch. “This conversation's not over.”

That's what you think.
Jenna stared straight ahead.

“Jenna?”

She glared at him.

“Remember this. Wherever you go, there you are.”

She smiled sweetly. “I didn't realize you were a

philosopher. And you couldn't be more wrong. I'm not

running away.”

“Aren't you?”

Jenna ignored him.

Dani and Miguel were already waiting when they

arrived at the barn. Jenna barely glanced at the two

security guards who sat in chairs beside their charge's

stalls. They'd become regular fixtures, so she hardly

noticed them anymore.

“The starting gate's in place, and the gate men are

waiting,” Dani said, eagerness in her voice. “The horses

know something's up.”

Jenna agreed. The two colts pushed against the

webbing across their stalls, ears pricked forward.

Tsunami's head bobbed vigorously. Rising Sun nickered

with impatience.

Rye winked at her. “Let's tack them up and do it.”

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Rising Sun trembled with anticipation when she

saddled him and put on the bridle. “Relax, big boy,” she

soothed. “Just go out there and do what you love to do.”

He butted her with his head as if to say, “Enough talking.

Let's roll.”

Jenna led the horse out of the stall and gave Miguel a

leg up. As he settled in the saddle, he winked at Jenna.

“Any special instructions?”

“Let the horse call the shots. Try to pace him, but if

he fights, give him his head. It's time to see what he can

do.” “How about me?” Dani asked from atop Tsunami.

Jenna raised her brows at Rye. “It's your call. He's

your horse.”

He considered her for a long moment. “You're the

trainer. I trust your judgment. You've been conditioning

him.”

“Not afraid I'm too involved to be fair?” Without

waiting for an answer, she switched her attention to Dani.

“Let him settle when he comes out of the gate. Don't

rush him. At the two furlong mark, ask him to make his

move. Whether he can catch Rising Sun remains to be

seen.”

Rye grunted.

Jenna shot him a sweet smile and turned back to

Miguel and Dani.

“Warm them up for fifteen minutes before

approaching the gate. Remember, this is their first

experience with the huge metal monster. There's no way

of knowing how they'll react when the bell rings and that

gate clangs open.”

The two riders controlled their mounts, forcing them

to walk to the track. The horses were wired. Necks bowed,