Winning Ways (10 page)

"Get yourself together, and we'll go grab a bite to eat. There's a good steakhouse over on the lake."

Peeling off her show clothes, she assessed the changes in Kurt's manner. It seemed as though he wanted to make amends for his behavior on the night of the fire. Her heart thumped at the memory. Am I setting myself up for another experience just like it? A second later, a surge of excitement blurred her fears. This will be my chance to find out who he really is. A stab of apprehension. And his secret.

The late afternoon sun slanted through the giant pines along the highway that circled the rim of South Tahoe Lake. Liz felt as though she were in another world, far away from the dust and chaos of the show. Shivers of delight coursed through her body as she relived the victories of the day.

Kurt sat relaxed in the seat, his arm draped nonchalantly over the steering wheel. "Penny for your thoughts."

"Just revisiting today's classes. I can't believe we won. There were some very good horses in the ring."

He laughed sharply. "I guess! And some of them just happened to be yours! Why are you so surprised? If you have excellent stock, and you've trained them right, they always have a chance to win."

She valued the compliment. "But I have a lot to learn."

The truck rolled into the gravel parking lot beside an ordinary-looking, flat-roofed building. Pocketing the keys, he turned to her, his tone sincere.

"You had a good teacher. You picked up more from your father than you think."

The exterior of the cinderblock building was stark and unappealing, marked by a single, dark door with an oval window and a small sign that read, "The Place." Kurt pulled the door open and a delectable aroma wafted out. Inside, old-fashioned chandeliers cast dim light over a long room, and ceiling fans kept the wonderful smells moving through the air. A huge mirror covered the wall behind a solid oak bar that had been burnished to a soft gleam by decades of elbows. Dozens of liquor and wine bottles, glasses, and mugs sparkled in the reflection of the soft lights. He took her hand, leading her to the end of the bar, then down a short hallway to a heavy door.

The sharp contrast between the lounge and the dining room amazed her. Dark mahogany woodwork and ceiling cornices framed deep burgundy walls, and soft light spilled from bronze sconces, darkened with the patina of time. White cloths draped the tables, and fresh flower arrangements graced each one. Soft music played in the background.

His tone was tentative. "Like it?"

"It's wonderful! Who would know, looking at the outside?"

"That's the way they want it. You can't get near this place at dinnertime."

She felt a small twinge of jealousy at the idea of Kurt enjoying the cozy restaurant with someone else.

"Do you come here often?"

He chuckled and squeezed her hand. "Lizzie-Liz! Why are you so interested in my past?"

Embarrassed and annoyed, she snatched her hand away. "Don't call me Lizzie!"

Instantly, she realized that she teetered on the verge of spoiling what might be a nice evening. Reaching for his hand, she gave him a contrite look.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. My father used to call me that."

"No problem. So, tell me what Legacy Arabians is up to these days, besides winning everything in sight."

His smile tranquilized her wound-up brain and body, and she settled back into the comfortable captain's chair. The late afternoon drifted into twilight as they sipped wine, enjoyed a quiet meal, and discussed all the leading Arabian farms, the hot trainers, the major shows and, in general, life with horses.

Kurt sneaked his spoon across the table and stole a bite of her chocolate mousse. He rolled the creamy delight around in his mouth, then seductively licked his lips. Struggling with lustful thoughts, she looked away from his suggestive expression, tightening her thighs against the rising heat. I wish he wouldn't look at me that way. I don't think I could resist him right now. Do I even want to?

He smiled knowingly, his expression hinting that he recognized her discomfort. She blanched and looked away, trying to compose her thoughts.

He changed the subject. "What are your plans for the rest of the season?"

Relieved to focus her thoughts on something less stimulating, she answered quickly. "Karma and Ashiiqah are both qualified for the regional show in September."

He nodded, but his expression held a shadow of tension. She moved past the brief distraction.

"If I do well at the regional show, I'll take them to the Nationals in Albuquerque. I need some serious wins on these horses - especially Karma - if I want to build name recognition for the farm. Otherwise, I'll be just another breeder."

Kurt signaled the waiter for the check, then sat back in his chair and gave her a quizzical look, as though analyzing her words.

"You'll probably do okay at regional, even though there'll be some pretty big-name trainers there. But don't get your hopes up for the nationals. That's big business. A loss at that show can put your farm off the map just as quickly as a win can put it on."

She straightened up, her indignation rising quickly.

"What do you mean, big names? Names don't have anything to do with winning."

He snorted. "Boy, you really are naïve! At a certain level in the horse business, money talks - whether it's Arabians or Quarter Horses or Thoroughbreds. Money makes the really big decisions. It's a fight-for-blood environment."

Bristling at his patronizing attitude, she snapped, "That's not true. My father never paid to win a class."

She pushed away from the table and stood up, ready to walk out of the restaurant. God, I can't stand this man!

"Whoa, Liz, hear me out." He took her hand, looking at her sympathetically. "Please, sit down and let me explain, okay?"

Grudgingly, she returned to her seat, not feeling receptive to whatever he planned to say.

"Things were different when your father showed his horses. That was the ‘real' horse business. So much has changed over the last twenty-some years. The breed has become a commodity, an investment. The reality, now, is that there are some heavy-hitters in the Arabian industry, people who have more money than you or I could possibly imagine. People who have no real interest in the horses themselves. Business tycoons. Royalty from other countries. Mafia-types. They can pay anyone to do anything."

He watched her for a moment, then continued.

"Some of the big-name trainers are paid so much money, and have such free rein, that they become celebrities in the show world, and that generates even more power. Some of the horses that pull off big wins don't have a fraction of the outstanding bloodlines that yours have. But enough under-the-table payoffs, plenty of slick advertising, a big enough trainer name...it makes a difference in the ring."

"What are you getting at? I just beat Bill Benton twice!"

"That won't be your only problem."

She stared into dark brown eyes that seemed to reflect sincerity and apology for his comments. Remembering Colleen's warning, Liz intuitively knew what he wanted to say.

She looked him straight in the eye. "I'm a woman, right? That's what will keep me from reaching the top with my horses?"

The expression on his face told her she'd hit the bulls-eye.

The effects of the wine meshed with Liz's anger, confusion, and the deep weariness of a very long day. She wanted to fall into bed and lose herself in sleep, but still had work to do at the stalls. Karma's championship class would be the next afternoon, and she had to be ready.

Stepping up into the truck, her thoughts were on the tense conversation. Why had he brought up the subject of show politics? They rode along for a few miles, wrapped in uneasy silence, Liz still mulling over his views on the business of showing horses. Finally, she decided to pursue it.

"Tell me why you think I can't succeed as a woman in the show ring."

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then glanced over at her. "Have you ever looked around at the exhibitors in a class? Do you see many women?"

She gave him a blank look. "Of course. There are lots of women showing Arabians at most of the shows I attend."

He snorted. "That's right. And most of the shows you attend are small, local shows. And most of those women are owners showing in the amateur classes. C'mon, Liz, how many big-time, really successful female professional trainers have you seen?"

She couldn't answer him. She'd never paid any attention to the people in the ring, only the horses. The silence grew around them. What is he trying to prove? There must be a reason he's trying to discourage me from showing my horses, and I don't think it's because he's afraid I'll lose, or have my feelings hurt. Her misgivings started to mount.

Kurt's tone became a little less patronizing. "I'm not saying you can't ever win some classes as a woman, or without buying your way into the ribbons. I'm just saying the odds are tough. You need to be aware of it going in. Don't be surprised by anything that happens at the big shows that really count."

He patted her hand like a father consoling a child who'd lost a toy. Liz pulled her hand away, crossed her arms, and stared out the window.

Why am I being so obstinate? He's been around this business a lot longer than I have. He's bound to have some insights. Another minute passed in silence. Here I am, finally with the man I've been daydreaming about, and I'm spoiling it.

"Kurt, I understand you are only trying to help. I'm sorry I acted so cranky about it. You just don't know what I've been going through since I moved to California."

He didn't respond, and she continued.

"I've been beating my head against the wall, trying to establish my practice here. I can't seem to break through the good-ol-boy barrier, no matter how good I am at what I do. And now, you're telling me the problem extends into the only joy I have - showing my horses. Can you blame me for being upset?"

His hand covered hers again, his voice sincere.

"I know, Hon, but sometimes there are things so far out of your control, that it makes more sense to find another way to make a mark on the world."

Liz gazed at his shadowed profile. I wonder how you would know something like that. What is your secret, Mr. Cowboy?

Liz's earlier fatigue had disappeared by the time they returned to the show grounds.

"Kurt, you don't have to stay while I work Karma. Don't you have a long drive back?"

He grinned. "I'm not driving back tonight. I want to stay and see the fireworks tomorrow." His expression turned serious. "Besides, you shouldn't be down here at the barns alone late at night. You don't even have anyone watching the horses when you're not here."

"What are you saying? About the horses, I mean."

He gave her a solemn look and reached for a lunge-line hanging on the wall.

"Just be aware that there are folks out there who would do bad things to keep a good horse from winning. You should always have someone at your stalls, especially at the big shows."

"You are kidding, aren't you?"

One look at his face told her he wasn't.

She pressed the issue. "Is that why you got so upset when you found me in your mare's stall that morning?"

"Something like that."

He turned and entered Karma's stall. She started to pursue the conversation, but was immediately distracted by her colt's meek attitude as Kurt haltered him.

"How did you do that? He acts like you've hypnotized him."

"Actually, I don't know." He grinned. "I guess I'm part horse."

More than ever, she wanted to know more about the real Kurt.

"Y'know...you know a lot about me, and I know nothing about you."

"One of these days, we'll play true confessions, but for now, shouldn't you work your champion yearling?"

She recognized the put-off. There's something he doesn't want me to know, but I want to understand him. I'll just have to find out on my own.

Still under Kurt's magical influence, Karma stood quietly while Liz attached the lead rope. Having a professional like him around could sure make my life easier. The thought zapped her brain like a cattle prod, and she glanced sideways at Kurt's firm body, instantly feeling the stir of excitement again. And definitely more interesting.

Together, they walked through the night to the lighted exercise paddock, and Liz went to the center. Karma remained the picture of obedience, although he looked back twice to locate Kurt. The colt's good behavior was short-lived. Once he started around the circle, Liz felt his tension in the line, and tried to communicate to him through the lead. He bucked and jumped and walked on his hind legs. He stopped and wouldn't go forward. Oh, no, don't do this now, not when I have an audience that just told me I couldn't succeed because I'm a woman. Let me at least look like I have some control!

Kurt materialized at her side. "Mind if I give you a couple of tips?"

"Wouldn't you know he'd act up when someone's watching?"