'Hi, Greg.' I kept walking.
He kept pace with his car. 'Hang on a sec.'
My shoulders sagged. I stopped and looked in the window again.
He appeared very Abercrombie & Fitch casual this morning, instead of the GQ businessman of last night. He flashed his ever-handy thousand-watt smile. I flashed a forty-watt one back. Then my gaze dropped to the passenger seat of his spotless Z. It overflowed with red roses. Hastily, I returned my attention to my jacket's balky zipper, hoping I'd jumped to the wrong conclusion. The relentless pain in my head tightened up a notch. He needed to run along now.
'Beautiful day,' he said.
I turned the urge to roll my eyes into a glance at the cloud layer. 'About time for some rain, though.' Okay, enough of this. The pointed look I meant to toss at him got sidetracked by the roses again. He laughed softly and I felt myself flush.
'Don't worry.' The teasing smile was still there. 'They're for Valerie.'
Thank God. 'They're stunning. She'll love them.'
He held my gaze for a fraction of a moment. The intensity of his smile flickered, like a kid waiting for a much anticipated event, but who didn't want to act overexcited and uncool. 'They're, um, to go with this.' He leaned across the passenger seat and I caught the spicy scent of his expensive cologne through the open window. From the glove compartment he produced a small, light-blue box tied with a white satin ribbon.
A Tiffany & Company box.
'Oh. Nice.'
Jonathan, my boyfriend, had given me one like it last Valentine's Day. I'd been sick with apprehension until I discovered the tasteful pearl earrings instead of a diamond ring I would have handed right back. I doubted Greg's box held earrings of any kind. He's a financial planner, so I expected the box held an investment – the kind Valerie would wear on her left hand. Why was he showing all this to me?
Greg's smile turned apologetic. 'Listen, about last night…' His words glued me to his gaze. 'I'm kicking myself for my behavior. All the traveling and meetings wore me out. I wasn't keeping track of the number of beers I'd had. Forgive me?'
Kicking himself? He could have chosen better words. Well, fine. 'Don't worry about it. I've had to fight off worse.' I aligned my zipper again and yanked. No luck. Was he really afraid I'd taken his sloppily executed, unasked for kiss as a serious invitation? Idiot. I started walking, again, but the car rolled along beside me. I stopped. What now? I slid a look at him.
'Hey…' He hung his head, and half pouted. Despite knowing the remorse was fake I couldn't hold down a tiny chuckle, and shook my head when it snuck out. He should have known better than to worry. I knew my five-foot- two-inch self was no competition for Valerie. Leggy and graceful, she was the personification of the elegant dressage rider. Women either envied or hated her. Men fell over each other to get next to her. And that's before taking into consideration her net worth.
'Thanks,' he said, giving me a you're-a-pal wink. 'I'm going to drive around back and surprise Valerie. I expect she's parked in her usual spot.'
That would be the spot behind the New Barn, where her horse was stabled. Where no one was supposed to park – including her. He wouldn't mention last night's blunder, would he? That'd just make my morning.
My head throbbed.
Now, not only did I have to find my horse, I had to avoid Valerie just in case he was dumb enough to say something. He was egotistical enough to twist things and brag that I'd been the one to make a pass at him.
'See you later.' He lifted a hand in a casual salute. 'Oh, the top half of your zipper-pull is up by your collar.'
I shifted my focus. Huh. No wonder it wasn't working.
I wiggled my fingers good-bye and watched his car disappear around the corner of the Big Barn before continuing my trek to the paddocks. I hoped Valerie was at her gym instead of here at Copper Creek. Even if Greg kept his mouth shut I had good reason to avoid her. She never missed an opportunity to fire some salvo at me designed to point out her superiority.
I was perfectly aware of her superiority.
She was my age, twenty-nine, and had been long-listed for the last Olympic Dressage Team. It would surprise no one if on the next go-round she made the short-list. She had a long career ahead of her. Goody for her. Showing held no appeal for me, despite my famous uncle. Sure, I was several levels below her and I'd catch up eventually, but my goal was to be the best dressage rider I could. I had a fabulously talented horse I loved, and wanted only to do right by him. She could keep her competitions.
I dismissed Valerie from my thoughts. I had other, more important issues in my life. And, arriving at the west paddocks, eyes squinting against the pounding in my head, I could see I also had a long search ahead of me.
Blackie wasn't in any of these paddocks either.
When I got my hands on Jorge I was going to wring his neck. I turned around and strode back toward the Big Barn, gravel flying out from under the heels of my boots.
Ten minutes later I stood in the doorway of the last of the three barns, having checked the occupants of every stall. I had located neither Jorge nor Blackie. Jorge could be on break in the house, but Blackie…
It shouldn't be this hard to find an eleven-hundred-pound horse.
Chapter Two
I fought to hold back the knife edge of panic, ignored the numerous, pointed suggestions to walk, and hurried to the Copper Creek office. I was sure to find a reasonable explanation for my inability to locate my horse in the form of the equestrian center's owner, Delores Salatini, who was always in the office in the mornings regardless of the day of the week. My sister Juliet was there, too – I'd seen her motorcycle. It was conceivable she would be able to help since she made it her business to know what everyone was doing all the time.
I nearly lost my grip on the office door's knob when I pulled it open, and didn't quite manage to get it closed behind me before I hauled myself to a stop inside the office. Delores sat at her old wooden teacher's desk, coffee mug raised halfway to her lips, and phone pressed against an ear.
'We seem to have a problem,' she said into the handset, eyebrows hovering above her reading glasses. 'I'll call you back.' She hung up the phone, not once taking her eyes off me.
It took me a second to get words out. I was uncharacteristically out of breath for a short jog. 'Where's Blackie? I can't find Blackie.'
She leaned forward slightly, frowning. 'Blackie?'
'Yes, Blackie. I can't find him. I've checked every barn, every stall, and every paddock.' I steadied my breathing and glanced around the office. 'Where's Juliet? I thought she'd be here since her bike is. Where's Eric? I haven't seen him this morning – or Miguel.'
Delores pushed away from her desk and grabbed her old down vest off the back of her chair. 'It's Eric's day off. He does get them, you know. Miguel's on break. He's in charge of the barns today.'
I spun to go. 'He must be at the house.'
'Wait for me.' She hustled around her desk, pulling the vest over her flannel shirt.
We lost no time crossing the parking lot to the two-story white house where the staff – except for Eric, Copper Creek's barn manager – lived. Maria, Miguel's wife, answered our knock, purse over her arm, dressed for church. She greeted us with her customary warmth, but her smile vanished. She pressed a hand to her heart.
'There is something wrong, no?' she asked in heavily accented English.
Delores's chin jerked an affirmative. 'I need to talk to Miguel -'
I edged forward, next to Delores. 'I can't find my horse.'
Maria's eyes grew twice their normal size. Her gaze darted from me to Delores. 'Come in, come in!' She hustled through the tidy living room ahead of us. The staccato click of her heels on the hardwood floor punctuated her words.
I followed Delores into the living room, but she didn't sit. She stood with her shoulders drawn up, hands jammed into her vest pockets, mouth and eyes narrowed to mere slits. I'd never seen her look like this. Any hope I
