Page 10

Just before two p.m.

on Thursday, Ellie loaded her bags and left the small apartment she had rented above the garage of a two-story house in Gladstone while she was training.

Her rooms in Santa Barbara, luxurious by comparison, were above her family’s four-car garage at their exclusive residence in Hope Ranch.

Her apartment there had a fireplace, kitchen and dining room, and a jumbo-sized bedroom.

She’d decorated the place herself in a Southwest motif, using soft mauves and beiges with a trace of mint green.

In New Jersey, her tiny rented apartment overflowed with Duncan Fife mahogany and white lace doilies.

Not her style, but it reminded her of her grandmother’s house, and she would miss the place over the coming weeks.

Ellie returned her rented Toyota to the Avis drop off at the airport.

She’d rent another when she returned for the horses’ twenty-one-day quarantine before the Olympics.

With the recent outbreak of Pyroplasmosis, the quarantine was imperative.

In the meantime, there were four European competitions ahead: Paris, Rotterdam, Hickstead, and Dublin.

At the terminal, a kindly dark-haired woman checked Ellie’s tickets and sent her along the corridor to gate thirty-seven, a chartered Lufthansa flight that would arrive in Paris at eight forty-five in the morning.

The horses had already been loaded.

Ellie entered the front of the plane to find a dozen members of the dressage, three-day eventing, and show jumping teams.

Numerous grooms and handlers were already seated.

Once they reached Paris, the teams would split up, each attending shows in different cities. They’d return on different planes at the end of the tour.

The big 747 had been sectioned in half: the horses quartered in the rear, the riders and lay members of the team in the front.

Jake Sullivan wasn’t on board.

“Have you seen Jake?”

Ellie asked Prissy Knowles.

Four inches taller than Ellie, Prissy weighed twenty-five pounds more, but she was far from fat.

She was attractive, with light brown hair and hazel eyes.

Though they had only recently met, Ellie knew a little about her.

Raised in Massachusetts, Prissy had been riding the Eastern circuit since she was ten years old.

Since her family wasn’t wealthy like those of most world-class riders, she’d worked in the stables to earn her keep.

By the time she’d reached eighteen, she’d been good enough that several stables were willing to provide her with horses.

At twenty-eight, a gold medalist at the Pan American Games, Prissy could pick and choose.

Julius Caesar and Deuteronomy, owned by the Greenbriar Stables just outside of Boston, were the horses she would be riding in Seoul.

As Flex had predicted, she and Ellie were becoming fast friends.

“Jake’s in the back, making a final check of the horses.”

Prissy eyed the quilted down jacket Ellie carried beneath her arm.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to ride back there?”

“Jake said I could since Jube isn’t used to flying.

I want to be near in case he gets nervous.”

“Why don’t you send Gerry back? Surely he can handle him.”

“I’d just feel better being there myself.”

“Well, you brought the right clothes.

It’s twenty degrees colder back there.

The horses don’t mind, but you will.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Ellie flashed a smile and headed back out through the open cabin door.

She couldn’t resist a last glance around the interior for Clay.

Probably chartered his own private jet, she thought waspishly, and realized she was still mad at him.

She had no right to be.

If the man wanted to get drunk and make a fool of himself that was his business.

It just seemed such a waste.

Hurrying along the tarmac, Ellie made her way into the back of the plane, her boots ringing against the metal stairs.

It already held the musky, alfalfa-horse scent of the stables, and Ellie was immediately glad to be there.

Glancing at her surroundings, she found Jake checking the horses, Gerry cooing to Jube, and several grooms feeding their animals handfuls of oats in an effort to keep them calm in their unfamiliar surroundings.

“This has got to be scary for them,”

Ellie said to Gerry.

“Flying’s always scary for me.”

“Jube will be fine.”

Gerry patted the horse’s nose.

“And Rose is a veteran.

She won’t move a muscle.”

He glanced at Ellie’s heavy jacket.

“Sure you don’t want me to ride back here?”

She shook her head.

“Thanks anyway, Gerry.”

“I’d better get going.

We’re about ready for takeoff.

Find yourself a seat and strap yourself in.”

Gerry and all but two of the other grooms left for their seats in the front of the plane, and Jake followed them out the door.

Ellie checked her watch.

If the plane left on schedule, it would be backing away from the loading dock any minute.

Folding down a narrow jump seat, she buckled herself in and settle back to prepare for takeoff.

Across the way, two of the grooms did the same. She noticed one reading the June issue of Playboy Magazine.

Outside the plane, crewmen were closing the heavy cabin door.

It was almost shut when the sound of boots ringing on the stairs caught her attention.

Ellie’s mouth dropped open when Clayton Whitfield stepped into the converted cargo bay.

“Sorry I’m late,”

he said to no one in particular, then cocked an eyebrow and flashed Ellie a charming, cheek-dimpling grin.

“I should have known you’d be back here.”

Ellie decided the remark was meant as a compliment and the last of her pique slipped away.

To her surprise, Clay took a seat beside her and strapped in his muscular frame.

He draped the Navy issue trench coat he carried across his long legs, which looked uncomfortably cramped.

Ellie glanced at the coat.

There was no way Clayton Whitfield had been in the military.

“It belonged to my half-brother,”

Clay said as if reading her thoughts.

“He was a Navy pilot.”

He examined an invisible speck on the sleeve of the jacket.

“He was killed in Nam in ’68.”

Surprise trickled through her.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I don’t talk about him often.

It still bothers me after all these years.

He was ten years older, but we were close just the same.”

A sad smile touched his lips.

“John was a really great guy.

In his preflight training in Pensacola, he got the highest score ever received.

He was so proud of being a pilot.”

Clay glanced away.

“I was lost when he died.”

Every time Ellie talked to Clay, she had the feeling there was something more to him than people believed, something he kept bottled up inside.

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

He smiled and changed the subject.

“How’s Jubilee taking all this?”

“He’s okay so far.

Rose is content.

Your Max could care less.”

“He’s done this so many times he’s used to it, but on such a long flight, I like to keep an eye on him.”

Just then the powerful jet engines roared to life and Ellie glanced worriedly at the horses.

Inside their wooden pallets, they nickered and stamped their feet, but seemed okay.

The plane taxied down the tarmac, lined up on the runway, and revved its engines, the noise vibrating her less-than-padded chair and sending a shiver of dread up her spine.

She gripped the armrests hard enough to make her knuckles ache.

The scenery outside her window passed by in a colorful blur, reminding her of the world she’d lived in before her eye surgery.

Several horses whinnied as the plane angled upward on takeoff, but the pilot seemed concerned for his precious cargo, settled into a smooth steady climb, then leveled off.

“Are you alright?”

Clay asked, frowning.

Ellie swallowed.

“I usually have a couple of glasses of wine before I fly.”

“This time you’re out of luck.”

Ellie just nodded, her heartbeat beginning to slow.

“More people were killed in train accidents last year than in airline crashes, but still...”

“But, still, it scares the hell out of you.”

Her lips edge up.

“Now you know my deepest, darkest secret.”

Clay looked at her and grinned.

“You mean we’re finally even?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Clay looked contrite, but his brown eyes flashed with mischief.

“I guess you’re right.”

At forty-two thousand feet, the plane’s cruising altitude, they all put on their coats.

It was cold and uncomfortable, but bearable.

The horses seemed resigned, all but Julius Caesar, Prissy’s chestnut gelding, who nervously rolled his eyes and stamped his feet.

Riding in the same pallet, her second horse, Lovely Lass grazed peacefully on a bit of hay.

Two hours into the trip, Clay excused himself to go to the bathroom.

The plane dipped unexpectedly, and Ellie’s stomach rolled.

Julius Caesar whinnied loudly and began to kick the board slats holding him in.

He jerked at his rope with a snapping pop that rang through the cabin, and a dark-haired groom Ellie didn’t recognize unbuckled his seat belt and moved toward the horse at the same time Ellie did.

Standing next to Caesar, now Lass was beginning to get nervous.

She kicked the back of the crate and whinnied, and Caesar tore his rope free.

“You sonofabitch,”

the groom said.

“You’ll have them all stirred up if you don’t settle down.”

He took the loose end of the rope and whacked Caesar hard across the nose.

The horse reared up on his back legs, hitting his head on the top of the pallet.

“Stop that!”

Ellie cried.

“Leave him alone.

He’s just scared.”

“Stay out of this.

It’s my job to see these animals arrive safely.

The way he’s acting, he’ll have them all going nuts.”

Thwack, the rope came down on Caesar’s nose.

He flattened his ears and tried to bite.

Teeth bared, he snorted and pawed and fought, rolled his eyes back to expose the whites.

Thwack, thwack, thwack.

Ellie’s chest tightened.

“Please don’t do that.”

“Leave the horse alone.”

Clay’s deep voice cut like a knife.

“You know better than to treat an animal like that.

If you don’t, you don’t belong here.”

The groom took a step backward.

“Look, Whitfield.

We’re forty-two thousand feet up.

The sonofabitch will have them all trying to break out. God knows what they could do to the plane. What do you suggest we do?”

“I suggest we try to figure out what the hell is wrong with him.”

“Obviously, he doesn’t like to fly.”

“Obviously.”

The sarcasm went unnoticed by the groom.

“Snub him down, and I’ll take a look.”

The groom did as he was told, putting a loop on the end of a stick around Caesar’s nose and twisting until his head was immobile.

Caesar braced himself on all four feet, trembling all over, but he didn’t move.

Through the slats of the crate, Clay checked the animal’s feet, checked the horse’s haunches and flanks. Nothing.

Then Caesar’s dark pupils caught Clay’s attention.

They were dilated abnormally.

“I hate to say this, but I think he’s been drugged.”

“What?”

Ellie moved close.

“Why would anyone want to drug him?”

“Apparently to make him hyperactive.

If nobody had been back here, God knows how much trouble he might have caused.

Maybe whoever did this didn’t count on our being here.

Or maybe they were just creating malicious mischief. My guess is there was something added to his grain or water. We’ll have the buckets checked when we get to Paris.”

“Will he be all right?”

“We’ll have to keep an eye on him.

He’s going to make this trip a living hell.”

“Let’s get a rope over his head and around behind him,”

Willie Jenkins, the second groom suggested.

“That ought to keep him fairly immobile.”

In fifteen minutes, they had him tied as securely as possible.

Caesar snorted and whinnied, stomped and strained against the ropes, but it looked as though he would be all right.

“As soon as we land, we’ll let Jake and the others know.”

Clay followed Ellie back to their seats.

“It’s possible whoever did this is a member of the tour.”

She paused as she strapped herself back in.

“You can’t believe it’s one of our own people.”

“I’m sure it isn’t, but you never know.”

The trip passed with agonizing slowness, the cold creeping into everyone’s bones, Caesar’s shrill neighing keeping all of them on edge.

Being the farthest away, Jube seemed unconcerned.

Off and on, Clay soothed Max, speaking to him quietly, rubbing his nose and his sleek, powerful neck.

Surprisingly, each time the horse quieted almost instantly, and eventually settled down to grazing in his pallet.

Returning to his seat, Clay stretched his long legs out in front of him, trying to make himself comfortable.

Ellie flashed Clay a smile.

“I just...I want to say how great you were with Caesar.

If you hadn’t been here, I don’t know what we would have done.”

“You’d have done just fine.”

He returned her smile.

“Why don’t you put your head on my shoulder and try to get some sleep?”

She hesitated.

But considering the cold and the grueling hours in the air, it was probably a good idea.

Resting her head against Clay’s thick shoulder, she let herself relax.

He felt solid and warm, and her eyelids began to droop. She closed them for a while, but she never completely fell asleep.

When the plane landed in Paris, she found herself hoping Clay would ask her out as he had before.

Against her better judgment, she would accept.

Clay didn’t ask.

He helped her descend the steel stairs to the runway and began a conversation with Flex and Shep.

When he spotted Jake, he went over to relay the details of what had happened to Caesar.

Even from a distance, Jake’s expression said he was worried.

He nodded at something Clay said, and they walked off together.

Exhausted, Ellie made her way through customs with the rest of the team.

The dressage and three-day eventing teams were headed for shows in other parts of Europe but wouldn’t depart for a couple of days.

Thanks to Maggie Delaine’s skillful maneuvering, they were staying at the Concorde Hotel for a very nominal rate.

The horses were taken on to their stalls at the show grounds while the riders would be arriving at the hotel by bus.

Engrossed in the fascinating sights of the city, she didn’t notice Clay taking the seat beside her until his deep voice startled her out of her thoughts.

“I’m guessing you’ve never been to Paris.”

She smiled.

“Actually, I was here for the horseshow last year.

I love Paris.

I think it’s the most beautiful city in the world. But I’ve never been anyplace I didn’t think was beautiful in one way or another.”

Clay said nothing, just kept watching her as if he tried to figure her out.

“You intrigue me, Ellie Fletcher.

You seem to have a boundless love of life, yet you enjoy very little of it.”

Ellie just shook her head.

“You don’t have to be a jetsetter to enjoy life, Clay.

I find pleasure in the small things, that’s all.

You overlook them for the bigger things.”

She glanced out the window to a row of buildings in the old section of the city.

The structures were three stories high with graceful arches and tiny dormer windows that peeked through mansard roofs.

“For instance, when you look at those buildings, you see the cracks in the plaster, the peeling paint, and the sagging doorframes.

I see them as they once were.

I wonder who built them, who lived in the rooms upstairs.

I wonder what kind of lives the people led. Did they have children? Were they in love? I can almost see them walking through the doorways, the ladies in their bustled skirts, men in top hats and frock coats. There’s so much more to seeing things than just looking on the surface.”

Clay gazed out at the buildings disappearing in the distance.

Now they passed newer, taller buildings.

“There are things I could show you, Ellie, things you’ve never seen.”

His dark eyes slid down to her lips and for a moment she thought he might kiss her.

“Things I could make you feel.”

Her heart was throbbing, her breathing a little ragged.

She could feel those hot brown eyes like a warm caress and her nipples tightened beneath her blouse.

She prayed Clay wouldn’t notice.

“What did...umm...Jake say about Caesar?”

Clay leaned back in his seat, apparently resigned to her change of subject.

“As soon as the horses arrive at the stables, he’ll have the vet take blood and saliva samples.

They’ll do a complete physical to be sure Caesar’s all right, but on the surface, he appears to be okay.”

“Thank God.”

“I tried to get Jake to report the incident to the Paris police, but he said he’d rather handle the matter through our own security people.”

Clay shook his head.

“I don’t know if I agree with him, but—“

“Jake knows what he’s doing,”

Ellie defended

Clay’s expression turned dark.

“You and Jake aren’t...

involved...are you?”

“Involved? Good Lord, no!”

At least not yet, Clay thought.

And not if I have anything to say about it.

But he wouldn’t press her to go out with him tonight, since she was bound to be exhausted.

Besides she’d say no, and he wasn’t ready to face another rejection. He had just as much pride as she did. He’d wait for her to come to him this time.

But he wouldn’t wait too damned long.