Page 8

Clayton Whitfield tossed and turned on the king-sized bed, thrashing the covers off his naked body while he dreamed of making love to Ellie Fletcher.

His lips grazed the smooth white skin at the base of her throat where a tiny pulse throbbed in anticipation.

His hands moved down her body, stopping to cup each breast then teasing the peak until it hardened into a small dark bud.

She softly called his name.

Shrill laughter down the hall awakened him.

Clay jerked upright, only to find he had a pounding headache and a raging hard on.

With a groan, he rolled to his side.

A woman with sleepy blue eyes stared back at him, her gaze traveling down his body, all the way to his groin.

“Angela,”

he said, surprised he remembered her name.

“Good morning, Clay.”

Her fingers slipped through the dark hair curling on his chest, down to his navel, then moved lower.

A surge of heat went through him, and he hardened even more.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t Angela he wanted.

“Why don’t we shower first?”

he suggested hoping he could summon a little more enthusiasm.

After all, Angela was sexy and obliging, with long blond hair and a repertoire of sexual tricks.

Instead, he thought of Ellie’s sweet smile, the warm look she’d given him in the Japanese garden.

Angela was persistent and, in the end, he gave in to her skillful machinations.

Clay told himself not to think of Ellie Fletcher.

She was probably frigid anyway, just like people said.

The notion distracted him enough to immerse himself in the moment. It wasn’t until he finished that he saw Ellie’s smiling face again.

An hour later, Clay sent Angela on her way and climbed into the limousine waiting in front of the Plaza Athenee in mid-town Manhattan where, after a night of celebrating his North Salem win, he and his father had taken a suite.

Avery was already seated in the back for the ride to the La Guardia Airport.

Clay climbed in beside him.

“I can’t wait to get a look at the castle,”

Avery said as the limo pulled away.

“You sure you can’t leave the team for a couple of days and join me for the hunt?”

His father was headed to Scotland.

He and a dozen others had been invited to attend a stag hunt.

“This month in Europe is pretty important,”

Clay said.

“It gives the team a chance to get to know each other, feel out one another’s strengths and weaknesses.

If we work well together, it’ll mean a better chance for the team gold in Seoul.”

Avery nodded.

He leaned back in the deep leather seat and grinned.

“How about that Angela? Didn’t I tell you she was something? Mouth like a warm silk purse.”

Clay had never liked the idea of bedding one of his father’s paid-for women.

But he’d never said so.

And he wouldn’t now.

He managed a half-hearted smile.

“She was something.”

His head still ached and the knot in his stomach had returned.

Damned ulcer.

He’d been fighting it off and on for years.

He pulled a bottle of Maalox from his inside coat pocket and took a long swallow.

In a couple of minutes, he’d be fine.

After dropping his father at the airport, the limo hauled Clay all the way back to his Ferrari, parked where he’d left it in the lot of a small roadside bar not far from the North Salem show grounds.

At least he hadn’t driven drunk.

He’d learned that lesson years ago when he’d been picked up and jailed in Palm Beach for drunk driving.

At his home in Far Hills, he kept a chauffeur on staff and a Bentley in the garage, but unless he was going into the city, he preferred to drive the Ferrari.

In the bar parking lot, Clay climbed into the car, fired up the big V-12 engine, and pulled out onto the winding, tree-lined road, heading for his Georgian mansion in the quiet New Jersey countryside.

There he could change into fresh clothes, check to see that Max and the other horses had been cared for properly, then head out to Gladstone to get any final instructions from Jake.

He brushed aside the voice that said he might also get a chance to talk to Ellie Fletcher.

His senses flared when he spotted her walking toward her rental car, apparently finished grooming and checking on her horses.

Thursday, they would be leaving for Paris.

The three days in between gave the horses a chance to rest and get ready for the show the following week.

Clay drove up beside her.

“Morning, Ellie.”

He smiled and kept his voice friendly.

“Hello, Clay.”

She just kept on walking, sparing him not even a sideways glance.

“I guess congratulations are in order,”

he said, thinking of her second-place win.

Ellie’s jaw tightened.

“Of course, I did beat you, so I guess you should really be congratulating me.”

Ellie turned, her small hands balling into fists.

“Congratulations, Clay, for winning the Grand Prix—and for making your usual horse’s ass of yourself.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get going.”

Clay slammed on the brakes, shoved the car into park, and threw open the door.

So what if he’d been a little drunk and slightly obnoxious.

He was celebrating, that’s all.

He caught up with her in three angry strides.

“What the hell business is it of yours how I behave?”

“It’s none of my business.”

“Then stop acting like a bitch.”

He was breathing hard, fighting to control his temper.

“If you can act like an ass, then I can act like a bitch.”

“Damn you!”

He took a steadying breath as she stomped off to her car.

She had the cutest little ass, he thought as she marched along, and felt a tug of amusement.

“How about dinner?”

he called after her, knowing she wouldn’t go and enjoying the rigid posture that meant he’d gotten to her again.

“I wouldn’t go out with you if you were the last man on earth!”

She unlocked the Toyota and climbed inside.

Clay walked over and opened her door, stared down at her over the top of the rolled-up window.

“Do you really dislike me that much? Or is it men in general? You never go out.

You never have any fun.

Maybe you really are frigid.”

“When it comes to you, Clay, I’m definitely frigid.

There are, however, men who affect me differently.

They think I’m plenty warm enough.”

The barb smarted more than it should have.

Clay clamped his jaw shut, fighting his temper again.

What the hell was he doing wrong? He could charm most people as easily as he did the pretty little jump-bunnies who hung around his stalls.

With Ellie he felt constantly on the defensive, often at a loss for words, and furious half the time.

The other half, he wanted to carry her off over his shoulder, take her to bed and find out the truth once and for all.

Was she frigid, as the rest of the riders believed? Or as warm and passionate as Clay suspected?

“Would you mind closing my door so I can leave?”

she asked tartly.

“I’ll let you go if you agree to go out with me.”

One of her reddish eyebrows went up.

“Haven’t you figured out I have no intention of sleeping with you? That’s all you want from me, so why don’t you find someone else?”

“I admit I’d like to take you to bed.

Why wouldn’t I? You’re pretty, you’ve got a great figure, and I’m intrigued.

But for some strange reason, I actually think we might get along.”

He had used the same line a dozen times, usually with success.

It surprised him to realize this time he meant it.

“Are you kidding? You and I get along? That has to be the biggest joke of the year.”

“Hey, Ellie, congratulations!”

Flex McGrath walked toward them, red hair gleaming in the sun.

“You, too, Clay.”

As usual, Clay thought, Flex’s timing was rotten.

At Ellie’s furious expression, a slow smile bloomed on Flex’s freckled face.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“You are,”

Clay said.

“You’re not,”

said Ellie.

Flex’s smile widened.

“Jake saw you drive in, Clay.

He’s over behind the barn.

He wants to talk to you.”

When Clay made no move to leave, Flex added, “He’s edgy as hell this morning.

I wouldn’t keep him waiting.”

Clay clenched his jaw, nodded and started walking.

Dammit, enough was enough.

He’d be drawn and quartered before he’d ever ask that woman out again.

Ellie followed Clay’s retreating figure, furious and wishing she could keep her anger in check.

“He still trying to put the make on you?”

Flex asked.

Ellie’s head came up.

“How did you know?”

“That’s easy.

Nobody’s been able to score with you, and Clay can’t pass up a challenge.”

The words stung.

Some insane part of her wanted to accept Clay’s invitation.

Her common sense reminded her what a dumb idea that was.

“You’re right, I know, but...”

“But what? But he’s handsome, one of the world’s best riders, and you’ve secretly got the hots for him?”

“Of course not!”

“Don’t worry about it.

Half the women on the circuit feel the same way.

The other half have already been to bed with him.”

“He’s really a conceited jerk.”

“Clay’s all right, once you get to know him.

Believe it or not, deep down he’s got a heart of gold.

He’d do damned near anything for somebody he cares about.”

Flex lifted her chin with his fingers.

“Just don’t sleep with him unless you can do it without getting involved.

Somehow I don’t think you’re that liberated.”

Feeling as if she were on her way to making a friend, Ellie smiled.

“Thanks for the advice, Flex.

Believe me, I couldn’t agree with you more.”

“Looking forward to Europe?”

“I’m nervous, but yes, I really am.

I think Rose is mostly ready and Jubilee is always ready.”

There were five riders on the team, but only eight horses.

Rose and Jubilee had both been chosen.

“Jube’s one hell of a horse.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ve done a great job training him.

Jake’s told me how hard you work.”

“Being on the team is the most important thing in the world.

I’ve dreamed of going to the Olympics since I was five years old.

I still can’t believe I’m really going, even if it’s as an alternate.”

“Keep riding the way you have been, and Jake may substitute you in.”

“I’d hate to wish anyone else bad luck, but I can’t say I wouldn’t love the chance.”

“By the way, Prissy Knowles is arriving tomorrow.

Have you met her?”

Prissy was the other female rider on the team.

“A couple of times.

I really admire her riding.

I hope we can be friends.”

“Prissy’s easy to like.

I know she’ll like you.”

“I hope so.”

Thinking how easy it was to like Flex, Ellie’s good mood returned.

“I’d better get going.

I’ve got a couple of things to do, and Jake will be expecting me for my afternoon workout.

And you’re right—he is edgy as hell. What do you think is wrong with him?”

“Probably just worried about leaving for Paris.

There’s a shit load of last-minute details to handle.”

“That’s probably it.”

With all his responsibilities, Jake was bound to be worried.

She hoped there was nothing else wrong.

“Thanks for the talk, Flex.

I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.

Just remember what I said and keep Clay as a friend.

He can be a really good one.”

Flex closed her car door and Ellie started the engine, a little surprised by Flex’s last words.

She couldn’t imagine Clay Whitfield being a good friend to anyone but himself.

Then she remembered the poetry he’d been writing that day in the garden.

Beautiful words about love and caring about others.

Maybe her suspicions were right and there was more to Clay than it seemed.

The thought made her nervous.

She’d need all her defenses to stay out of Whitfield’s clutches.

She was attracted to him, and every time she saw him, she remembered the way he’d kissed her.

Worst of all, she wanted him to do it again.

Ellie sighed.

Six weeks with Clayton Whitfield was going to seem like a year.

“Anything else I should know?”

Clay asked, his gaze following the little Toyota down the road.

Jake had filled him in on the final details of their departure.

“There’s nothing I can think of right now,”

Jake said, but his glance followed Clay’s, his expression nothing short of grim.

“She’s a grown woman, Jake,”

Clay reminded him.

“She isn’t in your league.”

“Don’t play the outraged parent,”

Clay said, beginning to get angry.

“It doesn’t suit you.

Besides, she’s made it clear she wants nothing to do with me.”

“Fine.

I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it that way.”

Clay didn’t answer.

What happened between him and Ellie was none of Jake’s business.

Clay frowned.

Jake never interfered in matters that didn’t concern him.

The fact he’d said anything at all spoke of his regard for Ellen Fletcher.

Clay knew Jake had coached her before, and of course he was working with her now.

Jake felt protective of her, that much was clear.

Or was there something more? Jake was a handsome, virile man.

As far as Clay knew, he’d had no serious involvement with a woman since his break-up with Maggie Delaine.

Maybe it wasn’t Ellie’s virtue he was protecting, but his own self-interest.

Maybe Jake had plans for her of his own.

When Clay glanced back at him, he noticed Jake’s attention was fixed once more on the road, where a beige Chevrolet sat parked some distance away.

“I’ve seen that car before,”

Clay said.

“What?”

“That car.

I’ve seen it before.

Last week at the horse show.”

“There are lots of beige cars,”

Jake said evasively.

“It wasn’t so much the car.

The guy in it sat there all afternoon.

I wonder what he’s doing out there.”

Jake shrugged.

“Probably just a fan.”

“Probably.”

There were some real zealots in the show world.

“I’ll see you Thursday.”

As he headed to his car, Clay wondered about Jake Sullivan.

Though few people knew Jake well, Clay believed he was an honorable man—far more honorable than Clay.

Now, as he thought about Ellie, and Jake’s possible intentions, Clay began to have his doubts.