Steve shook it, replying, “Steve Sheppard.” At the mention of Ty, however, a peculiar thing happened to him. Somehow, the sheer man-oh-man of this woman’s presence paled.
“Oh, I know who
you
are, Steve,” Lizzie replied cheerfully. A terrific voice, he couldn’t help noting, the kind that made you want to smile. Still, he preferred Ty’s, sometimes clipped and snooty, other times soft and achingly vulnerable.
“Is Ty around?”
“Upstairs. Should be down in a minute. Would you like to come in?” Steve stepped back from his position by the doorjamb.
Lizzie glanced behind her. “My daughter’s asleep in the car. We set out early to avoid the traffic around New York. I’ll try to get her out of the car seat without waking her.”
“Need a hand?” Steve asked, following her out to a dark blue Volvo station wagon.
“More like moral support.” Lizzie flashed a grin over her shoulder. “Ordinarily, Emma’s a sweetie, but she gets real cranky if she’s awakened from a nap. If you could just grab the bag from the backseat, that’d be great.”
Lizzie opened the back door quietly and bent over the form of a toddler strapped in the car seat. Steve caught sight of strawberry-blond hair curling wildly, cheeks flushed with sleep. Carefully, Lizzie unbuckled the center strap and began to lift her daughter, handling her as delicately as if she were a Faberg? egg.
A wasted effort. Whether Lizzie’s daughter sensed the slight shift in her body as she was lifted or felt the cool of the morning on her rosy cheeks was anybody’s guess. Whatever the reason, by the time they reached the front door, Emma had worked herself into a fullblown snit and was busy communicating her displeasure to anyone within a mile of the house.
Lizzie’s soft crooning of “Emma, hon, guess where we are? We’re at
Ty’s
house, just like I told you,”
along with the kisses she was planting on Emma’s tearstained face, had little effect. They entered the house with Emma still going full force.
It was a sign of just how thrilled Ty and Lizzie were to see each other that their cries of “Hello,”
“Surprise,” “I can’t believe this—what are you doing here?”’ were audible over the din Emma was making.
When Ty said, “Here, let me take Emma; maybe that will distract her,” Steve sent a quick prayer heavenward. His eardrums were starting to ring.
But the noise became even shriller as soon as Lizzie got within range of Ty. “My God, what’s happened to you? Those circles under your eyes, you look like death warmed over . . . and that
smell!
What is it?”
Ty, too chagrined to explain, began lurching toward Lizzie and Emma with all the grace of someone just recovering from two busted legs. At that point, Lizzie’s horror underwent a swift transformation. Eyes flashing, she whirled, snarling, “What have you done to her? She’s crippled!”
His head snapped back as Lizzie advanced menacingly. And he’d been dumb enough to categorize Ty’s friend as an easygoing party girl? The woman was out for blood. “If you’ve hurt Ty,” the virago continued, coming far too close for comfort, “I’ll make you rue the day you were born, you . . .”
Hands up, Steve took a hasty step backward. “Whoa, hold on there, all I did was walk on Ty’s back, and she
asked
me to . . .”
Ty spoke up. Loudly. Drowning out Steve’s reply and Emma’s continued squawks. “I’m okay, really, Lizzie. Lizzie,” she repeated even more loudly, finally getting her friend’s attention.
“I’m okay.
Just a little stiff. I went riding yesterday.”
Fortunately for Steve, Ty’s words registered. As the words sank in, Lizzie’s reaction was comical. Jaw slack with astonishment, a huge grin began spreading over her face. Then, with an ecstatic “Yes!” Lizzie pumped her closed fist in the air, boots stomping as she ran in place, Emma bouncing in her arms. Victory dance complete, she pounced, planting a loud kiss on Steve’s cheek. “You, Steve Sheppard, are a good man,” Lizzie exclaimed, beaming approval. “An
excellent
man. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Emma, honey, give Steve a big kiss. He got Ty back on a horse again!”
Emma seemed to share her mother’s quicksilver temperament. No longer put out now that the adults were providing such noisy entertainment with which to distract her, Emma happily stretched out chubby arms. A split second later, Steve received another, much wetter buss on the cheek. Then the toddler, leaning dramatically away from her mother’s body, was immediately transferred to Ty’s impatient embrace.
Steve watched Ty hug Emma fiercely, the little girl’s arms wrapped about her neck. An odd sort of contentment filled him as Ty stood there, her dark, sleek head close to Emma’s, whispering about how big she’d gotten in the past two weeks, while Emma jabbered on in a high-pitched voice about ponies, toys, books, Mommy, and food.
The mention of food was enough to send the small party ambling into the kitchen. Steve poured coffee, Ty sat at the kitchen table with Emma on her lap, Lizzie hunted through the refrigerator for juice for Emma, also pulling out eggs, butter, bread, and maple syrup. Everyone tried to talk at once.
“The reason we’re here, waking you up at the crack of dawn, Ty, is that my fax machine went down yesterday. Darned thing went on strike. But as it happened, I was heading out this way in any case. I’m checking out some ponies this morning for the parents of one of my riders.” She mentioned the name of a stable in Amagansett, located about nine miles east of Steve’s place in Bridgehampton. “If I find one that’s suitable and in my price range—a big if—I’m hoping to buy a school pony, too. Naturally, I came up with the brilliant idea that we’d drop by, hand over the client list and Vicky’s number, look at some ponies, and satisfy my insatiable curiosity about how you’re doing.” Lizzie grinned. “In other words, I’m breaking your cardinal rule and mixing business with pleasure.”
“That right, Ty, you don’t believe in mixing business with pleasure?” Steve asked, a wicked smile playing over his lips. He was standing near the kitchen sink, a hip cocked negligently against the butcher-block counter, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.
He was too handsome by half. “I’ve always been told that it’s an invitation to disaster to mix the two,” Ty replied, pleased that her voice sounded so steady.
Steve merely smiled, saying nothing. But she could feel his eyes on her mouth, instantly conjuring the incredible sensation of what it had been like to feel his lips moving over hers. Hurriedly she looked away, but then made the foolish mistake of glancing down at his bare feet.
Embarrassment swept through her. Now that the moment had passed, she couldn’t believe she’d been so, well, so
brazen
as to ask Steve to walk on her back. Then she thought of how Steve’s weight bore down upon her, the force easing all the knots inside her, making her loose with pleasure. Such incredible pleasure. And she didn’t mix business with pleasure? Hah! What a total hypocrite she was. She knew it, and so, obviously, did Steve.
Hastily, Ty redirected her thoughts. “It’s really great to see you and Emma.”
Lizzie handed Ty a cup of juice for Emma, which the two-year-old tried to grab with both hands. “Ditto for us, Ty. We’re also pleased to make Steve’s acquaintance,” she added archly. She hadn’t missed the look Ty and Steve had exchanged. Or that it positively sizzled. Lizzie was thrilled; this had been a long time coming. “You’ve got a truly beautiful place here, Steve.”
“Thanks. I like it. Landscape’s real different from where I grew up in Kentucky, but few places can match the sky and light that you find in eastern Long Island,” Steve replied easily, not for a single moment forgetting this woman’s fierce protectiveness toward Ty. He’d give a good deal to know why Lizzie Osborne felt it necessary to protect her friend. And something about the whole scene in the entryway teased his memory. Similar to the way the name of a long-ago classmate hovers but remains frustratingly elusive.
It occurred to Steve that if he could get Lizzie Osborne alone, he might unearth some very useful information about his partner. Like what made her tick. Like why some things about her seemed strangely familiar.
“So you’re in the horse business, too?”
“More like the pony business,” Lizzie corrected with a grin. “Mainly pony hunters and children’s hunters for my older kids. Of course, that may change as my clients grow up. You know, get rid of their braces.”
She wondered when Steve Sheppard was going to remember exactly who Ty was. It was tempting to jolt his memory a bit, but Ty had already shot her a stern look, giving a quick shake to her head. Lizzie regretfully abandoned the idea, saying instead, “I’ve got a small stable, Cobble Creek, located outside Bedford. The drive’s close enough that I get kids from the city as well as local riders.”
Steve drained his coffee and placed it on the counter beside his hip. “Well, I’m sure the two of you have a lot to talk about.” A man with two sisters, he knew what to expect when women got together with friends. “I’ve got to head over to the barn and feed the horses. Bubba’ll be coming by later.”
“Why don’t we get breakfast ready while you’re gone?” Lizzie offered. “Then you and Ty can tell me about your plans for Southwind when you get back.”
“Holy heavenly host, Ty, he’s gorgeous! Way better than when we were kids, if you ask me. Tougher. It’s horribly unfair the way men improve with age.” She gave a dramatic sigh as she placed a bowl of dry Cheerios in front of Emma. “Here, Em, munch on these. How about we make some french toast? We skipped breakfast.”
While Emma happily grabbed oat rings by the fistful and dry Cheerios scattered over the round wooden table, Ty came over to stand by Lizzie. Lizzie hid a smile at how carefully her friend was moving, asking instead, “How’s it going between you?”
“Educational. It was pretty naive of me to think that just because I wanted to help Steve out of this situation, that would make everything easy.” She sighed. “He’s a complex man.”
“Yeah, but if he weren’t complex, you wouldn’t be interested, and you know it, Ty.” Lizzie paused, expertly cracking an egg with one hand against the rim of a mixing bowl. “Just for the record, what did those guys you’d bring along as dates talk about that had your eyes glazing over a mere thirty seconds later?”
Ty laughed, raising her hands in surrender. “Touch?! Okay, I admit it. I have a major problem with men who never deviate from their two favorite topics of conversation: how much money they made this week, and how much money they’re planning to make
next
week.”
“Ugh! Totally brain-dead!” Lizzie exclaimed in disgust. “No wonder you never wanted to sleep with any of them! But I bet Steve’s not like that,” she speculated with a small smile.
“No,” Ty agreed ruefully. “He’s arrogant, obnoxious, bullheaded, and a general pain in the neck. He can be downright devious, too,” thinking of how he’d purposely encouraged her belief that he enjoyed living in a moldy, dust-filled ruin of a house. But then, with customary honesty, she found herself adding, “He’s also smart and funny and cares about people.” Ty briefly explained Steve’s relationship with Bubba Rollins. “And lastly, he’s devoted to his horses. Fancy Free’s death really shook him.”
Lizzie nodded sympathetically, beating the eggs with quick flicks of her wrist. “In short, he’s perfect for you.”
Ty opened her mouth to object, then thought better of it, knowing she couldn’t fool her best friend.
“Yes,” she agreed, “I’m afraid so.”
“Well, buck up, kiddo. I caught the way he was looking at you, and I think he’s more than ready to mix a little pleasure with this particular business.”
“Already has,” Ty mumbled, a rush of heat spreading through her.
“I heard that, and you’d better tell all, or I won’t let you have a slice.” As if to make good her threat, Lizzie cut off a thick chunk of butter and dropped it in the frying pan. Sizzling, it melted quickly. “Okay, ready for the first one. We’ll see how many we need to make. Start talking, kid.”
The scent of cooking batter soon filled the kitchen, its aroma mouthwatering. “All right,” Ty grumbled reluctantly. “He kissed me yesterday.”
“Good girl.” Lizzie nodded encouragingly as she lowered another egg-coated slice into the pan. “And?”
“And . . . oh, God, it’s so confusing, Lizzie . . . he kisses like he means it, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot—the kiss, that is—and I’ve come to the conclusion he was just doing it out of gratitude, thanking me for having planted these trees.”
“You think he was kissing you out of gratitude?” Lizzie’s voice was incredulous. Ty shrugged. “Sure. He’s a really physical person— Lizzie, he can do things with his hands,” Ty said, a delicious shiver racing down her spine at the memory of Steve’s caresses. “And he’s already mentioned he hasn’t had sex in a while.” Ty could so easily picture the woman, Cynthia, whom Steve had been trying to hustle into his bed, that Ty was confident she’d be able to pick her out of a lineup. She’d be blond, pert, buxom. Really
cute.
All the things Ty wasn’t. “So I think Steve was probably feeling . . .”
“Horny,” Lizzie supplied dryly. “Ty, I’m truly disappointed in you. Have you taken a look in the mirror lately? You don’t honestly believe a guy like Steve’s only willing to kiss you, a beautiful woman, out of
gratitude
or because you’re convenient and he hasn’t had sex recently? You’ve got to be kidding!”
“Of course not,” Ty protested uncomfortably. She wasn’t used to talking like this, even with Lizzie. It was during moments such as these when she envied Lizzie her supreme confidence in dealing with the opposite sex. For Ty, too many years had passed during which she’d been subjected to the attentions of men who either fawned over her or paraded around like preening peacocks, neither reaction having a thing to do with Ty the person but rather with the neon-lit dollar signs that floated around the Stannard name, attracting men, making them behave like complete morons. Steve wasn’t like them, Ty knew, but that didn’t mean she believed he was truly attracted to her, either.
“Look, Ty,” Lizzie said with some exasperation, reading the bleak look on her friend’s face, “let’s stick to cold, hard evidence here. Just the facts, ma’am. You’ve already admitted he kissed you like he meant it . . . well, what happened next? Remember, we’re talking french toast here.”