Authors: Starr Ambrose
“Your name’s Barringer. You live in Barringer’s Pass. I doubt you can go out for dinner without making the local paper. A new wife is journalism gold, and they report every detail.”
“True, and precisely why I left.”
Reese’s voice behind her made her jump. She turned to meet a gaze that was clearly assessing her, and she wondered how long he’d been standing there, listening.
“People in small towns are too wrapped up in other people’s lives,” Reese said as he approached his father’s bedside. “Frankly, I don’t know how you stand it, Dad.”
“You might figure it out if you ever stuck around long enough.” Michael shook his head, but smiled affectionately at his son. “I never should have let your mother talk me into sending you to those private schools back east. Should have had you graduate from Barringer High like I did.”
“I’m not sure that would have changed my mind, Dad. I’m just not a small-town person. Besides,” he said, lifting an eyebrow at T.J., “it’s nice to have all those inferior sorts kiss my feet.”
So he’d heard. She forced a smile he couldn’t possibly mistake as sincere. “I think I’ll leave you two to talk business,” she said, standing. “Now that Reese has had a couple of days to familiarize himself with the place, I’m sure he’s found a lot of ways to save us from our small-town mediocrity.”
“Thanks for coming by, T.J.” Michael winked. “I knew you two would get along.”
“If you enjoy bloodshed,” she muttered as she left.
Tad Prescott looked as good in person as he did in the movies—on the ground, that is. On a horse, his handsome face was as white as his fiberglass safety helmet. T.J. didn’t even try to hide her smile as he wobbled atop Teddy Bear, clutching the big gelding’s mane with two hands.
“No one told me the lessons would be bareback,” Tad said, keeping a wary eye on the horse. From the sidelines of the indoor arena, his wide-eyed assistant did the same. “Who’d think someone as cute as you could be such a sadist.”
“Bareback is the best way for you to learn the motion of the horse.”
“Uh-huh. You know, T.J.,” he said, as if suggesting something she might not have thought of, “the motion wouldn’t matter as much if I had stirrups and a big old horn to hang on to.”
“Exactly. And you’d depend on a saddle to keep you on the horse instead of learning how to do it the right way. I’m supposed to turn you into a good rider, not teach you how to fake it.”
“I’m fine with faking. I’m an actor, for Christsakes.”
“I’m not. So cowboy up, sissy pants.”
Tad’s brow wrinkled in disbelief. “Did you just call me a sissy pants? After doing all my own stunt work in
Kill Zone
and
Night of
. . . Holy shit!” He curled over Teddy Bear’s neck as T.J. tugged lightly on the lead rope, urging the horse into a walk. “You could warn a guy, babe.”
“Do you always whine this much?”
Tad clamped his mouth shut and hung on. His assistant clutched a laptop to her chest, as if it would protect her should Teddy Bear suddenly go berserk, while she kept her worried eyes on her boss.
T.J. circled the arena while Teddy walked beside her at his favorite pace—slow—and Tad gradually relaxed into the motion. “Lookin’ good, Prescott,” she told him. “You feel steady enough to trot?”
“Actually, I’m thinking the horse could walk through the whole movie.”
“Shame on you, you’ll never herd those cattle that way.” She clicked at Teddy, breaking into a slow jog beside him. The horse trotted along, with Tad bouncing sharply on his back.
“Jesus, I hope you arranged for a chiropractor’s appointment after this.”
“Stop hugging the horse’s neck. Sit up straight and use your legs for balance.”
He was obviously leery of the horse, so she gave him credit for trying, but he wasn’t doing a good job of it. To spare Teddy’s back, she brought the horse to a halt. “You need to keep firm contact, Prescott. Like this.” She pressed Tad’s thigh against Teddy’s side, demonstrating the amount of pressure he should use, then slid her hand down to his knee and his calf, positioning his leg. “All the way down, touching firmly without squeezing.”
A slow smile spread over Tad’s handsome face. “I’m tempted to make a dirty joke,” he said.
“You should probably resist,” she cautioned, but smiled. She didn’t mind bantering with a good-looking man, and bullying Tad had the advantage of establishing a barrier between them. She was going to need one. The man oozed sexual confidence and had been quick to come on to her when they met. He probably got a lot of girls with that charm, but she wasn’t going to be one of them. Sexy, rich men weren’t uncommon in the mountain hot spot of Barringer’s Pass, and in T.J.’s experience, they were exactly like any other man—not to be trusted.
Tad wiggled his eyebrows as she positioned his other leg. “You know, Isabella Martinez is going to get several million dollars for the pleasure of touching me just like that in the movie.” His eyes found his assistant where she huddled against the wall. “Hey, Bethy, how many sex scenes are in the movie?”
The mousy girl straightened. “Two, plus one with heavy foreplay.”
“Two and a half. That’s about a million bucks per tumble, T.J.”
“They have to pay women to touch you? I wouldn’t brag about that.”
“You’re a tough case, T.J. Feel my leg again, higher up.”
“You’re wasting your breath.” The smooth male voice reached them from across the arena, sending a tingle across the back of T.J.’s neck. “She doesn’t care about people. Only horses.”
She turned. Reese, arms folded, leaned against the wall where the arena met the aisle to the stable. He looked relaxed and amused, and so purely male she had to suppress the sudden desire to lick her lips. Which was all wrong. Reese Barringer wasn’t her type. His trousers and white shirt were glaringly out of place, definitely not the look she preferred in a man. Tight jeans and a good pair of boots were much sexier, like the ones Tad Prescott wore so well. Which had no effect on her whatsoever.
Well, crap.
“That’s right,” she said, pretending her skin wasn’t prickling with awareness as she turned back to Tad. “I find horses preferable to humans.” And local men preferable to those who were bound to leave.
“I’m sure horses are very nice,” Tad said, casting a look at Teddy Bear that said he wasn’t at all sure. “But they can’t keep you warm at night. I, on the other hand, can keep you very warm.”
Tad’s flirting suddenly felt awkward with Reese listening in. “I have a warm blanket, thanks.” She clicked at Teddy and started walking. “Now let go of the mane and hold your arms out to the side.”
Cautiously, Tad obeyed, but his attention was soon back on her. “The men of Barringer’s Pass must be blind and impotent if a pretty girl like you prefers to spend her time with horses.”
Not blind, just fewer in number than the tourists and vacationing celebrities who were always looking for a good time but were never interested in staying. She’d had her fill of those, and the heartbreak that went with them.
“You should go out with me, T.J.,” Tad persisted. “I promise I’ll change your mind.”
His leering wink kept it light. It was Reese’s quiet, unwavering look as he waited for her answer that had shivers skittering down her back. She tried her best to ignore him. “I don’t think so. Now lean back and touch his rump.”
Tad turned carefully, placing his hand on Teddy’s rump with a stroking caress. “Should I touch yours next?”
She lifted her eyes to give Tad a smart comeback, glancing toward Reese as she did. His silent stare and raised eyebrow held her gaze, and it was Reese’s hand she pictured cupping her rump while those steady dark eyes watched hers for a reaction. Damn it! Heat rushed to her cheeks and she turned away quickly, hoping she sounded calm as she smiled at Tad. “Not if you want to keep all your fingers.”
“Sissy pants, huh? We’ll work up to it,” Tad told her, undaunted. He flashed a grin at Reese, as if they shared a boys-only joke about Tad’s efforts to get his hands on her.
It was all harmless fun, probably no more than Tad’s usual way of passing time. But Reese’s presence turned the whole thing serious, somehow, sending uncomfortable feelings squiggling through her stomach. She wished he’d go away and take those squiggles with him.
* * *
Reese clenched his teeth while keeping his expression blank. He was starting to regret talking T.J. into the riding lessons. Prescott seemed to be a habitual flirt with an insatiable libido, and T.J. shouldn’t have to deal with that crap. Although for someone who didn’t like working with people, he had to admit she was doing a good job of fending Tad off without annoying him.
Reese was the only one getting annoyed. He wasn’t sure why.
It was none of his business who the stable manager went out with, even if it was one of the guests. She didn’t seem interested in Tad’s come-ons. But she was amused, and that grated on his nerves. He didn’t think she was faking it—she might actually like the guy.
He watched as T.J. instructed Tad in how to steer the horse by using just the pressure of his legs, then made him execute a figure eight on his own, still without reins or saddle, first at a walk, then at a trot. Reese half-hoped he’d fall off.
He didn’t. It wasn’t pretty, but Tad stayed on, then triumphantly declared himself ready to join the circus. T.J. laughed with what appeared to be genuine pleasure. Reese left, grumbling.
He was halfway along the wooded path to the main lodge when a female voice yelled, “Wait!” Reese turned. The young woman who’d been watching from the corner of the arena trotted up to him, panting from the exertion. He stopped, allowing her to catch her breath.
“Beth Mayfield,” she gasped, offering her hand. “Tad Prescott’s assis . . .” She sucked in a deep breath. “Assistant.”
He shook her hand. “Reese Barringer.”
“I know. Sorry,” she wheezed. “Asthma.” Pulling an inhaler from her purse, she took a couple of quick hits.
“The altitude probably makes it worse,” he told her. “Take your time.”
She nodded, but began talking right away in short, raspy sentences. “That woman. The instructor. Does she know what she’s doing?”
“T.J.? Yes, she’s the best.” Or so he’d been told. After watching her, he was inclined to believe it.
“She doesn’t seem . . . concerned. About safety. Tad’s safety.”
He smiled. “I know she sounds callous, but believe me, she’s taking a cautious approach, giving him a good grounding in horsemanship.” Far better than he’d had as a boy when he spent summer vacations riding the mountain trails with his brothers. He could have used an instructor like T.J. back then. Hell, he thought, warming to the idea. He could use one now, and he could think of far more interesting things to do with her than ride a horse in circles in an arena.
He was as bad as Tad, not to mention completely off topic. “Tad’s riding a lazy old horse and wearing a helmet,” he told Beth. “He’s perfectly safe.”
Beth frowned, obviously not satisfied. “Tad is worth millions.” Her breathing was becoming slightly less strangled. “To the studio. A serious injury would mean . . .” Another deep breath. “An insurance settlement. A big one. Plus delays for the movie, maybe even recasting. Very expensive.”
Reese nodded. “I don’t think you have to worry about any of that. Tad’s in good hands.” The sudden image of a smug Tad enjoying T.J.’s hands on his body made him frown.
Beth must have misread his concern. “If you’re uncertain, perhaps I should locate a different instructor.”
“That’s not necessary, really. And there is no one better. I know the studio was happy with T.J.’s credentials, so I wouldn’t worry about it. And I think your boss is very happy with his instructor.” A little too happy. He frowned again.
Beth bit her lip, studying him. “The studio can bring someone in from L.A. Someone more experienced.”
It felt like a criticism of both T.J. and the Silver Ridge Resort. “I’m sorry, no one else is allowed to work with our horses. Only T.J.” She’d probably crack up to hear him say it, but Beth looked disappointed. And irritated, which was not the impression his dad wanted to make with the movie people. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll check in on the lessons now and then, make sure everything’s going well. Okay?” Her pursed-lip frown was probably the best response he’d get. “Tad will be galloping around the arena before you know it,” he told her in a final attempt at reassurance.
Alarm struck her gray eyes, starting a flurry of nervous blinking. “I’d better get back there. He might need me.”
“Good idea.” God knew what Tad might be proposing while he was alone with T.J.; all that charm and bullshit might eventually have an effect. Reese would feel much better knowing Tad’s obsessively protective assistant was hovering nearby. Beth didn’t seem to trust T.J. any more than Reese trusted Tad.
* * *
Despite his promise to monitor the lessons, he couldn’t find time for it the next morning. It didn’t matter—T.J. knocked on his open office door shortly after ten, then strode in without waiting for an invitation.
“I need the keys to the dually,” she announced.
He took a moment to admire the way her jeans hugged her hips, then slid his gaze happily up her body to her pixie face. He wasn’t used to seeing women dress that way for work, but he wasn’t complaining. “We have a dually?” he asked, trying to remember if he’d seen a pickup truck with a four-wheel rear axle in the equipment garage.
“Yes, for pulling the six-horse slant load, and you have the keys. I need them.”
He leaned back in his chair, in no hurry to send her off. Swiveling back and forth, he enjoyed the glimpse of her bare stomach, between her top and the jeans. He hadn’t expected the tattoo that peeked over the top of her hip, and he tried to imagine the rest of the curved line where it disappeared below her jeans. “Why do you need the dually?”
“Because I need to pick up the four horses I bought at last night’s auction in Blackstone.”
Confusion dragged his attention from her nicely toned stomach. “You bought four horses last night?”
“Yes. You know, for the resort?” She tilted her head, waiting expectantly for his brain to catch up. “Mike authorized me to buy whatever you need, and you needed a few more before you open. A couple will need some training, but don’t worry, I’ll have them ready for you in time.”