Irish Rose Page 8

  horses would ran and the lush green infield filled with tropical flowers and pink flamingos. Still farther away were more stands with more people. Every minute, more were filing in.

  "I've never seen so many people in one place at one time. And they're all here to watch the race."

  "Want a beer?"

  Erin nodded absently and continued to take in everything as Burke left her. She spotted Durnam not far away, talking to a woman in the tiniest pair of shorts Erin had ever seen. Erin passed over him and looked at the electronic board that was beginning to flash with numbers and odds for the first race.

  "I want you to explain to me what it all means up there," Erin began before Burke had a chance to sit down again. "So I'll know best how to bet."

  "If you want a tip, you'll wait for the third race, bet on number five."

  "Why?"

  "The horse is out of Royal Meadows. Sentiment aside, he's a strong runner. Record's a little shaky, but he looks good today. First race is anybody's game. So far the odds aren't spectacular."

  "Are you betting on it?"

  "No."

  "I thought you were a gambler."

  "I like to pick my own game."

  Erin sat back and listened to the announcements for the first race. "Crystal Maiden sounds pretty."

  "Pretty names don't win races. Hold on to your money, Irish."

  She settled back and contented herself with absorbing the sounds and sights around her. By the time the horses were brought to the starting gate, she was leaning forward in her chair. "They are beautiful," she said, but she felt a great deal better when Burke's hand rested lightly on hers.

  Her pulse was hammering. He gauged it to be almost as much from excitement as nerves. He'd been right about the contradictions in her. As the gates opened, her fingers linked hard with his, but she didn't cringe.

  "What a noise," she murmured, while her heart beat almost as loudly as hooves on turf. As they rounded the first turn, she strained to keep following them. That was power, she thought, both raw and controlled. They might well have made it a business, but she could see why it had been and was still the sport of kings.

  When it was over, she laid a hand on her breast. "My heart's still pounding. Don't smile at me like that," she warned, but laughed with it. "It's the most wonderful thing I've ever seen. All those colors, all that energy. Can you imagine doing this every day?"

  "There are plenty who do."

  But she only shook her head. Today was special, a once-in-a-lifetime day. "I want to bet on the next one."

  "Third race," Burke repeated, and sipped his beer.

  When her time came, she insisted on betting herself. Erin put the stub in the pocket of her shirt, then changed her mind and tucked it carefully in her billfold. Seated beside Burke again, she fretted until the horses were brought to the gate.

  "I don't mind losing," she said with a quick grin, "but I'd sure as hell like to win better."

  When they were off, she stood and leaned against the rail. "Which one is he?" she demanded, grabbing Burke's hand to drag him forward with her.

  "Fourth back on the inside. Red-and-gold silks."

  "Aye." She watched, urging him on. "He runs well, doesn't he?"

  "Yes."

  "Oh, look, he's moving up."

  "Better hang on, Irish. They've got half a mile to go."

  "But he's moving up." She gave a hoot of laughter as she pointed. "He's in second now."

  There was shouting all around her, competing with the announcer and the thundering of hooves. Erin strained to hear all three as she grabbed Burke's shirt and tugged.

  "He's taken the lead. Look at him!" She spun away from the rail and into Burke's arms as he finished half a length ahead. "He won! / won!" Laughing, she kissed Burke hard. "How much?"

  "Mercenary little witch."

  "It's nothing to do with mercenary and everything to do with winning. I'm going home and tell Dee I bet on her horse and won. How much?"

  "The odds were five to one."

  "Fifty dollars?" She gave another peal of laughter.

  "I'll buy the next beer." She took him by the hand. "When does your horse race?"

  "In the fifth."

  "Thank goodness. It'll give me time to recover."

  She bought him a beer, then went one better and bought them both hot dogs. The only time she could remember spending such a frivolous day was at a fair. This seemed like one to her, with the noise and smells and colors. She had another ticket in her pocket and Burke's sunglasses on by the time the fifth race was announced.

  "I really hope he wins," she told him with her mouth full. "Not just because I bet on him, either."

  "That makes two of us."

  "How does it feel to own one?" she wondered. "Not just a horse, but a horse from a great line."

  "Most of the time it's like having an expensive lover, one you have to keep happy and lavish money on for moments of intense gratification."

  Erin turned and, tipping the glasses down, looked at him over them. "You're full of blarney."

  "At the very least."

  He turned and watched his horse charge through the gate. How did it feel? Burke asked himself. How did it feel for a dirt-poor bastard from New Mexico to sit and watch his six-figure horse come flying by? Incredible. So incredible he couldn't begin to describe it and wasn't sure he wanted to. It could all be gone tomorrow.

  And what of it?

  He'd taught himself long ago that when you held on to something too tightly it squeezed through your fingers. He was giving Three Aces the best he had, though he'd never intended to get involved with the running of it. He'd certainly never intended to get attached to it. He worked better on the move. Yet he'd been in one place for four years.

  Just recently he'd been telling himself that maybe it was time for him to get a manager for the place and take an extended vacation. Monte Carlo, San Juan, Tahoe. If a man stuck with one game too long, didn't he get stale? But then he'd gone to Ireland. And had come back with Erin.

  The damnedest thing was, he wasn't thinking about Monte Carlo or playing the wheel anymore. It was becoming easier and easier to stay in one place. And think about one woman.

  "You won!" Suddenly she was laughing and her arms were around his neck. "You won by two lengths, maybe three, I couldn't tell. Oh, Burke, I'm so pleased for you."

  "Are you?" He'd forgotten the race, the horse and the bet.

  "Of course I am. It's wonderful that your horse won, and he looked so beautiful doing it. And I'm happy for me, too." She grinned. "The odds were eight to five."

  Then he stunned her by dragging her closer and kissing her with a power and passion that left her limp. She didn't protest but, held trapped in his arms, allowed herself to be buffeted by the storm.

  "The hell with the odds," Burke muttered, and kissed her again.

  Chapter 6

  One didn't know what to think. No one could have been kinder than Burke the day Erin had spent with him. She'd watched the races, the strong, beautiful horses striving for speed. She'd seen women dressed in elegant clothes and jockeys in brilliant silks. She'd heard the noises that came from thousands of people in the same place. She'd seen exotic birds and flowers, had sipped champagne in a private plane. But her clearest memory of the day was of sitting on the grass in Burke's arms.

  She didn't know what to think.

  Since then, the days had passed routinely. Erin had to remind herself she was doing exactly what she'd set out to do—making a wage, starting a life, seeing new things. But Burke's visits to her office had become few and far between. She began to catch herself watching the door and wishing it would open.

  She told herself that her feelings for him were surface ones. He made her laugh, showed her exciting things and could be kind enough when it suited him. He was just arrogant enough to keep an edge on without alienating her. A woman could like a man like that without putting her heart at risk. Couldn't she? A woman could even kiss a man like that withou
t falling too deep. Wasn't that right?

  And yet she knew she'd come to the point where she thought of him a bit too easily and watched for him far too often.

  He'd stayed away from her long enough. That was what Burke told himself as he came in through the back of the house from the stables. He'd stayed away from her since their quick trip to Florida because his feelings were mixed. He was used to clear thinking and well-defined emotions, not this jumbled mess of needs and restraint.

  He couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd looked at the track, watching the horses race by. She'd been vivid, excited, exciting. The kind of woman he could handle. Yet he couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd looked when she'd fainted all but at his feet. She'd been pale and helpless, frightened. He'd needed to protect and soothe.

  He'd never wanted the responsibility of a woman who needed protection or care. Yet he wanted Erin. She wasn't the kind of woman you took to bed for a night of mutual enjoyment, then strolled away from. Yet he wanted her. For all her strong talk, she was a woman who would put down roots and sink them deep. He'd never wanted the restriction or the responsibility of a home in the true sense. Yet he still wanted Erin McKinnon.

  And he'd stayed away from her long enough.

  When he walked into the office, she was marking in the ledger in her clear, careful hand. She knew it was him—even without looking she knew—but made herself finish before she glanced up.

  "Hello. I haven't seen much of you lately."

  "I've been busy."

  "That's clear from the papers on my desk. I've just paid your vet bill. Dr. Harrigan back home could live a year off what you pay a month. Are the new foals well?"

  "They'll do."

  "I see you've hired a new stable boy."

  "My trainer sees to the hiring."

  Erin lifted a brow. So he was going to play master of the estate, was he? "I see your Ante Up ran well at Santa Anita."

  "Reading the sports page these days?"

  "I figure living with the Grants and working for you I should keep up." Erin picked up her pencil again. "Now that we've had such a pleasant little talk

  I'll get back to work, unless there's something you're wanting."

  "Come with me."

  "What?"

  "I said come with me." Before either of them had a chance to think it through, he took her arm and hauled her to her feet. "Where's your coat?"

  "Why? Where are we going?"

  Instead of answering, he glanced around and spotted it folded on a chair. "Put this on," he told her. Then, even as he thrust it at her, he began to walk.

  "A fine thing," Erin began breathlessly as he pulled her down the hall. "Interrupting my work in the middle of the day, dragging me off without any explanation. Just because you pay me, Burke Logan, doesn't mean I have to jump at your bidding. An employee has rights in this country. Which reminds me, I've been meaning to ask you about my paid holidays."

  "You learn fast," he muttered as he pushed the door open.

  "If you don't let go of my arm, I won't be able to put it in my coat." When he did, Erin rammed her arm in the sleeve but left the coat unbuttoned. "Sure and it's a fine day. The ground's a bit of a mess with the snow melting, but that's all the better for spring growing. If that was all you wanted to show me, I'll go back to work."

  She managed to hiss out a protest when he grabbed her arm and began walking again.

  "Burke, what the devil's got into you? If there's something you want me to do or see, fine, but there's no need to strong-arm me."

  "How long have you been working for me?"

  "Three weeks." Giving up, Erin matched her stride to his.

  "And in three weeks you've barely poked your head out of the office."

  "I work in the office," she reminded him.

  "Did it ever occur to you that you can't understand the work if you've never looked at where the money comes from or where it goes?"

  "I thought that's why we went to the races."

  "There's more to this place than one race."

  "Why do I have to understand as long as the figures tally?"

  He wasn't sure of the answer himself, but he knew he wanted her to see what was his, to understand it, to move closer to it.

  Pushing the hair out of her eyes, she glanced up at him. His profile was set, and she thought she detected a shadow in his eyes. "Is there something troubling you?"

  "No." He said it sharply, almost defensively, then made himself relax. "No, nothing." Except the need tethered tight inside him that strained hard at the scent of her. What the hell was happening to a man who could only think of one woman, of one voice, of one taste?

  She continued to walk beside him in silence, but she noticed the crocuses—big fat purple ones that pushed their way up through the soggy ground, unmindful of the patches of snow. She saw the way the land sloped, the way the sun slanted over it. And she saw the stables, with their white wood gleaming in the sunlight. She saw the checkerboard of paddocks and the long oval track where even now a horse was being ridden.

  "Why, it's lovely," she murmured. "Like something out of a book. You must be proud that it's yours."

  He wasn't sure he had been, but he stopped and looked out as she did. He'd won it fairly, but then he'd won and lost a great deal in his life. It had never been his intention to stay, but rather reorganize so that the gamble paid off. He'd come into this knowing little about horses and nothing about racing or breeding, and had told himself he'd better learn in order to turn a true profit.

  That had been four years ago, and he was still here. Looking out with Erin beside him, he began to understand why. It was lovely, it was his, and it was and would always be a gamble.

  Keeping Erin's hand in his, he began to walk again. "We've got thirty horses, two of which are studs that do nothing but please the ladies."

  "And themselves," Erin added.

  "Two of the mares just foaled, and we've two more that are due any day. Nearly half of what's left are being trained for next year. At the moment I've got five prime two-year-olds and a few veterans that have another season or two in them before they go out to stud or retirement. There, you see the horse being exercised now? That's one of the pair I picked up in Ireland."

  Erin looked back at the track. The rider was up in the stirrups and bent low, but he earned no more than a glance. The horse was magnificent, a chestnut with a slash down his face like white lightning. Already his legs were spreading out in a rhythm that picked up speed and pounded on the soggy track.

  "He's fast."

  "And mean as hell."

  "That would be the one that kicked you." Erin looked back again. Beautiful he might be, but she'd keep her distance. "If he's bad-tempered, why did you buy him?"

  "I liked his style." As he started to walk again, Erin held back.

  "I'd just as soon not be on closer acquaintance."

  "I want to show you something else."

  Erin told herself to relax as she walked with him. "If you'd told me we were going tramping around the yard, I'd have worn boots."

  He glanced down but kept walking. "You could use some new shoes anyway."

  "Thank you very much."

  "I'd have thought you'd have gone shopping by now with a couple of paychecks under your belt."

  "I'm thinking about it." They passed the stables, where the scent of horses and wet grass was strong. She could hear men talking inside. Erin braced herself, but he continued to walk. Then she saw the paddock where the mare was standing nursing a fawn-colored foal.

  "That's one of the newest residents of Three Aces."

  Cautiously Erin approached the fence. "They're sweet when they're little, aren't they?" She relaxed enough to curl her hands over the top rail and lean a little closer. The air was mild, with just a hint of spring. It wasn't the green or the scent of Ireland, but she found herself suddenly content. "We never had much time to think of an animal as any more than a means to an end." She smiled as the foal burrowed deeper
and sucked. "Joe was always the one for animals, cooing at them and stroking. He'd love to see this."

  "You miss your family."

  "It's strange not seeing them every day. I hadn't realized…" She let the words trail off. "Word from home is everyone's fine. Cullen's back in Dublin playing at one of the clubs, and Brian's taken a fancy to Mary Margaret Shannesy. Ma says he's making a fool of himself, but that's to be expected."

  The foal, having had his fill, began to scamper around the paddock. Erin watched him absently, thinking of home. "Frank's wife's nearly ready to have the baby. I could be an aunt already. It's funny, most mornings when I wake up I think it's time to go down to the henhouse. But there's no henhouse here."

  The foal came over to the fence to sniff at her. Without thinking, Erin reached out a hand and rubbed between his ears.

  "Do you wish there were?"

  "I suppose I could live my life happily enough without gathering eggs again." She glanced down and, focusing on the foal, started to draw her hand back automatically. Burke set his on top of hers and rested it on the foal's head.

  "Trusting little soul, isn't he?"

  "Aye, but his mother—"

  "Is probably relieved that he's distracted for a few minutes. Sometimes if you're afraid it's best to face it in small doses."

  "I suppose." The foal was soft as butter and nuzzled its nose between the rails to nip at her coat. "Find something else to chew on," she said laughing. "It's all I brought with me." Finding nothing of interest, the foal scampered away to race around his mother. "Will he be a champion?"

  "If it's in the cards."

  Erin stepped away from the fence and, dipping her hands in her coat pockets, looked at him. "Why did you bring me out here?"

  "I don't know." He didn't think about the men walking around the yard and going in and out of the stables. He thought only of her as he lifted a hand to her cheek. "Why should it matter?"

  Had it come so far, so fast, that it only took the touch of his fingers on her skin to send her heart racing? Inside her pockets, the palms of her hands grew damp. "I think it does, and I think I should go back in."

  "You've faced one fear today, why not face another?"

  "I'm not afraid of you." That was true, and she felt a surge of relief that it was. Her heart might not be steady, but it wasn't in fear that it raced.

  "Maybe not." He slid his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck as he drew her closer. He was afraid, afraid of what she was doing to him without his planning, without his calculations.

  She yearned toward him. She strained away. "I don't think it's wise for you to kiss me that way again."

  "All right. We'll try another way."

  So he nibbled, teasing, tempting, tormenting. She felt the scrape of his teeth, then the moist trace of his tongue. Her hand went to his cheek and rested there as she opened herself for an emotional assault like nothing she'd ever