Dany made a last-minute check on Altair’s thickly padded stall that had been specially built within the cargo hold of the airplane. She busied herself with a myriad of details, trying to fight back the fear that shadowed every minute of her day. Where had the two weeks gone in preparation for Santa Barbara? Sam had been with her at least two hours each morning as she took Altair over more complex and demanding jump sequences. She had gained more respect for Sam and his knowledge of the Grand Prix circuit—he was not just an owner of a potential champion, but a man who had valued insight into the demanding world of international jumping events.
Dany made sure the leather cap that Altair wore between his ears was snugly fastened; in case the stallion jerked his head up unexpectedly, the cap could prevent a concussion. Sam had helped her wrap his legs earlier, and she double-checked to make sure that they were holding.
“About ready?” Sam asked, walking up the ramp.
She turned. “Yes.”
He smiled, giving the order to remove the ramp. Dany remained at Altair’s side as Sam and his ranch hand, Pete, came aboard. Speaking soothingly to the nervous stallion as the door to the aircraft was closed, Dany continued to rub his neck in a reassuring motion. Sam came over, resting against the stall, putting one arm across her shoulders and the other on Altair’s shoulder.
“Who’s more nervous?” he asked softly. “You or the horse?”
She shook her head. “It’s a toss-up,” she admitted.
“You’ll both do fine, honey.”
They landed at Los Angeles International Airport without incident. From there, a horse trailer and truck were waiting to whisk them to the grounds where the Grand Prix event would be held. The temperature was in the nineties, and Dany was thankful for the air conditioning in the truck as they reached their final destination. Her nervousness increased as they received their pass from the gate guard and got directions to the stabling area.
Everywhere she looked she saw sleek thoroughbreds and Hanoverians prancing lightly, eager for workouts. Her pulse picked up more strongly, and a new sense of anticipation spread throughout her. She was proud of Altair and wanted to note the expressions on other riders’ faces when she took him out to acclimate him to the grounds. Sam glanced over at her as they pulled into the stabling area.
“You’re excited,” was all he said, a slight grin shadowing his mouth.
“I shouldn’t be. I ought to be scared to death.”
He shut off the engine and slid out. “You’ll experience both extremes,” he warned lightly. “Come on, let’s help Pete get this big red horse out of that stuffy trailer before he decides to throw a temper tantrum.”
“You want to get him bedded down with Pete and I’ll go over to the show office and make sure we’re registered with the show secretary?”
People in English riding habits were all about. Their snorting, prancing mounts cantered over the lush grass expanse throughout the complex. As she reached for the screen door, a darkly tanned hand closed over her own.
“Chérie, I never expected to see you here.”
Dany froze, jerking her hand away. “Jean!” she breathed sharply.
Jean grinned boyishly, taking his riding cap off and bowing gallantly. “The same. Ahh, you look as lovely as ever. And,” he murmured, eying her critically, “I would say you are thinner.” He grinned broadly, his green eyes dancing with mirth. “You tempt me, Danielle. As always.”
Dany’s eyes narrowed, and she stepped away from him. “Lying as usual, I see. Save your pretty words to use on someone who cares, Jean.” She pulled open the screen, moving quickly inside to the show secretary’s desk. Her heart was beating erratically, and anguish coursed through her. Jean had followed her in, and now he stood near the wall, one leg propped lazily over his other booted foot, watching her with amused curiosity.
Her business completed, Dany turned, wanting to run out the door to escape the presence of her ex-husband. She felt his hand on her arm, slowing her down once she was outside.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?”
Dany wrenched her arm away from him, coming to a halt. Her nostrils flared with anger. “Leave me alone, Jean! You’ve used me and gotten what you’ve wanted. So quit rubbing salt into the wounds!” she cried.
“Used you?” he echoed, raising his eyebrows. His narrow face became less readable. “Ahh, you think I used you as a stepping stone for success.”
“You bet I do.”
He shrugged his shoulders eloquently. “But Danielle, it has worked out for you, also. You see, you’re riding a Grand Prix candidate yourself. You also benefited from our—liaison. Oui?”
Blood was pounding through her skull and she barely held her temper in check. “I’m riding a horse you contracted to show! I don’t want the limelight, Jean. I never did. Now—” her voice wobbled “—now it’s caused so many problems because I have to fulfill the terms of the contract.”
Jean frowned. “Chérie, you’re out of your mind riding that red cow horse. He’s got a name on the circuit, you know.”
“Which is why you probably left the country,” she growled. “This is the first time I’ve seen you turn tail and be a coward, Jean.”
Jean colored fiercely, his dark jade eyes glittering like cold diamonds. “That horse is a killer.”
“No more than you are,” she hurled back.
He managed a sour grin. “Well, if he doesn’t kill you, you’ll kill him, chérie. Which will it be, eh? Last time it was Crusader’s Prince. Who will end up in the hospital this time, I wonder?”
Dany stood frozen, her face devoid of emotion, her heart plummeting to her stomach. Jean had often been short and abrupt during their marriage, but never outwardly cruel. Not like now. Why had he hurled all that old guilt back into her face? She glared at him. “Neither of us,” she rasped.
“You’re a trainer, not a rider, Danielle.” He gave a small bow. “I must be off. I wonder, should I tell the press that two losers are trying to win here, eh?”
She clenched her fist. “You cold-blooded—”
“Listen, when it comes down to my winning this title and anyone threatening my position, I’ll make sure I’m not the loser. Au revoir.”
Dany purposely walked back to the barn at a slow pace, trying to harness the clashing, roiling emotions that must have been evident on her face. Tears of anger slashed down her cheeks, and she stopped, wiping them away before entering the cool barn complex. Down at the end of the hall in the breezy passageway she could see Sam and Pete saddling up Altair. Compressing her lips into a set line, she took a firmer step, stopping at the tack trunk to grab her hard hat and leather gloves.
Sam smiled down at her as she came around the rear of Altair. Then he frowned, his gaze traveling up and down her rigid body. “Dany?”
“It’s nothing,” she snapped, taking the reins and leading the stallion out into the paddock. Just as she was about to mount, she felt Sam’s restraining hand on her arm.
“Nothing is something,” he returned, making it obvious he wanted an explanation.
“Not now, Sam! Give me a boost up on Altair. I need some time to think.” She gave him a begging look and he relented. She settled firmly in the Stübben jump saddle, allowing the short stirrups to slide onto her black, booted feet. His hand rested on her knee.
“Warm him up slow, honey,” was all he said.
Sam’s quiet, reassuring voice assuaged some of the roaring anger, and Dany managed to give a nod of her head. “I will,” she promised, her voice thick with tears.
The actual three-mile Grand Prix cross-country course was off limits to the competitors, but a lovely area of two miles of rolling hills with test jumps had been arranged to keep the finely honed athletes in top condition for the performance. It had been nine months since Altair had attended a show, and Dany wanted to check his reactions. The stallion arched his neck, his head perpendicular to the ground as she signaled him to remain on the bit.
Dany worked him in wide circles and figure eights, asking him to switch leads from right to left or vice versa as warm-up. The fields were crowded with some of the finest Grand Prix jumpers in the world, and she purposely shut out their existence, concentrating one hundred percent on Altair’s actions and responsiveness. The moment that she took the jump position, her knees and calves firmly against his barrel, body lifted off and slightly forward from the saddle, Altair tensed. The first series of jumps were three-and-a-half to four-and-a-half feet in height, and he scaled them effortlessly.
She worked nearly an hour, finally bringing him down to a slow trot as she came to the gate where Sam had been standing and watching them. Dropping the reins, Dany slid off the saddle.
“Honey, you two look like champions out there.” Sam pulled the cowboy hat down over his forehead. “Matter of fact, you should have seen every rider on that course watching you at one time or another. They know they have some competition from you two.” He grinned and slipped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a hug. “You look good, Dany,” he whispered.
Her confidence rose slightly beneath his compliment. She matched his stride, taking off the hard hat and tucking it beneath her arm. As if reading her thoughts, Sam glanced down at her.
“Something’s bothering you.”
She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. “I had the misfortune of running into Jean over at the secretary’s office,” she explained timidly, worried at his reaction. Dany saw his gray eyes turn brittle and probing.
“That’s why you were snapping when you mounted up Altair.”
“Yes, I’m sorry.” They halted at the pickup, and she turned to him. “Oh, Sam, do you really think I have any business showing Altair?”
He gripped her, giving her a small shake. “Every right,” he whispered fiercely. “Do you have any idea of how beautiful you and Altair look together as a team? My God, Dany, there wasn’t a rider or a trainer who wasn’t watching both of you out there earlier. You’re championship material.” His mouth pulled into an understanding smile. “Come on, let’s get over to the motel and get cleaned up. We deserve some rest before tomorrow morning.”
She grimaced, climbing into the pickup. “Don’t remind me, although the dressage test will be the easiest of the three.”
“You’ll make them all look easy,” he promised, throwing the truck into gear.
Once at the motel, which was a few miles from the show grounds, Sam escorted her to a room which adjoined his own. As if sensing her need to be alone, he left telling her that if she needed anything, to knock on the inner door. In some respects, it was almost like being at home. Dany caught herself wistfully thinking of the ranch as “home,” sharply reminding herself that it was only temporary. Pulling off the boots, and stepping out of the breeches and blouse, she took a cooling shower. Wrapped in a towel, she lay down on the bed, falling asleep immediately.
She awoke from the sound sleep near six o’clock that night. Refreshed, Dany slipped into a sleeveless summer dress of pale pink. Funny, she mused while tying the dainty white sash around her waist, I’ve never wanted to wear dresses before. Sam seemed so appreciative when she did appear in a dress or skirt that his silent admiration coaxed her into rediscovering her femininity.
Knocking softly on the door, she waited patiently until Sam pulled it open. His face mirrored his reaction. “You look lovely,” was all he said, but it was enough.
Dany couldn’t meet his burning, intense gaze. Each time she was near him, it was agony to stop herself from gliding effortlessly back into his arms. She wanted to rest against the solidness of his body and to be loved openly, without reserve. Memory of that afternoon in the canyon seared her thoughts daily. They had worked so hard in the last two weeks in preparation for Santa Barbara that a stolen kiss or a long embrace was all that had been shared between them.
“With you looking that nice, I’d say we’ll have to go someplace special to eat. Hungry?”
“Starved,” she admitted.
Sam picked up his Western suit coat, catching her hand and leading her through his room. “Feel better now that you’ve slept?” he asked.
“Much.”
“How’s the confidence level holding?”
“It’s fragile.”
“Mmm, you look incredibly fragile, vulnerable and lovely,” he said, turning and gently brushing her cheek with a kiss. He halted at the door and pulled her against him, nuzzling her earlobe with delicious slowness.
Dany moaned softly, falling against the hard oak of his body, hungry for the smell, feel and taste of him once again. He gave her confidence, solace and affection that she was starved for. Turning her head, she felt the molding of his mouth against her parting, yielding lips. It was a searching, hungry kiss, and Sam pulled away, studying her darkly.
“God, how I’ve missed holding and touching you,” he breathed huskily, his breath moist and warm against her face. “Do you know how hard it was not to ask you to stay with me?”
Dany swallowed. “Time, Sam. I needed the time alone,” she breathed softly.
His eyes warmed and he smiled, fingers trailing down the length of her clean jawline. “And now, honey?” he asked lazily, already knowing her answer.
She was afraid to say it. His thumb circled the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe, creating a wild, tingling sensation throughout her whole body. He leaned down, capturing her parted lips in a breath-stealing kiss.
“Say it,” he murmured against her lips, brushing them softly. “Say that you want to stay with me tonight, Dany.”
Her body quivered beneath his taming fingers, and she sighed languorously, helpless to do anything but surrender. “Yes,” she whispered, “I—”
Sam kissed her again, effectively hushing her. He raised his head, cupping her face between his large callused hands. “Yes is all I ever need to hear, honey. I need you like I’ve never needed another woman.” His gray eyes darkened with desire as he searched each nuance of her face. “I see the fear in your eyes, Dany. Fear from the past. I won’t ask anything more of you until you’re ready to give it. Tonight, let me love you like I’ve dreamed of loving you.”
* * *
Time eddied and swirled like a slow-moving stream for the rest of the evening. A quiet Chinese restaurant provided the needed tranquility and sense of isolation Dany had sought. She was constantly amazed by Sam’s insight into her unspoken requirements, falling more deeply in love with him with each thoughtful gesture he bestowed upon her. As they sat drinking their tea she reflected upon his ability to accurately assess her needs; there was a hidden sensitivity to Sam Reese. Most men with the power of corporations and millions of dollars behind them tended to be shrewd, cold and sometimes even ruthless toward others. She had watched Sam deal courteously with a waiter, the maitre d’ and the young man who had parked their vehicle. Yet, when Jean had taken her to dinner, which hadn’t been often, he walked with his chin thrust outward, a smugness surrounding him that managed to insult anyone who had to deal with him.
She set her cup down, meeting Sam’s melting gray gaze. “You know,” she began quietly, “the more I’m around you, the more I wonder what I saw in Jean.”
Sam cocked his head attentively, resting his jaw against his folded hands. “Oh? In what way?”
“Little things.” She gave a shy smile, embarrassed. “You’re so…” She groped for the right words, unused to expressing her emotions or insights. “Why are you so kind to everyone? Jean would embarrass me with his swaggering attitude whenever we went out. You treat everyone as if they were your friend.”
He shared a smile with her. “Martha beat it into me when I was real young to observe the Golden Rule.”
Dany laughed with him. “I would think all the money and corporations you own would make you callous.”
“In a lot of owners it does,” he conceded, toying with the small teacup. “I learned a long time ago to use brute force or power only when necessary. You get more bees with honey than vinegar, you know.”
Mesmerized by the mellow huskiness in his voice, Dany felt her heart swelling with undeniable love for him. There was a natural agreement of emotions between them, a common ground where both could find solace and protection from the world. The thought of holding him when he felt the need to be cradled against her body sent a new, exhilarating rush throughout her body. She wasn’t the only one who needed to be held.
On the way back, Dany persuaded him to make one more check on Altair. Pete met them at the stallion’s boxstall. He had arranged a small cot outside the stall door, since no Grand Prix jumper was ever left unattended. Sometimes because of the stress of traveling, time changes or weather conditions, the international athletes would come down with colic. It took the watchful eye of a groom who knew the horse’s temperament to be able to spot the first telltale signs of colic, which could kill a horse if the complications were severe enough.
Sam sent Pete on an errand to pick up a few more bales of straw from the main barn, leaving them in the darkness with Altair. Dany allowed the stallion to rest his head against her shoulder as she gently scratched his forelock. Sam remained at her side, his arm around her waist. The night was broken by the softened snort of horses, voices of other grooms further down the dimly lit corridor and the jingle of bits, bridles and saddles being lovingly cleaned one last time before the dawn of the grueling three-day test.
Dany was content to be in the cradle of Sam’s arms with Altair nibbling playfully with her fingers, when suddenly the stallion lifted his massive head. Dany looked down the passageway, frowning. A lean figure seemed to melt out of the graying depths, materializing before them like a ghost. She gasped, her eyes widening.
“Jean!”
Her ex-husband stood there, hands languidly resting on his hips.
“Giving your horse a last-minute pep talk?”
Her heart hammered as she heard the steeliness in his softened voice. Simultaneously she felt Sam’s arm tighten, bringing her protectively against him. Jean hadn’t missed the symbolic and instinctive gesture, and a slow smile tugged at his thin-lipped mouth as he met Sam’s hooded gaze.
“I’d think you would be over giving your horse a talk, Daguerre,” he returned coolly.
She froze, aware of the brittle truce drawn between the two men who faced one another in the dimness of the passageway. There was no mistaking Sam’s warning in his baritone voice, and she saw Jean’s eyes flicker with a second of fear. It was such a fleeting reaction that Dany blinked, thinking she had been making it up in her active imagination.
The Frenchman shrugged eloquently, regaining his flamboyant smile. “Monsieur Reese, I can assure you my horse is ready to win handily in every event. I let him sleep.”
“Then I suggest you do the same thing.”
Dany inhaled softly, her eyes widening. There was nothing compromising about Sam in any way. For the first time she was seeing the dangerous side of his personality. And Jean was fully aware of it, too.
Jean lost his smile, considering the westerner for what seemed an eternity. His eyes flashed with anger, and he swung his gaze to Dany. “Just remember,” he breathed angrily, “you’ll be alone out there for the next three days. He won’t be there. It will be you and me. Remember that.”
Sam gently disengaged his arm from Dany, giving her a push toward the truck. “Dany, I’ll see you in a few moments.”
“But—”
Sam turned his head. “Now,” he ordered.
Dany looked at each of them, suddenly shaky with adrenaline. “No, I won’t have you fighting—”
Jean laughed. “I only have one question for you, Danielle. Just one.”
Sam glared over at him and then back at her as she stood poised like a startled gazelle ready for flight. “Daguerre, I’m warning you—”
She was shaken by the ugly turn of events. Anger soared through her, clearing her confused, muddled thoughts. “What?” she challenged, her voice echoing oddly through the corridor.
Jean pointed to Sam. “Are you allowing yourself to be used again? You’re developing a habit of falling in love with men who, shall we say, use your impressive talents with horses.”
His scathing comment sliced into her heart; a knife twisting painfully in her chest. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she covered her mouth with her hands. She heard Sam mutter a curse as he stepped forward, gripping Jean by the collar, slamming him up against the boxstall.
“You son-of-a—”
“No!” Dany cried.
Sam’s grip tightened on the Frenchman until the color drained from his face. Jean struggled, but was no match in size or bulk. Sam growled, “That’s the last filthy thing to come out of your mouth. You hear me?” His nostrils flared as he glared down at the rider. “No more insults, Daguerre, or you won’t be able to climb up on that horse of yours tomorrow morning. You got that?”
Tears blurred her vision as she stood there watching the two men glare at one another. Finally, Jean gave the barest nod of his head, and Sam released his grip. “Now get out of here and stay away from Dany,” he snarled.
He adjusted his shirt, hastily disappearing back into the shadows, his footfalls disappearing quickly, fading into the night. Sam turned, his gray eyes chips of glacial anger as he perused her. His expression changed swiftly as he saw her standing there in tears. “Dany?”
She took a step away from him, her eyes large and stricken. Was it the truth? Had she fallen in love with Sam just like she had with Jean? Was she making the same mistake again? Oh, God! “No,” she cried softly, avoiding his outstretched hand.
“Don’t listen to him!” Sam growled. He gripped her arm, halting her flight toward the door of the complex. “Dany, stand still, dammit!”
She whirled around, throwing her hands out, meeting the wall of his chest. “No!” she sobbed, “leave me alone!” All she wanted to do was escape, to have time to think over Jean’s horrifying accusation. Was it only a game to Sam? Had he wooed and enticed her all this time just to ride Altair? Her heart shrank in agony against the possibility. But she had done it once, and could do it again. How many times had she heard of women getting a divorce and within a year “bouncing” into another similar situation?
“Honey,” he begged roughly, capturing her within his arms and holding her against his body, “it isn’t true.” He brushed her hair in a kiss, sighing raggedly. “Believe me, Dany, believe…”
“I don’t know what to believe,” she sobbed helplessly, burying her face in her hands.
“Come on,” he urged, “we’ve got some sorting out and talking to do.”
It was useless to try and fight him, and she gave in, blinded by her tears, being led like a sobbing child to the truck. By the time they had reached the motel, the tears had ceased. She sat woodenly in a chair within his room as he closed the door. One small lamp chased away the darkness, and his face was shadowed and unreadable as he tossed the cowboy hat and his suit coat to an empty chair. Pulling up another one, he sat opposite her, his face serious and at the same time, probing.
“Let’s start from the beginning, Dany,” he urged.
“Which one?” she wanted to know, her voice thick and hoarse.
“The one with me. It’s the only one that counts now,” he countered patiently. “Sure, I wanted you to train and ride Altair. But I would never use your trust or—” His voice softened and there was an unsureness evident in his gray gaze. He stared at her hard for a long moment and finally released a sigh. “This is a hell of a way and time to tell you that I love you,” he growled. “I damn near admitted it the day we made love up in the canyon, Dany. But I thought I’d scare you off. I didn’t think you were ready for the kind of commitment that I felt toward you.” He captured her hands, squeezing them gently. “I wanted to give you the time to work through the anger and hurt of your first marriage, Dany. I was willing to keep our relationship free of any serious commitment until you wanted to take another step.”
She stared at him, lips parting, stunned. “You—love me?”
He managed a sour grin. “I suppose it didn’t cross your mind that a man from the West might fall in love with a woman from the East?”
Dany gave a shaky laugh. “You really do?” She was like a breathless child in that instant, and Sam groaned softly, getting to his feet, pulling her within the circle of his arms.
“More than life itself, Dany,” he whispered roughly, capturing her body solidly against his own, his mouth finding her wet, salty lips.
Time stood on the threshold of eternity in that exquisite moment. A small cry echoed in her throat as she allowed him to deepen the kiss, his tongue finding each sensitive point within her mouth, a molten fire spreading wildly throughout her responding body. He captured her hips against him, and she was aware of his maleness. Entwining her fingers around his thickly corded neck, Dany returned the passion fully, wanting to drown herself completely within him in every possible way.
Dragging his mouth from her bruised lips, he whispered hoarsely, “We belong to each other, Dany. I want to love you so much. These past two weeks have been hell on both of us. Come to bed with me.”
She was breathless from his branding kiss, eyes wide and lustrous with invitation. “I didn’t know…Oh, Sam, I love you, too. So much that I—”
He bent down, smothering her lips in a soul-searching kiss. “Shh, honey, just show me. That’s all I’ll ever need.…”
If time had halted on the edge of eternity, then infinity was composed of a cocoon of unequaled, shared love. He led her to the bed and with painstaking slowness, unbuttoned her pale pink dress. She was hypnotized by the tender flame in his gray eyes as he hungrily devoured her upturned face. Slipping his fingers inside the dress, his work-roughened fingers sent thrilling shocks through her body as he slipped it over her shoulders.
Leaning down, he placed light, teasing kisses from her shoulder to her collarbone to the cleavage of her breasts. Dany drew in a tiny gasp as she felt the bra slipping away from her flesh, being replaced by Sam’s tormenting hands. Pushing her gently back against the pillows, he lay down beside her, running his hand across the expanse of her body. Her hair was like a blue black sheet framing her head and shoulders, and Sam smiled, running his fingers through the silken strands.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her ear, nibbling at the lobe. Her breathing became shallow and fast as he continued to taunt and tease her until she was arching against him. She waited in a warm, molten haze as he unbuttoned his shirt and undressed fully. Each muscle led cleanly into another, and she stared at him in silent admiration. Welcoming him back to her open arms, Dany sighed softly, closing her eyes, vibrantly aware of his lean maleness.
His mouth closed over her nipple, coaxing it to hardness, and she arched upward, moaning his name over and over again breathlessly, fingers digging deeply into his back. “Please,” she cried, “now…please…” Caressing her heated flesh, he stroked the sensitive skin of her thighs, asking entrance to the moist dampness of her yielding body. A fiery hunger seemed to consume her, and she arched to meet him, fusing with him in a primal explosion of volcanic need. Now they were molded into one, the throbbing rhythm sending them to higher and higher levels of exquisite pleasure. Reaching the pinnacle, she froze in ecstasy within his strong embrace, then pressed against his damp body as she felt him tense and shudder, their hearts beating wildly in unison.
A smothering joy enveloped her as she reached out, the flat of her palm against the stubbled roughness of his face. Sam caressed her, taking a deep breath of air. “God, how I love you,” he said thickly.