His Golden Heart (17 page)

“No. You’re more his type. Judging by Chandra, he likes them young and skinny.”

“Oh, Mary Jane.”

Shayna walked away laughing but something niggled at the back of her mind. There had been something in one of those articles that had gotten her thinking. She would look at those articles later. Right now she had more important things to do, like reading Beau’s note and figuring out what his flowers really meant.

Chapter Fourteen

The weather was unseasonably warm. Beau planted himself on his terrace preparing to enjoy the late afternoon sun. Closing his eyes, he listened to the horses neighing from the vicinity of the stables. How he missed riding, missed the wind whipping against his face, the feeling of exhilaration when his horse cantered.

The fragrance of an unidentifiable flower floated in on the breeze, titillating his nostrils, that along with Towanda’s delicious cooking. Beau suddenly realized that he was hungry. He’d sworn off snacks since too much lounging around had already caused him to put on weight. To distract himself, he grabbed his cell phone, and deftly punched in some numbers, then abruptly changed his mind. Depressing the power button, he closed his eyes and decided not to give in to curiosity. Shayna should be the one calling to thank him for the flowers.

Beau had come to the conclusion that although she’d omitted telling him about her brother it was hardly a crime. He could get over her deception if that’s what it was. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman had deceived him. Look how he’d been taken in by Chandra. Reggie was just a kid, a troubled boy who needed direction and should be given a shot. It wouldn’t hurt to have him work at Hill Of Dreams. That way Beau could see how dedicated the kid really was and maybe he’d even see more of Shayna.

The phone rang as he was still holding on to it.

“Yes,” Beau answered.

“Beau, is that you?”

The man’s voice wasn’t familiar. Beau hesitated to confirm who he was. Reporters still called on occasion.

“Who’s this?” he asked somewhat rudely.

A Midwestern voice twanged at him. “This is Peter Turner, a friend of Beau’s. We skied together.”

“Hey, you, this is Beau.”

The requisite questions about health and family were asked.

“So what else is up?” Beau asked, when the conversation lagged.

“I hoped we could talk in person. Perhaps I can stop by and catch you up. There are a couple of things I want to discuss with you.”

“How does Sunday sound?”

Sunday was the day Shayna and Reggie were supposed to come by. Having a crowd over would take the stress off being alone with them. He could always take Reggie off somewhere and talk to him in private. He would invite David to join them as well.

“Sunday, it is,” Peter confirmed. “What time would you like me there?”

“How does three sound? Come an hour earlier than my other guests and we’ll talk.” Before disconnecting the call, Beau gave Peter directions.

Beau’s fingers massaged his temples. A headache was on the horizon, he could feel it. He closed his eyes, contemplating what Peter must want. Why was everyone all of a sudden so anxious to share information with him? It had been months since the accident. Now everyone wanted to talk. The phone rang almost immediately. Forget about lying out and enjoying the sun.

“Hello,” Beau growled, his impatience obvious.

“Hi, I got your flowers,” Shayna said.

He was suddenly wide-awake and focused, elated actually. “Were the tulips in good shape?”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

It sounded so matter-of-fact. She hadn’t even said she enjoyed them. “Will you and Reggie be able to make it this Sunday?” Beau asked.

There was a moment of hesitation on the other end.

“I wasn’t certain we were still invited.”

“Of course you are. I thought you’d enjoy riding the horses and later on we’d barbecue. I’m having a couple of other people over. Reggie and I can sneak away and talk after we’ve eaten.”

Why did he sound so anxious? Needy? Nervous? Why was it so important that Shayna come?

“Are you still angry with me?” she ventured.

Maybe that was what this was all about. The phone call was to test the waters, see if he’d gotten over being upset with her.

“I’m not pleased that you withheld information,” Beau said. “But I’m over it. Let’s talk about it more in person.”

“You did say four, right? We’ll be there.”

When the conversation ended, Beau found that his hands were clammy. He’d been on pins and needles the entire time. It had gone way beyond just wanting to see Shayna. He needed her in his life.

* * *

Sunday started off rainy and got worse. Shayna managed to get Reggie to church, which in and of itself was a feat. Returning, she placed her wet, open umbrella in the vestibule, while Reggie raced in and flopped onto a chair in front of the TV.

“Don’t even think about putting your feet on the couch,” Shayna admonished, grimacing at the mess he’d just made. She went off to find something dry to change into. Riding later that day didn’t seem a remote possibility unless the rain let up.

Shayna stared at her crowded closet wondering what would be appropriate to wear. Finally she selected jeans and a button-down shirt. If the rain held up she’d wear her boots and the beautiful black leather jacket her parents had sent as an early gift for her birthday.

“Hey, Shayna,” Reggie called from downstairs. “How much time are we spending at Beau Hill’s?”

“A couple of hours at least. Beau mentioned something about a barbecue afterward.”

“Oh, man. Just what I need.”

Shayna could hear Reggie stomping around downstairs. She walked out to the landing and peeked over the railing. Reggie, sneakered feet and all, lay lounged on the couch. His one concession to getting dressed for church, his sharp-looking dress pants, were now rumpled. The phone was pressed to his ear and he was yakking nonstop.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” Shayna called down.

“The guys are getting together to play ball. I need to know when I’ll be back.”

“Better forget about a game today. Getting hired by Beau Hill is more important,” Shayna said more curtly than she intended.

“Says who?”

Shayna decided to ignore him. Why start an argument? She retraced her steps and began laying clothing on the bed. If she wore a scarf, it would pick up the outfit and she’d be western chic. That thought made her smile.

She was really looking forward to seeing Beau. Maybe the weather would change and they would have that barbecue after all. Her selection made, she found the folder with the articles about Beau and curled up on her bed. The first magazine had detailed bios of the world’s top skiers. Beau’s bio was particularly interesting. She hadn’t known that he was a college graduate with a major in business. Totally captivated, she read of his involvement in community activities as well as his reason for creating Hill Of Dreams.

Even the numerous downhill events he’d won had all been detailed. He’d been a World Cup winner, won medals at the Winter Goodwill Games, and was considered a very gifted athlete with the ability to make panic free, on-course decisions, at terrifying speeds. The reporter had also listed his love of horseback riding and mentioned that he spent a lot of his off time teaching disadvantaged kids how to ride. Good for Beau.

Flipping the page, Shayna focused on the biography of the winner, Lars Schmitt. He’d been born in Berlin but educated in California. He was considered a competent skier but Beau was considered the athlete most likely to perform under pressure. Beau was the more consistent skier and the one with style. Lars’s hobby was chess. Off the slopes, Lars had a reputation for being a renegade.

The other American skier, Joshua Vanderhorn, had come in second. Joshua’s ancestors had come over on the Mayflower. He was the product of old money and had almost literally been born on skis. He’d gone to school in Switzerland and had a reputation for being a fast talker and an international playboy. He’d done well at Vail, placing a respectable third. Somewhere, Shayna had read that Joshua had been involved in a major scandal. The family had successfully hushed it up but it had something to do with date rape.

Another American, Peter Turner, was considered a good skier but had never been a top contender. He was, however, considered an excellent tactician, astute in knowing when to apply pressure to the skis, and when to relax.

Jan Ericksson had been the skier who’d finished third. He was one of the more popular athletes. His infectious dedication and competitiveness had at last paid off, yielding him a spot on the podium. Little was known about his personal life except for the fact that his wife was a champion skater.

In Shayna’s opinion either Lars or Joshua could be suspect. But would they risk a man’s life for the sake of Olympic gold? Stupid question. She more than anyone knew how fiercely competitive the athletes were. When she’d competed she’d been the topic of ugly rumors that had been gleefully relayed back to her. She was allegedly sleeping with the coach who’d been giving her pointers. It had gone on and on. The goal being to break her concentration and have her perform poorly. Then there was that ugly scandal several years back when one skater’s bodyguard camouflaged as a mugger and whacked the competition on the knee. Athletes did indeed go to incredible lengths to win.

Whenever Shayna missed being in the spotlight she reminded herself of the supreme sacrifice she’d made to get there. She’d given up her girlhood. Training had become all consuming. Gymnastics had been everything. She sure didn’t miss getting up at the wee hours of the morning, starving herself to the point of anorexia just to maintain an acceptable weight, pushing herself to the point of exhaustion. It had been a lonely and unhappy life and her teammates had had more than their share of physical and emotional problems.

But she did have one thing to thank competitive gymnastics for, her fighting spirit still remained. She felt deep in her gut that Beau’s fall had been no accident. That it needed to be investigated. She’d been surprised that he’d so willingly let it go. But three months ago he hadn’t been in the mental or physical shape to demand an investigation, or conduct one of his own. Now that he’d made incredible progress, would he be motivated to find out what really happened? Promising to take the matter up with Beau, Shayna continued to read.

* * *

Beau waited for Peter in the den. He watched as his teammate’s long strides narrowed the distance between them.

“It’s been too long,” Peter greeted, doing his best not to show how much the sight of Beau in a wheelchair bothered him.

“Much too long.”

Peter grasped the hand Beau offered and shook it vigorously. He folded himself into a nearby chair. “It’s been almost four months.”

The den was one of Beau’s favorite rooms. It was open and comfortable. Considering he wasn’t much of a reader, books spilled from floor-to-ceiling cases and huge Ficus plants created private nooks for those seeking places to curl up with a book.

“Why did you want to see me?” Beau asked, cutting to the chase.

Peter crossed one lean leg over the other. “A couple of things have bothered me for a while.”

“Yes, go on.”

“Guys, can I get you anything?” Beau’s sister Kelly interrupted. She wore jeans and a comfortable-looking sweatshirt. She clutched a can of Coke in one hand. It never ceased to amaze Beau how youthful she looked. Anyone would think she was in her teens as opposed to her thirties.

“I’d love some water,” Peter answered.

“Same for me,” Beau confirmed.

“I’ll be right back.”

Beau tried not to grin as Peter openly admired Kelly’s denim-clad behind. His sister’s bobbing blond ponytail swished as she went off to do their bidding.

“She wouldn’t by chance be single?” Peter asked, when Kelly was out of earshot.

“Sorry to say, she’s not.”

Kelly was back within minutes carrying a pitcher of water and two glasses. She set the tray down on the coffee table and gave Peter the benefit of her golden smile. “Anything else, gentlemen?”

“N-nn—o, thank you,” the skier stuttered.

“Beau?”

“I’m all right.”

Peter poured water and handed a glass to Beau. He sipped his own water and looked around the room before setting his glass down. “I don’t know exactly how to say this.”

“Just say it.”

Why did he seem so edgy and uncomfortable? He continued to look everywhere except at Beau.

Choosing words carefully, Peter began. “It’s like this, word has it that someone was paid big bucks to put you out of commission.”

Deep down, Beau had suspected that. “Why would someone want to do that?”

“For the same reason that skater had her knee banged in. They’re envious and want to eliminate competition. If they paid someone to tamper with your bindings, you wouldn’t have a chance of winning.”

Beau shook his head trying to digest what Peter was saying. So many people had tried to tell him it was not an accident but he’d refused to listen. “Why would someone intentionally want to hurt me? I don’t have any enemies I know of.”