Irish Hearts (26 page)

"Not so far," he murmured. He was standing very still, the amusement he'd felt completely wiped out. Her fingers felt so cool, so tender on his skin. She touched him as if she cared. That was something he'd learned to live a long time without.

"It'll look worse yet tomorrow," she said with a cluck of her tongue. "You should put some liniment on it." Then she realized her fingers were spread over his chest, and his chest was hard and smooth and wet. Erin snatched her hand away and stuck it behind her back. "How'd you come by it?"

"The new colt I picked up in Ireland."

She closed her hand into a fist. It was damp from his skin. "You'll have to give him more room next time." The shudder inside her came as no surprise and was quickly controlled.

"I intend to. I have the highest respect for the Irish temper."

"And so you should. If you'd look over the report now, I could answer any questions you might have before I leave."

Burke picked up the neatly typed sheets. Erin found it necessary to clear her throat as she turned to look out through the glass, now lightly fogged from the steam of the spa. But she didn't see the snow. She could still see him-the long arms roped with muscle, the hard chest glistening with water, the narrow hips leading to taut thighs.

A fine specimen, some would have said, herself included. And she could have murdered him for making her want.

"It seems clear enough." She jolted a bit, then cursed herself. "You know your business, Erin, but then I wouldn't have hired you if I hadn't believed that." No, he wouldn't have, but he'd have found some other way to bring her back with him. "Got anything in mind for your first paycheck?"

"A thing or two." She relaxed enough to smile at him, schooling her gaze to go no lower than his neck. Half the money would be on its way to Ireland in the morning. And the rest- She couldn't begin to think of it. "If you're satisfied, I'll be going home now."

"I'm a long way from satisfied," Burke said under his breath. "Listen, did you ever think the bookkeeping would be more interesting if you knew more about the stables, the racing?"

"No." Then she moved her shoulders as the thought he'd planted took root. "I suppose it might, though."

"I've got a horse running tomorrow. Why don't you come along, see where the money comes from and where it goes?"

"Go to the races?" She caught her lip between her teeth as she thought of it. "Could I bet?"

"There's a woman after my heart. Be ready at eight. I'll take you around the stables and paddock first."

"All right. Good day to you." She started out, then glanced over her shoulder. "I'd put some witch hazel on that bruise."

Erin paced the living room. It was her first day off, and she was going to spend it at the races. There would be mobs of people she'd never met; she'd hear dozens of voices for the first time. She ran a hand down her hair and hoped she looked all right. Not for Burke, she thought quickly. For herself, that was all. She wanted to look nice, to feel she looked nice when she stood in the midst of all those people.

The minute she heard Burke's car, she was racing out of the house. She hesitated on the steps, staring down at the fire-red sports car with its long, sleek hood. She made a mental note of the make so she could write home and tell Brian.

"You're prompt," Burke commented as she climbed in beside him.

"I'm excited." It didn't seem foolish to admit it now. "I've never been to the races before. Cullen has, and he told me the horses are beautiful and the people fascinating. Faith, look at all these dials." She studied the dash. "You'd have to be an engineer to drive it."

"Want to try?"

When she glanced at him and saw he was serious, she was sorely tempted. But she remembered all the cars that had been on the highway when they'd driven from the airport. "I'll just watch for now. When does the racing start?"

"We've got plenty of time. How's Dee?"

"She's fine. The doctor gave her a clean checkup but told her she had to stay off her feet a bit. She grumbles because she can't spend as much time down at the stables, but we're keeping her busy. The snow's melting."

"A few more days like we've been having and it'll be gone."

"I hope not. I like to look at it." She settled back, deciding that riding in the sports car was like riding on the wind. "Are you going to be warm enough?" she asked, looking at his light jacket and jeans. "There's still a bite in the air."

"Don't worry. So what do you like best about America so far, besides the snow?"

"The way you talk," she said instantly.

"Talk?"

"You know, the accent. It's charming."

"Charming." He glanced over at her, then laughed until the bruise began to throb. Still chuckling, he rubbed a hand over it absently.

"Is that troubling you?"

"What, this? No."

"Did you use witch hazel?"

He knew better than to laugh again. "I couldn't put my hands on any."

"I'd imagine you'd have a case or two of horse liniment down in the stables. Oh, look at the little planes." When he turned into the airport, she looked over at him. "What are we doing here?"

"Taking a ride on one of the little planes."

Her stomach did a quick flip-flop. "But I thought we were going to the races."

"We are. My horse is racing at Hialeah. That's in Florida."

"What's Florida?"

Burke paused in the act of swinging his door closed. On the other side of the car, Erin stared at him. "South," he told her, and held out a hand.

Too excited to think, too terrified to object, Erin found herself bundled onto a plane. The cabin was so small that even she had to stoop a bit, but when she sat the chair was soft and roomy. Burke sat across from her and indicated the seat belt. Once hers was secured, he flipped the switch on an intercom. "We're set here, Tom."

"Okay, Mr. Logan. Looks like smooth sailing. Skies are clear except for a little patch in the Carolinas. We ought to be able to avoid most of them."

When she heard and felt the engines start, Erin gripped the arms of the chair. "Are you sure this thing's safe?"

"Life's a gamble, Irish."

She nearly babbled before she caught the amusement in his eyes. Deliberately she made her hands relax. "So it is." As the plane started to roll, she looked out the window. Within minutes the ground was tilting away under them. "It's quite a sight, isn't it?" She smiled, leaning a little closer to the window: "When all of you landed in Cork, I looked at the plane and wondered what it would be like to sit inside. Now I know."

"How is it?"

She gave him a sideways smile. "Well, there's no champagne."

"There can be."

"At half past eight in the morning?" With a laugh, she sat back again. "I think not. I should have thanked you for asking me to go today. The Grants have been nothing but kind to me, so I'm really grateful to give them a day to themselves."

"Is that the only reason you should have thanked me?" He stood and went into a little alcove.

"No. I appreciate the chance to go."

"You want cream in this coffee?"

"Aye." He could have said you're welcome, she thought, then let it pass. Nothing was going to spoil her mood. When he sat, she took the cup but was too wound up to drink. "Will you give me an answer if I ask a question that's none of my business?"

Burke drew out a cigar, then lit it. "I'll give you an answer, but not necessarily the truth." He kicked out his legs, then rested his ankles on the seat beside her.

"Did you really win Three Aces in a poker game?"

He blew out smoke. "Yes and no."

"That's not an answer at all."

"Yes, I played poker with Cunningham-quite a bit of poker with Cunningham-and he lost heavily. When you gamble you have to know when to stick and when to walk away. He didn't."

"So you won the farm from him."

She'd like that, he thought, watching her eyes. He imagined she saw a smoky, liquor-scented room with two men bent over five cards each and the deed to the farm between them. "In a manner of speaking. I won money from him, more money than he had to lose. He didn't have enough cash to pay me, or for that matter to pay certain other parties who were growing tired of holding IOUs. In the end, I bought the farm from him, dirt cheap."

"Oh." It wasn't quite as romantic. "You must have been rich before then."

"You could say my luck was on an upswing at the time."

"Gambling's no way to make a living."

"It beats sweeping floors."

Since she could only agree, Erin fell silent a moment. "Did you know about horses before?"

"I knew they had four legs, but when you've got your money riding on a game, you learn fast. Where did you learn to keep books?"

"Arithmetic came easily to me. When I could I took courses in school, then I started to run the books at the farm. It was more satisfying than morning milking. Then, because everyone knows what everyone else is up to back home, I found myself working for Mrs. Malloy, then Mr. O'Donnelly. I worked for Francis Duggan at the market for a time, too, but his son Donald thought I should marry him and have ten children, so I had to let that job go."

"You didn't want to marry Donald Duggan?"

"And spend my life counting potatoes and turnips? No, thank you. It came to the point where I knew I had to either black both his eyes or give up the job. It seemed easier to give up the job. What are you smiling at?"

"I was just thinking that Donald Duggan was lucky you didn't carry a rake."

Erin tilted her head as she studied him. "It's you who're lucky I held myself back." Comfortable now, she tucked her legs under her and sipped her cooling coffee. "Tell me about the horse you're racing today."

"Double Bluff, he's a two-year-old. Temperamental and nervy unless he's running. He's proved himself from his first race, took the Florida Derby last weekend. That's the biggest purse in the state."

"Aye, I heard Travis mention it. He seems to think this horse is the best he's seen in a decade. Is it?"

"Might be. In any case, he'll be my Derby entry this year. His sire won over a million dollars in purses in his career, and his dam was the offspring of a Triple Crown winner. Likes to come from behind, on the outside." He took another puff, and again Erin noticed the scar along his knuckles.

"You sound as though you're fond of him."

He was, and that fact was a constant surprise. Burke only shrugged. "He's a winner."

"What about the one you bought in Ireland, the one who kicked you?"

"I'm going to start him off locally-Charles Town, Laurel, Pimlico, so I can keep an eye on him. If my hunch is right, he'll double what I paid for him in a year."

"And if your hunch was wrong?"

"They aren't often. In any case, I'd still consider my trip to Ireland paid off."

She wasn't completely comfortable with the way he looked at her. "Being a gambler," she said evenly, "you'd know how to lose."

"I know how to win better."

She set her coffee down. "How did you get the scar on your hand?"

He didn't glance at it as most people would, but tapped out his cigar as he watched her. "Broken bottle of Texas Star in a bar fight outside of El Paso. There was a disagreement over a hand of seven-card stud and a pretty blonde."

"Did you win?"

"The hand. The woman wasn't worth it."

"I suppose it makes more sense to gash your hand open over a game of cards than it does for a woman."

"Depends."

"On what? The woman?"

"On the game, Irish. It always depends on the game."

When they arrived, Erin stepped off the plane into another new world. Burke had told her to leave her coat on the plane, but even so she hadn't been expecting the warmth or the glare of the sun.

"Palm trees," she managed, then laughed and grabbed Burke's hands. "Those are palm trees."

"No fooling?" Before she had a chance to be annoyed, he swung an arm over her shoulders and swept her away. There was a car waiting for them. Erin slipped inside, wanting to pretend she did such things every day. "There's no handle for the window," she began. Burke leaned over and pressed the button to lower it. "Oh." After ten seconds, she gave up trying to be poised. "I can't believe it. It's so warm, and the flowers. Oh, my mother would die for the flowers. It's like that room in your house with all the glass. Two weeks ago I was scrubbing Mrs. Malloy's floor, and now I'm looking at palm trees."

He drove competently, without asking directions or checking a map. Erin realized this life wasn't new to him. Here she was babbling and sounding like a fool. She made one attempt to restrain herself, then gave it up. It didn't matter how she sounded.

He hadn't realized he'd get such enjoyment out of seeing someone take little things and make them special. For a moment he wished they could just keep driving so that she would go on talking, laughing, asking questions. He'd nearly forgotten there were people who could still find things fresh and new no matter how often they'd been used.

Traveling was a profession to him, and like most professional travelers he'd long ago stopped looking at what was around him. Now, with Erin pointing out white sand, young skateboarders and towering hotels, he began to remember what it was like to see something for the first time.

They knew him at the track. Erin noticed as they walked over the green lawn toward the spread of stables that people nodded in his direction or greeted him as Mr. Logan. There were jockeys and trainers and grooms already preparing for the afternoon races.

"Logan."

Erin glanced over and saw a big, potbellied man in a straw hat. She saw the flash of a diamond on his finger and the light film of sweat the heat had already drawn on his face. "Durnam."

"Didn't know you were coming down for a look-see."

"I like to keep an eye on things. Your horse ran well last week."

"At Charles Town. I didn't know you were there."

"I wasn't. Erin McKinnon, Charlie Durnam. He owns Durnam Stables in Lexington."

"Real horse country, ma'am." He took her hand and flashed her a smile. "A pleasure, a real pleasure. Nobody picks the fillies like Logan."