Leaping Hearts (7 page)

He let out a frustrated breath. “And where do you think I fit in? I’m not exactly the Mother Superior type. I don’t run a safe haven for wayward children and their pets.”

“But I need a place to train and board him.”

“I’m not a trainer and I don’t board.”

“I can pay you.”

A.J. wasn’t sure with what, but now wasn’t the time to get bogged down in particulars.

“I don’t doubt that,” he said wryly.

“Look, at least let him stay the night.”

“That animal is still in the trailer?”

“Yes, but—”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I didn’t plan for this to happen.”

“That’s obvious,” he said, turning away. “I’ll bet you don’t plan for much.”

“That’s not true!”

At least broadly, A.J. thought, deciding that the night hadn’t exactly been a masterpiece of rational thinking.

“Where are you going?” she called out.

“I’m not interested in the little drama between you and your family,” he said over his shoulder. “But I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand by and have an animal pay the price for human theatrics.”

He disappeared into the house, leaving A.J. speechless on the front stoop. Numbly, she noted that the back of him looked as good as the front did.

She wanted to argue with him. However her actions might appear, she would never compromise a horse’s safety or security, but she didn’t feel as if she could afford the luxury of explaining herself. It appeared as if Sabbath had a stall for the night and she wasn’t going to put that in jeopardy just because she’d been misjudged.

Instead of waiting for him, she smothered a yawn and went back to the barn, wondering where she would spend the night. It certainly wasn’t going to be at the mansion. Approaching the trailer, she regarded the cab with a jaundiced eye, deciding that the space was probably roomy enough for her to stretch out. It wasn’t glamorous but at least she’d be horizontal.

Moving with the practiced coordination of someone who’d done it countless times, A.J. put down the ramp, freed Sabbath’s lead and backed him out of the trailer. He seemed
perfectly content to have her take his head and she walked him around to stretch his legs as she waited for McCloud. The stallion was lipping at the ground happily when the man emerged from the house.

As he approached, she felt a stir go through her. It was hot and urgent, like a flash of lightning, and it seemed to her as if her body were communicating in some secret language with his. While she pushed the sensation away and focused on the lead line in her hands, she wondered if he felt it, too.

Silently, he went past her and unlocked the double doors of the stable. They slid back soundlessly on well-oiled runners and he reached in and flipped on the lights. Peeking inside, she saw six generous stalls, three on each side, separated by a spacious aisle. To the left, she could see the tack room, and to the right, a small office. The place was immaculate and had everything a horse and rider would need, but the moment she led Sabbath inside, she noticed something was wrong.

The silence of the place was overwhelming. All of the chatty background noise she was used to hearing around horses was absent. There were no stomping of hooves, no welcoming whinnies of curiosity, no sound of brass on brass as halters were shaken. The place was a ghost town.

Her heart ached for him.

“You can put him in here,” Devlin said, sliding open the gate to one of the first stalls.

She led the stallion inside and removed his halter, noting that there was fresh dirt on the floor but no water or feed.

“I’ve got some hay in the trailer,” she said, going out into the aisle, “and if you show me where the hose is—”

“I have an automatic watering system,” he replied, shutting the bottom half of the door. “But you’re going to want to bring in some feed.”

She headed outside.

When A.J. returned, she saw Devlin and Sabbath measuring up each other like two boxers in a ring. The stallion’s head was out of the stall and he was fiercely meeting the eyes of the man who stood, still as a statue, inches away. She slowed down, waiting to see what was going to happen.

Sabbath snorted against the jacket Devlin was wearing
and stomped a hoof. Concerned he was going to bite, A.J. rushed forward, only to be halted by the sound of Devlin’s voice.

“Stay back,” he said. “This is between him and me.”

Feeling at a loss, she did as she was told.

The stallion breathed in a barrelful of air and threw it at Devlin. The man remained standing, his cane cocked at an angle as he braced himself against the force that hit him. Like his body, his eyes were steady, never wavering, even as Sabbath kicked the side of the stall and threw back his head, letting out a roar.

A.J. dropped the hay and ran ahead, only to stop in surprise. After the fuss was over, the stallion’s ears relaxed and he pulled back into the stall on his own.

“Round one is a tie,” Devlin said, a smile playing behind the straight lines of his lips. “And that’s one hell of a horse.”

A.J. found herself returning his grin as she tossed hay into the stall. Satisfied Sabbath was comfortable, she shut the top door and they walked back out into the night air.

“Thank you,” she said, pausing in front of the trailer.

He shrugged. “He’ll be comfortable for the night.”

“I appreciate it.”

“When will you be back tomorrow morning to pick him up?”

“Actually, do you mind if the rig takes up some of your driveway space tonight?”

“Of course not. But how are you going to get home?”

“I’m not going home.”

With that, A.J. wrenched open the driver’s-side door and crawled in, so tired she hurt.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m exhausted and, as you and just about everyone I’ve run into today has pointed out, not thinking all that clearly. If you don’t mind, I’m just going to spend the night here.”

“You can’t be serious.”

She shut the door and rolled onto her side, tucking an arm under her head. Abruptly, she found herself on the verge of tears.

A sharp rap sounded against the window.

A.J. put her other arm over her ear, trying to block out
the noise. The last thing she wanted was to cry in front of him.

The butt of the cane continued knocking.

Bolting upright, she cracked open the window. “What?”

“You can’t sleep out here.”

“As long as you keep making noise, you’re right about that.”

“You’re not sleeping out here.”

“Why? You can’t have big plans for this patch of dirt tonight.”

“It’s cold and I’m not in the habit of letting people freeze solid on my front lawn.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Come inside.”

His voice was gentle, as if he knew she’d reached the end of her rope. Unfortunately, his concern just made her more upset.

“I’ll do just as well out here.” The words were choked and she fumbled with the window. Once it was up again, she lay down and put her arm back over her ear.

The rapping resumed.

“I’m ignoring you,” A.J. called out.

“And I’m not stopping until you come inside.”

“Your arm will give out before I do.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” she heard him say.

It turned out Devlin was right.

A few minutes later, A.J. emerged from the cab. Tired and frustrated, she didn’t trust herself to say anything so she crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her chin. Devlin led the way to the farmhouse.

T
HE CHILLY
night air and a desire not to appear weak in front of him made her feel more in control by the time they got to his front door. Following him inside, A.J. found herself in a foyer with a staircase ahead and a kitchen beyond. To the left, a modest living room was furnished sparsely but glowed with the warmth of cherry paneling and some embers that were dying in an old stone fireplace. On the opposite side of the entrance hall was a dining room with an exquisite antique table in the center and a set of carved chairs pressed in tight around its flanks.

Throughout the rooms, oriental rugs covered wide oak planks, and the ceilings, lofty and creamy white, provided fair skies. Everywhere she turned, there were banks of windows stretching from the floor to above her head and she knew light would flood into the rooms during the day. With spectacular views and antique details, it was a gorgeous house but there was something sterile about it. She noticed that there were no family pictures, no snapshots of friends, no random trinkets from vacations. And where were all of his trophies and medals?

“You’ll have to sleep on the couch,” Devlin said, indicating the navy blue slipcovered sofa. “I use the other bedrooms as an office and…for storage.”

She looked up at the hesitation but his face gave away nothing as he put his cane in an umbrella stand and hung up his coat. She followed his lead, taking off her barn jacket
and putting it on a peg on the wall, next to his. Side by side, their coats hung tightly together, the sleeves mingling. She found the sight appealing and, as she got her bearings, she felt an air of tantalizing pleasure just being in his home.

Devlin disappeared down the hall and returned with a freshly laundered men’s shirt, still warm from the dryer. “I’ll be back with some pillows and blankets.”

Holding his shirt in her hands, she watched him tackle the stairs with the caution of someone twice his age. Each time he put up the foot of his injured leg, she couldn’t keep herself from wincing. Even though his face remained impassive, she could tell the strain he was under. It was in the flush that covered his face and in the ironfisted grip he had on the railing.

On impulse, A.J. put down the shirt and went after him. At the top of the stairs, she saw several doors and quickly put her head inside one. With only the dim light of the hall for illumination, it was too dark to see anything but odd shapes in the room.

“What are you doing?” His voice cracked like a whip. Reaching past her, he shut the door.

“I wanted to save you the trip back down the—”

“I’m not an invalid and I don’t want you poking around. Why don’t you go down and sit still so I can wait on you?”

A.J. held her tongue and left him in a hurry, wondering what the fuss was about. The more she thought about it, though, she figured he was sensitive about his limp and she’d probably hurt his pride. Considering she was spending the night on his couch and her horse was in one of his stalls, she figured she owed him a little slack.

Minutes later, he came back down the stairs. This time she looked the other way, wishing there was something on the walls to occupy her. She’d have preferred even a velvet Elvis painting over trying to pretend the wood paneling was fascinating as he approached.

Silently, he held out the bedding to her and then disappeared into the kitchen. As soon as she was alone, she released the breath she was holding and made up the couch quickly. With a glance over her shoulder, she made sure she wasn’t going to flash him and changed into his shirt.

As it covered her naked body, she was amazed to find she was wearing Devlin McCloud’s shirt. It was a shirt that, given how soft the cotton was, he wore often, and it was tantalizing to think that what was now against her skin had once been against his. She passed another quick check in the direction he’d gone and then lifted the sleeve to her nose and breathed in deeply. The scent of his fabric softener was heavenly, and that was when she decided she’d completely lost it. The instant a person started to think of Downy as a cologne probably meant a rubber room couldn’t be far behind.

Feeling off-center himself, Devlin McCloud came back around the corner just as the woman he’d been preoccupied with all afternoon and all evening was bending down and sliding between a set of his sheets. Without meaning to, he caught a long view of her shapely legs and his hand tightened hard against the glass of scotch he was holding. He couldn’t help but keep watching as she got in the makeshift bed and pulled up the sheets to her chin.

“Now what have I done?” she asked.

“Nothing. Why?”

“You’ve got that jungle-cat-measuring-an-antelope look, so I figured I’d ask.”

Instead of responding, Devlin turned off the overhead light and took a healthy swig of the brown liquor. He wasn’t much of a drinker but he had a feeling that sleep was going to be elusive. And that was before he’d caught a glimpse of the smooth expanse of her calf and thigh. Now there was heat swirling around his gut and he knew it wasn’t just the scotch.

“Bath’s down the hall. Shower’s upstairs if you need it in the morning.”

“Thanks again,” A.J. murmured, obviously giving herself up to exhaustion.

It was a long time that he stayed in the shadows and watched the woman until, totally disturbed, he went to the stairs. Even then, he found it difficult to leave. He stood, with one foot on the bottom step, and looked at her in the reflected glow of the fire he’d banked hours before. Auburn
hair was spread across the pillow he’d given her in a glorious dark wave, and in the dim light the perfectly formed features of her face seemed heaven made, not of the earth at all. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself going to her, slipping a hand under the silken weight of her hair and lifting her lips to his. She would taste like honey. All warm golden sweetness.

Shit, he thought. Why couldn’t she have turned up looking for nothing more complicated than a date?

Although, when he thought about it, he knew an evening out with her would be anything but simple. The woman had a way of lighting up a room that distracted him like nothing else he’d ever run across.

I may be in trouble here, he thought.

He found the strength of his attraction to her surprising and told himself it must be because he hadn’t been with a woman in a long time. Before the accident, he’d never had much time for a personal life. Since then, he hadn’t had any interest in one. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything other than pain and he’d forgotten his heart had the capacity for anything else. Now, for the first time since his accident, he was looking at something he found beautiful.