The Glory Game (38 page)

With her eye on the ball, she timed her swing to begin when the ball was a couple of feet from the point of her shoulder. At the moment when her shoulder, arm, and stick were in a straight line at the lowest point of the swing, the broadside of the mallet made contact with the ball, a solid
thunk
, the impact vibrating up her arm. She completed the follow-through of her swing as the ball sailed ahead, bouncing toward the near side of the field, where the groom, Jimmy Ray Turnbull, was standing. Someone was with him, she noticed. The pinto's sides heaved beneath her as it blew out a rolling snort. At almost the same instant, Luz recognized that trimly built figure with a flash of silver-gray in his hair. A sudden tension raced through her. Instinctively, she checked the pinto, obeying her initial
impulse to turn and run rather than face Drew, but that was countered almost immediately by a surge of pride, and she urged the horse on. The conflicting signals had the horse sidestepping nervously.

The last time she'd seen him had been at the graduation exercises over two months ago, and then only briefly. And Claudia had been with him. What was he doing here now after all this time? It wasn't to welcome her home. They'd been back from Europe for three weeks. Why was he here? What did he want? Her nerves suddenly felt raw, the wounds reopened.

Fighting the suffocating memories of the fool she had been, Luz let the polo mallet dangle from its wrist strap, unhooked the chin strap of the helmet, and pulled it off, trying to clear her head. With the back of her hand, she wiped at the perspiration that had collected on her upper lip and realized what a mess she was. No makeup, sweat streaming down her face and along the creases of her eyes, her hair flattened to her head—this wasn't the way she wanted him to see her again after all this time.

Damn him for catching her out like this! Why hadn't he called? Did he think this was still his home and he could drop by whenever he pleased? Angrily, Luz rode over to the sideline where he stood with Jimmy Ray and stopped the pinto in front of the groom, not even acknowledging Drew's presence with a look.

“Hello, Luz.” His tone was as casual as if it had been two days instead of two months since they'd last spoken. “That was some good form out there.”

Dismounting, she kept her back to him and handed Jimmy Ray the helmet and stick. “Take these to the equipment room,” she ordered, then turned toward the house, tugging off the riding glove she wore on her right hand to avoid blisters. “If you came to see Rob or Trisha, they aren't here,” she informed Drew with a half-glance his way.

“I didn't. I wanted to speak to you, privately.”

The clop-clopping of the pinto's hooves as Jimmy Ray led the horse toward the stable seemed to echo the sudden loud thumping of her heart. Her mind raced wildly over Drew's possible reasons for wanting a private talk with her. The settlement agreements and the divorce documents, even the tax
returns, had all been completed long ago. And their lawyers would have handled anything related to that anyway.

So it could only be personal. Luz refused to allow herself to think he might be having problems in his relationship with Claudia. The possibility frightened her in a strange way, as if it made her vulnerable all over again. When Trisha had asked her if she and Drew would go back together again, the chance seemed so remote. But if he did want to come back to her, what would she do? Did she want that marriage again? She didn't think so. But what if …

“Why don't we go to the house?” Luz said and started forward, still avoiding his eyes. Drew moved with her. Walking with him was such a familiar pattern that it tugged at her. It would be so easy to fall back into old habits, she realized. Reaching up, she unclasped the wide barrette securing the knot of hair atop her head and shook out its damp length. She knew it didn't improve her appearance. “You should have called.”

“I did. Emma told me you were out with the horses, so I came over.” Drew lagged behind her as they skirted the swimming pool.

There was little protest she could make without admitting that she hated being caught looking like this. Obviously, while they were married, he'd seen her looking worse. But things were different now.

Until she had returned from Europe, Luz hadn't realized how much of an escape that trip had been. Now, in this closeknit community, she was “poor Luz” again, rejected by her husband for a younger woman. That's what made it so horrible to have him see her in this disheveled state—naked of makeup, smelling of horse and sweat, her hair straggly and unkempt. She was hardly a sight likely to kindle regret.

They entered the house through the French doors to the living room. “Excuse me while I freshen up a bit,” Luz said over her shoulder as she continued through the room. “Emma will bring you some coffee.”

“Take your time.”

He probably thought she needed it, Luz guessed angrily and ran up the oak stairs to her private rooms. She entered the bedroom, stripped off her blouse and bra, sat on the bed long enough to tug off her riding boots and socks, then shed her breeches and panties and headed straight for the shower.

In fifteen minutes flat, she had showered, shampooed, put on makeup, and styled her wet hair in a French braid. She grabbed a white smocked cotton dress with drop shoulders from the closet and pulled it over her head, then slipped her feet into a pair of sling heels. She headed back downstairs, belting the voluminous dress at the waist as she went, somewhat fortified by the transformation.

When she walked into the living room, Drew was pouring himself another cup of coffee. A second cup was sitting on the tray “Want some coffee?” he asked.

“No thanks. After that workout on the practice field I need something tall and cold.” Luz crossed to the bar and went behind the counter, taking a glass from the shelf and adding ice cubes to it.

“Isn't it a little early in the day to be drinking?” Drew eyed her critically as he wandered over to a stool, coffee cup in hand. He didn't see the green Perrier bottle until she plunked it on the counter with a glare of defiance.

“You sound like Audra.” She popped the cap off and poured the water over ice cubes in the glass, then added a wedge of lime from the bowl in the bar's refrigerator.

“I'd heard you'd been drinking heavily. I'm glad to see you're laying off the booze,” he said, and Luz guessed a little bitterly that Trisha was the source of his information.

“Don't tell me you're here to talk about my alleged drinking problem?” she mocked. “‘Alleged.' That's a legal term, isn't it? I guess I must have picked up some of your jargon after all.” She realized how very bitter she sounded and knew this was no way to begin the conversation, with her emotions so exposed. She looked at the green citrus wedge floating atop the cubes. “Maybe we should start this over, Drew. How have you been?” It was a poised, polite inquiry. “You're looking well.”

Indeed he did. Trim and tan, handsome as always, he was exactly as she remembered. Maybe not quite, she revised. He didn't seem quite as preoccupied, and there was a more youthful quality about him, or maybe she was imagining that.

Yet something was troubling him. After living with him for twenty years, she could sense when something was wrong. The impression lost some of its strength when he smiled at her.

“I'm fine. How was Europe?”

“Wonderful, as always,” Luz replied. “How's the law practice? Have you been keeping busy?”

“Yes.” He lifted his coffee cup to take a drink. “And yourself?”

“Of course.” Which wasn't precisely true.

“I've heard you're dating Fred de Silva.” The vague disapproval in his voice caught her attention. Luz couldn't help wondering if he was jealous.

“I've only been out to dinner with him twice in two weeks, That hardly constitutes dating,” she replied.

Actually she didn't know Fred de Silva that well, only having met him socially. A rather good-looking man in his late forties, a natty dresser, he had the reputation of being, if not a playboy, at least a ladies' man. When she'd run into him at the polo club and he'd asked her to dinner, the invitation had sounded like a welcome change from her usual evenings. Truthfully, Rob and Trisha could not give her all the company she needed, and attending social functions alone didn't satisfy her need for companionship.

The dinners had been just that—a change of pace. She couldn't even say that she liked the man. In some ways, he was too flamboyant and overly charming for her tastes. When she had complained to her sister, Mary, about the gold chains around his neck and the huge diamonds on his fingers, Mary reminded her that Kincaids came from old money—and old money frowned on overt displays of wealth.

So far, there hadn't been a third invitation from him, but Luz doubted that she'd accept if it came, mostly because she didn't want to start something. In a way, going out with him had been a means to get Raul Buchanan off her mind. If she didn't see other men, it would be too easy for her to fantasize about him.

“I hope he didn't talk you into anything, Luz,” Drew said grimly. She sharply probed his expression as she searched for signs of jealousy.

“If you're wondering whether I slept with him, that isn't any of your business.” Other than a few heavy-breathing kisses, nothing had happened, but Luz hoped it bothered him to imagine her in the arms of another man. She knew the hell that her images of Claudia and him together had been for her, and she wanted him to have a taste of it.

“I recognize that you are free to see whomever you please.” He seemed grim, and he was slow to look at her. “I'm concerned that you might have put some money into one of his ventures.”

“My evenings with Fred were purely social.” She resented his implication that she had to buy companionship. Moving out from behind the bar, she rubbed a hand across the cold, wet sides of the Perrier glass, her temper needing its cooling effect.

“From what I've been able to learn, de Silva is in considerable financial trouble. That big real estate development deal of his isn't panning out.”

“That has nothing to do with me,” she declared, irritated that he believed she would be gullible enough to invest in something solely on a man's word, without checking into it. After all, she was Jake Kincaid's daughter, which meant she wasn't a total fool even if Drew had made one of her.

“Some of his investors have been threatening to pull out of the project, but now the rumor is that Kincaid money is coming in to bail it out.” Drew absently swirled the coffee in the cup, then looked over to her. “De Silva obviously made sure he was seen with you. I'm afraid he's using you, Luz, to stall for time—or to set you up for an investment pitch.”

Inside, she was trembling with hurt and anger, but she held herself stiffly motionless. “It was so clever of you to figure that out, Drew. Of course, you had the advantage of knowing that my company is far from scintillating, so if it wasn't that Fred was seeking, it had to be the Kincaid fortune—or my share of it. Am I supposed to be grateful that you've taken time from your precious law practice to warn me about him?”

“That isn't the only reason I'm here,” he replied impatiently. “I know you won't believe me, but I happen to still care about you. I don't want to see you hurt any more.”

Confusion pounded at her temples. First he slapped her down, then held out his hand. She gripped the glass tightly, so damned unsure of her position. “Tell me, Drew,” Luz challenged. “Does Claudia know that you've come to see me this morning?”

“Of course.” But the mention of her name seemed to make him uncomfortable. Covering it, he finished the coffee in his cup, then set it aside. “We have no secrets from each other.”

“I'm so glad to hear that you don't lie to her the way you
lied to me. You've obviously learned something.” Bitterness and sarcasm mixed together in her words. “The sin isn't in making a mistake, but in repeating it.”

“I don't think it's wise for us to get into a discussion about our past differences. That isn't why I came.”

“Isn't it? I never would have guessed. Everything we've talked about so far has dealt with my shortcomings. I mean, you've criticized my drinking habits, found fault with my dinner partners, and, in your own way, cautioned me against mentioning Claudia. Just what is it you want to discuss, Drew?” Luz demanded tautly.

“I wanted to talk to you about the children.”

She swung away from him, fighting her anger and tension. “I suppose you think I'm to blame because Rob still won't come to see you. I can't, and I won't, force him to do it.”

“I am concerned about this trip to Argentina you have planned,” he asserted. “When I went along with Rob's decision to sit out college for a year, no mention was made about a three-month sojourn in Argentina.”

“He has enrolled—” she began as she turned back toward him, but got no farther.

“Trisha told me all about this famous polo college.”

“I thoroughly investigated it before I agreed to let him attend.” Luz reacted to the disdain she heard in Drew's voice.

“But you didn't consult me about this trip, and I happen to be their father,” he pointed out curtly. “Although, God knows, you've always made sure Rob got anything he ever wanted, you could have gone through the motion of discussing it with me. But it isn't the trip I resent so much as Trisha's participation in all this. Do you realize that she is considering waiting until midterm to start college just so she can make this trip? She's putting her acceptance at Harvard in jeopardy, for God's sake.”

“I wasn't aware of it. Or, at least, the times she's mentioned it, I haven't taken her seriously.” She looked at the glass in her hand, conscious of the inner turmoil this subject aroused. “If she decides to wait, it won't be with my approval. Personally, I would rather she didn't go with Rob and me to Argentina. But she is of legal age, so there's little you or I can do to prevent her from going.” She took a drink of the water, for the first time in a long while wishing it were liquor-laced. With a
sardonic tilt of her head, she glanced at Drew. “You see, she's wildly infatuated with Raul Buchanan.”