“I’m fine. Mr. Whitfield was just about to leave...weren’t you, Clay?”
He bristled.
Gerry grinned. “Holler if you need me.” He ducked back out of sight.
“Well, at least my curiosity is satisfied,” Clay said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re just as cold as they say.” Turning, he strode back to his friends, taking his place beside the blonde as if he’d never left. Within seconds he was laughing and talking, the incident already forgotten.
But Ellie didn’t forget. She’s spent half the night tossing and turning, remembering that kiss. Maybe Clayton Whitfield thought she was cold, but Ellie knew better. It had been all she could do to tear herself away.
That was in the past, she reminded herself. But now she and Clay would be working together. They would be traveling across Europe on the same team. Clay was conceited, jaded, and selfish, a philanderer of the very worst sort. The kind of man she despised. But, God, she was attracted to him. Heaven forbid he ever found out.
Clayton Whitfield took the Far Hills Road turnoff even faster than he usually did. The Ferrari merely hummed a little lower as it shifted down and rounded the corner with all the grace that made the car worth the hundred-and-fifty-thousand he’d paid for it.
Clay loved that car. Probably more than just about anything he could think of—except of course his father, and his stallion, Maximum Effort. He smiled to himself. Max was special, all right.
Clay had never known an animal who thought exactly the way he did. When they competed, it was if Max read his mind, or he read Max’s. Either way, they worked in unison. They were a team. Clay felt closer to Max than he did most human beings.
Slowing the car to a powerful purr, he turned into the long, hedge-lined driveway that led past the guest house to the main house and stables beyond. Clay had spent most of his life in Far Hills, though his family owned homes in Palm Beach and Beverly Hills, a farm in Greenwich, Connecticut, and a brownstone in Manhattan. The Far Hills house was as much a home as Clay had ever known.
Occasionally, his father was in residence, but for the last few weeks Avery had been soaking up the California sun.
Clay smiled as he thought of the spicy little California girl, Ellie Fletcher, he had tangled with that afternoon. He’d been surprised to see her. He could have strangled Sullivan for not warning him she was in earshot, but then, that was Jake. He liked to stand back and let other people’s antics amuse him.
The Fletcher girl had looked just as pretty as she had at the selection trials in Los Angeles. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to her there, but he felt he owed her an apology for the way he’d acted in Aachen. And he wanted to take a closer look at her, see if she was as appetizing as he remembered.
Today had confirmed his assessment, but he’d made an equally bad impression. Not that he cared, he assured himself. He wouldn’t mind taking her to bed, but he doubted the effort would be worth it.
Then again.... All that guff he’d given her about being cold had been just that. He hadn’t missed the little growl of pleasure he’d heard in her throat when he’d kissed her in Aachen, or the way she’d swayed against him. It would take more than a kiss to find out for sure. Maybe he’d expend the energy, maybe not.
Hell, he’d never even seen her with her hair down, or wearing a dress for that matter. He hoped she’d come to the party Friday night. Maybe he’d get lucky.
“Hey, Clay!” Denise Leander leaned against the fence near the stables. Wearing faded skin-tight jeans, her hair swept up in a long black ponytail, she looked younger than her twenty-four years.
Clay inwardly groaned. He’d forgotten his promise to give her riding lessons, the lure he’d used to get her into bed three days ago. She’d been an enthusiastic lover, but her responses seemed rote, and Clay wondered how many times she’d gone through the same motions with somebody else.
“Hello, Denise,” he called to her as he turned off the ignition and opened the car door.
“Bobby has the horses all saddled and ready. I told him you promised to take me riding, and he said you’d be back pretty soon.” Her plump red lips turned pouty. “That was an hour ago. You didn’t forget me, did you?”
He leaned over and kissed her full on the mouth. “Don’t be silly. Come on. Let’s get going.”Let’s get this over with,was what he meant. Damn, why did bedmates have to be so costly? If women weren’t after his wealth and social position, they were after his time. It was the latter he valued the most.
Taking her arm, he smiled down at her. Denise flashed a bright smile in return, the scent of her perfume drifting up. Obsession, a little too heavy for his taste, but not unpleasant.
He checked the time on his Patek Phillippe, a gift from his father. Twelve-thirty. He could give her a lesson on the horse, one in the bedroom, and be back schooling Max by mid-afternoon. What the hell, he had plenty of time.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Empire State Grand Prix, held in North Salem, New York, began on Tuesday and wound up with the Grand Prix competition at two o’clock Sunday afternoon.
Jake had been at the show grounds all week, watching the events and giving Ellie Fletcher as much of his attention as he dared. Hisshadowas he had come to call the unknown man who followed him, appeared occasionally, but since Jake had made the decision to focus on his job, he found himself more and more successful at ignoring him.
Maggie Delaine was still on business in Los Angeles, for which he was grateful. One problem at a time. At the moment, that problem was getting Ellie Fletcher ready for the competition in Europe.
Every day, she’d been competing in three or four events, riding three different horses. She’d ridden several times against Flex McGrath and Shep Singleton, two of her team members, and held her own, but nothing seemed to challenge her efforts more than a round against Clay.
