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  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  1

  Reese stepped back as a forkful of horse manure flew past him. It landed with a plop in the large trailer that blocked most of the aisle outside the stalls.

  “Shit,” he muttered. He hadn’t dressed for this. Then again, he hadn’t known he’d be tracking down the resort’s stable manager.

  Maybe whoever had thrown the crap could give him directions.

  He peered into the stall cautiously. A girl raked through the bedding; her boots and jeans were smudged with brown stains, and a tank top revealed bare arms that glistened with a faint sheen of sweat. A dark ponytail swung through a hole in the back of her ball cap.

  None of the women he knew back east would ever consider work as a stable hand, including his most recent bed partner, Caroline, but it didn’t seem to be uncommon in the Rocky Mountain town of Barringer’s Pass. It was just one of the things that made him glad he’d left this town.

  “Excuse me. Can you tell me where I can find the stable manager?”

  She turned, leaning into the rake she propped in the wood shavings. Girl was the wrong word, he realized. Young woman, and pretty under the dirty clothes, with delicate features that seemed at odds with her grubby job.

  Blue eyes scanned him, looking faintly amused. “You found her.”

  Her? He tried not to stare. “You’re T.J. Grady?”

  “All my life. Who are you?”

  He cleared his throat. “Your boss, at least for the next several weeks.”

  She straightened, then did a slower head-to-toe inspection. He did a little looking of his own, since the tank and tight jeans revealed some interesting curves. “Mike’s son, huh? Reese, right?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I hope you’re not looking to make any changes in the operating plans for the stable, because Mike and I have an agreement.”

  He hid a small jolt of surprise. Not many people in Barringer’s Pass, Colorado, called his father anything but Mr. Barringer, especially people who worked for him. Even fewer called him Mike. “I’m not changing anything, just holding down the fort until Dad recovers from the accident.”

  “Good.”

  “And letting you know your first customer will be here next Wednesday.”

  He thought she’d show some irritation at that—his brother had warned him that their stable manager had firm ideas about not working directly with the guests. But she just raised one eyebrow, barely perturbed. “Now see, Reese, that would be one of those changes I’m talking about. The ones that aren’t going to happen.”

  Employees who thought they were the boss wouldn’t have lasted long if he was in charge; he was surprised his dad put up with it. “I’m not changing anything. I know the stable’s not fully operational. Trail rides will still begin in September, in time for the fall colors. This is something extra.”

  “I don’t do extras. Just horses.”

  Apparently T.J. also didn’t do good first impressions. “This extra involves the horses,” he said, calling on more patience than he cared to. “We’ve got an actor coming in who needs some riding lessons for his next movie. It’s a Western, and I’m told he plays a cowboy. The production company booked two of our best suites plus four singles for the next three weeks, so they get what they want, and they want their star to have lessons from an expert.” He gave her slight stature and dirty clothes a doubtful look. “I’m told you qualify.”

  “True, but then there’s that other consideration—my agreement with Mike. I don’t work with people.”

  “The actor is Tad Prescott.”

  Any other woman would have lit up at that, but T.J. didn’t blink. “Guess old Tad will have to fall off a few times until he figures it out for himself. I don’t do people, just—”

  “Horses. Yeah, I got that.” He could argue the point, but he had a hunch he knew how to get around T.J. Grady. “I guess I’ll have to bring in some other expert.”

  “Guess so.” She turned her back on him and scooped up a forkful of soggy wood shavings, tossing them into the trailer beside him.

  A strong smell of ammonia hit him from the urine-soaked shavings, burning his nostrils. Reese blinked watery eyes, but didn’t take the hint to leave. “I just thought you’d want to be the one working with him, since he’ll be using our horses.”

  “My horses?” The rake hung in midair as she turned with a dark look. “I trained these horses myself. No one else is allowed to mess with them—Mike promised. I’m not going to let some Hollywood yahoo yank them around just because he’s a big star with a big movie role and a big ego to match.”

  He decided not to point out that they weren’t her horses—but one argument at a time. “Not a people person, are you, T.J.? That’s okay, you don’t have to work with him. Just have a horse ready when he gets here Wednesday morning. I’m sure the trainer I find will be competent.”

  “You’re not listening. No one touches my horses unless I say so.”

  “Then I guess you’re Tad’s instructor, because my dad arranged this himself before the accident.”

  “Bullshit. He didn’t tell me.”

  “Probably because some guy smashed into his car before he could.”

  Her eyes narrowed to blue lasers. “I’ll ask him, you know.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She fell into a belligerent silence as she took his measure. He didn’t like getting off to a rocky start with his dad’s employees, but she hadn’t given him any choice.

  “Okay, you win,” she said, even though her hard look said the disagreement wasn’t over. “Tell Tad his lessons start at eight o’clock sharp.”

  He smiled. “Thank you, I will.”

  She stepped forward, propping the rake against the wall of the stall. He winced at the mixed smells of ammonia and manure wafting from her boots, and suspected she’d purposely stepped in that fresh pile as she crossed the stall. He watched with growing trepidation as she wiped her hands on her thighs, right over a large brown smudge. She held out her hand. “It was interesting meeting you, Reese Barringer. Welcome to the Silver Ridge Resort.”

  Score one for the barn girl. He guessed that made them even. He took her hand without flinching and found her grip as sure and forthright as her personality.

  “Interesting to meet you, too, T.J. Grady.” If his dad had any more employees like T.J. Grady, his two-month stay could not go fast enough.

  * * *

  T.J. looked at the cast that went from Michael Barringer’s toes all the way to his thigh, and tried not to imagine the broken bones beneath it, held in place by screws and pins. At least he looked alert today; they must have cut back on the pain meds.

  “Does it hurt much?” she asked, scooting the chair around so he could see her.

  “A constant dull ache, which is a lot better than when they brought me here three days ago.” The bed hummed as he brought it into an upright position. It also had the effect of making him appear more dignified and capable, the way she was used to seeing Michael Barringer. �
��I’m going crazy in this place, T.J. What’s new at the resort?”

  Might as well get it out right away so they could move on. “I met Reese.”

  His eyes lit with pleasure at mention of his oldest son. “What’d you think?”

  “I think you should have told me about Tad Prescott.”

  “Shit.” He winced. “I was going to, T.J. I’m sorry, I know we agreed you don’t have to work with the guests, so if you want to bring in someone else to give him lessons, it’s okay with me. But I couldn’t say no to the business. The movie company is scouting locations, and if they decide to film here, it could mean a long stay in Barringer’s Pass. I want it to be at my resort. Why don’t you bring in whatshisname to do it?” He snapped his fingers. “That guy who lives in Juniper.”

  Charlie Ferris. He liked to use spurs and thought obedience required fear. “No, I’ll do it.” She narrowed her eyes. “But next time you let me know before you promise to use my horses for something other than trail riding.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I was thinking about Reese butting up against your attitude. I wish I could have been there to see that.”

  Reese again. She didn’t want to talk about him. Reese Barringer was manipulative and pushy, and his smile gave her a quivery feeling in her stomach. She hated quivery feelings. “What’s wrong with my attitude?”

  “It might be called abrasive. You’re blunt and outspoken.”

  She would have taken offense if he didn’t look so amused. “I don’t like pretense.”

  “And I appreciate that. You’re one of the few people I know who will give me an honest opinion when I ask for it.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “It is with me.” There was that smile again. “I don’t know about Reese.”

  She felt a twinge of regret that Reese might be as stiff as that suit had made him look. “If Reese is so stuffy he expects me to say yes to everything and kiss his feet, then he can take his big-city arrogance and shove it.”

  Michael chuckled, as if the thought of that particular clash amused him. “Like I said, blunt and outspoken. I don’t think Reese is used to that. I’ve met his social circle back east, including a few of the women he’s dated. Perfectly polished, but in an artificial sort of way, and if they express opinions, they’re all very PC and subtle. It’s a little scary, if you ask me.”

  T.J. couldn’t care less about the women Reese knew. The ones with politically correct opinions. Women he dated and most likely had sex with. It was no concern of hers. She didn’t care what sort of women he talked with, or even kissed, and she certainly wouldn’t want to imagine how he would unzip their beautiful dresses and stroke his hands over their silky-smooth skin.

  She shifted at the sudden heat rushing through her and snapped back to what Mike had said. Covering her brief hesitation, she laughed. “Mike, you’ve been married and divorced four times. You might have a lot of problems with women, but you sure as hell aren’t afraid of them.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “How do you know how many times I’ve been married?”

  “Your name’s Barringer. You live in Barringer’s Pass. I doubt you can go out for dinner without making the local paper. A new wife is journalism gold, and they report every detail.”

  “True, and precisely why I left.”

  Reese’s voice behind her made her jump. She turned to meet a gaze that was clearly assessing her, and she wondered how long he’d been standing there, listening.

  “People in small towns are too wrapped up in other people’s lives,” Reese said as he approached his father’s bedside. “Frankly, I don’t know how you stand it, Dad.”

  “You might figure it out if you ever stuck around long enough.” Michael shook his head, but smiled affectionately at his son. “I never should have let your mother talk me into sending you to those private schools back east. Should have had you graduate from Barringer High like I did.”

  “I’m not sure that would have changed my mind, Dad. I’m just not a small-town person. Besides,” he said, lifting an eyebrow at T.J., “it’s nice to have all those inferior sorts kiss my feet.”

  So he’d heard. She forced a smile he couldn’t possibly mistake as sincere. “I think I’ll leave you two to talk business,” she said, standing. “Now that Reese has had a couple of days to familiarize himself with the place, I’m sure he’s found a lot of ways to save us from our small-town mediocrity.”

  “Thanks for coming by, T.J.” Michael winked. “I knew you two would get along.”

  “If you enjoy bloodshed,” she muttered as she left.

  2

  Tad Prescott looked as good in person as he did in the movies—on the ground, that is. On a horse, his handsome face was as white as his fiberglass safety helmet. T.J. didn’t even try to hide her smile as he wobbled atop Teddy Bear, clutching the big gelding’s mane with two hands.

  “No one told me the lessons would be bareback,” Tad said, keeping a wary eye on the horse. From the sidelines of the indoor arena, his wide-eyed assistant did the same. “Who’d think someone as cute as you could be such a sadist.”

  “Bareback is the best way for you to learn the motion of the horse.”

  “Uh-huh. You know, T.J.,” he said, as if suggesting something she might not have thought of, “the motion wouldn’t matter as much if I had stirrups and a big old horn to hang on to.”

  “Exactly. And you’d depend on a saddle to keep you on the horse instead of learning how to do it the right way. I’m supposed to turn you into a good rider, not teach you how to fake it.”

  “I’m fine with faking. I’m an actor, for Christsakes.”

  “I’m not. So cowboy up, sissy pants.”

  Tad’s brow wrinkled in disbelief. “Did you just call me a sissy pants? After doing all my own stunt work in Kill Zone and Night of . . . Holy shit!” He curled over Teddy Bear’s neck as T.J. tugged lightly on the lead rope, urging the horse into a walk. “You could warn a guy, babe.”

  “Do you always whine this much?”

  Tad clamped his mouth shut and hung on. His assistant clutched a laptop to her chest, as if it would protect her should Teddy Bear suddenly go berserk, while she kept her worried eyes on her boss.

  T.J. circled the arena while Teddy walked beside her at his favorite pace—slow—and Tad gradually relaxed into the motion. “Lookin’ good, Prescott,” she told him. “You feel steady enough to trot?”

  “Actually, I’m thinking the horse could walk through the whole movie.”

  “Shame on you, you’ll never herd those cattle that way.” She clicked at Teddy, breaking into a slow jog beside him. The horse trotted along, with Tad bouncing sharply on his back.

  “Jesus, I hope you arranged for a chiropractor’s appointment after this.”

  “Stop hugging the horse’s neck. Sit up straight and use your legs for balance.”

  He was obviously leery of the horse, so she gave him credit for trying, but he wasn’t doing a good job of it. To spare Teddy’s back, she brought the horse to a halt. “You need to keep firm contact, Prescott. Like this.” She pressed Tad’s thigh against Teddy’s side, demonstrating the amount of pressure he should use, then slid her hand down to his knee and his calf, positioning his leg. “All the way down, touching firmly without squeezing.”

  A slow smile spread over Tad’s handsome face. “I’m tempted to make a dirty joke,” he said.

  “You should probably resist,” she cautioned, but smiled. She didn’t mind bantering with a good-looking man, and bullying Tad had the advantage of establishing a barrier between them. She was going to need one. The man oozed sexual confidence and had been quick to come on to her when they met. He probably got a lot of girls with that charm, but she wasn’t going to be one of them. Sexy, rich men weren’t uncommon in the mountain hot spot of Barringer’s Pass, and in T.J.’s experience, they were exactly like any other man—not to b
e trusted.

  Tad wiggled his eyebrows as she positioned his other leg. “You know, Isabella Martinez is going to get several million dollars for the pleasure of touching me just like that in the movie.” His eyes found his assistant where she huddled against the wall. “Hey, Bethy, how many sex scenes are in the movie?”

  The mousy girl straightened. “Two, plus one with heavy foreplay.”

  “Two and a half. That’s about a million bucks per tumble, T.J.”

  “They have to pay women to touch you? I wouldn’t brag about that.”

  “You’re a tough case, T.J. Feel my leg again, higher up.”

  “You’re wasting your breath.” The smooth male voice reached them from across the arena, sending a tingle across the back of T.J.’s neck. “She doesn’t care about people. Only horses.”

  She turned. Reese, arms folded, leaned against the wall where the arena met the aisle to the stable. He looked relaxed and amused, and so purely male she had to suppress the sudden desire to lick her lips. Which was all wrong. Reese Barringer wasn’t her type. His trousers and white shirt were glaringly out of place, definitely not the look she preferred in a man. Tight jeans and a good pair of boots were much sexier, like the ones Tad Prescott wore so well. Which had no effect on her whatsoever.

  Well, crap.

  “That’s right,” she said, pretending her skin wasn’t prickling with awareness as she turned back to Tad. “I find horses preferable to humans.” And local men preferable to those who were bound to leave.

  “I’m sure horses are very nice,” Tad said, casting a look at Teddy Bear that said he wasn’t at all sure. “But they can’t keep you warm at night. I, on the other hand, can keep you very warm.”

  Tad’s flirting suddenly felt awkward with Reese listening in. “I have a warm blanket, thanks.” She clicked at Teddy and started walking. “Now let go of the mane and hold your arms out to the side.”

  Cautiously, Tad obeyed, but his attention was soon back on her. “The men of Barringer’s Pass must be blind and impotent if a pretty girl like you prefers to spend her time with horses.”