Wild for the Girl Page 2

  Not blind, just fewer in number than the tourists and vacationing celebrities who were always looking for a good time but were never interested in staying. She’d had her fill of those, and the heartbreak that went with them.

  “You should go out with me, T.J.,” Tad persisted. “I promise I’ll change your mind.”

  His leering wink kept it light. It was Reese’s quiet, unwavering look as he waited for her answer that had shivers skittering down her back. She tried her best to ignore him. “I don’t think so. Now lean back and touch his rump.”

  Tad turned carefully, placing his hand on Teddy’s rump with a stroking caress. “Should I touch yours next?”

  She lifted her eyes to give Tad a smart comeback, glancing toward Reese as she did. His silent stare and raised eyebrow held her gaze, and it was Reese’s hand she pictured cupping her rump while those steady dark eyes watched hers for a reaction. Damn it! Heat rushed to her cheeks and she turned away quickly, hoping she sounded calm as she smiled at Tad. “Not if you want to keep all your fingers.”

  “Sissy pants, huh? We’ll work up to it,” Tad told her, undaunted. He flashed a grin at Reese, as if they shared a boys-only joke about Tad’s efforts to get his hands on her.

  It was all harmless fun, probably no more than Tad’s usual way of passing time. But Reese’s presence turned the whole thing serious, somehow, sending uncomfortable feelings squiggling through her stomach. She wished he’d go away and take those squiggles with him.

  * * *

  Reese clenched his teeth while keeping his expression blank. He was starting to regret talking T.J. into the riding lessons. Prescott seemed to be a habitual flirt with an insatiable libido, and T.J. shouldn’t have to deal with that crap. Although for someone who didn’t like working with people, he had to admit she was doing a good job of fending Tad off without annoying him.

  Reese was the only one getting annoyed. He wasn’t sure why.

  It was none of his business who the stable manager went out with, even if it was one of the guests. She didn’t seem interested in Tad’s come-ons. But she was amused, and that grated on his nerves. He didn’t think she was faking it—she might actually like the guy.

  He watched as T.J. instructed Tad in how to steer the horse by using just the pressure of his legs, then made him execute a figure eight on his own, still without reins or saddle, first at a walk, then at a trot. Reese half-hoped he’d fall off.

  He didn’t. It wasn’t pretty, but Tad stayed on, then triumphantly declared himself ready to join the circus. T.J. laughed with what appeared to be genuine pleasure. Reese left, grumbling.

  He was halfway along the wooded path to the main lodge when a female voice yelled, “Wait!” Reese turned. The young woman who’d been watching from the corner of the arena trotted up to him, panting from the exertion. He stopped, allowing her to catch her breath.

  “Beth Mayfield,” she gasped, offering her hand. “Tad Prescott’s assis . . .” She sucked in a deep breath. “Assistant.”

  He shook her hand. “Reese Barringer.”

  “I know. Sorry,” she wheezed. “Asthma.” Pulling an inhaler from her purse, she took a couple of quick hits.

  “The altitude probably makes it worse,” he told her. “Take your time.”

  She nodded, but began talking right away in short, raspy sentences. “That woman. The instructor. Does she know what she’s doing?”

  “T.J.? Yes, she’s the best.” Or so he’d been told. After watching her, he was inclined to believe it.

  “She doesn’t seem . . . concerned. About safety. Tad’s safety.”

  He smiled. “I know she sounds callous, but believe me, she’s taking a cautious approach, giving him a good grounding in horsemanship.” Far better than he’d had as a boy when he spent summer vacations riding the mountain trails with his brothers. He could have used an instructor like T.J. back then. Hell, he thought, warming to the idea. He could use one now, and he could think of far more interesting things to do with her than ride a horse in circles in an arena.

  He was as bad as Tad, not to mention completely off topic. “Tad’s riding a lazy old horse and wearing a helmet,” he told Beth. “He’s perfectly safe.”

  Beth frowned, obviously not satisfied. “Tad is worth millions.” Her breathing was becoming slightly less strangled. “To the studio. A serious injury would mean . . .” Another deep breath. “An insurance settlement. A big one. Plus delays for the movie, maybe even recasting. Very expensive.”

  Reese nodded. “I don’t think you have to worry about any of that. Tad’s in good hands.” The sudden image of a smug Tad enjoying T.J.’s hands on his body made him frown.

  Beth must have misread his concern. “If you’re uncertain, perhaps I should locate a different instructor.”

  “That’s not necessary, really. And there is no one better. I know the studio was happy with T.J.’s credentials, so I wouldn’t worry about it. And I think your boss is very happy with his instructor.” A little too happy. He frowned again.

  Beth bit her lip, studying him. “The studio can bring someone in from L.A. Someone more experienced.”

  It felt like a criticism of both T.J. and the Silver Ridge Resort. “I’m sorry, no one else is allowed to work with our horses. Only T.J.” She’d probably crack up to hear him say it, but Beth looked disappointed. And irritated, which was not the impression his dad wanted to make with the movie people. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll check in on the lessons now and then, make sure everything’s going well. Okay?” Her pursed-lip frown was probably the best response he’d get. “Tad will be galloping around the arena before you know it,” he told her in a final attempt at reassurance.

  Alarm struck her gray eyes, starting a flurry of nervous blinking. “I’d better get back there. He might need me.”

  “Good idea.” God knew what Tad might be proposing while he was alone with T.J.; all that charm and bullshit might eventually have an effect. Reese would feel much better knowing Tad’s obsessively protective assistant was hovering nearby. Beth didn’t seem to trust T.J. any more than Reese trusted Tad.

  * * *

  Despite his promise to monitor the lessons, he couldn’t find time for it the next morning. It didn’t matter—T.J. knocked on his open office door shortly after ten, then strode in without waiting for an invitation.

  “I need the keys to the dually,” she announced.

  He took a moment to admire the way her jeans hugged her hips, then slid his gaze happily up her body to her pixie face. He wasn’t used to seeing women dress that way for work, but he wasn’t complaining. “We have a dually?” he asked, trying to remember if he’d seen a pickup truck with a four-wheel rear axle in the equipment garage.

  “Yes, for pulling the six-horse slant load, and you have the keys. I need them.”

  He leaned back in his chair, in no hurry to send her off. Swiveling back and forth, he enjoyed the glimpse of her bare stomach, between her top and the jeans. He hadn’t expected the tattoo that peeked over the top of her hip, and he tried to imagine the rest of the curved line where it disappeared below her jeans. “Why do you need the dually?”

  “Because I need to pick up the four horses I bought at last night’s auction in Blackstone.”

  Confusion dragged his attention from her nicely toned stomach. “You bought four horses last night?”

  “Yes. You know, for the resort?” She tilted her head, waiting expectantly for his brain to catch up. “Mike authorized me to buy whatever you need, and you needed a few more before you open. A couple will need some training, but don’t worry, I’ll have them ready for you in time.”

  “Ready for me? You sound like you’re not part of the resort.”

  “I’m not. I agreed to set up the stable for Mike and get him the best horses for what he needs, but then I’m done. I’m a horse trainer, not a tour guide. You guys will have to get someone else to take your tourists on trail rides.”

  A twinge of disappointment tugged at his
chest. She’d be leaving. But then, so would he. “Right, you don’t work with people.”

  “That’s right.” She held her hand out. “Keys?”

  “Sure.” He smiled politely. “Just tell me where we keep them, and they’re yours.”

  “Top desk drawer, right in front of you.”

  He slid the drawer open to the collection of pens, paper clips, printer cartridges, and scattered coins. A key lay in the far-right corner, attached to a prominent blue Ford emblem on a key chain. He stared blankly at the clutter until she sighed and stepped forward, reaching across him to snatch the keys. He didn’t move back, forcing her to brush her arm against his chest while her ponytail swung under his nose. It was a silly maneuver to bring her closer, an impulse he shouldn’t have given in to, and he inhaled, expecting the scent of dust and sweat to jolt him back to reality. Instead he got a warm scent of soap and something vaguely flowery that got mixed up in his head with images of steamy showers and fresh sheets, along with a strong urge to touch her. He took a firm grip on the arms of the chair until she moved away.

  “Thanks. I’ll bring them back later.”

  Reese shook the scented fog from his mind, his brows drawing together in concern. “Wait. You shouldn’t be trailering four horses by yourself. Take someone with you.”

  She paused at the door. “Actually, I have someone. Tad insisted on coming along, since he’s too sore to do much riding today.”

  Tad Prescott was the last person he’d have chosen. “He won’t be any help.”

  “I don’t need help.” She made it sound like only a simpleton would need help managing four horses on her own. “But I suppose he’ll be good company.”

  If she liked having a handsome movie star hit on her for a couple of hours. He frowned at the thought that she might.

  “So Tad likes horses now, huh?” It felt juvenile to remind her that Tad was afraid of the animals she adored, but not juvenile enough to stop him from saying it.

  She laughed, wrinkling her nose and stirring a crazy desire inside him to kiss it. Christ, he must miss Caroline more than he thought, which was a revolting thought. “I don’t think so,” T.J. told him. “But he’s determined to get over his fear, and you have to admire that kind of dedication, don’t you?”

  He frowned as she left. No, he didn’t have to admire Tad’s dedication, or anything else about him. Not at all.

  3

  Dropping in on Tad’s lesson didn’t improve Reese’s opinion of him. The guy spent as much time flirting as riding, and the most irritating part was that T.J. seemed to find it amusing.

  “Now you’ve got it,” she called out to him as he trotted around the indoor arena. “Just like when you did it bareback,” she told him.

  “I’ve always excelled at bareback activities,” he said from across the arena, wiggling his eyebrows.

  Big deal, Reese thought. Tad had finally figured out how to keep his ass glued to the saddle. A trot might be the most jolting gait, but Tad’s horse was doing a perfect Western jog, head low and strides lazy. It wasn’t nearly as difficult to sit as a fast, jarring trot, and Tad’s movie character wouldn’t be doing a fancy jog through town, not unless he wanted the other cowboys to fall down laughing.

  Tad rounded the arena, then halted the horse in front of her. Reese stood close enough to see the wink he gave her. “Sweetheart, I would have had it sooner if you’d just told me to rock my pelvis like I was having sex.”

  She seemed unfazed. “You’re right, I should have put it in terms you’d understand.”

  “It might even help me if we rehearsed my riding in the bedroom before getting on a horse. Being a conscientious teacher, I know you want to provide a thorough learning experience for your student.”

  She smiled sweetly. “You’re so full of shit, Prescott.”

  Damn right. It was exactly what Reese wanted to say, except he would have put a lot more growl in his voice. And he wouldn’t be smiling.

  Beside him, Beth piped up, “You looked great, Tad. You’re every bit as good as Harrison Ford or Kevin Costner.”

  Tad grinned. “Thanks, Bethy.”

  Reese refrained from rolling his eyes. He wouldn’t stick around and listen to this shit, except he didn’t want to leave T.J. to handle it on her own. She hadn’t seemed upset by Tad’s juvenile humor up until now, but the little Hollywood prick was walking a fine line. If he crossed it, Reese wanted to be there to explain it to him. Forcefully.

  “I think a bigger horse would help, too,” Tad said.

  “What’s wrong with Paco?” T.J. asked, looking over the horse she’d chosen for today’s lesson.

  “He’s kind of small for a cowboy.”

  “You’re a beginner cowboy, and he’s a good beginner horse. Size doesn’t matter.”

  Tad put a hand to his heart to cushion the blow. “Oh, baby, if you believe that, you’ve been missing out. I’d be glad to help with that.”

  “Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to come between you and Paco.”

  Tad chuckled as Reese ground his teeth. He was sorry he’d forced T.J. into working with Tad. Even Beth’s smile looked a bit strained, as if she’d heard one too many of his lame come-ons.

  T.J. waved a hand at Tad. “Keep going. I didn’t say you could stop.”

  “No problem, I never stop until the lady is satisfied.” He threw her another wink as he nudged Paco back into a smooth jog.

  Reese waited until he could unclench his jaw, then walked over to T.J. as she stood watching her student. “I’m sorry,” he said, keeping his voice low so Beth wouldn’t hear. “I didn’t know he’d be this bad. I’ll bring in someone else to work with him.”

  She waved it off. “It’s no big deal. At least it’s not boring. And I hate to confirm what he said, but he does have a knack for it. I think he’ll learn all he needs to know in a few weeks.”

  She hadn’t spoken as quietly as he had, and Beth overheard. She turned toward them, beaming like a proud parent. “Isn’t he great? Tad can do anything he puts his mind to.”

  T.J. glanced around Reese, giving Beth an indulgent smile. “He’s not bad.”

  Beth took it as a contradiction, her mouth drawing into a disapproving pucker. “He’s done everything perfectly, you said so yourself. What more can you expect?”

  “On Paco? Nothing. But Paco’s a push-button horse. My four-year-old niece could do as well. The real test is doing it on a horse that doesn’t know exactly what you expect, or doesn’t care. A capable rider has to be able to deal with that. Tad’s not there yet.”

  Reese raised his eyebrows and hid a smile. He knew it was true, but he’d expected to hear something neutral and maybe a bit passive aggressive, like how nice it was that Beth believed in her boss no matter how he rode. The sort of thing Caroline would have said. But T.J. wasn’t like Caroline in any way. He found it surprisingly refreshing.

  Beth didn’t. She stiffened and looked away. Apparently blunt honesty was not appreciated in the world of stroked egos and padded truths. If T.J. noticed, it didn’t bother her any more than Tad’s continual offers of sex did.

  He frowned at Beth’s rigid back. The girl’s obsessive worship of Tad Prescott might not stand out in Hollywood, but he found it uncomfortable, and wondered how Tad could stand it. Maybe the actor didn’t realize how deep her devotion ran. Or maybe he expected it.

  One more reason he didn’t care for Tad Prescott.

  * * *

  T.J. hesitated halfway up Mike’s driveway when she saw the sporty Porsche Cayman S parked outside the garage. Reese’s car. She’d heard he’d driven out here in some flashy, impractical city car that wouldn’t make it through the first big snowstorm in the mountains, proof that he didn’t plan to stay long. She just hadn’t realized he’d be staying at his dad’s house.

  They’d barely said more than hello the past three days when he dropped in on Tad’s lesson. Not that she was avoiding Reese, but Tad kept up a running dialogue of jokes and come-ons, making it difficult to t
alk to anyone else. That was probably good, since she found Reese inexplicably attractive, and love ’em and leave ’em city boys weren’t her type.

  Taking a deep breath, she parked near the front door. Mike had asked to see the brochures for the new horse trailer, and since they’d released him from the hospital, she had no choice but to go to his house.

  A housekeeper let her in and showed her to a study where Mike sat in a leather chair, both legs propped on an ottoman, the cast making the right one nearly twice as big as the left. At the desk across the room, Reese looked up in surprise.

  Her gaze met his over a large computer monitor, then skittered back to Mike while she pretended her heart hadn’t given the same funny leap in her chest that happened every time she saw Reese. She hated herself for it. She knew damn well what it was, a silly infatuation based on nothing more than physical attraction. The kind of reaction she hadn’t had to a guy since high school. Avoiding Reese was the only solution until the response wore off. Unfortunately, it was taking a long time.

  “Hi, Mike, how’s the leg today?” she asked.

  “Itchy,” he said, scowling. “And the nurse doesn’t even sympathize.”

  “Poor baby.” She matched the nurse’s attitude without sincerity. “Here, these will take your mind off it.”

  “Not unless they have naked women in them,” Mike grumbled.

  She heard Reese approach from behind her, and felt the hairs on the back of her neck come to attention. “You brought my father pornography?”

  “Hardly.” She turned to give him a disgusted look, which died before it had a chance to form. She stared. “What happened to your suit?”

  He gave her a puzzled smile. “Did you think I wore it twenty-four hours a day?”

  “No, I just . . .” She swallowed hard. Just didn’t expect to see him in boots, worn jeans, and a plain T-shirt that hugged the contours of his chest. His well-defined chest that didn’t look at all like what she’d expected from a man who wore suits to work every day. Reese Barringer might do the GQ look to perfection, but he made tight jeans and an old T-shirt look downright sinful. She licked her lips and turned back to Mike, trying to focus on whatever the hell they’d intended to talk about. Oh yeah, horse trailers.