Riding Hard. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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her name?”
“Dottie.” She sounded breathless, but maybe he’d think she had allergies. She backed up a foot and hoped the move wasn’t too obvious.
Drake laughed. “Appropriate. Hi, Dottie.” He held out a hand, palm up. She saw he was holding a peeled baby carrot.
The mare snuffled against his open palm and took the carrot. She crunched it between her strong teeth as Drake ran his hands over her neck, her shoulders and her distended belly.
God help her, Tracy followed the path of that gentle stroking. After all the promises to herself that she’d ignore his considerable sex appeal, she couldn’t help imagining how those hands would feel caressing a woman. No, not just a woman. Her.
She wanted to feel the magic of those hands. And they would be magic. Watching him with the horse was evidence of that. She longed to experience that lazy, sensual touch....
No, she didn’t! What was wrong with her? She was falling under his spell. He probably didn’t even realize he was casting one. Sensuality was instinctive with him, it seemed. He was surrounded by an invisible magnetic field, and just like that, she’d been drawn back into the three-foot zone.
“A more thorough exam would tell us for sure.” Drake continued to stroke the horse. Typical female, Dottie was eating it up. “But from a preliminary evaluation, I’d say she’s less than a month from delivering.” He glanced over his shoulder at Tracy. “You weren’t far off. She’s almost ready to pop.”
“Good grief.” She placed a hand over her racing heart, which now had two reasons to be out of control—lust and terror. “I don’t want that happening on my watch.”
“You probably won’t have to deal with it.” His voice was soothing.
She wondered if veterinarians cultivated a bedside manner. If so, Drake had a hell of a good one. “But I might have to deal with it, right?”
“Mothers about to give birth are always unpredictable. But don’t worry. I can drive out here at a moment’s notice. If she goes into labor, you won’t have to handle it alone.”
“Good.” The rush of gratitude, mixed with the sensual feelings he inspired, became a potent combination. She struggled to remember why she didn’t like this man. Oh, yes. He’d betrayed his best friend. No matter how welcome his presence was at the moment, he’d chosen to trade years of friendship for immediate pleasure.
“She’ll need some prenatal supplements.”
Tracy fought to concentrate on what he was saying instead of imagining him naked in her bed. “Supplements. Right.”
“I’ll order them from a company I have an account with. My professional discount will keep the cost down.”
“Good. Thank you. I honestly didn’t consider all the ramifications of this. Assuming her foal is okay, and I hope to heck it is, I’ve actually accepted two horses.”
“True.” He lightly scratched Dottie’s neck, and her eyelids drifted down in obvious ecstasy. Lucky horse. “But I don’t think you have to worry about Regan and Lily. They’ll support what you’ve done.”
“I hope so.” But she wasn’t terribly worried about Regan and Lily. They were animal lovers and would understand. The foal might even be fun for them.
But she was extremely worried about the inevitable contact with Drake and her increasingly intense reaction to his proximity. She had strong principles. Surely a sweet-talking Southerner wouldn’t cause her to abandon those principles. Surely not.
3
DRAKE WAS PROUD of himself. He’d examined the mare and interacted with Tracy as if he had no interest in her whatsoever. Then he’d left after promising to order the supplements online the minute he got back to his cabin and his computer.
Driving home, he congratulated himself on being a perfect gentleman the whole time. Not once had he given in to the temptation to flirt with her. For him that was a major victory. Regan clearly thought that he would hit on Tracy if given the chance, and he was determined to prove that he could resist that urge.
It hadn’t been easy. Before today, they’d always been separated by a massive wooden bar and surrounded by other people. This had been a far more intimate encounter, and she’d looked quite accessible in her T-shirt and jeans, no makeup, and her hair held by a little elastic thing that could be pulled off in no time.
At the bar he’d experienced a jolt of desire whenever he looked at her lipstick-covered mouth. She liked to wear red, and those lips had beckoned him, even when he’d known her smile meant nothing. Logically he shouldn’t have been even more turned on by the soft pink of her bare mouth, but he had been. Seeing her like that made him think of how she’d look first thing in the morning. He yearned for the privilege of waking up next to Tracy Gibbons.
He yearned for what would precede that moment, too. He was a fair judge of women. Make that an excellent judge of women. Tracy had a lot of passion buried in her.
And here was the kicker. She was as hot for him as he was for her. During his visits to the Spirits and Spurs, she’d fooled him with her remote attitude and obvious disapproval. He thought she still disapproved of him. But underneath, lust burned.
He’d felt that energy the second he’d walked into the stall. He’d heard it in the pattern of her breathing. A week ago he would have attributed the undercurrent of tension to anger. Today, in the quiet confines of Dottie’s stall, he’d recognized it for what it was—suppressed desire. She wanted him, and she was fighting it for all she was worth.
The man he used to be would have capitalized on the situation. He could have made love to her today. She was ripe for it. One touch would have tipped the balance in his favor, and the sex would have been glorious. She would have temporarily reveled in the unexpected encounter, the thrill of tasting forbidden fruit.
But afterward...ah, that was the problem. She would be ashamed of herself for surrendering to urges that violated her principles. Pleasure would quickly become tainted. And then, if the sex had been so good that she still wanted him, despite everything, she’d begin to hate herself and him. He knew all about that downward spiral. He’d put Jeannette through it. He’d put himself through it.
As he pulled up in front of the little cabin he temporarily called home, he vowed that he would not subject Tracy to the same fate as Jeannette. If that meant they’d never explore the possibilities presented by their strong chemistry...oh, well.
He’d been celibate for months, and he was almost getting used to it. He and Jeannette had tried to create a relationship after Regan had left, tried to convince each other that their betrayal of Regan had been motivated by a grand passion they couldn’t deny. The fantasy hadn’t held up for very long, and since breaking off with Jeannette, he hadn’t felt like getting involved with anyone.
Parking his dusty black SUV, he went inside the cabin and turned on his laptop. He ordered the supplements to be shipped to the rescue facility and texted instructions to Tracy’s cell so she’d know how and when to administer them. And that, he thought, should be the end of that.
He could have done more. A rectal and vaginal exam would have been normal procedure, but the mare appeared healthy and Regan would be back in charge in a week. Drake had enjoyed the chance to be a vet again, even briefly, and that surprised him. Lately he’d wondered if he needed to change careers as well as his place of residence, but maybe not.
Considering the delicate situation with Tracy, though, he would perform only basic care unless a problem cropped up. Tracy was a smart lady. If she needed help, she’d call. If she didn’t, then they could avoid contact with each other, contact that might lead to actions they’d both regret.
As he decided whether to go on a hike or read a book, neither of which appealed to him, someone knocked on his front door. Although he was glad for an interruption in what promised to be a boring afternoon,