Seduction's Stakes Read online

  "Hey, Ben, sorry I'm late,” he called down to the wiry man.

  "No problem. I just got Ghost out. Andre had him out in the exercise field for a bit, and I thought I'd give him a shot on the track."

  Riley took out a stopwatch and leaned over the top wooden rail. “I've got you covered. You got the bell?"

  "Yes, sir.” Ben lowered a pair of clear safety goggles over his eyes and took the colt's reins tighter. He ushered the excited horse into the practice gates where another groom that Riley didn't recognize—probably one of Ben's rotational helpers—waited to shut the padded rear doors behind horse and rider.

  With the horse in the chute, Riley waited, never taking his eyes off the pair, his thumb ready to hit the stopwatch at the sounding of the practice bell. Ghost kicked the side of the chute, and for a moment, Riley held his breath. Would he blow up? If he did, he could hit his head, throw Ben, or catch his hip somewhere. He'd be out of training for weeks. But Ben leaned forward in the saddle, whispered something between Ghost's ears, and the horse stopped dancing back and forth. Lord only knew what Ben said to those horses. All jocks had a trick. Occasionally they failed and disaster happened in the gates. But all jocks had some secret approach to settling a horse.

  Ben pulled the string that sounded the bell and the magnetic gate latch released, opening the front of the chute with a dull clang. Riley's thumb pressed the button. Ghost shot forward, flinging a clod of dirt into the air behind him, nailing the new groom square in the face.

  Around the first bend, Riley checked the time. Twenty-eight seconds at the first quarter. Not terribly bad, but the practice track was a mile long. At that rate, he would be at a minute and fifty-six seconds coming to the mile marker. A two-minute mile was nothing to be excited about given Mister Spoilsport's mile and a quarter time. Further, as racing went, horses saw their fastest times coming out of the gate. Ghost would clock slower the farther he went. Perhaps the colt just wasn't ready yet.

  But as Ghost rounded into the half-mile mark, and Riley glanced at the stopwatch again, he did a double take. Fifty-four seconds. Ghost had increased his speed by two seconds. Not trusting what he saw, he looked to the field, squinting across the afternoon sun to the backside of the stretch and at the three-quarter mark didn't bother to look. At the milepost, Riley thumbed the stopwatch again and waved to Ben as he pulled Ghost off the track to an outside lane that avoided the stationary starting gates.

  Then, he glanced down at his timepiece. His mouth fell open. One hundred and one seconds. One minute and forty-one seconds. The damn horse got faster all the way around the track. Incredible!

  "Ben, you gotta see this,” he hollered.

  Ben trotted Ghost up to the fence, pulling at his goggles as he approached. He fixed Riley with a wide grin. “He was flying that last quarter."

  "No shit. You ever seen this?” He passed the stopwatch to Ben.

  Ben's eyes widened slightly, but he dismissed the time with a shrug. “Told you he's fast. You really oughtn't sell him. He's faster than Mister Spoilsport. If he ain't now, mark my words, he will be."

  "Have you ever been on a horse that got faster the farther they went?"

  "Once. A long time ago."

  "Who?"

  "That stud over at McCleery's place. I rode him once before that jock took a nose-dive off his shoulder and broke his neck. They wanted me to ride him after that, but I wasn't having anything to do with no killer horse."

  "What would you say if I told you Ghost's quarter mile was twenty-eight seconds, and his half was twenty-six?"

  Ben studied Riley a moment, and Riley could see him ticking off the math in his head. When he reached the final time, the jockey's eyes widened at the same time he gaped down at the horse between his hands. “You're shitting me, right?"

  "Nope."

  "Holy...” Ben trailed away, leaving the last of his curse more of a disbelieving whisper than an oath.

  They both knew what it meant. Secretariat ran the same way at his legendary Derby Run in 1973. While other horses had the same pattern of increasing speed now and then, none of them ran as fast. Ghost held the propensity to break records. Short and long term. On and off track. His breeding fees would top some of the highest in the nation if the colt held on to his potential.

  For Riley, that made his wager even more important. If he was going to lose this horse, he damn well intended to have something in return that made it worthwhile. Maddie McCleery must lose the Preakness. Three hundred thousand dollars for a future legend? Lord, thinking with his dick ended now.

  "I'm gonna go cool him out.” Ben reined backwards and away from the fence line.

  Riley nodded.

  He couldn't sell this horse. Yet, he couldn't go back on his word. That wasn't his style. He'd just have to find a way to convince Maddie she didn't want this horse. Or ... He shivered at the unbidden idea. He had to find a way to convince Maddie into a permanent partnership.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  CHAPTER SIX

  Three days before the Preakness, Maddie pulled in to the Pimlico Race Course in Baltimore, Maryland, behind a moving caravan of vehicles. Ahead, a large horse van transported Infidelity, Mister Spoilsport, Brimstone and another Preakness contender, Sass For Cass. The four horses left Kentucky this morning on a chartered plane, their owners taking seats inside the small cabin.

  Not wanting Riley to draw her into a conversation when she noticed him step on board, she shut her eyes pretending sleep. But pretending didn't last long. She'd legitimately drifted to dreams before the flight even taxied down the runway. Archie had to shake her awake after they landed. When she woke, Riley had already departed—thank, God.

  She didn't intend to speak to him until it was time to collect on her bet.

  Maneuvering behind the long rows of stabling barns, she eased her rental truck to a stop and put it in park. She turned to Archie. “I'll help with the tack after I check-in, you get the horse."

  "Yep, will do."

  Archie climbed out of the truck and joined the small group of men gathered around the equine transport before she had even gathered her papers. This marked their third year here, and at one time, the way the men excluded her had bothered her. Now, she hardly noticed. There were just too many old-fashioned horsemen who believed women didn't possess a bit of sense when it came to horses, that she'd accepted she would never be welcome in certain circles.

  As she slid down to the pavement and pushed the driver's door shut, a shrill catcall rang out. Although she laughed, she didn't look. Dirk Bettans was the only one who'd dare. At a little over fifty now, he'd spent the better part of her twenty-nine years teasing her, and it all started when he pulled her pigtails the first day she'd accompanied her father to the track. But the harmless whistle didn't just say hello as it normally would have. It caught Riley's attention.

  Not more than forty feet ahead of her, he turned around to investigate. His gaze landed right on her.

  Damn.

  She'd hoped to slip in and out of the office without bumping into him. By all rights, he should be over with the other men, settling in his horse. He was Mister Spoilsport's trainer after all. A glance over her shoulder told her he'd given the duty to his groom, Scott.

  What was wrong with her luck lately? Any other time she'd have had Infidelity completely settled before she had to face Riley. Which made it easy to ignore him. Something she wasn't going to manage today, judging from the way he waited for her to catch up, that damnably sexy smile tugging at his mouth.

  "Afternoon, Maddie.” His low baritone sent a shiver of delight racing through her veins. He fell into step beside her. “How's the horse?"

  Not missing a step, she quipped, “Ready to run circles around yours.” Her gaze slanted sideways, catching his, and she smirked.

  "Oh, I don't know about that. Spoil's in tip-top form. I brought a filly up for The Black-Eyed Susan on Friday—you have anyone running in it?"

  As sure as he knew her name, he knew sh
e didn't have a filly entered. Was he trying to make small talk with her? He'd never felt the need to do so before. “No, I don't have any fillies racing at that level this year. Who's your gal? What odds are you looking at?"

  "Jumpin Jess. She's just a wisp of a little thing. I didn't enter her at Churchill, and she's only raced twice before. Odds aren't very good. Twenty-to-one, right now. I thought I'd see how she ran here and think about doing something with her at Belmont."

  She blinked as she leveled him with a disbelieving look. “You entered her here with only two races under her belt? How'd she do in them?"

  With a chuckle, he pushed open the heavy glass office doors and shook his head. “Last and second to last."

  Just like a true gambler with too much money on his hands. Riley didn't have the sense to keep the filly at home and test her out on a more even field. Another reminder of why she didn't intend to let his charm go to her head.

  "Well. That's a decent risk. Decent payoff I suppose. I wouldn't throw my money away that way, but good luck with her, Riley."

  He caught her elbow and spun her around so quickly she had to brace one hand against his chest to keep from tripping over her feet. She turned a puzzled expression up to him, and the light spice aroma of his cologne wafted to her nose. Suddenly, she was all too aware of him.

  His ale-colored eyes glinted brightly, and he lowered his voice to an intimate level. With slow deliberateness he raked his eyes down the length of her body, then back up to fasten on hers. “You should take more risks, Maddie."

  Tamping down a rush of nervousness, she forced a smile to her face. She could do this, she could stay light-hearted. “I suppose you mean risks that involve you?"

  Inches away from hers now, his mouth twitched with humor. “I come with better odds."

  True. If one counted the odds of his being unfaithful, the odds he didn't know how to be serious, and the odds he'd gamble at about anything. He was a sure win.

  Before she could find a retort, he dipped his head and swept her into a kiss. Her senses fled, her witty remarks vanished under the shock of his mouth. Oh, God, she'd forgotten how soft his lips were.

  He teased and taunted, tracing the tip of his tongue across her lower lip, darting inside to play against hers. She parted her lips, meeting his sensual exploration with her own. He tasted faintly like coffee, and the velvety feel of his moist caress went straight to her head. Her knees felt weak, her body fairly hummed with awareness of him. Just like that, her resistance to his charm crumbled. As he slanted his mouth across hers to deepen the kiss, she sank into his embrace, craving the feel of his body against hers.

  All too soon it was over, and he stepped away with a deep breath. Heat crept into her cheeks, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, certain she should be somehow offended, yet more embarrassed she hadn't seen it coming. Damn, how did he do that?

  "Let's get these horses checked in,” he suggested.

  She didn't miss the hitch in his voice or the husky quality it assumed.

  With a decisive nod, she wheeled about and stalked toward the racing secretary's office, all too aware he followed on her heels. That had not happened. She refused to acknowledge it. When it came to Riley, it was better to just ignore him. Completely.

  Determined not to notice the way her hands shook as she pulled out Infidelity's papers, she kept her eyes glued on the secretary. She tapped her toe, anxious to escape Riley's close proximity. After what seemed like an endless passage of time, the secretary passed her documents back across the smooth Formica countertop, and she stuffed them into her deep purse.

  Plastering a false smile of confidence on her face, she turned around. “Good luck, Riley. I'm sure I'll see you in the sheds."

  His mouth curved into a lazy smirk, and he tossed her a wink. “Oh you will, Maddie. You will."

  She willed her feet not to run and strode into the springtime air where she took a deep, calming breath. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Damn it all, when had her body decided it couldn't ignore Riley Jennings any longer?

  Swallowing with effort, she almost trotted back to the safety of the shed row and Archie's company. At least there, Riley couldn't corner her again. She'd glue herself to Archie's side, hide away in her hotel room tonight, and then, when Sybil arrived tomorrow, she'd have reason to avoid Riley all together.

  Archie was still unwrapping Infidelity's shipping bandages and rubbing down his legs when she poked her head into the horse's stall. “How's it going in there?"

  He was so focused on his work he barely glanced at her. “Just fine. Looks like he rode okay. Don't feel any heat or see any scrapes."

  "Good. Are you going to take him out and let him walk a bit?"

  "Naw,” he answered as he pushed himself upright. One knee cracked with the effort. “We'll let him settle in tonight. Tomorrow, we'll take him out and breeze him a little. See what he thinks of the track. I don't want to shake him up too much or wear him out though. Let's store up that energy and spend it on Saturday."

  She nodded. Archie knew her horse better than anyone, and she didn't think to argue his decisions. The fact that Riley was the only man who consistently beat her, proved Archie's talent enough. Besides, it was professional courtesy to defer to him in public. At home she didn't hesitate to ask questions or offer her opinion. In front of his peers, however, she kept her tongue still.

  As she glanced out toward the truck, preparing to gather their tack, she caught Riley's powerful frame ambling closer to the barns. No way was she going to risk running into him again. His stall was on the far side of hers. If she stayed here she was safe. If she went after their belongings, she'd have to confront him. “Ah, Archie?"

  "Hm?” he asked as he ran a soft brush down Infidelity's legs.

  She nibbled on her lip. “I hate to ask you this, but I don't suppose I could convince you to let me groom out Infidelity while you get our stuff, could I?"

  He turned halfway toward her and lifted a greying eyebrow. “You had the nap, didn't you?"

  "Yes,” she admitted with a blush. “But, if I have to speak to Riley Jennings again today I think I might make a scene.” What sort of scene, she didn't think Archie would appreciate hearing.

  "Still sore over the Derby?"

  "Yeah, and you know how he likes to taunt me."

  The older man let out a laugh that sounded more like a cackle. “I may be old, Maddie, but these eyes ain't blind. That boy's teasing don't have nothing to do with racing. And if you were smart, you'd pay him a bit of attention."

  Her eyes widened. Archie too? First her best friend, now her trainer. Who else had Riley fooled with his charm? “I am smart, and as my daddy said, a smart gal doesn't tangle with men who love racing."

  Archie cackled some more, but left her in the stall, shaking his head in amusement as he strode toward the truck. The sparkle in his bright blue eyes set off alarm bells in her head. The old man was up to something. She remembered the same look when he'd tried to hide the surprise birthday party Sybil planned for her, earlier this year. He'd also worn it the afternoon he told her he brought home a scrawny yearling and later unloaded Infidelity.

  Biting back a wave of unease, she turned her attentions on her horse, brushing out his blood—bay coat and murmuring words of affection. What she'd give for a little of Sybil's incessant chatter to distract her.

  * * * *

  Riley watched Archie Blake dig through one of the toolboxes in the bed of Maddie's rental pickup, debating whether he dared approach the older trainer with Maddie so close at hand. Sneaking a glance down the aisle, he checked on her location, and decided she must still be in her horse's stall. He better not risk it. From her vantage point she had a straight-shot sight of her truck. Archie already risked Maddie's wrath by telling him where Maddie booked her hotel room. He didn't need to make things more complicated for the old man.

  He turned back around and ducked inside Mister Spoilsport's stall. Rubbed down and blanketed with a light stable sheet, the ho
rse was ready for his afternoon jog around the grounds. With an affectionate stroke down the black's muscular neck, he slipped a leather halter over his nose and snapped a chain lead to the brass ring beneath his chin.

  "C'mon boy, let's go have a look see."

  Leading the three-year-old colt from his stall, Riley turned down the stable lane and headed toward the track. As they disappeared from the barn, Jumpin Jess let out a loud whinny. Mister Spoilsport answered her call with a throaty nicker.

  Riley gave his lead a light jerk, and the colt settled, but he couldn't help but empathize. There was nothing worse than knowing a beautiful little filly wanted you and not being able to do a damn thing about it.

  "One day, boy. You'll have your chance. Let her win a few for me first."

  As if he understood, Mister Spoilsport answered with a quiet whicker.

  While his horse investigated their surroundings, Riley let his thoughts wander to Maddie. He didn't know what had possessed him to kiss her. He just knew that when she walked past him, he couldn't ignore the irresistible urge. Only, when he gave in to it, and her body melded into his, he didn't want to stop with kissing. His mind transported him right back to the Weatherson's garden, and he'd had to step away from Maddie before she noticed how she aroused him.

  He'd like nothing more than to rent a yacht, take her out on Chesapeake Bay, and spend all night making love to her under the stars. Sample every inch of her by taste. Revel in the heady aroma of her perfume. Exhaust himself in the beauty of her slender body. Just thinking about it made his gut tighten with anticipation.

  Ghost aside, he had to win this race.

  The soulful sound of a blues tune drifted on the breeze, and Riley cocked his head, straining to hear more. Baltimore came to life in the week leading up to the Preakness. Fairs, free concerts, hot air balloons and even a parade complete with a Preakness Queen, all spiraled the quaint older communities around Pimlico into never-ending activity.

  He'd been a child the last time he stopped to enjoy Preak Week. The music struck him with the sudden desire to eat funnel cake and ride on the Ferris wheel that overlooked Inner Harbor. With Maddie.