said one hell of a lot more to Renée than he did to him, or anyone else for that matter. Could it be that Renée’s relationship with Jackman extended beyond trainer and owner?
Suddenly, Renée’s BMW being parked right outside Ward’s front gate took on a different and more ominous meaning. Maybe she hadn’t arrived first today. Maybe her car had been there all night…
Rico swallowed the bile which leap into his throat and tried to look at this appalling idea more rationally and without panic. There’d never been a hint of intimacy shown between them that he’d noticed. No telling glances, or untoward touching.
But their being lovers would certainly explain the uncharacteristic amount of chit-chat which obviously had been going on between them about Ebony Fire. Even the most taciturn men were prone to pillow talk.
The thought of Renée sleeping with the ruggedly handsome horse trainer stabbed deep into Rico’s heart. His fists curled over by his side, his nails digging into his palms. Theoretical lovers were a whole different ball game to an in-your-face, flesh-and-blood one. If what Rico suspected was true, then it was no wonder she never brought a boyfriend to the races. He was already there!
He stared at the way she was cuddling and petting the horse, but his brain didn’t see Ebony Fire as the recipient of her caresses any longer. His mind’s eye was picturing Ward Jackman, naked and aroused, beneath her hands.
A violent shudder ran down Rico’s spine.
The colt suddenly swung his head Rico’s way as he spotted him standing there at the stable door and neighed a welcome to his new visitor. Renée whirled, her eyes widening when she saw who that new visitor was.
For a few moments her usual composure seemed to desert her, her body language showing agitation as she hurried over to the stable door, the horse hot on her heels.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she snapped as she wrenched open the bottom half of the stable door and slipped out of the stall, quickly closing the door behind her before the colt could follow. ‘Don’t you usually go home to the family on the first Sunday of the month?’
The way she said the word, ‘family’, suggested he was a member of the Mafia, rather than the son of an honest, hard-working market gardener.
‘And hello to you too,’ Rico returned, impressed at how cool he sounded in the face of the jealousy and fury raging inside him. ‘The thing is, my dear Renée, I just couldn’t go another day without a dose of your charming company,’ he added in a mocking tone which masked the truth behind his words.
She totally ignored him as she concentrated on shoving the bolt home on the door before finally raising cool green eyes to his. ‘In that case, why weren’t you at the races yesterday?’
Rico smiled. ‘Aah, so you noticed I wasn’t there. I’m flattered.’
‘Don’t be. I had a very pleasant afternoon. I picked several winners as well.’
‘In that case, why are you so sour today? Or is that always your disposition around me?’
Rico could feel his tongue running away with him, along with any hope he had of Renée ever accepting an invitation to go out on a date.
Not that he was going to ask her now. Not until he discovered what was going on between her and Jackman. No man liked to make a total fool of himself, not even when that man was as desperate as he was.
His gaze swept over the object of that desperation, trying not to ogle the way the tight camel-coloured trousers she was wearing hugged every inch of her long, slender legs. Her neat white T-shirt was equally snug-fitting and showed more bust than he realised she had. Either that, or she was wearing a padded bra.
No, no padding, he realised on a second glance. Damn, no bra at all! Her nipples were starkly outlined against the thin white cotton, as long and hard as bullets.
Maybe their erect state was due to her being cold—the day still hadn’t warmed up much. Or maybe their condition was the result of her having spent all night in Jackman’s bed.
His stomach crunched down hard at the image of the other man sucking on Renée’s nipples. He could not bear it. He should leave. Right now, before he did or said something he would really regret.
But he couldn’t.
‘Would you mind if I asked you a personal question?’ he grated out, struggling not to sound the way he was feeling.
‘Would it stop you if I did?’ she flung back at him.
‘No.’
‘I didn’t think so.’
‘Are you and Ward lovers?’ he demanded to know, his eyes glued to hers.
There was no doubt her face registered shock, her finely arched brows arching even further over rapidly blinking eyes, her red-glossed mouth dropping slightly open.
Her recovery was swift, however, with her face resuming its characteristically self-contained, slightly superior expression. Ignoring him again for a few moments, she bent to pick up the black leather jacket and matching bag which he hadn’t noticed sitting on the ground next to the stable wall. The movement swung her smooth curtain of thick, shoulder-length brown hair across her high cheekbones, momentarily hiding her face from him. When she straightened it fell back into perfect place, a testament to the expertise of her hairdresser. Tilting up her chin slightly, she fixed her slanting green eyes on his own eyes, her gaze cool and steady.
‘Why do you ask? Has someone said something about us?’
‘No. But I heard you talking to Blackie here just now and it sounded like you were pretty chummy with Ward. Let’s face it, it’s hard to get two words out of that man at the best of times, but he seems to have told you plenty about the horse’s progress.’
‘So you jumped to the conclusion that he told me in bed.’
‘Well, did he?’
‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ she said quite coldly, and turned back to start stroking Blackie’s head once more.
‘I’m making it my business,’ he bit out.
‘Why?’ she said indifferently, not even bothering to glance his way. ‘What’s it to you who I sleep with?’
‘I don’t like you sleeping with Jackman,’ he ground out.
Now she did stop stroking the horse to look at him, her expression curious. ‘But why?’
What could he say? I don’t like you sleeping with any man. I want you in my bed and my bed only.
She would laugh in his face.
His pride simply could not stand that degree of humiliation.
‘He’s the syndicate’s trainer,’ he snapped instead. ‘I don’t like the idea of you getting inside information which should be shared with all the partners.’
She gave a small, dry laugh. ‘Typical. I should have known the reason would be something like that. For your information, I’m not sleeping with Ward. If you had any brains at all, or any powers of observation, you’d know that he and Lisa are madly in love. She’s even moved in with him. The only reason Ward talks to me more than you is because he knows I genuinely love my horses. I’m not just in racing for the status, or the socialising. Satisfied now?’
When she went to move away, he grabbed her arm. She stiffened and shot him a look which would have shriveled a lesser man. Rico’s fingers tightened.
‘Why do you dislike me so much?’ he demanded to know. ‘What have I ever done to you?’
She stared down at the hand circled on her arm till he let her go, at which point she actually shuddered.
Rico knew then that she would never go out with him, let alone go to bed with him. Not willingly. He repelled her for some reason.
It