Winning Ways Read online

  The passionate swell of the music grew, and Kurt took two steps, holding out his right hand. The stallion ceased his performance and trotted straight over to Kurt. The lead rope snapped into place as the buzzer sounded and the audience went crazy. Liz exhaled slowly, unaware she'd been holding her breath.

  Colleen nudged her arm. "Are ya gonna tell me about it?"

  Liz blushed, wondering how many of her thoughts had been obvious.

  "I had a little run-in with him this morning."

  Colleen leaned forward eagerly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Good or bad?"

  "Definitely not good. Let's just say Mr. Cowboy is short on couth."

  Colleen chuckled. "Yeah, I've heard he can be moody, but I wouldn't throw him away!"

  Liz smiled wryly. "He's all yours."

  3

  Laughter and music drifted through the doors of the recreation hall. Inside, horse owners, trainers, and grooms partied, celebrating the end of a rigorous week. Liz took a deep breath and tried to relax. I hate this! She hesitated, trying to calm her thoughts. A glance down at her teal silk pantsuit sent doubt crawling through her head. I'm probably over-dressed. Maybe I should have worn jeans. She started thinking up reasons to avoid the festivities. She was tired...tomorrow would be a long, busy day...she needed her rest.

  She sighed. Colleen was right. It was important to get out and meet other people in the industry, but Liz's quiet nature turned social gatherings into bad dreams. The last thing she wanted to do was pretend to have a good time. Before Liz could escape, Colleen appeared, her keen expression confirming there'd be no weaseling out of the evening.

  The two women bumped their way through the crowd, inch by inch. The music was too loud, and people shouted over the ever-increasing din. Peals of unfettered laughter ricocheted around the room, and Liz's head began to swim. Why did I let her talk me into this?

  They battled their way to the front of a small bar in the corner, and Liz ordered white wine. Glass in hand, she turned to watch the people. A few familiar faces, but mostly strangers. Mindlessly, she slipped her hand into her pocket, and fingered the hard edge of the business cards.

  Many of the women in the crowd were well-dressed, wealthy owners whose designer clothes and stunning, one-of-a-kind jewelry generated a glamorous testament to the financial health of the Arabian horse industry. Liz relaxed a little, relieved that she hadn't worn jeans, but a tiny shiver of apprehension rolled across her shoulders anyway.

  Colleen interrupted the fashion critique.

  "That bartender is the cutest thing I've ever seen. I'll have to see if I can rattle his cage for later."

  She caught Liz's expression, and a wicked smile sneaked across her face. "What? You think I'm a nun?"

  Liz reddened, uncomfortable with Colleen's frank sexuality. As a girl, Liz's only female role model had been an aged maiden aunt in Connecticut, with whom she'd spent little time. Aunt Grace would never have revealed her interest in a man. By choice, Liz had limited experience with men, having always preferred to stay immersed safely in her studies, her veterinary practice and, more recently, her horses.

  An urgent whisper tickled her ear. "Look who just walked in." Liz had already spotted Kurt. Her brain absorbed every detail of the impressive man moving through the merrymakers.

  She shook her head. "Too bad his personality doesn't match his looks."

  Colleen giggled. "Why don'tcha see if you can get him for a client?" Her tone became suggestive. "Or something?"

  Liz shook her head vigorously and frowned. "Not a chance!"

  Colleen gave her a pitying smile, then returned to the bar, intent on her mission to snare the bartender.

  Liz looked back at the crowd, her eyes searching for Kurt. From her invisible spot amongst the mass of horse folk, she focused on the man who sent her pulse skipping through her veins. His outward appearance seemed warm and approachable, and he appeared to be popular with everyone, but something else enhanced his allure. Liz remembered the almost intimate interchange that morning, surrounded by wooden walls and iron bars, the air humming with repressed hostility and sensual tension.

  She exhaled slowly, remembering how seamlessly his angry face had smoothed into undisguised interest, and her surprising reaction to the change. Just thinking about it brought the same feelings flooding back into her chest.

  Irritated that the memory held her so firmly, she redirected her thoughts. I might as well get some work done. She reached for the lump of cards in her pocket. As she worked through the crowd, introducing herself to several horse owners, she advanced steadily toward the door and her escape. She hated making small talk, but she gave it her best shot, subconsciously marking time until she'd be able to slip away.

  A statuesque woman stood alone in the corner, and Liz saw her chance.

  "Hi, I'm Liz Barnett, Legacy Arabians in Garden Valley."

  They shook hands and the woman smiled, visibly pleased to have company.

  "Annie Brown. I'm from Placerville."

  "Yes, I saw you in the liberty class this afternoon."

  "I can never catch that rascal. I don't know why I keep entering those classes, except they're so much fun."

  "Isn't that what it's all about? Fun?"

  "Here and now, yes. But get in there with the big boys, and you spend a lot of time watching your back. What a crazy business!"

  Liz nodded solemnly, then extended a business card.

  Annie's face lit up. "A vet! Great! Doc Sams is always so busy you can't get him when you need him. Everyone in these parts will be glad he's found himself a partner."

  Like I ever get called. Liz peeked at her watch, and then searched the far corner to find Colleen, who was still optimistically chatting up the bartender. I'll just slip out of here, then apologize later.

  She said goodbye to Annie, turned to leave, and collided with a substantial body. Large hands grasped her shoulders firmly to keep her from stumbling.

  A velvety voice kissed the air. "Whoa, Girl."

  Liz's gaze moved up the ladder of pearl buttons on a pale blue shirt, and met the smoky gaze of Kurt DeVallio. Her heart thudded, her senses sharpened by his nearness. Beneath the silk blouse, her shoulders burned under his firm touch, the sensation creeping downward like a slow trickle of warm honey. Her breath caught as amusement flooded into his dark, captivating eyes. His jaw was shadowed with a charcoal dusting of five-o'clock, and his moustache twitched as though he held back a smile.

  Embarrassed by her thoughts, she dropped her eyes, her heart pounding so hard she feared he would hear it.

  She stepped back from his grasp, and turned to leave.

  "Sorry," she mumbled.

  "Wait a minute."

  She stopped, bracing herself for a tirade, though his voice held none of the aggression she'd heard that morning. She looked up, noticing his lips as he talked, and how his moustache rippled invitingly with the shape of each word.

  "I want to apologize for this morning. I shouldn't have been so rude."

  "I understand. I'm sure you were startled to find a stranger in your horse's stall."

  He didn't reply, but a contemplative expression softened his strong features. The silence hanging between them felt uncomfortable, and Liz turned to leave. Kurt's hand settled on her arm, and a volley of tingles raced across her skin.

  "Would you like to dance?"

  She swallowed hard. She couldn't imagine getting close enough to this man to feel his arms around her.

  She glanced up apologetically. "I really need to go. I'm leaving early in the morning."

  His rich laugh swirled around them.

  "One dance won't make you late."

  Smiling wickedly, he reached down and took her hand. Unable to protest, she followed him onto the dance floor, the warmth of his strong fingers sending tiny electric shocks through her body, and waves of delighted terror through her mind. She slipped into his arms and let herself be swept away by the music and the man.

  One spin later, h
is velvety voice broke into her tumbling thoughts.

  "Let's start over. I'm Kurt DeVallio."

  She tipped her head back to look at him. "Liz Barnett."

  "I don't believe I've seen you here before."

  "That's because I've never been here before."

  Oh yeah, Liz... that was profound!

  He pulled her close against him, guiding her effortlessly around the jammed dance floor. His warmth pervaded her clothing, taking her breath away. The soft surface of his chambray shirt brushed against her cheek, and a tantalizing whiff of spicy aftershave teased her nose. The music faded, and Liz stepped back, surprised and disappointed that the dance had ended. Kurt stood motionless, looking down into her eyes, his expression oozing self-confidence. Slowly, the sensual rhythm of Bolero filtered into Liz's head for the second time that day. With a smoldering look, Kurt roughly took her back into his arms, and began to move to the exotic beat of the music, his body brushing against her suggestively, his gaze never leaving her face. Courage rose in her chest and she held his eyes with her own, savoring the indescribable feelings that coursed through her body. The last strains of the song died, and Kurt stepped back, still holding her arms as he stared straight into her soul. Her chest felt as though it might cave in, excitement surging through her in reply to his unspoken message. A speculative smile spread slowly across his face. His voice hummed on the air between them.

  "So, Liz Barnett. Where are you from?"

  Relieved for the distraction, she relaxed. "Garden Valley. I've joined a veterinary practice there."

  "Oh, yeah, Doc Sams. I heard he had a new partner, but nobody told me he'd wimped out ‘n' hired a fee-male."

  Like a bucket of ice water, the remark drenched Liz's warm feelings. She jerked her arms from his grasp, and stepped back.

  "And what possible difference could that make?"

  The deep frustrations of the past few months leapt up, and adrenaline flooded through her. She couldn't deal with one more insult that day. Without waiting for an answer, she left the dance-floor, headed for the exit.

  Outside, Colleen snagged her arm. "Well, you two certainly hit it off."

  Liz glowered. "I don't think so!"

  She glanced back over her shoulder. Through the open door, Kurt remained exactly where she'd left him, his arms casually folded across his chest, a sexy smile lighting his extraordinary face. Dark eyes challenged her to come back.

  She met his gaze. No way, Cowboy!

  Kurt's attention lingered on Liz's firm behind, rippling innocently beneath the slinky fabric of her pants as she stalked away. Man, she is some classy filly! The opulent color and sheen of her clothing complemented her smooth olive skin and enhanced her deep blue eyes. Raven-colored hair, thick and shiny, brushed her shoulders. If I had to guess, I'd say the lady has some Italian blood flowing through those hot veins. He grinned, remembering her feisty manner in the stall that morning. He'd also felt her tense eagerness on the dance floor. The memory stimulated his thoughts toward finding a way to get her into his bed.

  4

  The rising sun sparkled through the branches of the massive oaks towering over the exercise paddock. The air felt crisp and cool, but the promise of a sweltering day whispered on the breeze ruffling through Liz's hair. The muted, waking-up sounds of morning were a joyous melody to her ears. I'm so glad to be home.

  The blacked-legged, chocolate brown colt at the end of the lunge-line slowed his pace, sensing that Liz's attention had wandered. Clucking her tongue, she snapped the whip and encouraged him to stay on the outer edges of the circle he trotted.

  "Good boy, Karma."

  Liz appreciated the horse's immediate obedience. In another six months, her little boy would start to mature into a breeding stallion and, when that happened, it would be difficult to keep his attention on such mundane things as trotting in a circle.

  She considered her ambitious dreams. Qualifying her horses at a regional show meant they would be eligible for the national competition in Albuquerque, where she'd show them against some of the toughest trainers and fanciest horses in the industry. Walking back to the barn, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Why not? My horses are as good as any out there.

  A moment later, Kurt DeVallio's face wormed its way into her thoughts again. I don't need that kind of attention. I don't know who he thinks he is, but I'm not buying it. Lost in thoughts about the dark cowboy's intrusion into her life, Liz closed the stall door so hard the latch snapped loudly, startling Karma. The giddy colt leapt about his stall as though bogey-men were after him.

  Liz stepped back inside, and reached for his shoulder. "Oh, Sweetie, I'm sorry."

  She moved closer, stroking his neck, murmuring reassurances to him until his quivering nostrils and wild eyes returned to their normal state. A few minutes later, soothed by the familiar smells of fresh hay, sweet oats laced with molasses, and the unique odor of warm horseflesh, she turned her thoughts to the future and what she needed to do to salvage it.

  Later that morning, Liz stood at her desk, looking around the office she'd set up in her study. The rambling old farmhouse had been added to over the decades, and that room had been one of the newer additions. Warm oak paneling absorbed the morning sun, casting a glow over the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that filled one wall. The array of well-worn book-spines looked like a colorful miniature skyline on each shelf. Interspersed here and there were several photographs of her father with his champion horses. The wall behind her small desk was filled with framed diplomas, awards for excellence, and her veterinary licenses.

  How excited she'd been, arranging furniture, organizing the filing cabinet, recording a crisp, professional message on the answering machine. Her dreams had seemed fulfilled - associate status with an established veterinary practice. How much better could it get? Her throat tightened and tears prickled her eyes. How much worse might it get?

  The telephone jarred her from the clutch of dismal thoughts, and Colleen's bright voice chirped over the line.

  "Hi, you busy? I thought I'd stop by."

  Liz's mood brightened. "Hey, that'd be great. I want to talk to you about a couple of things."

  While she waited, Liz made some notes. Colleen had lived in the area for a long time. Surely, she'd have some insights that would help solve Liz's problem.

  A few minutes later, the crunch of tires on gravel was followed by the creak of the screen door. Colleen appeared at the study door, looking a little like a western Barbie doll in tight jeans and a denim shirt with fringe dangling saucily across her chest. Pristine red snakeskin cowboy boots looked as though they'd never seen a stirrup.

  She dropped into a chair. "How's business?"

  Liz grimaced. "Don't ask."

  Colleen leaned forward, her tone sincere. "What's going on? Maybe I can help."

  Liz plunged in, frustration coloring every word.

  "I was such a fool to make this move without checking it out. Hell, I've researched vacations more thoroughly than I did this job!"

  "What do you mean? You are an associate, aren't ya?"

  Liz snorted. "Oh, yeah, but only on paper. I never get called. Doc Sams takes all the farm calls, and I end up writing prescriptions for Mrs. Long's neurotic parakeet."

  Liz heard her own whiney, cry-baby tone, and shook her head.

  "Colleen, in the last six months, I've been called on one emergency, and that was only because Doc Sams was already taking care of two others." She rose from her chair, and paced. "Lord knows, I have the credentials to handle anything that comes my way, but nobody will give me a chance and, since I don't know what the problem is, I can't fix it."

  Colleen sat back in the chair, crossed her legs, and cocked her head. Her tone was sympathetic, but firm.

  "I can't believe you haven't figured it out. The problem is, you haven't been in practice very long, and you're a woman - a young one, to boot...You're in ranchin' country, Honey, and these guys ain't gonna fall all over ya just 'cause you were a hotsh
ot back East. In fact, that probably works against ya."

  Liz's brief wave of self-pity disappeared. She'd already suspected that her problem might have something to do with her age and gender, but the idea that the locals considered her inexperienced and incapable really stung. Her own confidence in her skills had apparently blinded her to the essence of the problem.

  Colleen's tone softened a little. "You'll just have to prove yourself, whatever it takes. Doc Sams is long past retirement, an' he knows it. He wouldn't have offered you the job if he didn't plan to step down at some point, but maybe he's startin' to resist the idea of retiring, so he's still tryin' to handle everything. His long-time clients want his attention as long as they can have it. And you're playin' the prima donna, waitin' to be invited. I think you'll need to do some active marketing if you want to get these old geezers on board."

  Liz sighed. "You're right, of course. I just needed someone to kick me in the butt." She brightened. "Well, at least I've had plenty of time to work with my show horses."

  Her optimism disappeared with the shadow that crossed Colleen's features.

  "Liz, I hate to be the one to tell ya this, but you're gonna run into the same thing in the show ring. Not the small shows, but the big ones, the ones that count. I know you're trying for Nationals, but it's a long, political road to get there, and you ain't paid your dues yet."

  Liz had finally had enough. "You know...this is the modern world. Women have been accomplishing wonderful things for a long time, and I don't intend to let a bunch of time-warped cowboys send me running!"

  Colleen applauded, her face breaking into a sunny smile.

  "All right! That's more like it. Now, tell me what I can do to help."

  An hour later, Liz had a list of over a dozen potential clients within a thirty-mile radius - all women who owned horses.

  Colleen's approach to the problem was a clever one.

  "Why not fight fire with fire? Let Doc Sams take care of the tough old boys." She chuckled wickedly. "And you concentrate on the real horse people."