Page 24 of Irish Rose
“The new colt I picked up in Ireland.”
She closed her hand into a fist. It was damp from his skin. “You’ll have to give him more room next time.” The shudder inside her came as no surprise and was quickly controlled.
“I intend to. I have the highest respect for the Irish temper.”
“And so you should. If you’d look over the report now, I could answer any questions you might have before I leave.”
Burke picked up the neatly typed sheets. Erin found it necessary to clear her throat as she turned to look out through the glass, now lightly fogged from the steam of the spa. But she didn’t see the snow. She could still see him—the long arms roped with muscle, the hard chest glistening with water, the narrow hips leading to taut thighs.
A fine specimen, some would have said, herself included. And she could have murdered him for making her want.
“It seems clear enough.” She jolted a bit, then cursed herself. “You know your business, Erin, but then I wouldn’t have hired you if I hadn’t believed that.” No, he wouldn’t have, but he’d have found some other way to bring her back with him. “Got anything in mind for your first paycheck?”
“A thing or two.” She relaxed enough to smile at him, schooling her gaze to go no lower than his neck. Half the money would be on its way to Ireland in the morning. And the rest... She couldn’t begin to think of it. “If you’re satisfied, I’ll be going home now.”
“I’m a long way from satisfied,” Burke said under his breath. “Listen, did you ever think the bookkeeping would be more interesting if you knew more about the stables, the racing?”
“No.” Then she moved her shoulders as the thought he’d planted took root. “I suppose it might, though.”
“I’ve got a horse running tomorrow. Why don’t you come along, see where the money comes from and where it goes?”
“Go to the races?” She caught her lip between her teeth as she thought of it. “Could I bet?”
“There’s a woman after my heart. Be ready at eight. I’ll take you around the stables and paddock first.”
“All right. Good day to you.” She started out, then glanced over her shoulder. “I’d put some witch hazel on that bruise.”
Erin paced the living room. It was her first day off, and she was going to spend it at the races. There would be mobs of people she’d never met; she’d hear dozens of voices for the first time. She ran a hand down her hair and hoped she looked all right. Not for Burke, she thought quickly. For herself, that was all. She wanted to look nice, to feel she looked nice when she stood in the midst of all those people.
The minute she heard Burke’s car, she was racing out of the house. She hesitated on the steps, staring down at the fire-red sports car with its long, sleek hood. She made a mental note of the make so she could write home and tell Brian.
“You’re prompt,” Burke commented as she climbed in beside him.
“I’m excited.” It didn’t seem foolish to admit it now. “I’ve never been to the races before. Cullen has, and he told me the horses are beautiful and the people fascinating. Faith, look at all these dials.” She studied the dash. “You’d have to be an engineer to drive it.”
“Want to try?”
When she glanced at him and saw he was serious, she was sorely tempted. But she remembered all the cars that had been on the highway when they’d driven from the airport. “I’ll just watch for now. When does the racing start?”
“We’ve got plenty of time. How’s Dee?”
“She’s fine. The doctor gave her a clean checkup but told her she had to stay off her feet a bit. She grumbles because she can’t spend as much time down at the stables, but we’re keeping her busy. The snow’s melting.”
“A few more days like we’ve been having and it’ll be gone.”
“I hope not. I like to look at it.” She settled back, deciding that riding in the sports car was like riding on the wind. “Are you going to be warm enough?” she asked, looking at his light jacket and jeans. “There’s still a bite in the air.”
“Don’t worry. So what do you like best about America so far, besides the snow?”
“The way you talk,” she said instantly.
“Talk?”
“You know, the accent. It’s charming.”
“Charming.” He glanced over at her, then laughed until the bruise began to throb. Still chuckling, he rubbed a hand over it absently.
“Is that troubling you?”
