Page 55 of Irish Rose
“Not much.” He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “It’s in the blood and it’s in the heart. I’ve got to tend to my boy now.”
“I’ll wave to you from the winner’s circle, Paddy Cunnane,” she called after him.
“You sound sure of yourself,” Burke commented as he crossed to her.
“Sure of you.” She gripped his hands as they headed for the stands. “You don’t have to walk me up. I know you want to stay to see your jockey weighed in and watch Double Bluff saddled.”
“The last time I didn’t go with you I found you surrounded by reporters.”
“I know how to handle them now. Besides, I did like seeing my picture in the paper.”
“You’re a vain woman, Irish.”
“Aye, and why not?” She brushed a finger over his cream-colored shirt and found herself pleased he didn’t go in for the seersucker of his associates. “Whether it’s pride or vanity, I find it exciting to see my picture on the society page. Did you know, Mr. Logan, you’re a very important man?”
“Is that so?”
“Aye, ’tis so, and so I’m told often enough. Then, by rights, I have to be an important woman.”
“You could pass for one today,” he decided, taking a quick study of her pale blue suit and pearls. She’d added a plain wide-brimmed straw hat, then had tilted it at an angle so it could no longer be called demure.
“I decided the day called for dignified.” Then she laughed and touched the brim of her hat. “Sort of. Burke, I’ll be fine, really, I know you want to stay close to the horse.”
“I’d rather stay close to you. Mind?”
“No.” She hooked her arm through his and grinned. “Why don’t I buy you a beer?”
She thought it was a perfect day. The most perfect day of her life. The sky was cloudless, a soft spring blue that made her smile just to look at it. She noticed the woman from her wedding as she stepped into the box, and made sure she tilted her head and smiled coolly in greeting.
“Why do I feel you’re always sticking pins in Dorothy Gainsfield?”
“Because I am, darling.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “Long, sharp ones. I didn’t know until the other day that the skinny blonde who was hanging all over you on St. Patrick’s Day was Mrs. Gainsfield’s favorite niece.” She laughed again, figuring it meant another day in purgatory. “Life can be sweet.”
“You’ll have to fill me in on all this later.”
“In ten or twenty years, perhaps. Look, Burke, television cameras. Can you imagine?”
Delighted with the world in general, she took her seat. Now and then she spotted someone she knew, and waved to Lloyd Pentel, to Honoria Louis, to the elderly Mrs. Bingham.
“Do you know, I’ve met as many people in a month’s time as I’ve known all of my life. It’s an odd and wonderful feeling.” She turned to see he was smiling at her. “Why do you look at me like that?”
“It’s an education to watch you in a place like this, soaking it all up, storing it away. I wonder what you’ll look like when we go to Paris or Rio.”
“Probably stand around with my mouth hanging open the whole time and humiliate you.”
“There’s that.” He only laughed when she jabbed him with her elbow. “Try to behave yourself. It’s almost post time.”
“Oh, Lord save us, so it is, and I haven’t bet.”
“I bet for you while you were buying my beer and trying to decide if you were going to eat a cheeseburger or two hot dogs. Living in America’s improved your appetite.”
It wasn’t only that that was increasing her appetite, she thought, and wondered when she would work up the nerve to tell him. “It wasn’t my fault we missed breakfast,” she reminded him. “Where’s my ticket?”
Watching the horses being led to the starting gate, he reached in his pocket. Erin took the stub and was about to tuck it away when she noticed the amount.
“A thousand dollars?” Her voice squeaked so that a few interested heads turned. “Burke, where would I be getting a thousand dollars to bet on a horse?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He didn’t spare her a glance. His trainer had moved to Double Bluff’s head as the colt reared and danced. “Seems a little more wired than usual,” he murmured as two grooms stepped up to help.
