A Weaver Baby

A muscle flexed in his angled jaw and he pulled down the zipper. Before she could shimmy out of the jeans, though, he tipped her back and she felt the scrape of soft, fresh straw against her spine.

“Boots.” His voice was a low, husky drawl that was as arousing as his touch. He pulled off her boots and tossed them aside.

Her impatient hands reached out for him again then, but he pushed to his feet, and she could only lie there, breathless with tightening desire, as he pulled off his own boots. The silk shirt followed as he yanked it over his head, not even bothering with the buttons.

Then his hands fell to the belt at his waist. Her mouth ran dry as he slowly pulled it loose, dropping it aside, right along with every other stitch he wore.

She wasn’t exactly a virgin. She’d had two lovers before, brief though those failed relationships had been. But it was still good that she was already sprawled in the straw because the sight of all that male glory made her dizzy. Dark hair swirled across his muscular chest, narrowing to a fine line over his tight abs, just inviting her to follow its trail.

And then he was pulling at her jeans, sliding them off her hips. His lips pressed against her navel, and the heat inside her threatened to explode as she nearly bowed off the ground.

“What happened here?” His fingers smoothed over the faint remains of a long-healed scar that peeked above the edge of her pink panties.

“Stepped on by a horse.”

He trailed the line up and down. “Must’ve hurt.”

Agonizing in ways she didn’t let herself think about anymore. “You work around horses, you’re going to have some bruises somewhere along the way.”

His lips kicked up. “First time I fell off, I was five.”

“Six.” She shifted, impatient for him to get beyond the cotton panties. And he seemed to realize it because his mouth traced the thin scar as he drew the hank of fabric down her thighs with an intensity that made her feel perfectly beautiful and unscarred.

His breath whispered against her abdomen. “Are you sure?”

She couldn’t help the strangled laugh that quivered up her throat. Her thighs shifted restlessly and she reached for him. “I’m dying here,” she managed.

“Impatient.” The edge of his white teeth flashed for just a moment as he slowly moved over her. “I like that.”

She wanted to sink her teeth into his shoulder when he didn’t move fast enough to suit her, and she pushed at him, flattening him on his back with a speed that had those crow’s-feet crinkling again. “I am impatient,” she whispered. “I haven’t done this in a long while.” In one smooth arch, she took him in.

Her breath stopped. Her heart stopped.

The world might have stopped, too, except she was too busy staring into the unholy pleasure that tightened Jake’s face to notice. He sucked in a sharp breath and closed his hands hard and tight around her hips. “How long a while?”

She shook her head. How could she care about details that didn’t even merit comparison to this? “It doesn’t matter. Years.” She slowly worked her hips against his, and knew with feminine instinct that it felt as torturously perfect for him as it did for her.

He sucked in another hard breath. “You’re dangerous.”

“Next time, think twice before you give me Cristal.”

She felt his bark of laughter down to the very center of her, and then neither one of them was laughing as he rolled her in the straw and sank even deeper. “You feel incredible,” he breathed against her ear.

What she felt was a climax bearing down on her with the speed of a freight train. Her head twisted in the soft straw. “Jake—”

“Forget the warm summer night.” He pushed up on his forearms, tendons tight in his neck. His shoulders. “You’re a storm.”

And she felt suddenly buffeted. She cried out, the cataclysm spiraling even harder because Jake was right there with her, his own satisfaction flooding through her.

It seemed endless, that pure pleasure that streaked through her veins, heating her from fingertips to soul. And maybe it was endless, because by the time Jake finally drew in a deep, shuddering breath and rolled over on his back, his arms splayed in the straw, J.D. knew the world could have come to a halt and she wouldn’t have noticed.

She let out a long, shaking breath of her own. She couldn’t have moved just then to save her soul.

“Wow,” he murmured after a while.

She almost giggled. And she’d never much been a giggling sort. “I think I’m still vibrating.”

He huffed out a faint laugh. “Honey, flattering as that is—” his voice was a low, sexy drawl “—I think that might be my cell phone.” He pushed himself up until he was sitting, his intoxicating gaze roving over her as he tugged the edge of his trousers out from beneath her hip. He pulled out his vibrating cell phone, his gaze meeting hers with a devilish humor. “Never going to be able to talk on this thing again without thinking about…today.”

She wanted to roll over and bury her hot face in the straw, but his hand settled on her bare flank. It was vaguely appalling that she felt a stirring all over again, even when her entire body drifted in satiated stupor.

But then his phone vibrated again and he checked the display. The humor in his face died and he drew back his hand.

Despite the hot night, J.D. felt a sudden chill.

Then he hit a button and set the phone to his ear. “Tiffany. What have the boys done now?”

Chapter Two

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me.”

Jake rose from his chair and eyed J.D. where she stood, just inside the door of his study. “Of course.” He waved at the leather chairs situated in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

Her green eyes didn’t meet his as she crossed the room. But instead of sitting, she stopped behind the chair closest to the opened French doors. She closed her fingers over the back of it and her knuckles were white.

He bit back a sigh.

Since that night in the barn more than a month ago, they’d only seen one another a handful of times. For minutes only, when it came right down to it. But even then, the brief encounters had felt awkward.

Not because he regretted touching her.

But because it was so clear that she did.

“You didn’t tell Mabel why you wanted to meet with me.” His personal secretary had been quite put out as a result. But Jake could have told Mabel that he already had a good idea why J.D. had requested a meeting. It was something she’d never done before in all the time she’d worked at Forrest’s Crossing. If there was an issue at the stable, she would have gone to Miguel.

Which, to Jake, meant only one thing.

She was going to quit.

“I thought it best not to tell Mabel the specifics.” J.D.’s fingers whitened even more over the back of the chair. “Actually, I tried to get an appointment with you at your office at Forco, but your secretary there was even less accommodating than Mabel. She said you had nothing available on your calendar there until November.”

“Lucia is my assistant, actually. And she controls my schedule at the plant more than I do.” He wanted to go around to her and peel those fingers away from the leather, urge her down into the seat and tell her anything that would make her relax.

He remained where he was. Things would be better all around if he refrained from touching her, since he already knew he seemed unable to exercise much control where she was concerned. Touching her was flammable. They’d already proven that. “You could have just phoned me directly, you know. Avoided the others altogether.”

Her face looked a little pinched. “I don’t have your direct number.”

He frowned a little at that and immediately pulled out a business card. He scribbled on the back of it. “Now you do.” He handed it to her. “Would you like a drink? I can call Mabel—”

“No.” She took the card gingerly. “No, thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder as if she were afraid that his secretary would already be standing behind her.

But the door to his office was firmly closed.

They had all the privacy either one of them could want.

He dragged his mind out of that dangerous direction.

“How are things down in the stable?”

Her slender throat worked. “They’re not too happy, needless to say. Everyone had high expectations for the Hopeful last week. I’m sure you did, too.”

Despite the thrilling success at Latitude’s maiden race, followed up by an even more spectacular finish at the Saratoga Special, Latitude had fallen far short at the Hopeful Stakes, coming in damn close to last. “Yes, I did. My sisters and I expect winners, not losers.” That’s what Forrest’s Crossing did—produced world-class, winning thoroughbreds. “And you?”

She lifted one shoulder and her yellow FC shirt tightened over the subtle, high swell of her breasts, needlessly reminding Jake of that night. “I’m never disappointed in Latitude.”

Because she was the only one in his stable crew who wasn’t motivated by winning, he knew.

“I think you’ll have him more than ready for the Champagne Stakes,” he assured.

If anything, J.D. looked even more strained. “The Champagne isn’t until next month. But I didn’t come to talk about Lat, actually.”

Which just confirmed his fear that she was there to resign.

“Well, before you get started, I do want to talk about him.” He took shameless advantage of still being the boss. “I’m telling Miguel that I don’t want anyone but you working with Latitude. Not even him.”

At that, her lashes flew up and those gut-wrenching green eyes of hers finally met his. Even the waves in her pale blond hair seemed to spring with shock. “If this is about what happened between us, then—”

“It isn’t.”

She very nearly snorted. She even released that whitened grip on the chair to lift her hands up in the air. “You’ve never made decisions around Miguel before. He’ll have a fit.”

“Miguel works for me,” Jake reminded.

At that, she laughed out loud. “You yourself said nobody was in charge of Miguel. He allows you to keep him on the payroll because he chooses to be here. He could go anywhere in the world if he wanted and work with two dozen owners instead of just one. But he stays, and you let him run the stable the way he wants to run it because he brings you winners. And I know for certain that he wouldn’t put me in charge of Latitude.”

“Lat won his first two races because you were working with him. Miguel took over again before the Hopeful and he barely wanted to finish.”

Her eyes widened and her bow-shaped lips pressed together. Evidence that she’d thought he was unaware of some details. “Just because I’ve been away on business for two weeks doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on in my own stable,” he said. “Miguel may not want to face the fact that you have the magic touch where Latitude is concerned, but I have, which is why I’m assigning you specifically to him. Miguel can focus all of his energy on bringing along Platinum. Of course, that means your fee will increase and—”

“Stop.” She shook her head. “This is all wrong.”

“You don’t want to work with Latitude?”

She tossed up her hands. “Well, of course I want to work with Lat. I love that colt, but you need to know—” Her voice cracked to a stop. She looked away from him again. “You need to know that I’m, well, that I’m—”

“Excuse me, Jake?”

They both stared at the woman who’d had the audacity to open his closed office door. Only it wasn’t his secretary, who would have known better. It was Jake’s aunt Susan who rushed into the office.

“What’s wrong?”

His aunt barely gave J.D. a glance as she hurried toward him, her slender hands twisting in front of her.

“Bill Franks just called me. Mabel put him through to me since you were busy.” Her gaze flicked for a moment to J.D. “There’s been an accident.”

Everything stilled except Jake’s guts. Bill and Jennifer Franks were his ex-wife’s in-laws. “The boys?”

She hurriedly waved her hands. “No, no. Connor and Zachary are fine.”

Relief slammed through him. His twin sons were fine. “Sidney? Charlotte?” They were his sisters, and aside from Susan who’d lived at Forrest’s Crossing since he’d been a boy, the only other family who mattered to him.

Again his aunt shook her head. “It’s Tiffany. She and her husband were driving—the boys weren’t with them—they had an accident.”

“I, um, I’ll just excuse myself…” J.D. was edging toward the door, looking pale and even more awkward.

“Wait.” He focused on his aunt’s face. He generally didn’t think about his ex-wife, except to curse her very existence. And to know that even she was a better parent than he was to their precocious twin sons. “How bad was it? Is Tiff hurt?”

“Her injuries are critical. Her husband—”

“You can say his name.” They all knew it, after all, since the man had been in the picture long before Tiffany decided marriage to Jake was no longer her heart’s desire.

Before Adam Franks had become Tiffany’s lover, he’d been Jake’s friend. His best man, in fact.

Susan hesitated, looking grave. “Adam’s injuries were extremely severe. He didn’t survive.”

Jake slowly sat down in his chair as he absorbed that. There’d been plenty of times he’d cursed his one-time friend. But he’d never wished him dead. “Where are the boys?”

“With Bill and Jennifer still.”

Adam’s parents.

“Obviously they’re not up to keeping them for any length of time,” his aunt continued, looking worried. “But I just can’t see sending Zach and Connor back to boarding school under these circumstances. They were very close to Adam.”

Jake’s gaze fell on J.D. She’d reached the door. “We can finish this later,” she said softly. “You have more important things right now.”

He grimaced and wanted to insist that she stay. He wanted her to stay at Forrest’s Crossing. Period. And just acknowledging the thought was enough to remind him that he was the selfish bastard Tiffany had called him.

He’d barely given a short nod before J.D. slipped out the door.

It felt like she took all of the fresh air there was right along with her.

He looked back at Susan. “You talked with the boys?”

She nodded. “They’re upset, naturally.”

He didn’t ask the next obvious question. There was no need.

If he’d been a better father, his boys would have wanted to speak to him.

He rubbed his hand down his face. “I’ll have to go to California. You’ll come, of course.”

The boys were always more comfortable with her than they were with Jake.

“I can’t.” Susan’s face was torn. “The gallery showing is Friday, and then I’m hosting the charity ball on Saturday in Charlotte’s place since she had to go to that conference in Florence in your place.”

He’d forgotten his aunt’s photography showing. “Sidney can host the ball.”

“Sidney is in Germany trying to buy that horse she’s got her heart set on.” Susan paced. His mother’s sister was in her mid-50’s, but there wasn’t a gray hair to be found in her soft blond hair. The only real hint of her age was in the soft lines that had begun forming alongside her dark brown eyes. “There are times when I wish y’all would just settle on textiles or on horses.”

“Textiles help pay for the horses,” he reminded needlessly. Raising and running thoroughbreds wasn’t a poor man’s game. It hadn’t been for his grandfather or his father before him. “The boys’ll have to make do with me.”

“Oh, Jake. Don’t talk that way. Naturally, the boys will want you.”

She was trying to protect his feelings, as if he had some. But that was his aunt. The eternal optimist.

He, however, was about the exact opposite. He didn’t have faith in the positive outcomes of life. He couldn’t see the bright side of every situation.

He saw things exactly the way they were and when something needed doing, he did it. Right or wrong.

Bill and Jennifer were the only grandparent “figures” his sons possessed. Tiffany’s parents had died when she and Jake were still married. Jake’s father was dead, too. And he didn’t know, or care, where his mother Olivia was, much less whether she was still alive. After she’d profitably washed her hands of them all, they’d never seen nor heard from her again.

Susan was twisting her hands together again. “I can join you after the charity ball is over.”

He knew his aunt would turn cartwheels if it meant helping someone else. And he also knew he would take complete advantage of that fact, just like he always had.

Just like his father had before him.

Jake was exactly like his old man. They didn’t just share the same name. They shared everything else. From looks to temperament to talents. Jacob Forrest, Sr., had been a selfish bastard, and Jake Forrest was carrying on the tradition in the best of old-South ways.

“Tell Mabel what’s going on. I’ll fly out this afternoon.”

Susan looked relieved as she quickly left his study. Which made him wonder if even his devoted aunt had doubted his ability to do the decent thing where his sons were concerned.

He pushed out of his chair, looking out the bay windows behind his desk. From his vantage point, he could see only the steeply pitched roof of the main barn well off in the distance.

His bedroom upstairs afforded a better view. Not only of the barn, but of the rest of the stables, and the training track.

He’d spent a lot of mornings standing at the window of his room waiting for a glimpse of J.D. to arrive.

She always appeared shortly after dawn, when the first glimmer of sunlight would catch her slender, leggy form that was so easily eclipsed by the massive horses she tended. Often, he’d see her riding Latitude, her long curls flying out behind her as she leaned low and close over the horse’s back.

Even before Jake had gone to the barn that unforgettable night, those mornings spent watching J.D. even from afar had been the best part of his day. A slice of private and pure sanity in an otherwise insanely pressured life.

But now, unless he could talk her out of quitting, he was going to lose even those simple moments.

He shoved his hand through his hair and left by the French doors that opened to a spacious deck.

It would have been easier to drive one of the plentiful farm vehicles down to the stables. Instead, he walked across the acres of richly groomed lawn, taking the time to file away his feelings about the situation awaiting him in California.

It was the middle of the morning, and the track—when he reached it—was a beehive of activity.

He immediately spotted J.D. hosing down Latitude while Jake’s wizened head trainer stood alongside her. Miguel stood a full head shorter than she did. Hell, the diminutive former jockey stood a head shorter than everyone.

Jake walked closer until they noticed him and the hose in J.D.’s hand jerked a little, though she said nothing.

“Jake,” Miguel greeted him in his thickly accented voice. “I’m glad you come down today. I wan’ you to sign off on some—”

“Actually, I need to speak with J.D.,” he interrupted. If he let Miguel get his hooks in, it’d be hours before Jake would break free. And right now, that was time Jake couldn’t afford. “Now.”

Miguel’s graying eyebrows pulled together in a fierce frown. He snatched the hose from J.D., his displeasure evident.

For that matter, J.D. didn’t look any more enthusiastic, but she accompanied him into the sprawling building nearby that housed Miguel’s office. He waited until she was inside the untidy room before closing the door.

She glanced from the door to his face. “I’d rather leave that open.”

“I’m not going to jump you.”

Her lips tightened. “I didn’t think you would.”

Problem was, he was always thinking about touching her. It had only gotten worse since he’d found out exactly how addicting that particular delight was. “I have to go to San Francisco,” he said, corralling his thoughts. “Tiffany needs—”

“Of course,” she cut in quickly. Dismay darkened her eyes from brilliant green to a soft moss. “I’m sorry to hear your wife—”

“Ex-wife.”

Her head dipped a notch. “Well, I’m sorry about the accident. I’m sure your children will be relieved when you get there.”

He doubted it. “I want your promise that you’re not going to cut and run while I’m gone.”

Sympathy drained away as she stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“The reason you wanted to meet with me was to turn in your resignation, wasn’t it?”

Her silky lashes drooped, shielding that wide gaze. “And that’s why you dangled Latitude in front of my nose?”

“I dangled Latitude because I want you training him to win. It has nothing to do with what happened between us.”

A hint of pink bloomed over her cheeks. “And if I told you I hadn’t been planning to give you my notice?”

He wouldn’t believe her. There was no other reason to explain why she’d asked to meet with him. She never had before. And it wasn’t as if she wanted a repeat of that night. She’d made that abundantly clear when she’d raced out of the stable that night, barely taking enough time to pull on her shirt and jeans.

“Lat runs best for you.” He focused on the facts. “And I want to go to the Kentucky Derby next May knowing he’s going to run his heart out for you. Bringing home a Derby winner’s the only thing my father and grandfather succeeded in doing that I haven’t.”

J.D. looked pained. “That’s just it. By May, I’ll have other things I’ll be focusing on.”

“What? Like offers? Honey, I know you get job offers from other trainers every time we go to a meet. But I’m asking you not to decide anything yet. Wait until I get back from California, at least.” He caught her slender shoulders, ducking his head to look into her face when she tried looking away. “Don’t let what happened a few weeks ago make you leave Forrest’s Crossing. I’ll talk to Miguel about you taking over Latitude before I go.”

“Six weeks ago.” Her gaze flicked up to meet his, only to skitter away again. “This is not going at all how I intended.”

She exhaled and looked weary as she pushed a racing schedule off the seat of a hard-backed chair and sat down. “Go to California, Jake. Your family needs you. We’ll talk when you get back.”

She hadn’t agreed to stay beyond that, but for the moment, he’d take what he could get.

When he got back, there’d be plenty of time.

Chapter Three

The last thing J.D. expected to see were two brown-haired heads sticking up over the side of her pickup bed when she came out of the Chinese restaurant. The brown paper bag of take-out she held slid right out of her nerveless fingers, landing with a plop on the pavement next to her feet.

It was Friday evening at the end of a very long, miserable week; she’d just spent over an hour fighting rush-hour traffic into the city, and the only thing she’d been looking forward to was a meal that required no work, and then bed. Maybe not even in that order.

“Zach. Connor.” Her voice was excruciatingly pleasant, as if she greeted Jake’s twin sons in the back of her pickup truck every day of the week. “What are you doing?”

“Going for a ride,” Zach replied with a “duh” sort of tone.

“That wasn’t very bright of you when you had no way of knowing where I was going.”

“You’re going home,” Zach returned just as quickly. “Arentcha?”

J.D.’s lips tightened a little. Jake had brought his sons back with him less than a week ago, and in that space of time, they’d managed to cause all manner of mischief around the place—from painting the legs of one of Miguel’s favorite broodmares fluorescent pink, to parachuting out of their upstairs bedroom using bedsheets.

It was a testament to their true creativity that they hadn’t managed to break their legs in that particular endeavor.