A Weaver Baby. Allison Leigh

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ