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?"
"What, this? No."
"Did you use witch hazel?"
He knew better than to laugh again. "I couldn't put my hands on any."
"I'd imagine you'd have a case or two of horse liniment down in the stables. Oh, look at the little planes." When he turned into the airport, she looked over at him. "What are we doing here?"
"Taking a ride on one of the little planes."
Her stomach did a quick flip-flop. "But I thought we were going to the races."
"We are. My horse is racing at Hialeah. That's in Florida."
"What's Florida?"
Burke paused in the act of swinging his door closed. On the other side of the car, Erin stared at him. "South," he told her, and held out a hand.
Too excited to think, too terrified to object, Erin found herself bundled onto a plane. The cabin was so small that even she had to stoop a bit, but when she sat the chair was soft and roomy. Burke sat across from her and indicated the seat belt. Once hers was secured, he flipped the switch on an intercom. "We're set here, Tom."
"Okay, Mr. Logan. Looks like smooth sailing. Skies are clear except for a little patch in the Carolinas. We ought to be able to avoid most of them."
When she heard and felt the engines start, Erin gripped the arms of the chair. "Are you sure this thing's safe?"
"Life's a gamble, Irish."
She nearly babbled before she caught the amusement in his eyes. Deliberately she made her hands relax. "So it is." As the plane started to roll, she looked out the window. Within minutes the ground was tilting away under them. "It's quite a sight, isn't it?" She smiled, leaning a little closer to the window: "When all of you landed in Cork, I looked at the plane and wondered what it would be like to sit inside. Now I know."
"How is it?"
She gave him a sideways smile. "Well, there's no champagne."
"There can be."
"At half past eight in the morning?" With a laugh, she sat back again. "I think not. I should have thanked you for asking me to go today. The Grants have been nothing but kind to me, so I'm really grateful to give them a day to themselves."
"Is that the only reason you should have thanked me?" He stood and went into a little alcove.
"No. I appreciate the chance to go."
"You want cream in this coffee?"
"Aye." He could have said you're welcome, she thought, then let it pass. Nothing was going to spoil her mood. When he sat, she took the cup but was too wound up to drink. "Will you give me an answer if I ask a question that's none of my business?"
Burke drew out a cigar, then lit it. "I'll give you an answer, but not necessarily the truth." He kicked out his legs, then rested his ankles on the seat beside her.
"Did you really win Three Aces in a poker game?"
He blew out smoke. "Yes and no."
"That's not an answer at all."
"Yes, I played poker with Cunningham—quite a bit of poker with Cunningham—and he lost heavily. When you gamble you have to know when to stick and when to walk away. He didn't."
"So you won the farm from him."
She'd like that, he thought, watching her eyes. He imagined she saw a smoky, liquor-scented room with two men bent over five cards each and the deed to the farm between them. "In a manner of speaking. I won money from him, more money than he had to lose. He didn't have enough cash to pay me, or for that matter to pay certain other parties who were growing tired of holding IOUs. In the end, I bought the farm from him, dirt cheap."
"Oh." It wasn't quite as romantic. "You must have been rich before then."
"You could say my luck was on an upswing at the time."
"Gambling's no way to make a living."
"It beats sweeping floors."
Since she could only agree, Erin fell silent a moment. "Did you know about horses before?"
"I knew they had four legs, but when you've got your money riding on a game, you learn fast. Where did you learn to keep books?"
"Arithmetic came easily to me. When I could I took courses in school, then I started to run the books at the farm. It was more satisfying than morning milking. Then, because everyone knows what everyone else is up to back home, I found myself working for Mrs. Malloy, then Mr. O'Donnelly. I worked for Francis Duggan at the market for a time, too, but his son Donald thought I should marry him and have ten children, so I had to let that job go."
"You didn't want to marry Donald Duggan?"
"And spend my life counting potatoes and turnips? No, thank you. It came to the point where I knew I had to either black both his eyes or give up the job. It seemed easier to give up the job. What are you smiling at?"
"I was just thinking that Donald Duggan was lucky you didn't carry a rake."
Erin tilted her head as she studied him. "It's you who're lucky I held myself back." Comfortable now, she tucked her legs under her and sipped her cooling coffee. "Tell me about the horse you're racing today."
"Double Bluff, he's a two-year-old. Temperamental and nervy unless he's running. He's proved himself from his first race, took the Florida Derby last weekend. That's the biggest purse in the state."
"Aye, I heard Travis mention it. He seems to think this horse is the best he's seen in a decade. Is it?"
"Might be. In any case, he'll be my Derby entry this year. His sire won over a million dollars in purses in his career, and his dam was the offspring of a Triple Crown winner. Likes to come from behind, on the outside." He took another puff, and again Erin noticed the scar along his knuckles.
"You sound as though you're fond of him."
He was, and that fact was a constant surprise. Burke only shrugged. "He's a winner."
"What about the one you bought in Ireland, the one who kicked you?"
"I'm going to start him off locally—Charles Town, Laurel, Pimlico, so I can keep an eye on him. If my hunch is right, he'll double what I paid for him in a year."
"And if your hunch was wrong?"
"They aren't often. In any case, I'd still consider my trip to Ireland paid off."
She wasn't completely comfortable with the way he looked at her. "Being a gambler," she said evenly, "you'd know how to lose."
"I know how to win better."
She set her coffee down. "How did you get the scar on your hand?"
He didn't glance at it as most people would, but tapped out his cigar as he watched her. "Broken bottle of Texas Star in a bar fight outside of El Paso. There was a disagreement over a hand of seven-card stud and a pretty blonde."
"Did you win?"
"The hand. The woman wasn't worth it."
"I suppose it makes more sense to gash your hand open over a game of cards than it does for a woman."
"Depends."
"On what? The woman?"
"On the game, Irish. It always depends on the game."
&nb
sp; When they arrived, Erin stepped off the plane into another new world. Burke had told her to leave her coat on the plane, but even so she hadn't been expecting the warmth or the glare of the sun.
"Palm trees," she managed, then laughed and grabbed Burke's hands. "Those are palm trees."
"No fooling?" Before she had a chance to be annoyed, he swung an arm over her shoulders and swept her away. There was a car waiting for them. Erin slipped inside, wanting to pretend she did such things every day. "There's no handle for the window," she began. Burke leaned over and pressed the button to lower it. "Oh." After ten seconds, she gave up trying to be poised. "I can't believe it. It's so warm, and the flowers. Oh, my mother would die for the flowers. It's like that room in your house with all the glass. Two weeks ago I was scrubbing Mrs. Malloy's floor, and now I'm looking at palm trees."
He drove competently, without asking directions or checking a map. Erin realized this life wasn't new to him. Here she was babbling and sounding like a fool. She made one attempt to restrain herself, then gave it up. It didn't matter how she sounded.
He hadn't realized he'd get such enjoyment out of seeing someone take little things and make them special. For a moment he wished they could just keep driving so that she would go on talking, laughing, asking questions. He'd nearly forgotten there were people who could still find things fresh and new no matter how often they'd been used.
Traveling was a profession to him, and like most professional travelers he'd long ago stopped looking at what was around him. Now, with Erin pointing out white sand, young skateboarders and towering hotels, he began to remember what it was like to see something for the first time.
They knew him at the track. Erin noticed as they walked over the green lawn toward the spread of stables that people nodded in his direction or greeted him as Mr. Logan. There were jockeys and trainers and grooms already preparing for the afternoon races.
"Logan."
Erin glanced over and saw a big, potbellied man in a straw hat. She saw the flash of a diamond on his finger and the light film of sweat the heat had already drawn on his face. "Durnam."
"Didn't know you were coming down for a look-see."
"I like to keep an eye on things. Your horse ran well last week."
"At Charles Town. I didn't know you were there."
"I wasn't. Erin McKinnon, Charlie Durnam. He owns Durnam Stables in Lexington."
"Real horse country, ma'am." He took her hand and flashed her a smile. "A pleasure, a real pleasure. Nobody picks the fillies like Logan."
"I won't be running any races, Mr. Durnam," she told him, but she smiled, judging him harmless.
"From Ireland, are you?"
"She's Adelia Grant's cousin." Burke spoke mildly, giving Durnam a straight look until he released Erin's hand.
"Well, ain't that something? I tell you, ma'am, any friend of the Grants is a friend of Charlie Durnam's. Fine people."
"Thank you, Mr. Durnam."
"I'm going to go check on my horse, Charlie. See you around."
"Take a look at Charlie's Pride while you're at it," he called after them. "That's a real piece of horseflesh."
"What a funny man," Erin murmured.
"That funny man has one of the best stables in the country and a roving eye."
She glanced back over her shoulder and chuckled. "His eye can rove all it pleases. I can't imagine he has much luck on a landing."
"You'd be surprised the kind of luck ten or fifteen million can buy." Burke nodded to a groom. "I'm running against him today."
"Is that so?" Erin tossed her hair back and was sure the sun had never shone brighter. "Then you'll just have to beat him, won't you?"
With a grin, Burke put his arm around her shoulders again. "I intend to." He walked by a few stalls. Erin cautiously kept on the far side of him. The smell of horse and hay was familiar, and so was the little knot in her stomach. Ignore it, she told herself, stepping up beside Burke as he stopped at a stall.
"This is Double Bluff."
She judged the dark bay to be about fifteen hands, broad at the chest and streamlined for speed. The beauty of him struck her first; then she froze when he tossed his head. "He's a big one." Her throat had gone bone-dry, but she forced herself to take one step closer.
"Ready to win?" With a laugh, Burke reached up to stroke his nose. The colt's ears came forward in acknowledgment, but he continued to prance. "Impatient. This one hates to wait. He's an arrogant devil, and I think he might just win Three Aces its first Triple Crown. What do you think of him?
"He's lovely." Erin had taken a step backward the first time the colt had looked in her direction. "I'm sure he'll do you proud."
"Let's have a closer look, make sure the groom's done his job." Burke opened the stall door and stepped in. Erin steeled herself, and with her heart pounding walked to the opening. "You look good, fella." Burke ran his hands over the colt's flank, then dipped under him to check the other side. He lifted each hoof, then nodded in approval. "Clean as a whistle. Wait until they put a saddle on him. The minute they do, he's ready. You have to hold him back from the starting gate."
As if he understood, Double Bluff pawed the ground. He tossed up his head and whinnied as Burke laughed. Erin fainted dead away.
When she surfaced, there was an arm supporting her. Something cool and wet was being urged through her lips. She swallowed reflexively, then opened her eyes. "What happened?"
"You tell me." Burke's voice was rough, but the hand that stroked her cheek was gentle.
"Probably too much sun." Erin heard the drawled pronouncement and shifted her gaze beyond Burke's shoulder. She saw a young face and a thatch of sandy hair.
"That's right," she said, grabbing the excuse. "I'm fine now."
"Just sit still." Burke held her down as she tried to get up. "It's okay, Bobby, I'll handle it from here."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Logan. You take it easy now, miss, stay in the shade."
"Thank you. Oh…" Erin closed her eyes and cursed herself for seven kinds of a fool. "I'm sorry I caused a scene. I don't know what could have happened."
"You were fine one minute and in a heap the next." And nothing, absolutely nothing in his life, had ever scared him so badly. "You're still pale. Why don't we take Bobby's advice and get you up and into some shade?"
"Aye." She let out a breath of relief. Just as Burke started to help her up, Double Bluff stuck his head out again and shook the stall door. With a muffled cry, Erin threw her arms around Burke's neck and clung.
It took him only a moment to put one and one together. "For God's sake, Erin, why didn't you tell me you were afraid of horses?"
"I'm not."
"Nitwit," he muttered, hauling her unceremoniously into his arms.
"Don't carry me. I've had enough humiliation already."
"Shut up." When he judged they were far enough away from the stables, he set her down under a palm. "If you'd had the brains to tell me, you wouldn't have shaved ten years off my life." With another oath, he dropped down beside her. His heart had yet to resume its normal rhythm.
"The last thing I'm wanting from you is a lecture." She would have stood and stormed away, but she knew her legs weren't ready to carry her. "Besides, there was nothing to tell. I thought I was over it."
"You thought wrong." Then, because she was still pale, he relented and took her hand. "Why don't you tell me about it?"
"It's childish."
"Tell me anyway."
"We had some field horses, two good ones." She let out a long breath. He could hardly think her any more of a fool then he did now. "We had them out, and a storm was coming up. Brian unhooked the one to take him back to the barn. There was a lot of thunder and lightning, so the horses were nervous. Joe was unhooking the second, and I was at the head trying to calm him. I don't know, it happened fast, lightning spooked him and he reared. God, those hooves are big when they're over your head." She shuddered once. "I fell, and he ran right over me."
"Oh, God." B
urke tightened his fingers on her hand.
"I was lucky, it wasn't that bad. A couple of broken ribs only, bruises, but I've just never been able to get too close to one without panicking."
"If you'd told me I never would have brought you."
"I thought I'd beaten it by now. It was more than five years ago. Stupid." She ran a hand over her face, then tucked back her hair. "I've been making excuses all week to Dee and Travis why I don't go down to the stables."
"Why don't you just tell them?" When she only shrugged, he shifted closer. "It's not half as stupid to be afraid as it is to be ashamed of it."
Her chin came up; then she sighed. "Maybe." Avoiding his eyes, she plucked a blade of grass. "Don't tell them."
"More secrets?" Patiently he caught her chin in his hand and turned her face to his. It was far more difficult to resist her now when her cheeks were pale, her eyes a little damp and the vulnerability like a sheen on her skin. "You shouldn't worry so much about what people think of you. I know you wash dishes and faint at the sight of horses, but I still like you."
"Do you?" A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. "Really?"
"Well enough." Unaccustomed to resisting any desire for long, he lowered his mouth to hers, to taste, to nibble, to explore. She lifted a hand to his chest as if to hold him off, but then her fingers simply curled into his shirt and held him there.
His other kisses hadn't made her feel peaceful or secure. Anything but. Yet this one was different. Even as excitement shimmered warm in her stomach, she felt safe. Maybe it was the way his hand curved around her neck, with his fingers gentle and soothing. Or maybe it was the way his lips made hers feel soft and tingly.
He wanted to draw her close, to cuddle her, to rock her on his lap and murmur foolish things. He'd never had that urge with a woman before. It was an odd and uneasy sensation, and at the same time… comforting.
He drew away slightly, but kept her close. "I'll take you home."
"Home? But I want to see the races." For some reason she felt as though she could face anything at that moment. "I'm fine, I promise you. Besides, maybe if I can learn to watch them from a distance I won't freeze up when I'm near one." She stood, grateful that her legs were sturdy again. "Come now, Burke, we didn't fly all the way to—where are we?"
"Florida," he told her, and rose.
"Aye, Florida to turn right around and go home again. That great beast in there is going to win, isn't he?"
"I've got my money on him."
"And I've got ten more on the nose."
With a laugh, he accepted the hand she held out. "Let's go get a seat."
The stands were already filling up. In them, Erin indeed saw many faces, tanned and sunburned ones, faces with lines spreading out from the eyes and more with skin as smooth as new cream. Some people pored over racing forms, others smoked fat cigars or sipped from plastic cups.
But in the boxes was elegance, the kind that spoke of confidence and poise. Sheer summer dresses in pastels mixed well with light cotton suits and straw hats. She saw more than one tanned, slender woman tilt a head in Burke's direction. Now and then he lifted a hand, but he made no effort to mix with them.
From Burke's box in the front, she could see the wide brown oval where the