A Weaver Baby. Allison Leigh

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.