Leaping Hearts(49)

In the tight cradle of the couch, they fell asleep against each other with just the blanket to keep them warm. When dawn tripped over the mountain ridge, taking a tumble and spilling its light across the hills and sky, Devlin woke up and reached for A.J.’s mouth. Wordlessly, she rolled under him and he entered her body with a powerful surge. When they climaxed together, her name was a moan that came from the deepest part of him.

As they floated back down to earth, Devlin knew they had to get off the couch and put some clothes on before Chester came through the front door. Turning to look into A.J.’s face, he was struck again by her loveliness. Never had morning light been quite so tender, or the quiet of dawn seem so gentle, than as his eyes caressed her. As she looked back at him, there was shy inquiry in her expression that was spiked with remembered ecstasy. He felt light-headed.

“I feel so damn lucky that I met you. And that this happened,” he said. Her smile was full of happiness and he felt his heart grow light as he told himself everything was going to be okay. “I guess I should head upstairs before Chester comes through the door.”

“You get the first shower.”

“I’d rather share it with you.”

“You know what they say: Save water. Shower with a friend.”

“You’re a hell of a lot more than a friend,” he replied, taking her mouth. His kiss was fevered, despite the fact that they had just made love. When they took a break so they could breathe, he said, “I better go.”

Quickly, before they became lost in each other again, he got up off the couch. Before he left, he was careful to tuck the blanket around her so she wouldn’t be cold.

A.J. watched him move around and pick up his clothes, delighted with the chance to see his body in the light. With all that they had shared of themselves, physical beauty seemed trivial and yet she was thrilled by his strong arms and flat, muscled belly. It was only when she saw the scars on his bad leg that she felt bad. The crisscrossing disfigurements, a map of where the limb had been rebuilt, still looked fresh and angry. She wanted to reach out and smooth the knotted lines with her fingers, to bear some of his loss for him.

After blowing her a kiss, Devlin went up the stairs. When she rolled over onto her back, she was smiling.

Nothin’ like a little lovin’ to perk a girl up, she thought, feeling a bulge under her back and pulling out her T-shirt. She shrugged it over her head and looked down at the wrinkles, a road map pressed into the cotton by the weight of their bodies.

By the time Devlin came back downstairs, A.J. had gotten up and was folding their blanket. He leaned against the wall.

“What are you looking at?” she asked playfully.

“I’m trying to imagine you in a little French maid’s outfit. It’s quite a picture, let me tell you.” His eyes were soft and warm.

“I hate to ruin the fantasy, but I’m not the frilly type. Petticoats make me itchy.”

He walked over to her, took her into his arms. “Just as well. I think you’re more beautiful like this.”

“With my hair a mess, wearing a wrinkled shirt?”

“You’re right. I’d prefer you totally naked.”

His hands gripped her hips and pulled them into him. She could feel him harden the instant their bodies came into contact.

The footsteps coming up the flagstone told them Chester had arrived, and they parted just as he burst through the door. He had the newspaper under his arm and his hangdog face was cheery.

“I won twenty-seven fifty last night at the bingo parlor!”

“That’s quite a haul, old man,” Devlin said smoothly.

His eyes were on A.J. as she bent down and picked up her toiletry bag. He couldn’t wait until the day was over and they could be alone again. He was also feeling good about the prospects for his replacement. Up in the shower, he’d reviewed the trainers and stables he respected and there were at least two viable candidates he wanted to invite over to meet with A.J. He was certain they could find her another trainer soon and that her work with the stallion wouldn’t be interrupted significantly.

“So’s breakfast ready yet?” Chester asked.

“It will be when we make it.”

As the two headed into the kitchen, Devlin sent her a wink over his shoulder and A.J. blushed. By the time she came back down, they were at the table. Chester, between spoonfuls of cereal, was leafing through the paper.

“Well, will ya get a load a’ this.”

With a ruffle and a snap, he folded the newspaper in half and pushed it across to Devlin. A.J. glanced over at it.

Taking up almost the full page was a picture of the two of them together, taken just before she went into the ring the day before. Devlin’s hand was on her cheek and their eyes were locked. She remembered the moment vividly, and, looking at the photograph, she saw the bond between them was as powerful as it was obvious.

“Oh, God,” she groaned.

The headline read SUTHERLAND BEAUTY TAKES UP WITH FALLEN CHAMPION. The article that followed was a combination of speculation, rumor and innuendo. Quotes from various competitors were used to inflame her purchase of the stallion, her split with her family and their relationship.

“What are we going to do?” she wondered aloud.

Devlin got to his feet, his chair scraping across the floor.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” he said darkly. “As soon as you and the stallion leave here, it’ll all die down and the reporter will look ridiculous for making a big deal out of nothing. We’ll just put up with it until the end of the week.”