After that, he’d seen her in Amsterdam, and in Aachen, Germany, where he’d gotten drunk and lewdly asked her to screw. She had a reputation as the most untouchable woman in the show world.
“I didn’t know you were in Gladstone, Ms. Fletcher. Now that I do, I’ll be sure to mind my manners.” He caught Jake’s look of amusement but addressed his words to Ellie. “Will you be competing in North Salem, Ms. Fletcher?”
“I think it’s time forEllie and Clay,” Jake said. “We’re all on the same team, remember?”
Ellie smiled tightly. “As to the Empire State show, yes,Clay,I’m competing.”
He almost smiled. “Then I guess I’ll see you there. Thanks, Jake. Believe it or not, I appreciate the explanation. I know you didn’t owe it to me.” Whitfield started walking, dust rising to cover the toes of his black knee-high boots.
For no reason he could explain, he stopped and turned. “There’s a party at a friend’s after the show on Friday night. I’ll see you both get invitations.”
Don’t bother,Ellie thought with a pang of dislike.Clayton Whitfield. The man wore his Florida tan as majestically as he did his riding clothes and his too-cocky attitude. Sunlight sparkled on his thick brown hair, streaking it with gold. He was wearing light beige riding breeches, the material stretching over his muscular buttocks and thighs.
Ellie found her eyes locked on their rhythmical movement as he took the last several paces to his car.
“I’ve read he lives in Far Hills,” she said to Jake. “Is that nearby?”
“Just down the road a few miles. He’s got a riding stable full of horses and house as big as a hotel, but he does most of his training right here.”
Ellie couldn’t hide her surprise.
“I take it you two don’t get along,” Jake said.
“The man’s an arrogant jerk.” As if in emphasis, she slapped her crop against the side of her boot, then felt instantly guilty. After all, as Jake said, they were on the same team.
“To tell you the truth,” she amended, “I hardly even know him. I’ve watched him ride, of course. He’s magnificent. The best I’ve ever seen.”
Jake smiled. “Clay’s a total pain in the neck, but you’re right, he’s the best in the country, one of the best in the world. I’m sure he didn’t take losing to you kindly. He thinks you’ve only been riding a few years. Maybe you should tell him the truth.”
“It’s none of his business. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him, either.”
Jake shrugged. “Far be it from me.” He turned toward the stable. “Let’s get back to work.”
They’d been at it off and on since daybreak, working six different horses. Over the past three weeks, Ellie’s respect for Jake had grown stronger than ever. He was brilliant, disciplined, and a worker, just as she was. Determined that she would succeed, Jake didn’t know the meaning ofcan’tortiredorafraid.
The routine with each horse had been the same: they started with lunging—working the animal in a circle at the end of a rope. Then elementary schooling, Cavalletti and gymnastics, followed by jumping.
“The program improves the horse’s physique and confidence,” Jake had told her. “And the rider’s overall ability.”
Walking into the dark, musky, two-level stable, he untied Cookie’s Delight, a dappled gray Dutch warm blood mare, standing in front of the stall, saddled and waiting. Slipping the bridle over the horse’s ears, he straightened her coarse gray topknot, and led her toward the outdoor practice ring.
“The more varied the horses you ride,” Jake said to her, “the better your seat and the more confident you’ll become.”
Several riders walked past, laughing and talking, the women waving a Jake, who gave Ellie a leg up onto the mare’s back. “Your biggest problem is still the position of your head and shoulders. You’ve got to look forward, use those precious eyes of yours. Your balance is perfect, leg position good, but your head goes down and you wind up a little in front of your horse.”
Ellie nodded. Coming from a rider as good as Jake, every word was a pearl of wisdom. He’d stuck his neck out with the committee to get her on the team. She was determined he wouldn’t regret his decision. Ellie liked him more every day. He didn’t say much, but when he did, his words were succinct, his criticism well thought-out and always poignant. He gave little praise, which only made his few rare compliments more meaningful.
He looked handsome in his riding clothes, with his swarthy complexion and incredible blue eyes. Compared to Clay Whitfield, Jake was leaner, more sinewy than muscular, and probably fifteen years older. But Jake stayed in shape.
She knew he ran for an hour every morning before he started giving lessons. He was solid as a rock, as physically fit as any man she’d ever seen. Women fawned over him. Jake gave them an appreciative glance or a word of flattery, but he never asked them out. One of the newer female grooms had asked her if he was gay.
Ellie just laughed. “Not a chance.”
The groom chuckled. “Well, there’s certainly nothing missing in the look he gives a woman—he just never seems to follow through.”
Ellie knew exactly what was wrong with Jake. He still wasn’t over Maggie. She wondered what had gone wrong between them, but Jake’s personal life wasn’t a subject open for discussion. Which was fine with Ellie, since the same rule applied to her.
As the afternoon wore on and her riding continued, her mind returned to Clayton Whitfield. Every time she thought of him, her adrenaline began to pump. How dare he have the gall to judge her abilities! Who the hell did he think he was?
