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When she turned to face him, he tugged on her arm again and pulled her close against his body. “Just one more thing.”
“Which is?” she asked breathlessly.
In answer, he lowered his head and his lips brushed seductively over hers. His breath was warm and inviting, his silvery eyes dark with sudden passion. “I missed you,” he whispered against her mouth, then his lips claimed hers in a kiss that was as savage as it was gentle. The warmth of his lips coupled with the feel of his slightly beard-roughened face made her warm with desire.
Tiffany moaned and leaned against him, letting her body feel the hard texture of his. His tongue gently parted her lips and flickered erotically against hers. Heat began to coil within her before he pulled his head away and gazed at her through stormy gray eyes.
“God, I missed you,” he repeated, shaking his head as if in wonder at the conflicting emotions warring within his soul.
Tiffany had to clear her throat. “Come on. Louise will have my head if her meal gets cold.” Still holding his hand, she led him toward the back of the house and tried to forget that Zane had once been married to Ellery’s mistress.
* * *
“I haven’t eaten like this since the last time I was here,” Zane remarked to Louise, who colored slightly under the compliment. Everyone was seated at the oval table in the sun room, which was really an extension of the back porch. The corner of the porch nearest the kitchen had been glassed in, affording a view of the broodmare barn and the pasture surrounding the foaling shed. Green plants, suspended from the ceiling in wicker baskets or sitting on the floor in large brass pots, surrounded the oak table, and a slow-moving paddle fan circulated the warm air.
“We should do this more often,” Tiffany decided as she finished her meal and took a sip of the champagne.
“Used to be,” Mac mused while buttering a hot muffin, “that we’d have parties all the time. But that was a long time ago, when Ellery was still alive.”
Tiffany felt her back stiffen slightly at the mention of Ellery’s name. When she looked away from Mac she found Zane’s gray eyes boring into hers. An uncomfortable silence followed.
“Hasn’t been any reason to celebrate until now,” Louise said, as much to diffuse the tension settling in the room as to make conversation. Her worried eyes moved from Tiffany to Zane and back again.
“What about Journey’s End’s career?” Vance volunteered, while declining champagne. He shook his head at Mac, who was tipping a bottle over his glass. “I’ve got two more farms to visit today.” When Mac poured the remainder of the champagne into his own glass, Vance continued with his line of thinking. “If you ask me, Journey’s End is reason enough to celebrate.”
“Maybe we’d better wait on that,” Tiffany thought aloud. “Let’s see how he does in the Florida Derby.”
“That race shouldn’t be too much of a problem if Prescott handles him right,” Mac said.
“What then?” Zane asked the trainer.
“Up to Kentucky for the Lexington Stakes.”
“And then the Kentucky Derby?”
“That’s the game plan,” Mac said, finishing his drink and placing his napkin on the table. He rubbed one thumb over his forefinger nervously before extending his lower lip and shrugging. “I just hope Prescott can pull it off.”
“He’s a good trainer,” Emma McDougal stated. She was a petite woman of sixty with beautiful gray hair and a warm smile. She patted her husband affectionately on the knee in an effort to smooth what she saw as Mac’s ruffled feathers. She knew that as much as he might argue the point, Mac missed the excitement of the racetrack.
“When he keeps his mind on his horses,” Mac grumbled.
“Don’t you think he will?” Zane asked.
Mac’s faded eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “He’d better,” he said with a frown. “We’ve come too close to the Derby before to let this one slip through our fingers.”
Tiffany pushed her plate aside. “Delicious,” she said to Louise before turning her attention back to the trainer. “Would you like to work with Journey’s End in Lexington? You could help Bob Prescott get him ready.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt I’d like to, Missy,” Mac replied, ignoring the reproachful look from his wife. “But it wouldn’t do a lick of good. Journey’s End, he’s used to Prescott. We can’t be throwin’ him any loops, not now. Me going to Kentucky would probably do more harm than good.”
“So the die is cast?” Tiffany asked, feeling a cold premonition of doom as she looked through the windows and noticed the thick bank of clouds rolling over the mountains from the west.
“Aye, Missy. That it is . . . that it is.”
* * *
Tiffany spent the rest of the afternoon with Zane, and for the first time in more than a week she began to relax. She had planned to drive into town in the afternoon but decided that she’d rather spend the time on the farm.
In the early evening, she took Zane into the foaling shed and proudly displayed Shadow’s Survivor. Within the confines of the large stall, the inquisitive filly cavorted beneath the warm heat lamps.
