“Come on, baby,” he said, reaching for her arm. “Let’s go back to the party. The night’s just getting started, and I know how I want it to end. You’ve kept me at arms’ length too long.” He whipped her against him, his mouth finding hers in a forceful but sloppy kiss.
Summoning her strength, she shoved him away from her. He staggered, then righted himself and stood wiping his mouth. “What’s wrong, honey? I could’ve had my choice of women tonight, and I chose you. You ought to be grateful.”
“Ask me out when you’re sober,” she said. “Tonight I’m not going anyplace with you. Enjoy the party without me, Hayden. I’m exhausted. All I want is to go back to my room and sleep.”
“But you said your mother would be showing up tomorrow. This will be your last night to have fun.” The implication was clear.
“Go on,” she said. “There are plenty of girls at the party who’d be thrilled to share your company.”
“I was hoping for something classier than a buckle bunny,” Hayden said. “And, hey, I just gave you a horse.”
“Good night, Hayden. If you’re serious about the horse, talk to me in the morning.” She turned away and started walking.
“No need,” he said. “The paperwork, with my signature, will be waiting for you at the front desk by tomorrow. Consider him yours.”
“Have a good time.” She kept on walking down the row of stalls toward the hotel lobby. She didn’t look around, but at some point she sensed that Hayden had headed back to the Arena Stage and rejoined the party.
Cheyenne felt vaguely ill as she crossed the lobby. She’d fended off her share of drunken cowboys, but Hayden was different. He was her friend. She’d liked him. But what had passed between them tonight was ugly. She wanted to blot it from her memory.
As she rode the elevator alone, up to her floor, a shadow of disbelief crept over her. Had the past forty-five minutes been real? Had Hayden actually given her Fire Dance—a horse so traumatized that no one could approach him, a horse that would be a nightmare to load and transport and who would most likely be too dangerous to keep? Now the stallion’s life was in her hands—a burden she’d never expected.
As she left the elevator and walked down the hall, she passed Buck’s room. His kiss had left her weak and quivering—a feeling that returned as she paused outside his closed door.
She remembered Hayden’s words—“I’ve seen how he looks at you. I’ll bet he’d do anything for you.”
But Hayden was wrong, Cheyenne told herself. Buck was older than she was in years and experience. He saw her as an amusing child—maybe like the younger sister he’d mentioned. Even that soul-shattering kiss had been no more than an impulse—deeply felt but without promise.
Tomorrow, with the cutting competition ended, Buck would load his superb buckskin horse in the trailer and leave for home. And her mother would be arriving later that morning to take over her life.
What were the chances she would ever see Buck again?
She stood in front of his door, daring herself to knock. She wanted more time with the man who had so much to teach her. She wanted to ask him about training and hear his wise advice about Fire Dance.
And, fool that she was, she wanted to share one more heart-stopping kiss, even if it was only to say goodbye.
Summoning her courage, Cheyenne rapped lightly on the door and waited. There was no reply and no sound from the other side. Maybe he was asleep. She tried again, knocking harder this time and waiting even longer.
Was he downstairs having a drink at the bar, maybe trying his luck in the casino? Or had he found a woman willing and able to give him what Cheyenne couldn’t?
Never mind, she told herself as she fished out her key card and opened her own door. Buck was his own man. What he did for pleasure shouldn’t matter.
But it did matter. It mattered enough to hurt.
At 2:17, Darrin’s cell phone rang. He rolled over in bed and groped for it where it lay on the nightstand.
Beside him, Simone lay deep in slumber. She’d taken oneof her prescription sleeping pills that tended to knock her out like a dose of chloroform.
Chloroform.The word jarred him fully awake. He grabbed for the jangling phone, knocking it to the floor. What if it was the police calling? What if Lila’s daughter had died or awakened with a vivid memory of the incident in the stairwell?
Scrambling to his feet, he located the phone partway under the bed. It was still ringing. The caller was unknown.
“Hello?” he muttered.
“Hello, Brother. Remember me?”
The disguised voice raised the hair on the back of Darrin’s neck. With a glance at his sleeping wife, he carried the phone into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the water in the basin. Until he knew more about this new development, he didn’t want to involve Simone.
“Who is this? What do you want?” he demanded, speaking into the phone.