Free Winning Ways by Toni Leland

Her heart bumped painfully, but her voice was without emotion.
    "Not if I can help it."
     
    Kurt drove through the early morning mist, a cold lump in the pit of his stomach. Liz Barnett had wormed her way into his life, and he'd found himself thinking of her as the most fascinating women he'd ever met. She always seemed to be in control of what she wanted. Smart. Professional. Successful. Sexy. He wanted to be with her in the worst way, but now she'd be the Aliqua vet, and she owned a colt that might derail his own plans. He had to consider her as nothing more than competition in the show ring.
    As he watched the narrow road ahead, her face floated through his thoughts, the taste of her willing mouth still on his lips, the memory of her firm breast beneath his hand. The jarring events of the previous six hours had shown Liz's courage in the face of danger, and it was proving to be even more exciting than her physical appeal. Her self-confidence gave her the strength to take charge when needed. He cringed, recalling what a jerk he'd been the morning they'd met in the stall. It had only taken her a moment to put him in his place. And I've been right there ever since.
    He slipped back into the memory of their embrace on Marilyn's couch. What was I thinking, kissing her like that? Taking a deep breath, he shook off the thoughts and switched on the radio. The country-western strains of "Achy, Breaky Heart" drifted through the cab, a fitting tribute to his life.

 
13
     
    Liz was trembling by the time she reached her bedroom. A rush of emotional choices swept through her: cry, scream, throw something. She stood beneath the pounding heat of the shower, hugging her arms tightly, fighting the urge to let herself go. The silky water flowed down her shoulders and over her breasts, a sensuous reminder of Kurt's intimate caress. She'd wanted him, desperately wanted him, but bad timing had interfered, and he'd panicked. Now, her own fear loomed as a reminder of her vulnerability.
    Twenty minutes later, she fell into a deep sleep, free of the filthy reminders of the night, but not the pain. When she awoke, the bright sunlight streaming through the window confused her. Immediately, the inferno burned its way into her conscious, a memory of the living nightmare. She slid out of bed, her body protesting as painful muscles begged her to crawl back under the covers.
    Lulled by the gurgle-hiss-plunk of the coffeepot, she thought about Kurt: his confidence during the fire, the tender moment on Marilyn's couch. These facets made him seem real and vulnerable, even likeable. His awkward apology had embarrassed her at the time, but now it simply puzzled her. I can accept the business-pleasure conflict, but what's really bothering him?
    A minute later, she knew she couldn't spend any more emotional energy on it. She had to concentrate on her own, very real problems - which now included the fate of nine horses.
    She slipped on her boots, then headed up the drive toward the barn, her brain replaying the horror of the fire. She tried to block out the image, unable to even think about a disaster in her own barn. A second later, her mood lightened as heads appeared over stall doors and eager whinnies warmed her heart.
    Dishing out the morning grain, she mentally reorganized the stalls. Miss Marcy will definitely be in the barn. At her age, she deserves all the comfort she can get.
    Muscala stared at Liz from the back of the stall.
    "Hi, Sweetie. Ready for breakfast?"
    As Liz opened the latch, the gray mare abruptly turned away, retreating to the farthest corner of the stall, and swinging her rump toward her owner.
    "Hey! That's not very nice."
    Surprised by the display of bad attitude, Liz hesitated outside the door and watched the horse for a minute, then slipped in, and poured grain into the feed tub. Something about Muscala's bearing put Liz on edge. I hope it's just the new surroundings, or her pregnancy. I'd better keep an eye on her.
     
    Colleen