Promise Canyon
Page 32

He stepped out of the office just as Isabel shut off the engine and jumped down from the cab of the truck.
She looked lovely, as always. She beamed when she saw him--all smiles and pleasure. She had what appeared to be a healthy tan, but Clay knew it was from her expensive, custom-formulated tanning cream--Isabel was afraid of aging, and would never surrender her skin to the sun's rays. Her ideal shade of blond also cost a fortune. In fact, everything from her perfect body to the clothes on it was very expensive, very chic. But the effect was breathtaking to just about anyone, and very few people knew how much time and money she threw at it. Her ex-husband, of course, was privy to this information.
She came toward him, reaching for him. "Clay," she said, smiling warmly. "Oh, Clay!"
He returned the gesture, giving her a hug and exchanging cheek kisses. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I have a problem--with one of your favorite horses," she said, but she didn't let go of him. "It's Isa Diamond Two. She's got a slight limp. The vet's seen her, we've done X-rays and ultrasounds and can't find a problem, but her gait is off--unpredictable and uneven."
"You could have called me," he said.
"But I knew you couldn't come to me, not with your new responsibilities. And I needed a getaway. Besides," she said with a laugh, giving her silky, shoulder-length blond hair a toss, "I wanted to see where you are now." She craned her neck to look around. "I have to admit, beautiful country."
"But you should have at least told me you were coming."
"Hey, listen, if you and your vet are too busy, I'll wait. I have excellent accommodations," she added, throwing an arm wide to indicate the horse trailer. He'd been in this one plenty of times--the rear was outfitted with two enclosed, padded stalls while the front section had upscale living quarters with full kitchen, bath, king-size bed, leather couch, small table and plenty of electronic equipment. Nothing but the best for the Sorensons. Actually, they only used their custom trailers for relatively short hauls--Frederik Sorenson had private jets to transport his horses to races. The money in the Sorenson family was nothing short of astonishing.
The horse in her trailer was a famous, prizewinning quarter horse, a blond bay with one white stocking, a white mane and a blaze. She was not only a beauty, but skilled and accomplished. And she had lent her eggs to more prizewinners, mated in a petri dish and carried by a surrogate to save her body from the strain. Diamond was only eight years old and could yet win quarter-mile races. If she wasn't lame.
"Let's bring her in," Clay said, pulling out of Isabel's grasp and going to the back of the trailer. "Nathaniel is on a call, but he should be back before long."
"Thank you," she said with her customary grace. "I knew you'd help."
"And I know there's more going on than the horse," he answered without looking at her. "You came unexpectedly for a reason...."
"You've never required notice before," she said. "All I ever had to do was ask."
"True. That was before," he said.
He opened up the back of the trailer, put the harness and lead on the horse and expertly backed her out. He talked softly to her and she responded with familiar friendly nickering. Isabel was right about this much--he loved the horse. And the horse loved him. As he led Diamond into the stable, Isabel followed at a distance, giving him charge. Part of her charm was knowing when to step back and let a man take over. No doubt she learned that technique from a father who demanded it and praised it, and it worked.
It had stopped working when her vulnerability and weakness took over. A man would naturally want to protect her and take care of her, until that job became so overwhelming it was suffocating.
Isabel was ten years older than Clay, but she looked ageless. She had been thirty-eight when they'd met, forty when they'd married, and although she'd never been married before, she had a long history of very bad relationships with men. Cheating men, abusive men, greedy men. And who could blame her for falling for them? That was the man her father was and women so often marry the male role model they worship, and she did worship Frederik. On another level, she hated him, but that had taken a long time for Clay to understand.
The first few times Clay had encountered Isabel, she'd just triumphed in horse shows and she was radiant. Then one time she'd lost, and he'd found her broken and despondent, not from the loss so much as her father's abusive disappointment. Frederik was a demanding, egotistical ass. His wife had left him when Isabel was small and he'd never treated his daughter with an ounce of gentleness. He'd tried to train her into a tough horsewoman. When she won, he lifted his chin and walked away as if she'd simply done as he expected; when she lost, he berated her as though she was a complete failure. She craved her father's attention and approval, but it was hard for her to get both simultaneously with one accomplishment. Any attention he showed her was negative; his approval was too rare.
Because of the way Clay was raised, because of the way Tahoma men regarded the women in their lives, this injustice purely broke Clay's heart.
Generally, when Clay worked for anyone, he tried to stay in the background unless his specific skills were called upon; he never pushed his way into the personal lives of his employers or their families. But after he congratulated her for her wins and consoled her for her losses, Isabel began to seek him out. He gave her the emotional support she so desperately craved. And after about a year of brief meetings, she seduced him.
"Your father will fire me for this. Or kill me," he had said before succumbing to the seduction.
"No, he won't. He only cares about the horses, not who I dally with."
It had taken Clay a very long time to learn and accept that truth, and to understand that even though they'd married, Frederik still considered him a mere dalliance. While Isabel was so like a hurt little girl, he gravitated toward her, prepared to offer comfort. Eventually, he could see that she needed so much more--a partner who could give her the kind of insight he had, a person who could tell her whether the training was working or if the horse would be a good candidate for a certain race or type of competition. He could help her win more often. But by the time he actually understood the complexity of her relationship with Frederik, he had married her, pledged his life to her. The marriage was at her insistence and with her hardheaded father's partial blessing.
Partial because Frederik had said, "There'd better be a prenup! I'm not going to have some blacksmith part me from my money!"
Clay had shrugged and answered, "Aside from my wage, I don't want anything from you."
But Isabel fought her father and said, "No! Clay said he doesn't want the family money and that's good enough for me!"
It was years before Clay understood--every decision Isabel ever made was in reaction to her sick and alienating relationship with Frederik. Isabel might indeed have loved Clay, but she had married him to rankle Frederik, to get his attention. And while Clay thought he should have been angry with her for putting him in the middle of that twisted relationship with her father, instead he felt profound pity. He knew how needy she was, how much she hurt, and he did all he could to reassure her.
But that relationship was unhealthy for both of them and had to stop sometime.
"Leave Diamond with me, Isabel. I'll give her a workup and have Nathaniel look at her. He might recommend an MRI...."
"I brought the films," she quickly supplied.
"Excellent. Leave them with me and come back tomorrow. We'll have a full report and recommendation."
"Leave?" she asked. "Can't I stay here?"
"You mean, park your trailer here?" he asked with a lifted brow.
"No, I mean...can't I stay with you?"
"We're divorced, Isabel."
"That didn't seem to matter to you before," she said, smiling very shyly for a forty-four-year-old woman wearing a hundred thousand dollars' worth of upkeep.
"It matters now, Isabel. I've met a woman I care about. I don't think she'd appreciate a little ex-wife maintenance."
She stiffened and glowered, insulted. Apparently, the truth angered her, even though that was clearly the reason she was here. Isabel wanted to get laid, preferably by someone she trusted. If this visit had really been about the horse, she would have sent a trainer or at least had a hand drive her. Isabel didn't usually take off on long trips alone, pulling a trailer. In fact, Clay realized, he might not find a problem with the horse at all.
"I won't cross that line," he said to Isabel. "I wouldn't have done it to you and I won't do it to her."
"I see," she said curtly. "Well, now. So, will it insult your new woman if I park my trailer on the property?"
He tilted his head and peered at her. He couldn't believe there was still more to learn about her after all this time, but sure enough--she was behaving exactly as her father would. Frederik would cajole what he wanted and if he didn't get it, he'd throw a little temper tantrum, and people would scramble to please him.
"Fine," Clay said. "Pull down the road to the east pasture. I'll tell Nathaniel who's parked there. As for me, I won't be here tonight. I'll put Diamond in a stall and I'll be back early to tend to her."
"Clay..."
"No, Isabel," he said, shaking his head. "You must know that we can't continue. Not if either one of us is to have an authentic life."
"I thought it was pretty authentic!"
He shook his head. "I was a placeholder, that's all. But we both deserve something better than that."
Fourteen
Clay knew it was important to explain to Lilly about Isabel, but he couldn't bring himself to do it until their business with Diamond was finished. He also knew if he stayed in his quarters he would be faced with Isabel again, and there would be a very uncomfortable confrontation.
He explained to Nathaniel who was staying in the fancy horse trailer. "She could stay in the house with me and Annie," Nathaniel said. "I'd be happy to extend our--"
"It's complicated, Nathaniel. I think there's more to this visit than the horse. If it's okay, I'm not going to spend the night here tonight."
"Of course, that's fine," Nate said. "I've got your cell number."
He went to Lilly's little house; he was so comfortable there. He was content with the veggie-bean chili, rice and tortillas she made for them. They went to bed together and made love, but languidly, slowly, sweetly. He told her he was tired. He teased that she was wearing him out. And while he held her close as she slept, he prayed that he could be finished with the difficult part of his past and move ahead with Lilly, because she was all he had ever wanted.
In the morning he got up and dressed early.
"I can get up, too," she said sleepily. "I'll drive out to the stable and have a short ride before work."
"Sleep, sweetheart. We'll ride later. I have so much on my schedule today and I want to be free of it so I can concentrate on you."
She smiled and snuggled in the sheets. "I like the sound of that," she murmured.
That morning Clay was surprised by two things. There was a problem with the horse--one that explained the occasional limp or hitch in her gait. The mare's MRI showed a very slight bowed tendon, often seen in race-horses and sometimes caused by overtraining.
Clay wondered if his replacement at the stables was trying to prove himself, and in so doing was pushing the horses too hard.
The other thing that surprised him was that Isabel didn't show herself all morning. She was obviously there--the truck and trailer were still attached and parked on the road to the east pasture. But she didn't come to the clinic to confer with the doctor.