It was the sound of it that snapped whatever thin hold he had on the civilized. With what was nearly a snarl, he grasped her hands and pulled them above her head. She was trembling, but her eyes were almost black with passion and challenge.

With her wrists trapped beneath his fingers, he tore her blouse down the center, sending tiny gold buttons flying. Her body quivered, like a string rudely plucked, but her gaze never faltered.

There was silk beneath the silk, a sheer little fancy that barely covered her breasts before skimming down to disappear beneath her skirt. He watched her face as he skimmed a hand up her leg and found the top of her stocking, the lace-edged hem of the silk. He watched her eyes unfocus as he cupped the fire he'd ignited. As he plunged recklessly into it.

She cried out, shocked, shattered, bucking frantically against his probing hand like a mustang with the first weight of man on her back. Sensations slapped at her, smothered her, staggered her with heat and light and a grinding, glorious need that clenched its sweaty fist in her stomach. Panicked, pleasured, she shook her head while her body exploded.

Her release was like a geyser, boiling from deep inside, thundering up, closer and closer to the surface.

Unstoppable. When she was sure she was drained, when even the colors kaleidoscoping behind her eyes began to dim, he drove her up again.

His hands, ruthless and rough, tugged at her skirt. His mouth worked eagerly at the silk dipping over her breasts, then beneath until she was caught, hot inside it. The flavor of her flesh was exotic, spiced with sweat and soft as water. He could hear her quick thirsty pants, the dazed whimpers that caught time after time in her throat while her heart plunged desperately under his hand, his mouth.

There was the sheer animal pleasure of her nails scraping down his back, of her body straining, shuddering, pumping against his greedy hands.

Those hands tangled with hers in a frantic race to yank away his slacks.

The instant he was free, he drove himself into her, hard, deep, his fingers digging bruises into her hips.

Twin moans trembled on the air when he mounted her, dragging her legs up to open her fully. Then his mouth was on hers again, swallowing gasps as they rode each other to the hot, sweaty finish.

Her head drooped onto his shoulder. Her body, so filled with frenzied energy, went limp as wet paper. If he hadn't been pressed against her with the wall solid at her back, she would have slid bonelessly to the floor.

"Who won?" she managed.

With what breath he had left, he laughed. "A dead heat. Good Christ, you're amazing."

She didn't have the energy to question that. As her mind began to clear it occurred to her that she'd just made violent, frantic love standing up, and what was left of her clothes, and his, were scattered ruined at their feet.

"This has never happened to me before. Nothing like this has ever happened to me."

"Good." Realizing they could spend the night leaning against the wall like drunks, he scooped her up.

"No, I mean ..." She trailed off, noting hazily that she still wore one strappy high heel. Carelessly, she kicked it off. "I mean ever. When I was married, we just ... I mean. Never mind."

"Don't stop there." He carried her into the bedroom. "I love comparisons. When they're in my favor."

"That's the only one I have. Other than Wade-there wasn't anyone other than Wade."

He stopped in the process of lowering her to the bed. His eyes focused. "There was no one before him?"

This was her problem in the bedroom, Kelsey thought grimly. She talked too much. "So?"

"So." Gabe straightened and kissed her again. Maybe it was a dated male fantasy to imagine yourself the only one. But he decided to eliminate Wade and enjoy it. He dropped her onto the bed from a high-enough perch to make her bounce twice before settling. "Your ex wasn't just a bastard. He was an idiot."

"Thanks, I guess." When he continued to look down at her she started to tug on the strap of her camisole-only to discover it was broken. "I think you're going to have to lend me a robe or something so I can get back to my room."

He was smiling when he climbed onto the bed and covered her.

"Really, Gabe, I can't walk down the hall wearing this." She felt the wrinkled ruin of silk bunch between them. "What's left of this," she corrected.

"It looks incredible on you." He skimmed his hand up until her breast was snuggled in his palm. "But this time I figure I'll get you all the way out of it."

"This time?" Her heart stuttered as he stroked his thumb lazily over her nipple. "I couldn't possibly. You couldn't possibly."

His brow arched as he lowered his grinning mouth to hers. "Wanna bet?"

She'd have lost. Several times. By the time dawn began to seep through the windows she was sprawled over him, her body still quivering from the last assault, her mind too numb to sleep.

"I have to go. I need to get to the track."

"You need to sleep, then you need to eat. Then we'll go to the track."

"Can we get coffee?" Her words were beginning to slur as fatigue sneaked through to overpower everything else.

"Sure. In a little while." He stroked her hair, her back, not to arouse now, but to lull. "Turn it off for now, darling."

"What time is it?"

He glanced at the clock and lied without compunction. "About four," he said although it was past six.

"Okay. Couple hours." She felt herself drift down a widening tunnel, light as a feather. "Just a quick nap."

He shifted her gently, brushing the hair away from her face, spreading the tangled sheet over her. Her face was still pale, the shadows under her eyes like flaws on marble. For a few minutes he watched her sleep. And watching her sleep, he fell in love.

Uneasy with the sensation, he backed away from it, and the bed. He reminded himself that great sex, no matter how much affection was involved, was a long way from love.

He'd wanted her. Now he had her. That didn't mean he had to know precisely what happened next.

She needed a friend every bit as much as she needed a lover. Since he intended to be both, he'd better get started on being a friend.

Gabe took a shower, and when he came back to dress, she hadn't moved. Without a thought to her sensibilities, he walked into the parlor and picked up her purse. Her wallet, a palm-size pack of tissues, a leather appointment book, and, he discovered to his amusement, a hoof pick. Her key was tucked inside a little zippered pocket along with a lipstick, a small vial of perfume-which he indulged himself by sniffing-and a twenty-dollar bill. Items, he supposed, a woman like Kelsey wanted to keep handy.

He slipped her key into his own pocket and left her sleeping alone.

His initial stop was Naomi's room. Moses opened the door at the first knock. He looked strained and tired, but he offered Gabe a hand and a genuine smile. "I didn't get a chance to congratulate you. Your colt ran a beautiful race."

"He had top competition. It wasn't the way I wanted to win."

"No." Moses led him inside with a slap on the back. "It's a hard one, Gabe, for all of us. Now that we know something about how it happened, well, it's harder yet."

"There's no more news, I take it?"

"The investigation's rolling. And Three Willows will roll one of its own." In his seamed face, his eyes were hard as onyx. "All I know is somebody meant that horse to die. Goddamned waste."

"Whatever I can do-whatever anyone at Longshot can do-you have only to say the word. I want the answers every bit as much as you do." Gabe glanced toward the bedroom door as it opened.

Naomi stepped out. If she'd been a boxer, he might have said she was in fighting trim. None of the frailty that had haunted her the day before showed now. She wore a dark purple suit, as close to mourning as she had available, and a look of grim determination.

As Gabe had said, she'd fought back.

"I'm glad you're here." She crossed to him, put her arms around him, and rested her cheek against his.

"This is hard on both of us." She drew back, keeping her hands on his shoulders. "A lot of the talk's going to circle around you, too. I want a united front."

"So do I."

"I hate what happened. I hate it for me, for you, and I hate it for racing. But we're going to deal with it.

I've just scheduled a press conference. I'd like you to be there."

"Where and when?"

She smiled, then touched his cheek. "At noon, at the track. I think it's important that we do it there.

We'll be taking Pride home immediately after the autopsy." She paused, took a long breath. "We should both be prepared for a lot of press in the coming weeks-and with the Preakness, even more speculation." Her eyes hardened. "You damn well better win that one, Gabe."

"I intend to."

Satisfied, she nodded. "I'm going to give Kelsey another hour or so before I call her room. She took on a lot yesterday. I hate to ask her for more."

"She's got more." The nerves that trickled down his back struck him as ridiculous. He slipped his hands into his pockets, fingered Kelsey's room key. "Kelsey stayed with me last night. She's sleeping now. I'm going to get some things for her out of her room, then make sure she eats."

The silence dragged on. Five seconds. Ten. Naomi broke it with a sigh. "I'm glad you were with her.

I'm glad it's you."

"You might not be when I tell you it's going to stay me."

She arched a brow. "Are you talking about marriage, Gabe?" For the first time in hours, she laughed.

"Ah, the face pales. Such a man thing." She patted his arm as he continued to stare at her. "You'd better get out of here, honey, before I start to ask you more embarrassing questions. If you could have Kelsey here by eleven, we could all go out to the track together. Oh, and get her the navy suit with the coral blouse."

Naomi nudged him out the door, closed it, then rested back against it. "Oh, Moses, what a horrendous twenty-four hours this has been. And now, for just a minute, I feel so good. Do you think she knows he's in love with her?"

All Kelsey knew was that she was furious with him. Not only had he let her oversleep, but he'd taken off-with her key. She was stuck, without a decent stitch of clothing, in his room.

She stepped out of a frigid shower, which had done little to cool her off, and wrapped herself in the hotel robe hanging on the back of the door. With her hair bundled in a towel, she paced from bedroom to parlor and back again.

She debated calling Naomi's suite, but shied away from the idea of explaining that she was essentially naked and marooned in Gabe's room.

When she heard the parlor door open, she marched in, fire on her tongue. "I'd like to know what the hell you think you're-oh."

She and the room service waiter stared at each other with equal parts of distress. "I'm sorry, miss. The gentleman said I should come right in and set up breakfast quietly because you were sleeping."

"Oh. Well. That's all right. I'm up." She folded her hands, and her dignity. "And where is the gentleman?"

"I can't say, miss. I only had my instructions. Would you prefer I come back later?"

"No." She wasn't letting that coffee out of the room. "No, this is fine. I'm sorry I startled you."

While he set up, she debated whether to gather up the scattered clothes or to pretend not to notice them. Opting for the latter, she accepted the check, added a tip she hoped would make Gabe bleed, and signed it with a flourish.

"Thank you, miss. Enjoy your breakfast."

She was pouring her first cup of coffee when Gabe strolled in. "So, you're awake."

"You pig." She gulped the coffee black and hot enough to blister her tongue. "Where's my key?"

"Right here." He drew it out of his pocket, then laid her suit over a chair. "I think I got everything.

You're an organized hotel guest. Cosmetics, toothbrush. By the way, you've got great underwear. I figured this little navy thing went with the suit." He held up a teddy and grinned. "Want to put it on?"

She snatched it out of his hand. "You've been pawing through my things."

"I collected your things. Your mother suggested the suit."

"My-" Kelsey gritted her teeth and prayed for patience. "You've been to see her?"

"She's doing fine. More than ready to handle the backlash. She's set up a press conference at the track for noon. How's the coffee?" He poured some for himself. "We're to meet her at eleven in her room, and go out together. She suggested the suit, but not whatever baubles you wanted to go with it. So I picked what I liked."

"She told you what clothes to get for me?" Kelsey drew in air, then expelled it slowly. "Which means you told her I was here."

He sat, then lifted the silver dome from a plate to reveal ham and eggs. "I told her you were with me last night." His gaze flicked up. "Is that a problem?"

"No, but ... No." Giving up, she pressed a hand to her temple. "My head's spinning."

"Sit down and eat, you'll feel better." When she did, he reached over and closed a hand firmly over hers. "We're in this together. Got that?"

She stared down at their joined hands. He hadn't meant the press conference, not just the press conference, and they both knew it. Another risk, Kelsey thought, but she lifted her eyes until they were level with his.

"Yeah, I got it."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"YOU NEVER SAID YOU WERE GOING TO KILL THE HORSE." CUNNINGHAM mopped his sweaty face. It seemed he spent all his time sweating these days. In front of the cameras with a big sloppy grin on his face. At celebration parties where people thumped him on the back and bought him drinks. In bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, reliving that final stretch of the Derby over and over.

He'd wanted to win, but had gratefully settled for second place. Yet the cost had ballooned into more than he'd ever expected to pay.