Desire By Starlight

“I hope you got some sleep,” Alice said briskly. “The plane lands at eleven and we’ve got just enough time to collect our bags and stop at the hotel before the one p.m. Borders signing.”

“I know.” Jenna tried to shift away and Brin followed, ignoring her silent command. Brin continued with the maddening cycle of licking and sucking that had kept Jenna on the edge of coming for what felt like a century—driving her to the peak and then, just as she started to crest, easing the pressure until Jenna crashed back down again, whimpering and cursing while Brin laughed. Jenna’s thighs tightened and she started to climb faster.

“Did you fall back to sleep?” Alice asked.

“No. I’m here.” Jenna struggled to keep her voice even and calm but her toes were curling with the first whispers of release humming through her blood. So close now. So close.

“Jenna?” Alice said suspiciously. “Tell me you didn’t work all night.”

Jenna bit her lip and yanked on Brin’s hair. She didn’t care if it hurt—Brin knew she was torturing her, and she was not going to come with Alice Smith on the other end of the line. Brin finally relented and chuckled softly, her breath dancing over Jenna’s twitching clitoris. Jenna arched off the bed at the electric shock of pleasure. God she wanted to come.

Drawing in a breath, she said, “Alice Ann. Stop harassing me. I’ll see you in the lobby.” She disconnected and threw her cell phone onto the floor. “Oh my God. I was two seconds away from coming all over you with my agent listening.”

“Don’t wait any longer on my account,” Brin murmured and drew Jenna back into the warm haven of her mouth.

Jenna closed her eyes, her body on autopilot while she mentally reviewed what she needed to do before heading to the airport. She was prepared for Borders and she wasn’t reading until tonight at Wald—

“Oh!”

The sharp edge of orgasm penetrated her consciousness and pleasure swamped her synapses. The climax was raw, hard, blinding after the long delay, and she lost herself for a few seconds until she could refocus on what mattered. The galleys…she needed to proof them on the plane. She’d have just enough time.

At 5:15 a.m. Gard stored her emergency colic kit and med box in the back of her Ford F150, locked the cap down, and climbed behind the wheel. Bursts of pinks and purples flamed over the Green Mountains, and though she’d seen dawn break thousands of times before, she paused to watch. The pyrotechnic brilliance had eluded description by the finest poets and painters and songwriters for centuries, and as she sat absorbing the splendor, the tight place in the center of her chest eased a fraction. She knew the ache for what it was. A core of loneliness she’d learned to live with and could usually ignore. Still, simple pleasures like this helped assuage the distant pain that never left.

Frantic barking finally drew her gaze from the spectacle and across the hard-packed expanse of the paddock beside her two-story white Greek revival farmhouse to the open doors of a red wood barn three times the size of her house. Her yellow Lab raced toward the truck at breakneck speed, and she barely managed to lean across the front seat and shove the door open before the four-legged rocket propelled itself into the front seat.

“Beam,” Gard chided and reached over to close the door. “When have I ever left without you?”

Sunbeam graced her with a wide doggy smile before planting her paws on the armrest and sticking her head out the open window.

“Hold on.” Gard shifted into gear and headed down the drive to the rutted dirt road that bordered her thirty acres to Route 7, a two-lane blacktop road and the closest thing to a highway to be found in the county. Her farm backed up against the Green Mountain National Forest and her nearest neighbors were a mile away. At night she couldn’t see their lights or hear any sound other than coyotes howling, owls hooting, and the sonorous rumble of bullfrogs in the small pond out behind her house. A far cry from the never-ending bustle of Manhattan. She reached over and stroked Beam’s back. The solid, warm body under her palm and the quick splash of a wet tongue over her forearm banished the familiar melancholy.

She had been looking forward to a morning of routine calls until John McFarland had called at 4 a.m. to say one of his broodmares was colicking. She was headed there now and hoped the situation wasn’t so far advanced she’d need to operate. Anticipating an easy day, she’d told Rob to take the day off since they’d been up half the night seeing to Elizabeth Hardy. Rob’s stint in the Navy Medical Corps made him an excellent surgical assistant and she primarily used him on the afternoons when she performed surgeries in her clinic. He rarely went out on field calls with her unless she expected to need help with a seriously ill large animal. The owners usually provided ample assistance. Sometimes they wanted to provide more help than she actually needed, but she had learned very quickly upon setting up practice in the countryside that the best way to keep her clients happy was to let them give her advice on everything from the proper way to birth a calf to the appropriate treatment for founder. Once in a while they actually listened to her advice. John McFarland, fortunately, was a savvy farmer who knew when to ask for help.

Just as she was about to turn onto the long gravel drive to the farm, her cell phone rang.

“Davis,” she said.

“Gard, it’s—”

“Hi, Rina,” Gard said to the county sheriff.

“I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not we talk so often you know my voice.” Rina laughed.

Rina had a nice laugh, deep and mellow like aged scotch. Gard imagined Rina’s blue eyes and short wavy brown hair, her quick smile, her small tight body. Rina had been flirting in a friendly, test-the-waters kind of way for the last few months, but Gard hadn’t given her any openings to take it further. She liked Rina, and she wasn’t interested in complicating a good relationship for casual sex. Since even casual demanded more intimacy than she could do, that didn’t leave much. Which was one reason she was celibate. She didn’t want to think about the other reasons.

“Pretty early for a social call,” Gard said, chasing away the dark memories.

“Believe me, I really wish it were. You busy?”

“In the truck.”

“Damn, I forgot how early you start.” Rina’s voice dropped. “Although I rather like morning people.”

“I’m your woman, then.”

“So you keep promising.” When she next spoke, her tone was more serious. “I’ve got the information on Elizabeth Hardy’s next of kin. At least I’m pretty sure I do.”

“Hold on.” Gard kept a small clipboard with a pad of paper and an old-fashioned wooden pencil stuck to her dashboard with a suction cup for taking messages on the fly. Sliding the pencil from the clasp, she said, “Go ahead.”

“I tracked down a Frank Hardy who seems to be the grandson of Elizabeth Hardy’s cousin on her father’s side, once or twice removed. He’s dead, there’s no wife listed, but there is a daughter, Jenna. At least I think she’s his daughter. I got lost in the interdepartmental computer archives trying to track birth records and can’t verify that until the records room at the courthouse in Harrisburg opens at eight and I can talk to an actual person. Looks like they lived somewhere out near Lancaster, PA. You want her number or do you want to wait?”

Gard thought about it. Based on her comparison of Elizabeth Hardy’s body temperature to the ambient temperature inside the old farmhouse, which was a good ten degrees cooler than outside, she had deduced that the elderly woman had died approximately twenty-four hours before. She did not like to delay informing the next of kin for a protracted period of time. Somehow leaving the dead in limbo, unmourned, bothered her.

“Give it to me. I’ll call after I finish at McFarland’s. I’ll contact you after I talk to her and let you know if she’s the right person.”

Rina rattled off a number and Gard scratched it down.

“Will there be an autopsy?” Rina asked.

“Not unless the family insists. I didn’t find anything suspicious about her death.”

“Okay then. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll call the courthouse and keep chasing the records.”

“Thanks.” Gard clipped the pen back on the dash. “Sorry to drag you out of bed so early for this.”

“You can make it up to me with breakfast,” Rina said.

Gard hesitated. Nothing wrong with having breakfast with a woman she considered a friend and colleague. Rina was smart enough not to read more into it. “After I get things settled at McFarland’s, I’ll make that call to Jenna—what’s her last name?”

After a few seconds of silence, Rina said, “Looks to be Hardy. Either she’s not married or she kept her own name. Must run in the family. Elizabeth Hardy was married about fifty years ago but resumed her maiden name when her husband died.”

“After I talk to her, I’ll call you and we’ll see where things stand with breakfast. I’m already behind and I haven’t started yet.”

“Fair enough. But I expect a rain check at the very least.”

“You’ve got it, and thanks again.”

“No problem,” Rina said. “I appreciate you doing the hard work.”

“Comes with the fancy title. Talk to you later.” Gard could have passed off notification of next of kin to the sheriff, but she was the county corner and she would do what needed to be done.

Jenna stepped out of the elevator into the hotel lobby at exactly the appointed time of 5:30 a.m. and winced when a din of voices hammered at the headache bequeathed by her night without sleep. A bellman in a brass-buttoned navy jacket emerged from the jostling group of men in business suits congregated in front of the reception counter and hurried toward her.

“May I get your luggage, ma’am?” he asked.

“Thank you.” She gratefully relinquished her bags, scanned the crowd, and spied Alice at the registration desk, undoubtedly taking care of their bill. In her blood-red fitted jacket, tailored skirt, and heels, Alice stood out from the men in regulation blue and gray like an exotic bird among pigeons. Even after ten years of friendship, she still got a jolt of pleasure when she saw her. Alice was beautiful—beautiful and indispensible.

Even though she was still annoyed by Alice’s ill-timed phone call, she had to admit she was lucky to have someone who took care of all the details. Hell, Alice not only managed her career, she managed her life. All Jenna needed to do was concentrate on her writing and the personal appearances Alice scheduled. The only area where Alice didn’t take care of her needs was in the bedroom. Had things been just a little different, she might have done that as well.

Jenna studied Alice from across the lobby as she waited for the bellman to load her bags into the limo Alice had arranged to take them to the airport. Alice was everything she found appealing in a woman—aggressive, competent, confident. When she’d pitched her first novel to Alice at a book fair almost ten years earlier, she’d been young, unagented, and naïve. She’d felt a spark of attraction, of connection, the moment she’d sat down across from the older, sophisticated woman, and she’d known from the glint of interest in Alice’s eyes that Alice felt the pull too. But three minutes into Jenna’s pitch, Alice had said, “You’ve got a winner and I can sell it for you,” and that was the end of anything sexual between them.

For Alice, business trumped lust and, Jenna suspected, possibly even love. She wasn’t certain about that, because she’d never seen Alice in a serious relationship. Alice never lacked for female companionship, but like Jenna, she never dated anyone exclusively and rarely for very long. They were similar that way, which was probably why they got along so well. Most of the time.

Watching frown lines form between Alice’s eyebrows as she crossed the lobby to her, Jenna did not think this morning was going to be one of their more amicable moments.

“Jesus,” Alice said in a low voice, “you look like hell.”

Jenna knew that wasn’t true. She looked fine unless someone looked closely. Under careful scrutiny, the light makeup she’d applied would not completely cover the circles beneath her eyes or disguise the gaunt hollows in her cheeks.

“Don’t start,” Jenna said. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

“I know you didn’t get any sleep, damn it. You at least have to eat.” Alice glanced at her watch. “We’ll get breakfast at the airport. I’d rather clear security—”

“Great,” Jenna said quickly, because she really wasn’t hungry. Exhaustion tended to blunt her other senses. At least all of them except the senses Brin MacIntyre had taken care of quite thoroughly the night before. She wondered how long she could survive on adrenaline and endorphins. She smiled to herself. If she managed to find a Brin MacIntyre in every city on her tour, she just might make it after all.

“What’s so funny?” Alice held the heavy glass door open for Jenna to pass.

“Nothing. I was just thinking about the rest of the tour.”

“It’s going really well, you know,” Alice said as they waited under the canopy while the limo driver and the doorman loaded Alice’s luggage into the trunk of the spacious Town Car. “There’s been a lot of buzz after every event and the sales numbers look excellent. This book is going to get you a Golden Quill.”

Jenna snorted. The prestigious award was a coveted prize for any romance writer, but despite her growing popularity, she wasn’t a contender for that award yet. At the pace she was going, in five years, she would be. “That would be great, but I’ll be happy just to see the book do well.”

“I had a long conversation last night with Edith Reynolds,” Alice said, referring to a well-known New York editor. “She agrees with me—you’re ready to break out and bring a crossover audience with you. She’s interested in small-town contemporaries with a little heat, and you’re perfect for that. She wants to bring out three in one season.”

“Three? In what…the next year?”

“You’ve handled that many before,” Alice pointed out.

“Sure, but not when I had two others already scheduled.” Jenna shook her head. “If I’m going to start a new series, you know it has to come out strong. I can’t take the chance of being rushed.”

“We can’t say no to this. If I have to, I’ll get you an extension on one of the others.” Alice made a soothing noise and rested her palm low on Jenna’s back, guiding her into the rear of the car. “I have faith in you, sweetheart.”

Jenna’s headache went seismic. Opportunities like this didn’t come along every day. She wrote faster than almost anyone working in her genre, and she wanted to stay out ahead. She had to stay out ahead. Talented new authors cropped up every day. “You know I’ll do what needs to be done. But damn it, Alice—it better be iron-clad.”

“You know it will be.”

Jenna gazed out the window of the limo on the way to the airport, too tired to carry on a pointless conversation. Alice knew what she was doing. For some reason, Jenna’s stomach objected to the stop-and-go motion of the limo in the crowded airport traffic and she struggled to ignore the rising nausea. By the time the vehicle pulled to a stop in front of American Airlines, she feared she was seriously in danger of vomiting. She brushed the back of her hand over her forehead and realized she was sweating.

“Are you all right?” Alice asked.

“Yes. I guess I probably do need some breakfast.” Jenna remembered the room service cart that she’d never brought into her room. When had her last meal been? Lunch in DC the day before, or had it been breakfast?

Cool fingers cradled her jaw and Alice’s worried eyes swam into view.

“Sweetheart, you really don’t look well.”

“I’m fine,” Jenna said, a little breathless. Outside the limo, a redcap was efficiently stacking their luggage onto a cart. “Let’s get the checkin taken care of. Some coffee and a bagel will fix me right up.”

“All right. But tonight you’re getting a solid eight hours if I have to tuck you in myself.”

“Promise.” Embarrassed by Alice’s concern, Jenna quickly pushed across the seat and followed Alice out. The instant she stood, a wave of dizziness cut her legs out from under her and she collapsed.

Chapter Three

“Has she been rolling?” Gard leaned on the stall gate, observing the bay mare. Her neck glistened with sweat and she shifted restlessly, intermittently pawing the ground with her front hooves. Despite being agitated, she was also listless. Her abdomen was not grossly distended, but she definitely displayed signs of intestinal colic. While not often fatal, the disease was still the number one natural killer of horses and could go from a medical problem to a surgical emergency within hours. By then it was often too late.

“Nope—she looked like she wanted to but I walked her a bit and she calmed down some.” John McFarland was about Gard’s height—five-ten or so, and had probably once had the same coal black hair as she did. His was still thick, but gray now, and where her eyes were charcoal verging on midnight, his were light blue. He resembled most farmers Gard knew—weather-lined skin putting his age anywhere between forty and sixty, clear direct gaze, work-roughened hands. His tone was typically laconic, but his concern was evident in the furrows across his brow and the tight line of his mouth. A fifth-generation farmer, he knew his way around all the common ailments likely to affect his stock, but Gard went through the list of questions that needed to be asked so she didn’t overlook anything.

“When did you first notice she wasn’t right?”

“Right before I called you. She was fine last night. Can’t be more than a few hours, whatever’s going on.”

“Teeth okay? No problems with worms?”

He shook his head.

“Change in her feed?”

Again, a negative jerk of the head.

“How old is the foal now?” Gard asked. “Two months?”

“Just about that,” McFarland said.

Gard hadn’t attended the foaling, which was normal for uncomplicated deliveries. A seasoned farmer could handle normal births and even some complicated ones without veterinarian assistance. Sometimes she wasn’t called in until situations had turned desperate, but that was the job. She hadn’t grown up among the independent, self-sufficient people she now counted as her friends and neighbors, but when she’d moved into their midst, she’d instinctively recognized that here, unlike the circles she was used to, wealth, power, and position did not earn respect. Only honesty and competence did, and she worked hard to deserve it. “Nothing unusual with the birth?”

“This one was her second, and easy. Can’t say as I’ve noticed anything out of the ordinary with her.”

“Hold her head so I can get a listen.”

They eased carefully into the stall so as not to startle her, and while John held the lead shank, Gard listened to her abdomen. “Pretty quiet. Heart rate’s good, though. Let’s get a tube down and empty her stomach.”

Gard opened her kit and pulled out a thick coil of rubber tubing to pass through the mare’s nose into her stomach as well as a long plastic sleeve for the rectal exam. When the intestines failed to function because of mechanical obstruction or surrounding inflammation, gas and fluid built up in the stomach. If it wasn’t evacuated, the stomach could rupture, which always led to death.

“Ready?”

McFarland nodded, gripping the rope attached to the halter close to the side of the mare’s head.

Gard slid the lubricated nasogastric tube into the horse’s nostril and gently advanced it until bilious fluid and air came rushing out. She nudged a bucket over with her foot to catch the drainage. “Not a whole lot.”

McFarland grunted. The relatively small volume of accumulated fluid in the stomach indicated that whatever was wrong had not progressed very far, which was an excellent sign. Once the evacuation was complete, Gard removed the tube and went to work at the other end of the mare. After she stripped down to her T-shirt, she slipped a long plastic glove over her right arm to well above her elbow. She squeezed some lubricant into her palm and carefully eased her hand into the horse’s rectum. She went slowly, knowing the mare was in pain. She didn’t want to get kicked and she didn’t want to risk damaging the fragile colon. When she was nearly at the extent of her reach, she encountered a sizable amount of manure and carefully loosened the mass, extracting as much as she could. Inverting the glove and tying it off, she set the specimen next to her kit to examine in the lab for parasites or unusual foreign materials.

“I don’t feel anything twisted. Might be she’s just impacted,” Gard said. “There’s quite a lot up there. I’ll put some water with a little mineral oil down the tube and see if that doesn’t loosen her up. That and some Banamine for the pain may do it.”