‘Cross,’ she announced.
‘Yes, I can see that,’ he said, smiling.
Courtney would have liked to wipe that smirk off his face with more than her tongue. But she hadn’t physically brawled with a member of the opposite sex since she was thirteen, and didn’t think the lawns at Royal Randwick Racecourse was the place to begin again.
‘Aside from the horse having a lousy trainer or a crooked owner,’ she continued tartly, ‘the main reason female jockeys don’t ride all that many winners is that they are rarely offered the best rides in races, and when they are their male counterparts make sure none of the breaks go their way. It’s a sad fact of life that the male sex do not appreciate women taking them on in fields they’ve always considered their own private turf.’
‘Possibly. But you must concede that pound for pound male jockeys are stronger. Take you, for instance. If you were a jockey, quite a few pounds of your riding weight would be wasted on your very nice but less than useful breasts. Strength-wise, that is,’ he added ruefully.
‘Actually, no, that’s not the case,’ she countered without batting an eye. It wasn’t the first time Courtney had heard that old argument. It had whiskers on it. ‘If I were riding professionally, I’d have to strip off at least twenty pounds and my boobs would shrink from their present cup C to a flat-chested double A. Add five hundred push-ups a day, and I’d be every bit as strong as any male jockey. Being female is not the point here. It’s a matter of talent and opportunity. A woman jockey can have all the talent in the world, but rarely gets the opportunities.’
He smiled. ‘I give up. You win.’
‘Thank you,’ she said crisply, but didn’t smile back. She was still smarting inside for finding him so attractive, and wasn’t about to be won over by one smarmy little smile.
Getting the message that he was on the outer, he turned to Lois. ‘So explain the mystery to me, Lois? Why is Ms Cross, here, entitled to a share of Big Brutus’s prize money?’
‘Courtney’s mother bred Big Brutus. I leased him as a yearling, then syndicated him out to you and your partner.’
‘Oh, I see. Sorry,’ he directed at Courtney with another winning smile. ‘And sorry about the jockey bit. I was only stirring. I don’t know about your riding talents, but your debating skills are excellent. You wouldn’t be a budding lady-lawyer by any chance?’
His charm was undeniable, and Courtney struggled to stay angry with him.
‘Courtney is a horse breeder, too,’ Lois answered for her. ‘The Crosses have been breeding thoroughbreds for generations.’
‘You don’t look like a horse breeder,’ he said, and those sexy blue eyes raked over her from top to toe.
Courtney’s heart lurched upwards, then did a swallow dive down into her stomach.
Wow, she thought a bit dazedly. This guy is dynamite.
‘Since Lois isn’t going to introduce me properly,’ he said, ‘then I will. Jack Falconer…’ And he held out his hand.
It was a big hand, naturally. He was a big man.
Reaching out, she slid her own relatively small hand against his huge palm, curling her thumb around half of his and squeezing firmly.
‘Courtney Cross,’ she replied, steadfastly ignoring her madly galloping heart.
‘Delighted.’ And he squeezed even more firmly back.
She felt it all the way down to her toes.
Courtney simply could not understand how any woman with an active libido could prefer some aging politician to this gorgeous hunk of male flesh.
The only possible answer was money.
Okay, so he’d fallen on hard times. But not through any fault of his own, according to Lois.
Courtney wondered how he could afford Big Brutus’s training fees. Lois didn’t come cheap.
‘And what is it you do for a crust, Jack?’ she asked, not subscribing to the theory that you never asked personal questions on first acquaintance. How else were you going to find out what you wanted to know?
‘I used to be a financial consultant,’ he said happily enough. ‘Or an investment broker, if you prefer that label. At the moment, I’m a gentleman of leisure.’
‘You mean you’re unemployed.’
‘Courtney!’ Lois broke in. ‘For heaven’s sake.’
‘It’s perfectly all right, Lois,’ Jack said. ‘I don’t mind. If by unemployed you mean I don’t work for wages, then you’re absolutely right. I am unemployed in that sense. But I’m not broke. And I’m not on the dole. Currently, I am a man of independent means.’
Which meant he was looking for work and living on his savings.
‘Would you two excuse me for a few minutes?’ Lois interrupted. ‘I’ve just spotted the owners of my horse in the second race. Jack, darling, look after Courtney for me, will you? Take her inside, up into the bar overlooking the track. Get her a drink. I’ll find you when I’m finished down here.’
Courtney was not displeased at being left alone with the dishy Jack. But, as Lois walked off, he looked momentarily disconcerted.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she said straight away.
His eyes cleared of the cloud that had momentarily muddied them to a bleak grey. ‘Why should I mind?’
‘Maybe you want to go place a bet on the first race,’ she said. ‘Or maybe you have other friends here that you feel you should be getting back to.’
‘No. Not at all.’
‘What about the other part-owner of Big Brutus?’
‘He’s in Bolivia. I now own all of Big Brutus.’
‘Oh! I didn’t realise Lois meant that partner. I wasn’t listening properly.’ She’d been too busy ogling Jack. ‘Owning a racehorse all by yourself is very expensive, you know. Can you afford it?’
‘I will be able to, after today. Lois is confident Big Brutus is going to win.’
‘Lois is always confident her horses are going to win, especially when there’s a cup or a prize at stake.’
Jack smiled a lazy smile. ‘She is, isn’t she?’
‘Still, often enough she’s right. She does love those trophies. My mother thought her quite wonderful.’
‘Thought?’
Courtney swallowed. ‘My mum passed away recently.’ It still hurt, but the urge to cry whenever she thought about, or talked of her mother was gradually lessening. In a dozen years or so, she might actually get over losing her mentor, and champion.
‘I’m
