No one's in sight," Jack whispered. Sara walked out of Seawind's stable, dressed again in her pale green lawn gown with the ruffled hem and puffy elbow-length sleeves. It was the lightest summer gown she owned, but the unforgiving sun was making her perspire. Or perhaps it was the thrilling ride on Seawind. Or was it the nearness of Jack that was making her so warm? Sara watched as he cooled down the two-year old colt with a liniment brace and wrapped the horse's legs. He certainly seemed to know what he was doing. She couldn't take her eyes off the bulge of Jack's muscles bunching and moving against the fabric of his blue chambray shirt. The seat of his trousers strained across taut buttocks whenever he bent. Embarrassed at her own frank assessment of Jack's lean body, she forced herself to look away. Sara saw the other eight horses in the Peterson stable sticking their heads out of the half-doors. "Shall I'll feed and water the horses?" she asked. She needed something to occupy her hands and her mind and to stop wondering what Jack's skin would feel like.
