Chapter Four
SHE-IT! SETH fell back a step under the umbrellas as eight horses thundered toward him across the grass.
“Don’t worry. For some amazing reason, they almost never ride into the crowd.” The handsome, gray-haired man who wore a lot of cologne stuck out his hand. “Don’t think we’ve met. I’m Hanson Westerberg.”
Seth shook but his eyes flicked back to the horses. “Seth Zakowsky. I’m actually more concerned about those poor humans clinging to the backs of large, four-footed beasts running at top speed.”
Westerberg laughed. “Not a horseman, I gather.”
“A horse might as well be something in a zoo where I come from. At least we had one of those in the Bronx.”
Westerberg nodded. He gave Seth a quick but thorough once-over. “I see. Self-made man.”
Okay, maintain the mystery. “In a sense.” He smiled and looked back at the huge grass field in front of him.
“You’re a guest of Lindsey Vanessen, I believe.”
“Yes.”
“Brilliant polo player. Are you a friend of the family?”
This guy had an agenda, big time. “No, not really. Just of Lindsey’s.”
The horses pounded toward them again across the field. Lindsey rode his horse hard against the other team’s player, leaned down, and smashed the ball with his mallet thing right into the line of fire of one of his teammates. Woosh. The guy hit it toward the end zone. Just like that. Goal. People cheered politely and clapped their gloved hands.
“Lindsey pretty much set that up, right? He gets the assist?”
Westerberg laughed. “In a manner of speaking. Lindsey is the Number Three. Generally, the Number Three is the lead tactical position, and the best player on the team wielding the highest handicap. And yes, he performed a brilliant ride-off and fed the ball to his Number One for goal.”
“That’s what I thought, thanks.” No idea what the guy had said, but Seth sure understood how strong those thighs had to be to keep Lindsey on that horse. Lucky horse. A bell rang. He glanced at the man—Westerberg?
“Thirty seconds until the end of the chukker. Actually, we’re up to halftime.”
“Do they bring out the cheerleaders?” He grinned.
Westerberg’s eyebrows rose; then he seemed to get that Seth was kidding. “Oh yes, uh, no, they get a five minute rest instead of three.”
Seth shook his head. “Man, this is a killer sport.”
“Yes, they say men who ride horses, like jockeys, for instance, are among the fittest athletes in the world.”
“People.”
“Excuse me?”
“Two of those players are women. You said men.”
A slight crease appeared between his brows. “Oh yes, I misspoke. People.” He looked across the crowd toward the entrance. “Good meeting you. I’m expecting my son any moment, so please excuse me.”
“Sure.”
Westerberg smiled, but it came nowhere near his eyes. “He’s a friend of Lindsey’s.” The man walked away. Seth never quite got what his story was. He’d seemed pretty interested in where Seth came from. And who the fuck was his son?
A speeding body came to rest beside him. “Hi.” Lindsey shining with sweat was quite a picture.
“Hi. You’re one helluva player, man.”
He struck one of those damned drag queen poses of his. “Player? I trust you mean on the field, darling.”
“Yeah, of course.” Jesus, he hated flaming guys, but Lindsey wouldn’t stay one thing long enough for Seth to settle on an opinion. One minute queen, one minute wise counselor, and the next fantastic athlete. Confusing.
Lindsey dropped the act. “How are you getting on? I only have a minute. I need to check my ponies.”
“Ponies? Those beasts look pretty full grown to me.”
“Yes, it’s just an expression. Mine are mostly thoroughbreds.”
“Yours? You telling me you own those horses?”
“Of course. Only professional players ride other people’s horses.”
“Shit, man, this is one weird world.”
Lindsey smiled. “You have no idea.” Their eyes met and held, and then Lindsey blinked. “We have another forty or so minutes to play. Can you amuse yourself?”
“Uh, sure. I met one guy. Named Westerberg?”
Lindsey’s eyes widened. “Bruce?”
“No. I think he said Hanson or something like that.”
“Ah, good.” Did he look relieved? “All right, I have to run. Ta, darling. Go stomp some divots.”
“What?”
“The guests push the divots of dirt and grass from the horse’s hooves back down with their feet.” He pointed to all the elegant men and ladies and the kids from the charity this event supported walking around the field. “But beware of the steaming divots.” He laughed, turned, and ran across the field.
Seth walked back to the bar and got a mineral water. No alcohol. On duty, more or less. He circulated through the crowd until he heard an older woman talking about the kidnappings with a younger couple.
The woman said, “How can you say such a thing, Arnold? Dear God, no one we know would do such a thing.”
Seth stopped and stared at a plant.
The younger guy shook his head. “It makes sense that it’s one of us. Who else would know the comings and goings of those families?”
“How can you even think such a thing?”
The younger woman chimed in. “I heard they kidnapped Dave’s daughter on her way to school. She walks the same route and has security protection. Somehow, they overpowered her guards. Somebody knew all the details.”
Seth listened for a couple more minutes, but nothing new was added except a lot of hand-wringing. He agreed with the younger couple. It might be an inside job, although Carla hadn’t thought the men holding her were people she knew. Of course, those guys were expendable flunkies.
He wandered and talked to a couple of other guests who were nice enough, but he didn’t learn anything. Funny, he noticed them glancing at his clothes. Lindsey had been right. He never would have fit in wearing his motorcycle jacket, even if it was a nice one.
He sipped his water. The kids were cute too. The event supported some placement service for orphans and abandoned children, and a lot of them were here racing around and drinking more soda than their systems could handle.
The horses had started running again, so he walked closer to the action. Prickles on the back of his neck made him turn. Hanson Westerberg stared intently at him. When Seth caught his eye, the man’s expression changed. He smiled and waved. So phony. Seth waved, then turned back to the field.
Lindsey raced after the ball, sometimes leaning so far to the side it defied gravity that he managed to stay in the saddle. Something about that slim, effeminate man controlling that huge, powerful animal gave Seth goose bumps. Lindsey and the horse moved as one, slashing and hammering at that poor defenseless ball. Seth loved a man who was good in the saddle. He pulled his coat closed over his half-cocked condition.
“Man, he is cool.”
Seth looked toward the voice. A really tall kid with a young face stood beside Seth, watching the field. Seth wrapped the coat tighter. “Who?”
“The Number Three. What a seat.”
Yeah, he had to agree with that. “So you ride?”
The boy shrugged. “Nah. Where would I get a horse? I’m just a fan.”
“Of polo?”
The kid glanced at him. Like Seth, he had almost golden eyes that looked startling in his tan face, surrounded by longish dark-brown hair. “Yeah. So?”
Seth shrugged. “Most kids like basketball or soccer or something. Why polo?”
“Fast, powerful. I love that the man and the horse are like one thing, you know? Like those centaurs in the Harry Potter movies.”
Yeah, he did know. Seth stuck out his hand. “By the way, I’m Seth.”
The kid nodded and shook with a firm grip. Not wimpy like a lot of kids. “Jasper. Jasper Harding.”
“So have you ever met the Number Three?”
“Lindsey?” His eyes widened. “No, man. But I sure would like to.”
“Well, he actually got me into this hoedown, so maybe if you hang around I can introduce you.” Jesus, now he was a polo groupie. Or a Lindsey groupie.
That did it. For the next thirty minutes, Jasper never left his side. The kid seemed to know everything about polo and everything about Lindsey. “You know his dad died before he was even born, right?”
“Uh, no. I didn’t know that.”
“And you know he’s gay?”
Seth smiled. “That I did know.”
“Cool, huh? Good role model.”
Seth glanced at the boy, who stared fixedly at his hero as he scored a goal. Would he be disappointed when he met Lindsey? “You may find Lindsey a little surprising.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
LINDSEY HURRIED across the lawn toward the tent, the guests, and Seth. He’d left the man alone for a long time. How much trouble had he gotten into? Lots, he hoped. He smiled and adjusted the cuffs on the teal silk sweater he’d pulled on over his riding pants. It brought out the blue in his eyes. Stupid and dangerous to be lusting over Seth Zakowsky, but everything about that tough guy rang his bells. And his balls. Hell, no law against dreaming.
As he got closer, he searched the crowd for the wild brown curls. Yes. Oh. A young boy stood next to him. As Lindsey looked, they both turned. The kid’s face lit up like somebody had given him a present. Lindsey looked back toward the stables. No one else here. Huh. He strode forward and the kid’s smile just got bigger. He raised a hand and waggled his fingers at Seth. “Ta, darling. Who have we here?”
Seth smiled and glanced at the boy. “Lindsey Vanessen, this is Jasper Harding. He’s a fan.”
Lindsey pressed a hand to his chest. “Of mine? How delightful.”
The boy’s smile had faded a little. “Hi. I’m glad to meet you.”
Lindsey looked at the buffet. “Have you both had some food?”
Seth shook his head. “We were waiting for you.”
“Well, good. I’m starving. Come on, darlings, let’s eat.”
He led the way to the table. “What do you like, Jasper?”
“Uh, anything’s fine.” The kid stared at the table with big eyes. Could it be he didn’t get enough to eat?
Lindsey handed the boy a plate and glanced up at Seth. “I suggest roast beef for someone growing fast. I know it’s a favorite of mine.”
“It is?”
“Yes. How do you like yours? I take mine rare.”
Teeth flashed. “Rare would be good.”
“Okay.” Lindsey heaped roast beef on both their plates. “Now, I personally can take broccoli or leave it alone, but they tell me it’s good for me, so I indulge. How about you?”
Jasper made a face, then looked up at Lindsey. “Okay. I’ll try it.”
Using a smaller spoon, Lindsey scooped some onto both plates. “I think we need some turkey too.”
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
A woman’s voice came from behind Lindsey. “Jasper, please don’t bother these gentlemen.”
Jasper stared at his toes. Lindsey turned. The woman was probably in her forties, strictly dressed, and her smile hid nothing of her disapproval of the boy. “Jasper is my friend, miss. He’s not bothering me at all.” She didn’t miss the slight emphasis, and she flinched.
“Of course, he’s a charming boy. I just wanted to be sure he wasn’t making a pest of himself.”
“Not at all. Jasper and I share our culinary preferences.” He turned back to the boy, who was trying to hide a smile. “Shall we move on to some strip steak, Jazz? What do you say?”
The boy’s look suggested a vision of angels. “That would be great, uh, Linds.”
The woman sniffed a little and walked away. Seth chuckled and Lindsey looked up at him, then watched the woman’s retreating back. “What do you want to bet she’s about to go find out she just offended the scion of one of America’s richest families, and she’s going to shit a brick. Excuse me, Jazz.”
The kid grinned. “Hey, that’s okay. I heard lots worse.”
Seth looked between Lindsey and the boy. “Have you two met before? How did you know Jasper’s nickname?”
Lindsey grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “Could you bring the boy a milk, please?”
“Milk!”
“Yes, I suspect you’ve had a gallon of soda. Milk is good for you.” He looked at Seth. The man’s scent surrounded him and made him want to whimper. “I didn’t know his nickname. I made it up.”
Jasper puffed out his chest. “And, man, I love it.”
Seth laughed. “I’ll admit it suits you.”
They walked to a free table with their plates and sat. Jasper dug into his food with an avidity Lindsey remembered from his early adolescence. Of course, his circumstances had been different. He’d literally been changing his form, not just his brain and hormones. The boy would look up, smile, and try to slow his pace, but he’d go right back to shoveling food down his throat, especially the meat. Clearly, he was growing.
“How old are you, Jasper?”
“Jazz.” He grinned.
“Jazz.” Lindsey grinned back.
“I’m almost thirteen.”
“You’re tall. Must take a lot of food to support all that expansion.”
“Yeah, I’m taller than any of the other guys.” He fell back on his food. Lindsey watched Seth watch Jasper. The man seemed to like the kid. So did Lindsey.
“Well, well, isn’t this a lovely domestic scene.”
Bruce. Shit. Lindsey looked up. “Hi, Bruce, good to see you. This is Seth Zakowsky and Jasper Harding.”
The boy stood and extended his hand. “Jazz.”
Bruce shook his hand but kept looking at Seth. “Sorry I missed the match. I heard you were a standout.”
“I did my best, darling.”
“So, uh, could I talk to you for a minute?”
Tiresome. “Of course. Will you gentlemen excuse me?”
He pushed back his chair and stood beside Bruce, who led him closer to the field. Bruce frowned. “So, uh, is he your boyfriend?”
Lindsey narrowed his eyes. “Do you think I would have sex with you if I had a boyfriend?”
He crossed his arms. “I don’t know. Would you?”
“I don’t cheat, Bruce. Seth is just an acquaintance that I brought to the party as a favor to a friend. Not, I might add, that it’s any of your business. One roll in the hay does not a relationship make.”
Bruce touched Lindsey’s arm. “Hey, I’m sorry. I just really like you and thought what we had was pretty good, and when I saw that big hunk, I went green around the gills.”
“I think you’re lovely, darling. Don’t push your luck.” He laughed when he said it, but Bruce swallowed hard enough that he’d probably got the message. “I’m going back to my lunch. If you’d like another date, call me.”
“I will, okay?”
“Of course.” He walked back across the terrace to where Seth and Jasper sat sneaking peeks in his direction. He sat.
Seth positively scowled. “So who’s that stuffed shirt?”
Lindsey cocked his head. “A friend.”
“Seems like a pretty good friend.”
“As I said, a friend.” What was up with him?
Jazz finally slowed down on the eating and sat back with his milk. He gazed at Lindsey. “So you’re gay?”
Seth coughed on his sparkling water.
Lindsey swallowed a sip of champagne and nodded slowly. “Yes, I am.”
“I always thought, you know, gay guys didn’t like sports and stuff.”
“Obviously, it’s not good to assume things based on stereotypes. Every person is different, gay or straight.”
Jasper seemed to think about that as he swallowed milk. “What about you, Seth? Did you know gay guys were so good at sports?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Really? How’d you know?”
“Well, I was a starting quarterback on my football team in college.”
“Yeah. So did you have a friend on the team who was gay?”
He gave that half smile that made Lindsey gasp. “No, Jazz. I’m gay.”
“You are?”
Lindsey’s mouth dropped open. “You are?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. Those gold eyes speared Lindsey. “Like Lindsey said, Jazz, never assume.”