Ride a Painted Pony (Superromance) Read Free Page A

slick magazine and tossed it across the desk. “Hardly rotting lettuce and safety pins. Go ahead, take a look.”
    Taylor thumbed through the magazine, not really focusing on any of the brightly colored creatures that gamboled across its pages. She couldn’t have said why one photo caught her eye. The big horse in the picture was covered with jeweled armor. Its short mane tossed in an invisible wind. It wore a jeweled leather bridle attached to a steel bit that pulled the corners of its mouth back to show its teeth. Lancelot must have ridden such a horse.
    She could imagine herself flying free and invincible on such a great horse.
    But this horse wouldn’t ever fly free. It could only move in a stately circle, three of its four feet forever anchored to a wooden platform, while a calliope tinkled in the background. No martial music; no herald trumpets. An immense sadness and sense of loss welled up in her. She dropped the open magazine on the desk.
    “You like him?” Kendall asked.
    Taylor shrugged.
    “Don’t kid me. I saw your face when you looked at him. Pure lust. I’ve seen it before.” He leaned across the table and whispered seductively, “You can build him.”
    Taylor reared back in her chair. He wasn’t a wolf, he was more like an oversize demon tempting her to exchange fingers for art. “Come on. Even if I had the skill and could avoid doing myself serious injury, something like that would take years to carve.”
    “If you’re willing to work, you can have him on his feet in two weeks.”
    “Now I know you’re crazy.” She stared at the shining horse—a warrior’s horse—out of the corner of her eye. It drew her straight back into a childhood crammed with knights on horseback, Robin Hood, Odysseus, and Hannibal.
    She’d always resented Rowena in Ivanhoe and all those other wimpy heroines who stood around wringing their hands and either getting abducted like Guinevere or rescued like Maid Marion. She wanted to be the warrior in the books she read. But her brother Bradley always said girls couldn’t be warriors. Oh, yeah?
    She looked straight into Nick Kendall’s dark eyes. He raised one eyebrow and grinned at her. It was as though he could read her mind.
    “You can do it,” he said. “You picked a doozy of a horse, but if you work hard and let me help you, I promise you can do it.”
    For a moment she felt as though she could climb Everest for this man. She gulped. “I don’t have two weeks, remember. I have ten days. Not much time to spend on that.” Taylor slapped the magazine shut. Of its own volition her hand lingered on the magazine; she realized her thumb was still marking her place. “What the hell,” she said casually. “I’ve got to have something to work on if I’m going to stick around here. I can get started and then somebody else can finish.”
    His grin said that he knew she was hooked.
    She felt that telltale flush spread up her throat and into her face. “So how do we work it?”
    He sighed. Obviously he’d forgotten for the moment why she was here. “Normally you’d pay a fee for tuition and the raw wood we’re going to use to build your horse. In your case, of course, we’ll just let everyone assume you’ve paid. You will have to buy a set of chisels and one of those small handheld drills with the interchangeable grinders and cutters. You can charge them as expenses I’m paying Mel and leave them behind when the job is done.”
    Taylor nodded. She slid the satchel from her shoulder, dug around in it and came up with a miniature tape recorder. “I find it’s easier to get the details on tape. Then I can transcribe my notes later. Okay with you?”
    Kendall shook his head. “Not now. We’ve already been in here too long. Most people who come to Rounders are so pumped up to get started they can’t wait to get their checkbooks out and choose their animals. You’ve already picked your animal, but if you’re going to be a regular pupil, we’ll have to get you