The Long Hot Summer (7 page)

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Authors: Rochelle Alers

BOOK: The Long Hot Summer
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“Why me and not some other woman, Ryan?”

“I don’t know.”

“We may see each a few times, then decide it’s not going to work,” she argued softly.

“If that’s the case then we’ll remain friends.”

Kelly wanted to tell Ryan that women did not have male friends who looked like him. Either he would be a lover or nothing. What he was proposing sounded like a sterile business arrangement, but then wasn’t that was what marriage was? It was an agreement between two people to love each other forever.

But she and Ryan did not love each other. They hardly knew each other. What she did have was a year in which to get to know him. And if it didn’t work then she would leave Blackstone Farms Day School to teach somewhere else.

“Okay, Ryan. I’m willing to try it.”

Pushing back his chair, he stood up and rounded the table. Curving a hand under Kelly’s elbow, he pulled her gently to her feet. His large hand spanned her waist as he pulled her close.

He studied her upturned face, seeing indecision in her brown eyes. He hadn’t lied to her. He did like her. Unknowingly she had shattered the barrier he had erected after Caroline rejected the child they’d created. Kelly had loved and lost like he had loved and lost. The difference was her loss had been final.

“I promise not to hurt you, Kelly.”

She placed her fingertips over his mouth, while shaking her head. “No promises, Ryan.”

“No promises,” he whispered, repeating her plea. Lowering his head, he brushed his mouth over hers, sealing their agreement.

Kelly felt her breasts grow heavy against the hardness of his chest. If she had been in her right mind she would’ve questioned why she had just agreed to become involved with a man who was a stranger, a man on whose property she would live for the next year, and a man whose son was a student of hers.

All of her common sense dissipated like a puff of smoke as he staked his claim on her mouth and heart. She snuggled closer, leaving an imprint of her body on his. Ryan’s hands moved from her waist to her hips, his splayed fingers pulling her against the solid bulge between his powerful thighs.

Pleasure, pure and explosive shook Kelly, leaving her trembling like a withered leaf in an icy blizzard when his tongue slipped between her lips. Her arms tightened around his neck, making him her willing prisoner.

Returning his kiss with reckless abandon, she moaned softly when he left her mouth to leave a series of light kisses down the column of her neck and over her shoulders. Eyes closed, head thrown back, she moaned again. The pulsing between her legs grew stronger and stronger, and she knew if she did not stop she would beg him to take her to her bed where she would play out her dream in the real world.

Somewhere, somehow she found the strength to pull out of Ryan’s embrace. Her breasts were rising and falling heavily, bringing his gaze to linger on her chest. His head came up, and she bit down on her lower lip to keep from gasping aloud. The passion radiating from Ryan’s eyes caused her knees to weaken. Reaching for her chair, she managed to sit without collapsing to the floor. He did not know her and she did not know him, yet the passion between them was strong and frightening.

Ryan sat down and picked up his wineglass, emptying it with one swallow. The cool liquid bathed his throat and body temporarily. He looked down at the delicious meal Kelly had prepared, unable to finish eating because she had lit a fire in him, a fire only she would be able to extinguish.

He wanted her in his bed, but he was willing to wait for her to come to him. After all, they had time, a lot of time….

Six

 

K
elly lay on a cushioned wicker love seat on the porch, her head resting on Ryan’s chest. Raising her right leg, she wiggled her toes. She had left her sandals in the kitchen. She and Ryan had barely touched their dinner after the kiss. He’d helped her clear the table and wash and dry the dishes, and she’d suggested they sit out on the porch where it was safer than remaining indoors.

“What made you decide to become a veterinarian?”

Ryan rested his chin on the top of her head. “I’ve always loved horses and science, and becoming a vet was the logical choice. Also, I knew one day I would inherit the horse farm from my father, as it was with him and his father.”

“You’ll be the third generation Blackstone to run the farm?”

“Yes. And hopefully Sean will become the fourth.”

“What about your brother?”

“Jeremy has no interest in horses. Pop refers to Jeremy as his vagabond progeny. My younger brother would lose his mind if he had to stay here more than a month.”

“How did the Blackstones become horse breeders?”

“My granddaddy was a white tobacco farmer who fell in love with a young black woman who had come to work for him as his cook. They couldn’t marry or live openly as husband and wife because of Virginia’s miscegenation laws. But she did give him a son. When James Blackstone died he left everything to Sheldon. Grandpa had grown tobacco for about twenty years, but after my grandmother died from lung cancer from a two-pack-a-day cigarette habit, he harvested his last tobacco crop and decided to raise horses.”

“Did he breed them to race?”

“No. He raised working breeds like the Welsh Cob, horses known for their hardiness and strength. He sold them to farmers and for riding. My father brought his first Thoroughbred several years after he’d married my mother. Within ten years he was racing competitively.”

What he did not tell Kelly was that his mother was an only child of a wealthy Charleston, South Carolina black family, and that his parents had used her inheritance to establish the largest and most successful African-American-owned horse farm in the state of Virginia.

“I know nothing about horses or racing,” Kelly admitted. “In fact, I’ve never been to a racetrack.”

Ryan’s forehead furrowed. “You’ve never watched our trainers exercising the horses?”

“No.”

“If you don’t have anything planned for Saturday, then I’ll have Kevin Manning show you how he trains horses for races.”

“Do you go to the races?”

Ryan hesitated. During his short marriage, the only time Caroline had deigned to grace him with her presence was at a horse race. “Yes.”

Shifting slightly, Kelly gazed up at him. A shaft of sunlight hit his face, turning him into a statue of molten gold. Turning his head quickly, he glanced at her and she shuddered noticeably from the intensity of his stare. The large gray eyes glowed with an inner fire that ignited a spark of longing that left her gasping.

Ryan returned his gaze to the sprawling landscape in front of Kelly’s bungalow. The homes for resident employees were constructed far enough apart to allow absolute privacy.

The fingers of his right hand traced the outline of Kelly’s ear. “If I’d come back earlier I would’ve taken you to the Virginia Gold Cup. It’s held the first Saturday in May at Great Meadow near The Plains. The Great Meadow also hosts the International Gold Cup the third Saturday in October.”

“Isn’t the Kentucky Derby run the first Saturday in May?”

He chuckled. “I thought you knew nothing about horseracing?”

“I do know the date for the Kentucky Derby,” she said defensively. “How many winners has Blackstone Farms produced?”

Kelly listened intently as Ryan listed the races, the names of the horses and their jockeys who’d worn the black and red silks of Blackstone Farms into the winner circle. He explained domestic horses were bred in many different races and were grouped as ponies, heavy draft horses, lightweight draft and riding horses.

“Barbs and Arabs, the two most popular riding horses, originated from North African stock. Thoroughbreds are descended from Arabians.”

She thought of the colt she went to see most mornings. “Jahan is the most exquisite horse I’ve ever seen.”

“We call him our black diamond. Everyone connected with the farm believes he’s going to become a champion.”

“What do you believe, Ryan?”

He wanted to tell Kelly that he liked her, liked her more than he dared admit. He wanted to tell her that something about her kept him a little off center. That he found himself thinking about her when he least expected. That he thought about her when he retired for bed and when he woke up.

“I believe if he stays healthy, he will stand in many a winner circle,” he said instead. “Have you ever ridden?”

“No.” She laughed. “Remember, I’m a city girl.”

“Do you want to learn?”

“Yes,” she said, refusing to think of the consequences if she fell off a horse.

“Don’t worry, we have a few Thoroughbreds with Irish Draught and native pony blood. They’re less high-strung and more suitable for a novice rider like you.”

“Do the children ride?”

“Most of them sit a horse by the time they’re walking. One of the boys who was born on the farm is now a jockey.”

“How old is he?”

“Nineteen.

Staring up at him, she gave him a saucy grin. “By the way, how old are you?”

“Thirty-four.”

“I suppose you’re not too old to court me.”

“How old did you think I was?”

“At least forty.”

“No!”

“Well, you do have gray hair.”

“Come on, Kelly, cut me some slack.”

“That’s hard when my first impression of you was that of a
doof
ball.

“Doof ball,” he murmured under his breath. “Is that anything like a doofus?”

She nodded, clapping her hands. “Bravo! You just scored another A.”

He glared down at her. “You’ve got a real smart mouth.” Grasping her shoulders, he shifted her to sit on his lap. “If you play, then you have to pay. Are you prepared to pay, Kelly?”

She stared at him through her lashes. “That all depends on the game, Ryan.”

He lowered his head. “Have you ever played
for keeps?

“No.”

“Then I’m going to have to teach you,” he whispered seconds before his mouth covered hers.

His kiss was slow, deliberate and methodical. It was gentle and persuasive. Healing. Exploratory. Drugging. Desire sang in Kelly’s veins as she parted her lips, sampling and tasting the texture of the tongue exploring her mouth. His left hand moved up between her thighs, burning her bared flesh as her breathing deepened.

As quickly as it had begun it ended when he pulled back. And what she saw would be imprinted on her brain until she ceased breathing. The color in Ryan’s eyes shimmered like a newly minted silver dollar. His eyes changed color with his moods, and instead of darkening with desire, his eyes turned into pools of liquid lightning.

Kelly tried to slow the runaway beating of her heart. “I think you’d better go
now
before we do something we may regret later.” Her husky voice had lowered an octave.

Ryan slowly shook his head. “No, Kelly. I never do things I later regret.”

Her senses were reeling as if her nervous system had been short-circuited by a powerful jolt of electricity. She hadn’t known Ryan a week, yet he had lit a fire of desire she thought long dead.

Sitting upright, she pushed off his lap and stood up. Hands on her hips, she watched him stand. His body language was measured, precise. It was as if Ryan was in control of his life and everything in it.

Rising on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “I forgot something.”

“What’s that?”

“I forgot to apologize for closing the door in your face.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “There’s no need to apologize.”

“But you told me you expected an apology.”

“That was before you agreed to date me.”

She nodded. “Good night, Ryan.”

Bending over, he pressed a kiss under her ear. “Good night, princess.”

He walked off the porch to where he had parked his car. He knew he had to slow down, not frighten Kelly. After all, they had a year to get to know each other.

I’m crazy. I’ve lost my mind,
Kelly told herself over and over on the short drive to the schoolhouse. She had spent a restless night replaying her conversation with Ryan the night before.

She had also thought of herself as sensible and practical. When all of the girls she had grown up with were experimenting with alcohol, drugs and sex, it was Kelly Andrews who did not succumb to peer pressure. Why had she permitted Ryan to talk her into a situation in which she was not certain of the outcome?

She might be frustrated—after all, she was undergoing a sexual drought—but that did not mean she should contemplate sleeping with her boss’s son. Kelly was certain she was certifiably
C-R-A-Z-Y!

She parked her car and walked toward the entrance to the schoolhouse. Her step slowed when she saw a man at the door, waiting for her. Her car was the only one in the lot, which meant he had walked. She recognized his face, but not his name.

Smiling, Kelly said, “Good morning.”

Snatching a battered straw hat from his head, he held it to his chest. “Good morning, Miss Kelly.” He extended a hand. “I don’t know if you remember me. Mark Charlesworth, ma’am.”

She shook his hand. Although his clothes, his hands and clothes were clean, he smelled of the stables. “What can I do for you, Mark?”

He lowered his head, and a profusion of dreadlocks swept over his broad shoulders. “Can we talk, Miss Kelly? Inside?”

“Sure.” She unlocked the door and pushed it open. A blast of hot air assaulted her as soon as she walked in. She had neglected to adjust the thermostat. Moving quickly, she pressed several buttons on a wall. Within seconds, the fan for the cooling system was activated.

“We can sit over there.” Kelly gestured to the sitting area.

Mark followed Kelly, waiting until she sat down before he took a chair opposite her. Rolling the brim of his battered hat between long, brown fingers, he stared down at the floor.

Kelly waited for him to speak. The seconds ticked by. “Yes, Mark?”

His head came up and he stared at her with large, soulful dark eyes. “I need your help, Miss Kelly.”

Leaning forward on her chair, she nodded. “How can I help you?”

“I want to go to college, but I don’t know if I can pass the test the college says I need to get in.”

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