The Long Hot Summer (13 page)

Ryan’s jaw tightened. The plans he had made to take her and Sean to Williamsburg would have to be cancelled. “I wish you would’ve told me sooner.”

“Why?”

“I’d planned to take you and Sean to Williamsburg for the weekend.”

“You made plans without telling me?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise for you and Sean.” He hadn’t told anyone about the trip. Not even Sheldon.

“Well, it’s more than a surprise. It’s a shock.”

“What’s the problem, Kelly?” There was an edge to his voice she had never heard before.

She moved closer. “What signals are you sending to Sean when he sees his father and his teacher shack up together in a hotel room?”

Ryan struggled to contain his temper. “I reserved a suite with adjoining bedrooms. Sean and I would occupy one and you the other.”

“Okay, so you have an answer for the sleeping arrangements. What about the three of us going away together? What are we telling Sean? That we’re a couple and a family?”

His gray eyes bore into her. “We could be, Kelly.”

She shook her head. “No, we can’t, Ryan. Not without love. And if there’s no love then you, me and Sean will never become a family.”

The seconds ticked off in silence before Kelly turned and walked out of the schoolhouse, leaving Ryan staring at where she had been. Reaching into the pocket of her jeans, she pulled out her keys. The lights were still on in the building when she drove away, tears blurring her vision.

She loved Ryan. Loved him so much it pained her to be in the same room with him. And she was realistic to know that he was drawn to her because of Sean. She’d confessed to wanting to become a mother, and he needed a mother for his son.

What was so ironic was that she and Ryan could both get wanted they wanted if only he told her that he loved her.

Kelly maneuvered her car into the winding driveway to her sister’s home, parking behind a late-model sedan bearing New York plates. Her parents had arrived before she had.

She retrieved a bag from the trunk, leaving it open, then made her way up the steps to the wraparound porch. The inner door stood open, and she peered through the screen door. She tried the door, finding it locked. Ringing the bell, she waited for someone to answer it.

A smile crinkled the skin around her eyes she spied her brother-in-law striding toward her with a coal-black ball of fur at his heels. “Hey, Leo.”

He unlocked the door and held it open. “Hey, yourself.” He kissed her cheek. “You look good, Kelly.” He sniffed her neck. “And you smell nice for someone hanging out with horses.”

She returned the kiss, his neatly barbered beard grazing her lips. “Not only am I hanging with horses, but I’m learning to ride.”

“I’d willingly bet a week’s salary to see you clinging to the back of a horse.”

“Hold on to your wallet, because you’ll lose. I sit a horse, not cling to it.”

“Ouch,” he teased. “Let me take your bag up to your room.”

Kelly tightened her grip on the leather handles. “I can carry it. You can get the carton in my car. I left the trunk open.”

Tall, handsome and with a smooth-shaven head, Leo Porter wagged a finger. “You know you’re not supposed to bring anything.” Because of their careers and active social life the Porters had made it a practice to cater their parties.

“Oh, well,” she crooned. “Then I’ll just take the wine back to Blackstone Farms with me.”

Leo hugged her. “Where did you find it?”

“In a quaint little store not too far from Lexington.” Kelly smiled down at the puppy licking her toes. “Who is this?”

“That’s Miss Porter. Pam and I call her Poe-Poe. We got her a week ago.”

“Is she paper trained?”

“Yes. Pam wouldn’t have a dog in her house unless it was trained.”

Bending, Kelly scooped the puppy up. “Hello, Miss Porter.” The poodle pup yipped and wiggled. “Okay, I’ll put you down.” She placed the dog on the floor and she took off, her feet slipping out from under her on the highly waxed wood floor. She rolled several feet before regaining her footing.

“I’ll meet you in the back,” Kelly said as she walked through the entryway of the spacious Colonial.

It took less than fifteen minutes to unpack, wash her face and brush her hair. As she secured it in a ponytail, she made a mental note to call the salon she had visited when living in D.C. to make an appointment.

She skipped down the carpeted staircase and made her way through the modern kitchen to a door leading to the Porters’ expansive backyard.

Camille sat on a chair, her silver-haired head covered by a wide straw hat, laughing at something her first cousin had said to her. Her clear-brown eyes widened as she spied Kelly. Holding out her arms, she stood up.

Kelly walked over to her mother and sank into her comforting embrace. “Hi, Mama.”

Pulling back and holding Kelly at arm’s length, Camille nodded. “You look wonderful Kelly. Look at your baby, Horace,” she called to her husband who was engrossed in a chess game.

Pushing back his chair, he pointed a finger at his brother-in-law. “Don’t you breathe until I get back,” he warned. Turning, Horace Andrews turned the brilliance of his smile on his youngest daughter.

“Hello, Daddy,” Kelly said before she kissed his rounded cheek. Resting a hand over his belly, she whispered, “You need to go on a diet.”

Horace grimaced. “Not only do you look like your mother, but now you’re beginning to sound like her.”

“But you’re sixty, Daddy—”

“I happen to know how old I am,” he countered, cutting her off. “Your mother haunts and nags me constantly about losing weight. And I will.”

“When, Daddy?”

“When I get to be a
grandfather,
” he countered with a wide grin.

“Stop it, Daddy! You and Mama have to stop this insanity about becoming grandparents or it will never happen.”

“Pamela and Leo would rather get a
dog
than have a baby.” He’d spat out the word.

“That’s their choice and their business.” She had enunciated each word. Horace Andrews mumbled under his breath about what his children could do with their choices. Patting his arm, she said softly, “Go back to your game. I want to speak to Cousin Flora.”

Pamela lay on the pillow next to Kelly the way they’d done when they were growing up together. “How are you and your Blackstone?”

Turning on the side and facing Pamela, Kelly rested her head on her folded arm. People would never take her and Pamela for sisters, because they looked nothing alike. Her older sister was the image of their paternal grandmother: petite, delicate features, black curly hair and sable coloring.

“His name is Ryan. We’re doing all right.”

“Just all right?”

Kelly lifted her left shoulder. “We see each other on Fridays and spend the night together. We usually get back to the farm before noon on Saturday.”

Pamela’s waxed eyebrows wrinkled. “You’re sleeping together off the property?”

“He has a four-year-old son who just happens to be my student.”

Pamela mouth formed a perfect
O.
“I see where you’re coming from.” She gave Kelly a long, penetrating stare. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“No. It’s just that you seem so calm—at peace with yourself.”

Kelly wanted to tell Pamela she was wrong. What she was feeling wasn’t serenity, but turmoil. She wanted to tell Ryan that she loved him, but balked each time she lay in his arms. And she did love him enough to marry him and bear his children. All he had to do was open his mouth and ask her.

Eleven

R
yan’s hand flailed out as he tried brushing away whatever it was crawling over his cheek. He moaned and turned over onto his belly. Seconds later a sliver of ice trickled down his spine and he sprang off the bed, his hands bunched into fists, but was rendered immobile by an arm around his throat, cutting off his breath.

“You still have good reflexes for an old man,” a familiar voice whispered in his ear.

“Dammit, Jeremy!”

Jeremy Blackstone released Ryan’s throat and stepped back quickly as his older brother swung at him. Grinning, he winked. He had anticipated his reaction.

Ryan stood in the middle of his bedroom, muscular arms crossed over his bare chest. It had been more than a year since he’d seen Jeremy. He didn’t look any older, but there was something about him that communicated danger. As an undercover agent for the Drug Enforcement Administration it was obvious that he had become as hardened and dangerous as the criminals he sought to bring to justice.

“How did you get in?” He was certain he had locked the door before he retired for the night.

Jeremy lifted a thick black eyebrow. “I picked the lock.”

“You’re nothing more than a legal thug.”

“You should try it. Thug life ain’t too bad.”

“No thanks. Do you mind if I put some clothes on?”

Shrugging his broad shoulders, Jeremy moved over and sat in an armchair. “It doesn’t bother me what you wear. You happen not to be my type.”

Crossing the bedroom, Ryan opened a drawer and took out a pair of boxers. He slipped into them and walked over and sat down on a matching chair opposite his brother. Jeremy’s pitch-black hair was longer than he had seen it in years. Pulled back off his forehead and secured in a ponytail on his nape, the style provided an unfettered view of his striking olive-brown face with a pair of high cheek bones, aquiline nose, firm mouth, short dark beard and dove-gray eyes. Diamond studs glittered in each ear.

Ryan knew Jeremy had had his ears pierced when on an undercover assignment in South America, but this was the first time he could recall him wearing earrings at Blackstone Farms.

“How long are you staying?”

“I’m out of here tomorrow night.”

“That only gives you one day. Why do you bother to come if you can’t stay for more than a day?”

Jeremy frowned. “Now, you sound like Pop.”

“That’s because he’s right, Jeremy. Once you become a father you’ll understand how he feels when he doesn’t hear from you for months. And he has no way of knowing whether you’re dead or alive.”

“That’s because he refuses to accept what I’ve chosen to do with my life.”

“He doesn’t have to accept your career. All he has to do is accept you as his son. A son he loves, a son he worries about. And maybe even a son who may one day claim his rightful place at Blackstone Farms.”

Jeremy leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees. “Read my lips, Ryan. I don’t do horses. I don’t know what has Pop all bent out of shape. You’re a brilliant veterinarian rumored to be able to raise horses from the dead.”

Ryan’s eyebrows lowered as he glared at Jeremy. “This is not a joke.” Jeremy sobered quickly. “I might know horses, but you’re the one with the business background. Pop has been running this farm for a long time, and even though he’s not complaining I know he’s tired. Before I left to teach at Tuskegee I picked up some the slack, but since I’ve been back I realize that it takes more than one person to run a farm this size.”

Jeremy swore under his breath. “Please don’t pressure me, Ryan. I’m not ready to stop doing what I’m doing.”

“I’m not asking you to stop. I’m just asking you to consider your options.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Ryan stood up and extended his hand. He wasn’t disappointed when Jeremy grasped it. “Why don’t you bed down in the room next to Sean’s?”

Jeremy shook his head. “I’d rather sleep in my own place.”

“It hasn’t been aired out.”

“That’s all right.” He stood up, stretching his six-foot-three height. “I’ve slept in worse conditions.” And he had. “If I’m not up by eight, then come and get me. Other than missing you, Pop and Sean, the thing I miss the most is Cook’s pancakes.”

“Okay.” Ryan glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It was a few minutes past four. It was too early to get up, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.

Walking over to the window, he peered out through the screen. The odor of spent fireworks lingered in the early-morning air. Sheldon had hired a professional fireworks company to put on a dazzling display of brilliant color for the children who lay on blankets with their parents, staring up at the sky while cheering and applauding each explosion. Sean kept asking him whether Miss Kelly could see the color from where she was. Ryan told him he didn’t believe she could, but his son mentioning her name made their separation even more acute.

Turning on his heel, he made his way into an adjoining bathroom to shave and shower.

Kelly felt as if she had truly come home once she crossed the property line leading to Blackstone Farms. She spied the flagpole with the American flag flying atop the black and red one that represented the farm’s silks. The flags hung limply in the falling rain.

She had had a fun-filled relaxing weekend with her family. She went to bed late, slept in even later and generally did not do anything more strenuous than shift a lounger to a shaded area whenever the sun burned her exposed skin.

Sighing audibly, Kelly maneuvered under the carport beside her bungalow. Recurring thunderstorms with torrential downpours had slowed her return trip. She switched off the wipers, lights and the engine. Pushing open the door, she inhaled the smell of wet earth.

Walking the short distance to the porch, she mounted the stairs. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and froze. Rising from the love seat in the shadows was the outline of a man. The scent of a familiar cologne wafted in her nostrils. It was Ryan. He had waited for her to come home.

“Ryan?”

“Yes, princess.”

“What are you doing here?” He hadn’t moved out of the shadows.

“I was waiting to welcome you back to
our
home.”

“This is
your
home, Ryan.”

“It could be yours if you want it to be.”

Her breath caught in her lungs. What did he mean? What was he trying to tell her? Shifting, she tried making out his expression but failed. It was too dark.

“I don’t understand.”