Tricia turned the key in the ignition, adjusted the air-conditioning, backed out of the driveway and drove along the main road that led away from Black stone Farms.
She gave Jeremy a sidelong glance. “Where are we going?”
“Take 64 to 81, then I’ll tell you where to turn off.”
“How far is it from here?”
“About thirty clicks.”
She smiled. How could she have forgotten that Jeremy had been a Marine and was now a special agent with the DEA? The military jargon had just slipped out.
Nodding, she concentrated on driving instead of on the man sitting next to her. She had agreed to become involved with him again, but refused to think of the depth of their involvement. She doubted whether they would make love, because of his injury, but having an emotional relationship rather than a physical one was not an option either. If they became emotionally involved it would make their eventual separation that much harder…at least for her. Besides, it had been more than ten years since she had slept with a man.
Tricia increased her speed, passing the Blackstone property marker and headed for the interstate. Security devices and closed-circuit cameras mounted on poles and fences surrounding the horse farm monitored everyone entering or leaving the ten-thousand-acre compound.
Her narrowed gaze lingered on the dark clouds in the distance. “It looks like rain.”
Jeremy studied the gunmetal-gray sky. A heat wave had held the Shenandoah Valley and the surrounding environs in a brutal grip for a month. Sheldon had ordered the trainers to limit most outdoor activities for the horses until the ninety-plus degrees and oppressive humidity eased, while in-ground sprinklers worked around the clock to keep the grazing pastures verdant.
“We need more than a passing thunderstorm,” he stated matter-of-factly. As soon as the words were out of his mouth a roll of thunder shook the earth, followed by a flash of lightning that came dangerously close to the ground.
Tricia’s jaw tightened as she stared straight ahead. The daytime running lights on her car shimmered eerily in the encroaching darkness. It was only minutes after seven.
“Pull off at the next exit,” Jeremy ordered in a strained voice.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you to drive.”
She frowned. “But, you can’t drive.”
“I know I can’t drive,” he snapped angrily. “I’m not going to let you drive along a mountain road during a thunderstorm.” Having grown up in the western part of the state, both Tricia and Jeremy knew of the number of accidents and fatalities that resulted from landslides and falling rocks during violent storms each year.
“Where do you want me to go?”
“I don’t know. There’s bound to be a motel close by.”
Tricia left the interstate and drove along a county road. There came another roll of thunder, followed by lightning, then rain. Fat drops spattered the windshield.
Jeremy was hard-pressed not to tell Tricia to pull over on the shoulder and switch seats with him. Her car was an automatic and he didn’t need his left foot to drive.
“Over there,” he said, pointing to his right. A sign advertising a bed-and-breakfast appeared out of nowhere. The outline of a large white Victorian structure came into the sweep of the headlights.
Decelerating, Tricia maneuvered along a path leading to the Lind Rose bed-and-breakfast, parking under a porte cochere behind several SUVs. She cut off the engine, stepped out into the oppressive humidity and came around to assist Jeremy.
A side door to the three-story house opened and a tiny woman with short snow-white hair emerged. “Oh, you poor dears. Please come in out of the rain.” The shadowy figure of a tall man joined her.
Tricia lagged behind Jeremy as he made his way toward the couple. He had left his jacket in the car, and despite the air-conditioning his shirt was pasted to his back. She felt her mouth go dry as she studied his broad shoulders under the finely woven shirt, the slimness of his waist and hips and long legs. His beautifully proportioned body equaled his classically handsome features.
“Welcome to the Lind Rose,” a deep voice rumbled in the darkness. “I’m Lindbergh and this is my wife, Rose. We just heard on the scanner that the storm is a bad one. Hear tell a bridge near Craigsville was washed out, and the state police just shut down a portion of the interstate outside of Staunton.”
Jeremy smiled at the tall gaunt man with a head of shocking white hair as he neared him. “I’m glad we stopped because we were planning to go through Craigsville.”
“You’re in luck tonight,” Rose said, gesturing toward Jeremy’s leg with the unattractive boot. “We happen to have a room on the first floor. Most folks who come here want to stay on the second or third floor because they want to sit out on the veranda and look at the mountains.”
Jeremy nodded. “My wife and I need a room, and if it’s not too late we’d also like to have dinner.” The request had come out as if Jeremy had said it many times before.
Tricia stared at the smooth, taut, olive skin over the elegant ridge of his high cheekbones, her breath catching in her chest. He had referred to her as his wife.
Rose smiled. “Would you like to eat in the dining room or in your room?”
“The dining room.”
“In our room.” Tricia and Jeremy had spoken in unison as the older couple exchanged a knowing glance.
“Sweetheart, if it’s all right with you I’d like to get off my feet,” Jeremy said in a quiet tone.
Tricia wanted to glare and bare her teeth at him, but smiled sweetly instead. “Of course, darling. We’ll dine in the room.”
Reaching into his pocket, Jeremy withdrew a small leather case and extended it to Tricia. “Please take one of the cards.” She reached for an American Express card and handed it to Rose. “We’re also going to need some toiletries.”
Rose gave the credit card to her husband. “All of the rooms come with baskets of complimentary grooming samples. You’ll also find bathrobes and slippers. We ask that you leave them, but if you want them as souvenirs just let us know and we’ll add the cost to your bill. Come with me and I’ll show you your room.”
Lindbergh stared at the name on the credit card before peering closely at Jeremy. “Are you one of those Blackstones from the horse farm?”
Jeremy’s expression was impassive. “Yes.”
Lindbergh reached for Jeremy’s right hand and pumped it. “My pleasure, Mr. Blackstone.” He nodded at Tricia. “Mrs. Blackstone.”
“Let go of the man’s hand, Lind,” Rose admonished softly. “Don’t you see he’s hurting?”
Tricia moved closer to Jeremy and studied his face. Moisture dotted his forehead and his mouth was drawn into a tight line. There was no doubt he was uncomfortable.
He was in pain and his medication was back at the farm. She touched his shoulder. “Let’s go to the room,” she said softly.
Tricia and Jeremy followed Rose down a carpeted hallway to a room at the opposite end of the hall. Rose opened the door and flipped a wall switch. Table lamps filled the space with a warm, soft golden glow, highlighting an exquisite queen-size sleigh bed with a lace and organza coverlet and pillows. A table, doubling as a desk, held a vase of fresh white roses and a supply of candles next to a quartet of hurricane lanterns. The room also had a sitting area with a round table and two chairs, and an adjoining bathroom. Bundles of dried herbs lay on the grate in a stone fireplace instead of the usual logs.
Tricia smiled. “It’s beautiful.”
Rose beamed. “I’m glad you like it.” She walked over to the table in the sitting area, picked up a small leather-bound binder and handed it to Tricia. “I’m certain we’ll have most of what you’ll need to make your stay comfortable. We also offer laundry service. If you want something washed, just put them in the bags you’ll find on a shelf in the closet and hang it outside your door tonight. You’ll also find today’s menu in the binder. If there’s anything you need other than what is listed, please let me or Lind know.”
Walking slowly over to an overstuffed armchair, Jeremy sat down heavily. His ankle was throbbing. The orthopedist had warned him that atmospheric changes would affect the metal in his foot. He closed his eyes, praying the pain would go away.
Tricia placed her purse on a table near the bed and opened the binder. The entrées included roast chicken, filet mignon and broiled trout. The bed-and-breakfast also offered a variety of dishes for vegetarians and those on restricted diets.
“What do you want to eat?” she asked Jeremy.
He waved a hand, not opening his eyes. “Please order for me.”
She spoke quietly with Rose, ordering the chicken and fish entrées with steamed vegetables. Once Rose left to put in their order, she went over to Jeremy.
“Would you like to eat in bed?”
He opened his eyes and his head came up slowly. A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. Had Tricia realized what she’d asked? Her naive question elicited erotic musings that made him temporarily forget about his pain. Yes, he wanted to eat in bed, taste every inch of her smooth fragrant skin from her face to her toes.
The notion of making love to her elicited a longing and a desire he had long thought dead. Whenever he made love to other women it was only for sexual release. But it had never been that way with Tricia. He hadn’t consciously planned to seduce her, to get her into his bed, but the fact that they would share the same bed was now beyond her control, their control.
“Yes.” The single word came out like a silken growl. His steady gaze met and fused with hers.
A minute passed before Tricia dropped her gaze. Turning on her heel, she went over to the bed, shifted the pillows and shams and turned back the coverlet. She went completely still when she registered the heat from Jeremy’s body seeping into hers as he closed the distance between them. She shivered as his moist breath swept over the nape of her neck. She hadn’t heard him get up.
“Help me into bed, sweetheart.”
She took his crutches, propping them in a corner as he sat down heavily on the mattress. Bending over, she removed his shoe. Her motions were measured, precise as she placed an arm under the back of his knees and lifted his legs onto the bed.
“Are you in pain?” she asked after he’d slumped back to the pillows. “It’s bearable.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He glared at her. “I said it’s bearable.”
She did not believe him, but decided not to press the issue. Reaching for the telephone on the nightstand, she dialed the number for room service. She would order something that would not only dull his pain but also his senses temporarily.
“This is Mrs. Blackstone. I’d like to order a bottle of Chardonnay.” She ignored Jeremy’s questioning look. “Yes. Thank you.”
“When did you start drinking?” he asked after she ended the call.
At fifteen they’d taken two bottles of wine from the dining hall’s wine cellar and finished one in less than an hour. Jeremy had been slightly tipsy while Tricia spent half the night in the bathroom, retching violently. Once she recovered she swore she would never drink again.
“I sometimes have a glass or two for special occasions.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Is this a special occasion?”
A smile softened her mouth. “I’d say it is.”
His smile matched hers. “What are we celebrating?”
“A truce, Jeremy.”
His smile faded. “I’d like to think of it as a reconciliation, Mrs. Blackstone.”
“Don’t get carried away with yourself. I couldn’t tell them I’m Miss Parker after you introduced me as your wife.”
A muscle quivered at his jaw. “But you could’ve been Mrs. Blackstone.”
She stared back at him for a long moment. “I could have been, but you chose to believe a lie.”
Jeremy’s eyes darkened with pain. Tricia did not know how many times he had punished himself for his cowardly actions. He’d run instead of staying to confront her. Even if she had lied about sleeping with Russell Smith, it still would have been better than not knowing.
“How long will I have to pay penance for deserting you, Tricia?”
“Fourteen years, Jeremy,” she spat out angrily. “I loved you even when I became another man’s wife. Every time he touched me I cursed you, because it was you I wanted to make love to, not Dwight. There were nights when I feigned sleep so I wouldn’t have to make love with him. I punished Dwight when he didn’t deserve to be punished.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “He was kind, patient but after a while even he couldn’t put up with a cold and unresponsive wife.”
Jeremy felt Tricia’s pain as surely as if it was his own. He had hurt her—deeply. “I’m sorry. I know it sounds trite, but there’s nothing else I can say. I’m sorry and I don’t want you to leave the farm.”
Straightening her spine, she stared down her nose at him. “What I promised to give you is three weeks. Please don’t ask for more.”
A sixth sense told him that something traumatic had happened to her during their separation. Something he knew he had to uncover before she left Blackstone Farms again.
He waited until Tricia walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, and leaned over to pick up the telephone receiver. He punched in several numbers. His call was answered after the third ring.
“Hey, Pop.”
“Where the hell are you and Tricia?”
Jeremy ignored his father’s sharp tone. “We’re holed up at a bed-and-breakfast outside of Craigsville.”
A heavy sigh came through the wire. “Dammit, Jeremy, you’re going to put me in an early grave. Have you forgotten that everyone checks in during bad weather?”
Jeremy was aware of the mandated farm telephone chain that every resident check in with one another during violent weather.
“Half the county is blacked out because of downed power lines,” Sheldon continued. “Poor Gus nearly passed out when I told him that I hadn’t heard from you or Tricia.”
“Tell Gus Tricia is safe. We plan to spend the night here.”
There was a noticeable pause before Sheldon asked, “Is there something going on between you and Gus’s granddaughter?”
Jeremy hesitated, then said, “Yes, Pop. There’s something going on between Tricia and me, but it’s something we have to work out by ourselves.”
“I asked Tricia if she was the reason you joined the Marine Corps instead of coming back to the farm and she said I had to ask you.”
“Since you’ve asked, I’ll give you an answer. I ran away instead of confronting her about something someone told me.”
“Are you still running, son?”
Jeremy smiled. “No, Pop.”
“Does this mean I can retire?”
“No. You’re too young to retire.”
“I’m tired, Jeremy. Thirty years in this business is enough. Now all I want to do is fish and spoil my grandchildren.”
Jeremy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Can we talk about this another time?”
There was silence before Sheldon said, “Sure.”
“Good night, Pop.” He hung up the phone at the same time Tricia walked out of the bathroom.
“Who were you talking to?”
“My father. I called to let him know we’re safe. He’ll let your grandfather know that we’re together.”
Tricia nodded. It was one thing to sleep under Jeremy’s roof and another to sleep with him—in the same bed—at a bed-and-breakfast. She did not have to be a clairvoyant to know Gus Parker’s thoughts once Sheldon told him she and Jeremy were spending the night together away from the farm. Her grandfather had warned her repeatedly not to become involved with Jeremy…and she knew instinctively his warning had something to do with her mother.
Every time she’d asked her grandparents about her father they went mute. Had Patricia Parker become involved with someone who had been a boss’s son?
Reuniting with Jeremy had changed her because she now had answers to her past—all but the identity of her father. As soon as she returned to Blackstone Farms she intended to confront her grandfather about her mother and her father.
Tricia sat down on a chair beside the bed and stared at Jeremy. He lay, his head and shoulders cradled on a mound of pillows, staring up at the ceiling. A comfortable silence filled the space as the sound of rain lashed at the windows. She moved off the chair when a knock on the door signaled the arrival of their dinner.