Read The Long Hot Summer Online
Authors: Rochelle Alers
The Long Hot Summer
Kelly Andrews refused to fall under Ryan Blackstone’s sensual spell
Going out on a date with him was out of the question. So carefully, with what she hoped was a conciliatory smile, Kelly responded to Ryan’s request. “I’m flattered, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your invitation. First of all, I’m tired—”
“And…?” he asked.
“And, second, I have a rule.
Don’t date the boss!”
To Kelly’s surprise, Ryan started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“You are,” he said, sobering. “Since technically I’m not your boss, I guess you’ll have to find another reason to reject my offer.”
Bracing one hand on the door, Kelly smiled grimly. “Oh, really. Well, that’ll be easy.” Without warning she closed and locked the door in his face. “Good night, Ryan.”
Ryan stood motionless. She’d actually slammed the door in his face. “Well, I’ll be…”
ROCHELLE ALERS
THE
LONG HOT SUMMER
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ROCHELLE ALERS
is a native New Yorker who lives on Long Island. She admits to being a hopeless romantic, who is in love with life. Rochelle’s hobbies include traveling, music, art and preparing gourmet dinners for friends and family members. A cofounder of Women Writers of Color, Rochelle was the first proud recipient of the Vivian Stephens Career Achievement Award for Excellence in Romance Novel Writing. You can contact her at P.O. Box 690, Freeport, NY 11520-0690, or [email protected].
Dedicated to Isaac Murphy—the first jockey of any
race to win the Kentucky Derby three times.
Sons, listen to what your father teaches you. Pay
attention, and you will have understanding.
—
Proverbs
4:1
Contents
One
“W
ho the hell are you?”
Startled by the voice below where she stood on a stepladder hanging a colorful border of zoo animals above a corkboard—a booming voice sounding as if it had come from the bowels of the earth—Kelly Andrews lost her balance and fell backward. Her fall was halted as she found herself cushioned against the solid chest of the man who had silently entered the schoolhouse.
A swooshing rush of breath escaped her parted lips at the same time her eyes widened in surprise. Glaring down at her under lowered lids was the man who was her tormentor and rescuer.
There was no doubt he was a Blackstone. The angular, raw-boned face was the same as Sheldon Blackstone’s. His eyes were gray, not the silvery sparkling shade of his father’s, but a dark gray that reminded Kelly of a wintry sky before a snowstorm.
She wondered which Blackstone son he was—Jeremy the DEA agent or Ryan the veterinarian. Whoever he was, the black stubble on his jaw made him look formidable. Her startled gaze settled on his sensual full lower lip, wondering if it ever softened in a spontaneous smile.
Ryan Blackstone’s expression mirrored that of the woman in his arms: shock. He’d just returned to Virginia and Blackstone Farms from the Tuskegee University of Veterinary Medicine where he’d taught several courses as a visiting professor for two semesters.
Minutes after he’d parked his car in the garage near the main house he had noted the sly grins and muted whispers from long-time employees, but chose to ignore them because he had been anxious to reunite with his father. His four-year-old son had spent the drive from Alabama to Virginia chattering incessantly about returning to the horse farm and seeing Grandpa.
Sheldon had warmly welcomed his son and grandson home, then told Ryan that he wanted him to meet the teacher for the new child care center, at the same time extolling the woman’s credentials and experience. This news pleased Ryan because now the young children who lived at Blackstone Farms would have a structured daily environment. For years they had become free spirits, wood sprites with the horse farm’s property as their backyard. They ran barefoot in the grass, climbed trees, swam in one of the two in-ground pools and raced in and out of the dining hall several times a day for snacks. Establishing the Blackstone Day School was an ideal situation, but only if the woman in his arms wasn’t its new teacher.
Kelly placed a palm on his chest, pushing against solid muscle. “Please, put me down, Mr. Blackstone.”
The sound of her husky voice jolted Ryan. The soft, perfumed body pressed against his was so pleasurable that he’d almost forgotten how good it felt to hold a woman—especially one who was certain
not
to share his bed.
Dark gray eyes narrowed slightly under raven eyebrows. He held his breath before letting it out slowly. “Who’s asking?” He had tightened his grip under her knees.
“Kelly Andrews, Blackstone Farms Day School’s new teacher. And I hope you don’t make it a habit of using profanity around children.”
Ryan glared at Kelly. Who did she think she was? “What did you say?”
“Mr. Blackstone, if you’re hearing impaired I can sign for you. I’m certified in American Sign Language as well as certified to teach nursery through sixth grade. Now, I’m going to ask you again to put me down or I’ll be forced to show you what other certifications I have.”
Ryan decided he liked holding Kelly. He liked the husky timbre of her voice and the way her curvy body melded with his; he also liked the smell of her hair and skin.
“Are you warning me that you’re trained in martial arts?”
Smiling, Kelly admired the masculine face inches from her own. Slanting cheekbones, a strong nose with slightly flaring nostrils, and a square-cut chin made for an arresting visage. His eyes were beautiful. They were a striking contrast to his brown skin.
Slowly, as if in a trance, Ryan lowered Kelly until her sandaled feet touched the newly installed oak flooring.
So, he thought, she
was
the one everyone had been whispering about. She was the teacher who would assume the responsibility for socializing the farm’s young children. Studying her upturned face, Ryan stared down into eyes the color of newly minted pennies with glints of gold. They were framed by long, thick black lashes, which seemed to enhance their vibrancy. Her delicate copper-brown face was exquisite: sculpted cheekbones and a delicate chin with a hint of a dimple. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Kelly Andrews was lovely; no, he mused, she was stunning!
When Ryan had walked into the schoolhouse, he’d stood there mutely, staring at a pair of incredibly long legs under a pair of cutoffs, a narrow waist and slim hips. The hem of her sleeveless white blouse was tied at her midriff, offering a glimpse of velvety flesh at a waist small enough for him to span with both hands. Her dark chemically relaxed hair, cut to graze the back of her long neck, was secured off her face by a wide red headband.
“How old are you, Miss Andrews?”
Kelly took a quick breath of utter astonishment. Counting slowly to herself, she bit down on her lower lip. She had to choose her words wisely or she would walk away from this position.
Staring up at the tall man looming over her, she forced a smile she did not feel. “In case you aren’t aware of it, Mr. Blackstone, but there are laws against age discrimination in the workplace.” A spark of satisfaction lit her eyes when a rush of deep color darkened his tanned gold-brown face.
Ryan’s right hand tightened at his side. “I’m very much aware of the law, Miss Andrews,” he said. “And you can call me Ryan. My father is Mr. Blackstone.”
Even though Sheldon Blackstone was legally listed as owner of the horse farm, it was Ryan who had eventually assumed responsibility for its day-to-day operation. His father had resumed the role this past year only because Ryan had been teaching as a visiting professor at his alma mater. In Ryan’s absence Sheldon had advertised, interviewed and had hired Kelly to teach the children of Blackstone Farms.
And given Sheldon’s penchant for beautiful women, it was obvious why he had hired Kelly Andrews.
Pulling herself up to her full five-foot-eight-inch height, Kelly flashed a confident grin. “If you’re that versed in the law, then why did you inquire about my age?”
Aware that he’d been caught in a trap of his own making, Ryan struggled to extricate himself from a terminal case of foot-in-mouth.
“You look so young that I…I,” he stammered, unable to complete his statement. There was something in her gaze that tightened the muscles in his stomach. It had been a long time since a woman had excited him with just a glance. Not since the first time his gaze met the woman’s who had eventually become his wife and the mother of his son.
Kelly lifted an eyebrow and decided to let Ryan squirm a bit longer. It would serve him right if she turned her back on him and went back to decorating her classroom. She had wanted to finish by the end of what had become a very long day.
But there was so much to do. She still had to unpack and catalog books, games, art supplies and videos before she’d be ready. She had hoped to open the school on Monday—exactly one month since her arrival at Blackstone Farms.
“I can assure you,
Ryan,
” she said, stressing his name, “I’m old enough
and
qualified to teach.”
“That may be so, Miss Andrews, but I intend to monitor you closely during your probationary period.”
Gazing up at him, Kelly noticed a sprinkling of silver in the thick, close-cropped wavy black hair. There was something rakish and sophisticated in Ryan. His dark skin and light colored eyes reminded her of lightning in a bottle.
“Ryan?” Her voice was soft and layered with a sensuality that jerked his head up like a marionette manipulated by a puppeteer.
His eyes darkened until they were nearly black with an indefinable emotion. “Yes, Kelly.” It was the first time he’d called her by her given name.
Tilting her chin, she gave him a captivating smile. “I don’t have a probationary clause in my contract.”
Ryan closed his eyes, silently cursing his father for being taken in by her pretty face. It was Sheldon who had vehemently insisted that everyone employed at Blackstone Farms sign a contract—one that always included a clause detailing a probationary period.
He opened his eyes to find Kelly staring at him, while at the same time the curvy pout of her sexy mouth taunted and challenged him. “What did you promise my father?”
Her smooth forehead furrowed. “Excuse me?”
Ryan leaned closer. “You heard me the first time, Kelly. Don’t make me have to sign for
you.
” His gaze roamed leisurely over her body. “I hope when you begin teaching you’ll be wearing more clothes.”
Without giving her an opportunity to come back at him, he turned on his heels, walked out of the schoolhouse, and closed the door softly, leaving her to stare at a pair of broad shoulders that seemed almost too wide for the doorway.