Very Private Duty Read online

  “Forgive me, Tricia.”

  The hoarse cry in the night startled Tricia and she jolted awake. She sat up and stared at Jeremy. He was talking in his sleep again. She pushed off the chair and sat down on the mattress beside him.

  “It’s all right, Jeremy,” Tricia crooned softly. “Everything is going to be all right, darling. I forgive you.”

  “I—I did not want to…to leave…you,” he mumbled, still not opening his eyes.

  Stretching out on the bed beside him, Tricia rested an arm over his chest. Blinking back tears, she tried to comfort him.

  “I love you,” she whispered in his ear. Rising on an elbow, she pressed her lips in a featherlight kiss on his temple.

  Without warning Jeremy’s eyes opened and he stared at her as if he had never seen her before. Tricia’s heart beat a double-time rhythm. Had he heard her?

  ROCHELLE ALERS

  Very Private Duty

  Books by Rochelle Alers

  Silhouette Desire

  A Younger Man #1479

  *The Long Hot Summer #1565

  *Very Private Duty #1613

  *Beyond Business #1649

  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:

  Cheryl White—the first black woman jockey to ride

  on a U.S. commercial track at Thistledown Race

  Track in Cleveland, Ohio, on June 15, 1971.

  Then the girls will dance and be happy,

  and the men, young and old, will rejoice. I will

  comfort them and turn their mourning into joy,

  their sorrow into gladness.

  —Jeremiah 31:13

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Prologue

  Fourteen Years Ago

  “I never thought I’d say it, but I’m scared, Jeremy. I’m afraid of leaving you and Blackstone Farms.” Her hushed tone trembled.

  Jeremy Blackstone stared at Tricia. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. New York and California are only three hours apart.”

  Tricia Parker was scheduled to fly from Virginia for New York to enroll in a premed program in less than twenty-four hours, leaving the protective, cloistered world of the horse farm behind.

  “Let’s get out of here, Jeremy.”

  He hesitated, then said, “Okay. Let’s go.” Jeremy stood up, his arm curving protectively around her waist. They hadn’t taken more than half a dozen steps when a familiar voice stopped them.

  “Where are you going?”

  Tricia turned and faced her grandfather. “We’re going for a drive, Grandpa.”

  The lines in Augustus Parker’s forehead deepened in frustration. “These people are here because of you, and you’re walking out on them?”

  “Grandpa, please don’t start,” she pleaded.

  Gus gave Jeremy a level look. “I’d like to speak to my granddaughter for a few minutes. Alone.” He’d emphasized the last word.

  Jeremy dropped his arm but not his gaze, holding the older man’s direct stare. “Tricia, I’ll wait for you outside.”

  Tricia watched Jeremy walk out of the main house’s dining hall before her gaze returned to her grandfather’s. “Grandpa, you don’t understand—”

  “What is there to understand, Tricia?” he said, interrupting her. “I have told you over and over not to get involved with the boss’s son, because it’s going to lead to no good.”

  She tilted her chin in a defiant gesture. “It’s too late for that, because Jeremy and I are involved with each other. We plan to marry after we graduate from college.”

  “No, Tricia.”

  “Yes, Grandpa,” she countered softly. “We’re in love.”

  “Do you really think the son of the owner of one of the most profitable horse farms in the state of Virginia is going to marry the daughter of a woman who was a…” His words trailed off.

  “A whore!” Tricia spat out the word. “Is that how you think of me?”

  Lowering his head, Gus shook it slowly. “No, grandbaby girl. I know you’re not a whore,” he said in a quiet voice. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  She smiled. “Jeremy won’t hurt me. He loves me too much for that.” Rising on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later.”

  “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  Her smile widened. “I promise.”

  Tricia made her way out of the dining hall to the parking lot, coming face-to-face with the last person she wanted to see. She’d made certain to avoid him after he had once tried coming on to her. Russell Smith, three years her senior, was the head trainer’s son. He was tall, dark and handsome, and he capitalized on his looks with every opportunity—especially with women.

  “Leaving so soon, beautiful?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  He smiled at her. “I wanted to give you a little something to celebrate your going off to college.”

  Tricia offered him a facetious smile. “Please give it to my grandfather for me.”

  Russell reached up, caught her chin and brushed a gentle kiss over her lips. “I’ll bring it by your house later.”

  Tricia resisted the urge to wipe the back of her hand over her mouth. “Suit yourself,” she said through clenched teeth. Stepping around him she walked over to where Jeremy leaned against the bumper of his Jeep Wrangler.

  Jeremy straightened and schooled his expression not to reveal what he was feeling—a slow-rising fury threatening to explode. “What’s up with you and Smith?”

  She stared up at him. “What are you talking about?”

  His jaw hardened. “I’m talking about Russell Smith kissing you.”

  Tricia looped her arm through Jeremy’s. “He was kissing me goodbye. I’m certain I’ll get a few more goodbye kisses before I leave tomorrow.” Rising on tiptoe, she kissed his earlobe. “You’re the one I love, Jeremy,” she said with feeling.

  The tense lines in his face relaxed with her passionate confession. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Surprise me,” she whispered in his ear.

  Jeremy helped her up onto the passenger seat, closed the door and rounded the SUV. He got in, turned the key in the ignition and drove out of the parking lot with a burst of speed. “Hang on, kid.” Reaching up, Tricia grasped the roll bar as the Jeep literally ate up the road.

  He maneuvered into a section of the farm referred to as the north end and stopped under a copse of weeping willow trees next to a meandering stream. Using the headlights for illumination, he reached for a blanket in the space behind the seats and spread it on the ground. Then, he helped Tricia from the vehicle and settled her on the blanket, where they lay together holding hands.

  Jeremy did not want her to leave Blackstone Farms any more than Tricia wanted to. He would follow her departure in two days. “You’re so precious to me,” he whispered against her parted lips.

  Tricia’s fingers were busy undoing the buttons on Jeremy’s shirt while he deftly undid the hidde
n zipper down the back of her dress. “Don’t talk,” she whispered. “Just love me.”

  Mouths joined, they undressed quickly, leaving their discarded garments strewn over the blanket. Cradling her face between his palms, Jeremy eased her down to the blanket again as if she were a piece of fragile porcelain. Their own breathing drowned out the nocturnal sounds serenading the verdant valley nestled between the Blue Ridge and Shenandoah Mountain ranges.

  Tricia inhaled the natural scent of Jeremy’s skin mingling with his cologne. Her fingers tunneled through his rakishly long, inky-black wavy hair. She loved everything about him: his mysterious smoky-gray eyes, strong firm mouth and voice he rarely raised in anger.

  His hairy chest grazed her breasts, her nipples hardening quickly. The motion heated her blood and ignited a fire that raced through her body and settled between her thighs. She knew without a doubt this coming together, the last one they would share for a long time, would not be the leisurely joining they’d experienced in the past.

  Jeremy parted Tricia’s legs with his knee and eased his sex into her hot, pulsing body. Both sighed as flesh melded with flesh, holding fast.

  Tricia closed her eyes, savoring the hardness inside her. She was afraid to move because she did not want it to be over before it began. But her lover was not to be denied as he rolled his hips, sliding in and out, rocking back and forth. “Faster, Jeremy,” she gasped, trembling as the little flutters grew stronger and stronger with each thrust.

  Burying his face in the hollow between her neck and shoulder, Jeremy gritted his teeth, struggling not to release the straining passion in his loins. “No,” he moaned as if in pain.

  Her fingernails sank into the muscles in his firm buttocks. “Please.”

  He knew it was useless to fight the inevitable and quickened his motions until he did not know where he began and Tricia ended. They had become one in every sense of the word.

  They climaxed at the same time, the sensations taking them higher than they had ever experienced together before, and released them in a shuddering ecstasy that seemed to go on and on. They lay motionless, their hearts beating in unison.

  Jeremy wanted her again, but knew if he had seconds, then he’d want thirds and maybe fourths. It had always been that way with Tricia. She had become his drug of choice—one he did not want to ever give up.

  Ten minutes after they’d washed away the evidence of their lovemaking in the shallow stream and put their clothes back on, they arrived at the two-bedroom bungalow where Tricia had grown up. Lights blazed from every window. The front door opened. Russell and Gus stepped out onto the porch and shook hands.

  “Will I see you at breakfast?” Tricia’s voice was barely a whisper.

  Jeremy nodded. “Of course, sweetheart. I’ll help you down.”

  She waited until he came around and swung her to the ground. “Good night, my love.” Boldly, purposefully, she wound her arms around his neck, pulled his head down and kissed him.

  Jeremy watched Tricia as she made her way up to the porch and walked into the house, Gus following. Grabbing the roll bar, he pulled himself up behind the wheel and released the brake.

  “Hold up a minute, Blackstone.”

  His hand froze on the gearshift. He looked over at Russell. “What do you want?”

  “I want to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  Russell’s lips twisted into a cynical smile. “For making it an easier ride in the saddle.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Tricia. You broke her in just right. I’m not one for virgins because I always find them too clingy. But Tricia’s different. She doesn’t mind sharing her goodies with the hired help as long as she can hold on to the boss’s son.” Doffing an imaginary hat, he walked back to his pickup truck parked alongside the bungalow.

  Jeremy did not want to believe Russell, but he had seen him kiss Tricia. And what, he mused, was he doing at her place? A silent voice in his head screamed no because Tricia had said there was nothing between her and Russell…but a voice of reason said otherwise. However, there was only one way to uncover the truth. A minute later he stood on the porch, ringing the bell. Gus came to the door.

  “I thought you and Tricia said good night.”

  “I’d like to talk to her again, sir.”

  Gus shook his head. “No, Jeremy. You’ve done enough damage.”

  “Pardon me, but just what is it I’ve done?”

  The older man smiled, the expression softening his dark-brown face. “I like you, Jeremy, and I respect your father. But, I think it’s best you leave my granddaughter alone.”

  “I can’t do that, sir. Tricia and I—”

  “There is no Tricia and you,” Gus countered angrily. “Open your eyes, son. It’s been Tricia and that young Smith fellow. He’s planning to visit her in New York next month. He came over to give her this.” Reaching into his slacks, he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and opened it.

  Jeremy stared at the delicate diamond heart. It was true. Russell hadn’t lied. He was sleeping with Tricia and she was sleeping with both of them. He inclined his head. “You’re right, Mr. Parker. Good night.”

  Jeremy threw underwear, T-shirts, socks and a pair of jeans into a suede duffel bag and zipped it. Moving like an automaton, he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other as he descended the staircase. Several feet from the front door he saw his father coming from the direction of the family room.

  Sheldon stared at the bag in his hand. “Going somewhere?”

  Jeremy swallowed to relieve the dryness in his constricted throat. “Yes, Pop. I’m going to spend a couple of days in Richmond. I’ll be back Sunday night.”

  Sheldon’s gaze narrowed in suspicion. “Are you all right, son?”

  “Sure, Pop.”

  “Drive carefully.”

  Jeremy waved to his father as he opened the door, then closed it quietly behind him.

  Tricia woke up early, showered and dressed in record time. She wanted to see Jeremy at the dining hall before he left for the track to watch the trainers put the horses through their exercise regimen. Her heart racing, she walked into the dining hall. Sheldon sat alone at a table. She headed for the owner of Blackstone Farms, a bright smile in place.

  “Good morning, Sheldon.”

  His light-gray eyes bore into her as if she were a stranger. “Good morning, Tricia. Jeremy’s not here.”

  She felt her heart stop, then start up again in a runaway rhythm. “Where is he?”

  “He’s staying in Richmond for a few days.”

  Tricia’s hands closed into tight fists to conceal their trembling. “When did he leave?”

  “Last night.”

  She closed her eyes for several seconds and when she opened them her gaze was steady. “Thank you.”

  He’d lied to her. Jeremy had promised to see her off, but it was apparent he had changed his mind. Perhaps, she thought, her grandfather was right. She should not have gotten involved with the boss’s son.

  She left the dining hall, head held high, fighting back tears. She promised herself she would never contact Jeremy Blackstone unless he contacted her first. And that was a promise she intended to keep.

  One

  Present Day

  Eyes wide, her heart pumping rapidly and knees buckling slightly, Tricia Parker stared at the man sprawled on the Blackstones’ leather sofa.

  She could barely recognize Jeremy with all those bruises on his forehead, cheek and jaw. There was also a slight swelling over his right eye. Dressed in a white T-shirt and shorts, he was unshaved, his short black hair spiked, his left leg covered with a plaster cast from toe to knee, and the third and fourth fingers of his left hand were taped to a splint.

  Only her nurses’ training prevented Tricia from losing her composure when she saw the man to whom she had given her heart as an awestruck teenager. Each time she returned to Blackstone Farms a small part of her wanted to catch a glimpse of Shel
don Blackstone’s youngest son, but it was as if their paths were destined not to cross again—until now.

  “What happened to him?” Her voice was low, raspy, as if she had been screaming for hours.

  Sheldon’s light-gray eyes were fixed on Jeremy, who hadn’t stirred since being placed on the sofa. “He had an accident—on the job,” he added after a slight pause.

  Tricia knew “on the job” for Jeremy was as a special agent with the Drug Enforcement Administration. He had graduated Stanford and instead of returning to Blackstone Farms he joined the U.S. Marine Corps. A month after he completed his military obligation he applied to the DEA as a special agent. She moved closer and placed a hand over his forehead. It was cool to the touch.

  “How long has he been like this?”

  “He was sedated before he was flown in from D.C.,” Ryan Blackstone, Jeremy’s older brother and the horse farm’s resident veterinarian, said.

  She withdrew her hand. “I’m talking about his injuries.”

  “Tomorrow will be two weeks,” Sheldon said behind her. “He’s going to need round-the-clock nursing care.”

  Tricia turned and stared at the imposing-looking owner of the most profitable African-American horse farm in the history of Virginia’s horseracing. The years had been kind to Jeremy’s father. Tall and solidly built, the middle-aged widower still had a full head of raven-black hair with a feathering of gray at the temples. He had extraordinary eyes: shimmering light gray in a golden-brown face.

  “You want me to take care of him.” Her question was a statement.

  Sheldon inclined his head. “Yes.”

  “But, I’m only going to be here for a month.” She had just begun her four-week vacation leave from her job as a registered nurse with a group of Baltimore pediatricians. “Don’t you think it would be better to hire a permanent private-duty nurse?”

  “I would if you weren’t here. I’m certain Jeremy will respond much better to treatment with familiar faces around him. That’s why I decided to bring him back to the farm.”