Very Private Duty Page 7

  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.

  Six

  Tricia turned off the lamp and slipped under the cool crisp sheet. The heat from Jeremy’s nude body was overwhelming as he shifted on his side and rested an arm over her bare hip.

  He nuzzled her ear. “How are you feeling?”

  She smiled in the darkness. She could not remember the last time she’d felt so relaxed. “Wonderful. Why?”

  Jeremy chuckled. “I don’t want to take advantage of you if you’re under the influence.” He had drunk three glasses of wine to her two.

  Turning to face him, Tricia looped an arm over his shoulder. “You’re in no condition to talk trash, hotshot. Especially not with a busted ankle.”

  “My busted ankle has nothing to do with my ability to make love to you,” he countered softly.

  She snuggled against his chest. “Go to sleep, Jeremy.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Tricia went completely still. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

  “No,” he whispered against her moist parted lips. “I want you.”

  Pulling out of his embrace, she sat up and turned on the lamp on her side of the bed. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest when she saw the direction of Jeremy’s gaze. He was staring at her breasts, and she resisted the urge to pull the sheet up to her neck.

  “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want you,” she whispered. “But…” Her words trailed off.

  He pushed up on an elbow. “But what, Tricia?”

  She bit her lower lip. “Making love will complicate things.”

  “What things?”

  “My having to leave you.”

  Jeremy held her gaze. “Didn’t I tell you that I wouldn’t try to pressure you to stay?”

  When it comes time for you to leave I will not put any pressure on you to force you to stay. His declaration had stayed with Tricia, she wanted to believe him.

  “You promise?” Her voice was soft, childlike.

  “Have I ever lied to you, Tricia?”

  A smile trembled over her lips. “No, Jeremy. You’ve never lied to me.” Leaning forward, she kissed him, her lips caressing his. “No,” she whispered over and over as she kissed his chin, jaw and forehead. Moving over him, she lay between his legs and kissed every inch of his face before her tongue mapped a path down his chest to his flat belly.

  Jeremy felt a swath of heat race down his body. It settled in his groin, and his sex hardened quickly. He had waited years, more than a decade to experience the unrestrained, uncontrollable desire Tricia wrung from him. While he lay hidden in a swamp in a South American jungle he’d thought of her and the times they’d made love. He had forced himself to remember all of the good times in his life while he awaited death either from venomous insects, reptiles or the men searching for the team of DEA agents who’d inadvertently stumbled upon their cocaine factory.

  He closed his eyes, curled his fingers into a fist and reveled in the sensual waves rippling up and down his body, letting his senses take over. He heard the rain slashing at the windows, felt the sweep of Tricia’s breasts as she slid down his body and inhaled the fragrance of her perfume mingling with the rising scent of her desire. He did not know how, but he’d always been able to detect desire rising from the pores of her velvety skin.

  Tricia had confessed to wanting him, even though she’d married another man, and it had been the same for him. Every woman he’d ever known had become Tricia Parker.

  Unclenching his hands, he reached down and pulled her up before he climaxed. What he wanted—more than anything—was to explode inside her hot fragrant body.

  Tricia tried freeing herself from Jeremy’s grip, but she was no match for his superior strength as she lay over his chest. The soft light from the lamp spilled over his features. His eyes were dark and unfathomable.

  “Sit on me,” he ordered quietly.

  She shook her head. “No, Jeremy. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He covered a breast with his hand, measuring the shape and weight of the full, ripe globe. His thumb made sweeping motions over the nipple. It hardened quickly.

  “Another part of my body is hurting right now, and it’s definitely not my foot.”

  Tricia knew if she permitted Jeremy to penetrate her without using protection, then there was the possibility of her becoming pregnant. She could not forget how easily she had conceived a child with him fourteen years before.

  She shook her head again. “Not without protection, Jeremy.”

  His mouth twitched in amusement. “There are condoms in the bathroom.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You brought condoms with you?”

  Jeremy was amused by her reaction. “No. There are a few in my grooming basket. Either you get them or hand me the crutches and I’ll get them.”

  Tricia leaned closer and pressed her breasts to his chest. The strong, steady pumping of his heart echoed hers. “Let me make love to you without you penetrating me,” she whispered close to his ear.

  He smiled. “The next time you can make love to me. Tonight we’ll make love to each other. I want to be inside you.”

  Tricia wanted Jeremy inside her, so deep he touched her womb, deep enough to make her sob in ecstasy as he’d done when she was a girl. She wanted him so deep inside her that they’d cease to exist as separate entities. But as much as she wanted Jeremy, Tricia feared becoming pregnant again.

  “Please don’t make me beg, sweetheart,” Jeremy whispered.

  He was asking what she’d wanted for years, what she wanted each time she’d permitted her ex-husband to make love to her. She’d spent years since she’d left the farm fantasizing about sleeping with Jeremy, and now that she was given a second chance she found herself balking.

  She’d had and lost their baby. In that instant, Tricia vowed that if she were to become pregnant again, this time she would tell Jeremy. She kissed him deeply, her tongue meeting and curling around his in a sensual dance of desire.

  “Don’t go away. I’ll be right back.”

  Jeremy’s gaze followed her as she slipped off the bed and made her way to the bathroom. She had gained weight in all the right places. Her body was full and voluptuous. It reminded him of lush, sweet overripe fruit. Tricia’s footfalls were silent as she returned to the bed. Extending her hand, she dropped a small square packet onto his chest.

  Smiling, Jeremy picked it up and tore open the foil covering and took out the latex sheath. “Can you please put it on?” He held it up with his injured left hand.

  Tricia rested her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowing. “You’re really pushi
ng it, aren’t you?”

  He lifted a raven eyebrow. “It’s your call, Tricia. It wouldn’t bother me if you rode bareback.”

  She shook her head. “No, Jeremy. I can’t afford to get pregnant.”

  Jeremy sobered and pushed himself into a sitting position. “You know I always wanted you to be the mother of our children.”

  What Tricia wanted to tell him was that she’d had his child—a daughter who’d looked so much like him. Taking the condom, she slipped it on. She had barely completed the task when she found her face pressed to Jeremy’s hard shoulder, his hand cupping the back of her head.

  She felt like crying as she wound her arms around his neck. Easing back, she kissed him tentatively, inhaling his breath and masculine scent. He’d just echoed what lay in her heart.

  “Don’t talk, Jeremy. Just love me,” she whispered, repeating the entreaty she’d uttered the last time they’d made love.

  Jeremy’s hands moved up and down her back, his fingertips trailing over her skin until she shuddered and moaned softly. He loathed the temporary disability that would not let him move and become an active participant; he wanted to use every inch of the large bed, trail his tongue along the length of Tricia’s spine and he wanted to bury his face between her scented thighs and sample her feminine nectar. But more than anything he wanted to sheath his flesh inside her, feel her moist heat, the orgasmic convulsions that never failed to bring him to a free fall that would make him forget everything except Tricia.

  Tricia took her time reacquainting herself with her ex-lover’s body. She kissed his ear before tracing its shape with her tongue. She placed light kisses over the curve of his arching eyebrows, pressed her lips to the pulse in his throat, ran the tip of her tongue around the circle of his nipples until he moaned deep in his chest.

  What had begun as slow, seductive foreplay turned into a sensual dance of desire. She lost track of time and place as her blood raced through her veins. As Jeremy became more aroused she felt herself losing control. Shifting, she fitted her hips over his.

  A slight gasp escaped Tricia as Jeremy raised his hips off the mattress and he stared at the shocked expression on her face. She was as tight as she had been as a virgin, and he wondered how long had it been since she’d slept with a man.

  He cradled her bottom. “Do it slow. That’s it,” he urged as she lowered herself, inch by inch over his aroused flesh. It was his turn to gasp as her tight, hot walls closed around him. They moaned in unison once he was buried inside her.

  Bracing her hands on his shoulders, Tricia stared at Jeremy staring up at her. She moved slowly at first, then quickened her motions when he cupped her breasts, squeezing them gently. There had been a time when Jeremy’s hands could easily cover her breasts, but that time had passed. Pregnancy and breastfeeding had sensitized her nipples and increased her bust size from a 34B to a 38D.

  Hypnotized by his touch, she trembled under his fingertips and closed her eyes as her body vibrated with a fire that threatened to ignite her into a million pieces where she would never be whole again.

  Jeremy let go of Tricia’s breasts and curved his arms around her waist until she lay flush on him. Her soft moans of pleasure against his ear became his undoing. He arched his hips, meeting her as she rose and fell over his rigid flesh, the flames of passion burning hot—hotter than it had ever been for them.

  This truce, their reconciliation had become a raw act of possession as he sought to leave his brand not only on her body but also in her heart. Silently, wordlessly he implored her to stay.

  He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as Tricia’s flesh convulsed around him, she moaning softly as liquid heat flowed from her. Seconds later he abandoned himself to the rush of pleasure that left him weak and light-headed.

  Jeremy emitted a low, guttural moan as Tricia’s still-pulsing flesh milked the remnants of his release. He tightened the hold on her waist, not wanting to move or let her go.

  He felt like a hypocrite. He’d sworn an oath to bring to justice those who sold drugs. Meanwhile, he had become addicted not to illegal substances but to a woman. Tricia had become his drug of choice.

  “Jeremy?”

  Her husky voice broke into his musing. “Yes, baby?”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  Turning his head, he dropped a kiss on her damp curly hair. “No, darling. Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” Tricia had told him no even though she knew she would probably experience some discomfort in a few hours. Muscles she hadn’t used in years were certain to be tender.

  He kissed her forehead. “How long has it been?”

  She knew he wanted to know how long had it been since she’d shared her body with another man. She waited a full minute, then said, “Ten years.”

  Staring up at the ceiling, he cursed mutely, cursed the time they’d been apart and cursed his own pigheadedness.

  The rain stopped an hour before dawn, and it was late morning when Tricia finally maneuvered into the driveway leading to Jeremy’s house. The storm had downed tree limbs and scattered debris for miles. She came to a complete stop as a tall figure rose from a chair on the porch. Sheldon had been waiting for them.

  She glanced at Jeremy’s stoic expression. “I’m going over to see my grandfather and get a change of clothes.” Not waiting for a reply, she got out, retrieved the crutches resting behind the rear seats and handed them to Jeremy, who anchored them against his ribs.

  Lowering his head, he brushed a kiss over her mouth. “I’ll see you later.” He stood motionless, watching as she got back into the car and drove away, then turned and stared up at his father. Sheldon leaned against a porch column, arms crossed over his chest.

  “What’s up, Pop?”

  Sheldon’s expression was a mask of stone. “Nothing.”

  Jeremy slowly made his way up the porch steps and sat down on the chaise. “I told you last night Tricia and I were okay.”

  Pushing off the column, Sheldon pulled over a rocker to face his son. He sat down and clasped his large hands together. “I wanted to see for myself that you were all right.”

  “You used to say that when I was fifteen. Have you forgotten how old I am?”

  Sheldon’s expression was one of pained tolerance. “I know how old you are, Jeremy,” he snapped.

  “What’s this all about, Pop?”

  “It’s about me being a father, Jeremy.” He frowned, his steely eyes shooting off angry sparks. “It’s about me worrying about my son, and if I live to be ninety and you’re seventy I still have the right to worry. It comes with the territory. But that’s something you wouldn’t understand because of your selfishness. You left here at eighteen, and over the past fourteen years you’ve become a drifter. You’re here for a day or two, then you’re gone.

  “Half the time I don’t know where you are or whether you’re dead or alive. Every night I say a prayer of thanksgiving because someone from the Justice Department did not show up with an announcement that my son died in the line of duty.”

  A shadow of annoyance tightened Jeremy’s features. “If you’re trying to make me feel guilty about my career choice, then forget it.”

  “It’s not about guilt, Jeremy. It’s about being responsible. I’ve worked my ass off for the past thirty years to make this horse farm a success, because I wanted to give you and Ryan things I didn’t have. I’m retiring next year whether you stay on or not. And if Ryan isn’t able to hold everything together, then I’m going to sell the farm.”

  Jeremy stared at Sheldon, complete surprise on his face. “You can’t sell it.”

  Sheldon angled his head and lifted his eyebrows. “You think not?”

  “But you promised my mother on her deathbed that you’d never sell the farm.” It was with Julia’s inheritance and her urging that prompted Sheldon to purchase his first Thoroughbred.

  “Your mother’s gone and I’m here,” Sheldon countered as he rose to his feet.

  Shock quickly turned to fury as Jerem
y glared at his father’s retreating back. He resented Sheldon’s attempt to pressure him to give up his law enforcement career with the DEA.

  He sat on the chaise recalling his passionate encounter with Tricia, temporarily forgetting Sheldon’s threat to sell Blackstone Farms.

  Three weeks.

  The two words nagged at Jeremy because, after recapturing the passion that had eluded him for years, he had to ask himself if he was prepared to lose Tricia a second time.

  Seven

  Tricia walked into Gus’s house with a determined stride. It had been years since she’d asked her grandfather about her parents, and his answer had always been “Let sleeping dogs lie.”

  Well, she was ready to wake up the dogs and didn’t care whether they barked, snarled or bit. She was thirty-two years old—old enough to accept the truth no matter how shocking or painful.

  “Grandpa,” she called out as she walked through the living room. Bright sunlight coming through the windows revealed a light layer of dust on the coffee table. She made a mental note to come by later to dust and vacuum. It had been her grandmother who had kept the house immaculate.

  Gus wasn’t there even though his truck was parked in its usual spot. Shrugging a shoulder, Tricia showered and dressed. Jeremy was scheduled to see a psychiatrist later in the afternoon. She lingered long enough to tape a note on the refrigerator for Gus to call her at Jeremy’s house. They had to arrange a time to sit down and talk.

  Tricia sat in the doctor’s waiting room, flipping through magazines as she waited for Jeremy. She glanced surreptitiously over the magazine at a woman who had tried unsuccessfully to calm her young son. He talked incessantly while fidgeting. The boy ignored his mother, sliding off his chair and onto the floor. His motions mimicked making a snow angel. There was no doubt the child was there to be evaluated for ADHD: attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. She smiled at the boy as he got up and approached her. His dark eyes gleamed and he returned Tricia’s smile.