"Please state your name," came the computer-generated
voice through a speaker mounted on a post. A pair of
electronic iron gates emblazoned with a bold letter B and
closed-circuit cameras marked the entrance to the fabled
Blackstone Farms.
Leaning out the driver's side window, Renee stared up at
the camera. "Renee Wilson." Within seconds the gates
opened and then closed behind her as she drove through.
New state, new job and a new beginning, she mused, driving
past acres of white rail fences, stone walls and verdant
landscaped grassland.
She smiled and returned the wave from a man sitting atop a
tractor hauling bundled hay, sat up straighter and rolled
her head from side to side. She was stiff โ neck,
shoulders and lower back. She'd made the trip from
Louisville, Kentucky, to Staunton, Virginia, in a little
more than eight hours, stopping only twice to refuel her
car and eat.
"Yes," she whispered softly. She had made the right
decision to accept the position as the administrative
assistant for Blackstone Farms. Living and working on a
horse farm would be a new experience for someone
accustomed to the pulsating kinetic energy of Miami. And
as much as she loved the south Florida city, with its
personality and colorful residents, Renee knew she could
not have remained there.
She had not wanted to risk running into her ex-lover who'd
gotten her pregnant; a man who had conveniently neglected
to tell her that he was married, she thought bitterly.
Slowing at a section where the road diverged into four
directions, she followed the sign pointing the way to the
main house. A towering flagpole with the American flag
flying atop a black-and-red one lifted in the slight
breeze.
It was late October, and trees were displaying their
vibrant fall colors. The odor of wet earth lingered in the
crisp autumn air from a week of thunderstorms that had
left the Appalachian and Shenandoah Mountain regions
saturated and lush.
Renee maneuvered her sedan behind a pickup truck in the
driveway leading to Sheldon Blackstone's house. She had
been interviewed and hired by his son Jeremy, who would
eventually become her boss upon his father's retirement at
the end of the year.
She turned off the engine, scooped her handbag off the
passenger seat and pushed open the door. Her shoes had
barely touched the ground when a tall figure loomed in
front of her. Startled, she let out a soft gasp at the
same time her head jerked up.
A pair of light gray eyes under curving black eyebrows in
a deeply tanned olive-brown face pinned her to the spot.
The afternoon sunlight glinted off streaks of red and
flecks of gray in a full head of black wavy hair. Her
breathing halted, her heart pounded erratically and a lack
of oxygen made her feel light-headed. There was no doubt
he was Sheldon. The resemblance between father and son was
uncanny. But there was something in the elder Blackstone's
gaze that unnerved her.
Recovering and letting out a soft exhalation of breath,
she extended a hand. "Good afternoon. I'm Renee Wilson."
Sheldon Blackstone stared at the small hand before he
shook it, her fingers disappearing in his larger grasp. He
wondered how the woman with the delicate features in a nut-
brown face and blunt-cut, chin-length hairdo would react
once he informed her that she would have to live with him
instead of in the bungalow she had been assigned.
Sheldon forced a smile he did not feel. "Sheldon
Blackstone."
Renee eased her hand from his firm grip. "My pleasure, Mr.
Blackstone."
Sheldon angled his head while raising an eyebrow. "Please
call me Sheldon. Around here we're very informal."
The smile softening Renee's lush mouth deepened the
dimples in her cheeks. "Then Sheldon it is, but only if
you call me Renee."
His smile became a full grin. He found her dimpled smile
enchanting. "Renee it is." Cupping her elbow, he led her
toward the large two-story white house trimmed in black
with an expansive wraparound porch. "I have something to
tell you before you settle in."
Renee glanced at his distinctive profile. High slanting
cheekbones, an aquiline nose, penetrating light gray eyes
and a square-cut jaw made for an arresting visage. She
stopped on the first step. "Jeremy told me everything
about the position during the interview, including my
duties and benefits."
Sheldon turned and stared down at her. "It's about your
housing."
Renee closed her eyes for several seconds. She prayed the
Blackstones would not renege on their promise to provide
her with resident housing or on-site child care. "What
about it?"
Sheldon crossed his arms over his broad chest.
"The bungalow assigned to you is uninhabitable.
Unfortunately, lightning struck the roof, setting it
afire. After we put the fire out, it rained. I had a
contractor assess the damage yesterday, and he said he'll
have to gut it before it can be renovated."
Renee's eyes widened with this disclosure as she curbed
the urge to bite down on her lower lip as she usually did
when upset or frustrated. "Are you saying I can't live
here?"
Sheldon dropped his arms and reached for her elbow
again. "Let's go inside and discuss your options."
She froze, her eyes widening again. She only had one
option โ if she couldn't live at Blackstone Farms she'd
have to get into her car and drive back to Kentucky. And
while Sheldon Blackstone wanted to discuss housing options
she wanted to tell him that she was a thirty-five-year-old
single woman, without a permanent residence and pregnant
with the child of a lying man who had reconciled with his
wife.
"Please, Renee, hear me out. Let's go into the house,"
Sheldon said in a deep, quiet voice.
She stared at him for several seconds before
nodding. "Okay, Sheldon."
Renee would listen to what he had to say, but felt uneasy.
Why, she asked herself, couldn't she find a man she could
trust; they say one thing and do the complete opposite. It
had begun with her father. Errol Wilson had been an
alcoholic, liar, gambler and a philanderer.
She dated from time to time, and although she had offered
a few men her passion, she refused to give any her love.
But everything had changed when she met Donald Rush. She
offered him everything she'd withheld from every other
man, and in the end he, too, had deceived her. With the
others she had been able to walk away unscathed with her
pride and dignity intact, but her luck had run out. It
wasn't until after she'd moved out of Donald's house and
spent two months with her brother and his family that she
discovered she was pregnant with a married man's child.
Renee followed Sheldon up the porch and into the house. An
expansive entryway was crowded with a breakfront and
beveled glass curio cabinets. Many of the shelves were
filled with trophies, mementoes and faded photographs of
black jockeys from the mid-nineteenth century to the
present. She walked through a formal living room and into
another large room with a leather seating arrangement.
Streams of sunlight poured in through mullioned floor-to-
ceiling windows.
Sheldon pointed to a club chair. "Please sit down." He
waited for Renee to sit before taking a matching love seat
several feet away. He crossed one denim-covered knee over
the other. He didn't know what it was, but something told
him that the woman Jeremy had interviewed and subsequently
hired to computerize the farm's business records would not
make it through her three-month probationary period. He'd
read her rรฉsumรฉ and although she'd been office manager for
one of the most prestigious law firms in Miami, it did not
compare to living and working on a horse farm. He wondered
how long would it take for her to tire of smelling hay and
horseflesh.
He doubted whether he would have hired Renee despite her
experience and exemplary references, but that decision had
been taken out of his hands. She would eventually become
Jeremy's responsibility once he assumed complete control
of running Blackstone Farms. The final transfer of thirty
years of power would take effect January first.
His gaze moved slowly from her professionally coiffed hair
to a yellow silk tunic, and down to a pair of black wool
crepe slacks and leather slip-ons with a renowned
designer's logo. Everything about Renee Wilson screamed
big-city sophistication.
"As I said before you won't be able to live in your
bungalow for a few months," Sheldon began in a quiet
tone. "However, I'm prepared to open my home to you until
the repairs are completed."
Renee sat forward on her chair. "I'll be living with you?"
She'd vowed never to live with another man, even
temporarily; but she also had to remind herself that
Sheldon Blackstone would be her boss for the next two
months, not her lover.
The beginnings of a smile crinkled Sheldon's eyes. There
was no doubt his suggestion had shocked her. "This is a
big house. We won't be bumping into each other. I have a
housekeeper who comes in several times a week to clean and
do laundry. You'll have your own bedroom with a private
bath, and a makeshift office has been set up for you on
the back porch. If you don't want to take your meals in
the main dining hall, or have them delivered, you may use
the kitchen. If you prefer cooking for yourself, just let
me know what you'll need and I'll order it from the head
chef."
Despite her consternation, Renee affected a smile. "It
seems as if you've thought of everything." Sheldon,
flashing a rare, open smile, nodded. "My living here with
you won't pose a problem for your..." Her words trailed
off.
Sheldon uncrossed his legs, clasped his hands together and
planted his booted feet firmly on the parquet floor. "Are
you referring to another woman?" Renee's averted gaze
answered his question. "That will not be a problem for
either of us," he continued. "There are two Mrs.
Blackstones โ my sons' wives, Kelly and Tricia." Her head
came up. "My wife died twenty years ago, and I've never
been involved with any woman who either lived or worked on
this farm."
Renee let out an inaudible sigh. "Well then, I'll accept
your offer."
Sheldon hadn't lied to Renee. There were no other women in
his life, hadn't been in months. He had married at
seventeen, become a father at eighteen, was widowed at
thirty-two and now at fifty-three he planned to retire at
the end of the year.
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