Private Passions
Page 27
The only bright light was her love for Chris and his for her. Even if Bettina’s murderer was never brought to justice, or if Chris lost his election bid, they still would be victorious. Their love for each other was strong enough to sustain any loss or disappointment.
Her dark mood lifted when she saw the signs indicating the number of miles to Las Cruces.
Chapter 29
Emily entered the town limits of Las Cruces at nine forty-five and drove into the Lassiter drive at ten-ten. She’d made the 350-mile trip in less than three and a half hours. Once she’d left the interstate, she was able to speed undetected by many of the highway police who lay in wait for drivers who ignored the state’s speed limit.
Twisting the ring on her finger, she dropped it into the depths of her leather purse before stepping out of the Corvette. Shadow greeted her arrival. The hybrid wolf-dog sniffed her, whining softly once he recognized her familiar scent.
She scratched the canine behind his ears. “Hello, Shadow.” Her voice, though low and soft, carried easily in the desert night. The front door to the two-story structure opened, and the outline of Sara Sterling-Lassiter’s tall, slender body appeared in the doorway.
Emily made her was up the flagstone path, through a central atrium, then into the massive foyer. Dropping her weekender to the highly polished wood floor, she hugged her friend.
Sara tightened her grip around Emily’s neck. “Welcome back, Emmie.”
“Thanks, Sara.”
Sara eased back, her gold-green gaze taking in everything about Emily Kirkland in one sweeping glance. “You look wonderful.”
“You look pretty good yourself for a housewife.”
“Bite your tongue,” Sara chided softly. She closed the door, picked up Emily’s bag, and led her through the sculpture-filled foyer. “I’m working several days a week now.”
“Where?”
“I’m not really working but volunteering. I’m reviewing briefs for a local law firm. And I manage to put in a few days a week at Chris’s campaign office.”
Emily stopped, staring directly at her sister-in-law. “Did you hear the news report that Savoy’s people put out about Alejandro Delgado?”
A slight frown marred Sara’s smooth forehead. “It was splashed all over the local evening news tonight.”
“How are your parents taking it?”
“Mom’s spitting mad. Dad’s not saying much.”
“Have you heard from Chris?”
Sara shook her head. “No. But he’s expected to be here tomorrow afternoon. Have you eaten?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.
“No.”
“I’ll fix you a plate.”
“Let me go upstairs and change into something more comfortable. Where’s Salem?” she asked when they reached the staircase leading to the upper level.
“He’s in his study putting the finishing touches on a research project for a veterinary journal. He’ll probably be up half the night.”
“And where is my godson?”
“He’s in Taos with Salem’s folks. They offered to take him for a few days to give Salem and me some quality time together. They’re coming down tomorrow for your birthday.”
Emily smiled, her luminous eyes crinkling attractively. “It’ll be good seeing them again.” She liked Salem’s parents but hadn’t seen the artist couple in nearly a year. Reaching for her bag, she eased it from Sara’s loose grip. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
She climbed the stairs slowly, thinking of how different this coming birthday would be from the others she’d had. She would celebrate her thirty-first birthday with her husband and his family instead of her parents. And only Chris would know that legally she was Emily Delgado, not Emily Kirkland.
It was now the end of February, and two months had passed quickly. She just hoped the next eight would pass as fast. Notwithstanding, the outcome of the election would not change the promise she and Chris had made to each other. It would be on election night that they would finally get to reveal their private liaison to the world.
* * *
Chris took a red-eye commuter flight from Gallup to Las Cruces. A driver was waiting for him at the airport when he touched down. His strategists were prepared for the news about Alejandro Delgado’s alleged drug trafficking, and his press secretary promised the media that his candidate would address the allegations in a televised news conference the following week. Grant had urged him not to wait, but Chris wanted to see his mother before he went public with the information he’d gleaned from his father.
The driver reached for his bags. “How was your flight, Senator Delgado?”
Chris flashed a tired smile. “Very good.” He ducked his head into the spacious car, collapsing onto the rear seat. He was exhausted. His day had begun at dawn, when he visited several construction sites, a high school and a senior citizens’ center where he shared lunch with more than 200 elderly men and women before he attended an ecumenical dinner with clergy from more than half a dozen religious groups. He’d planned to spend the night in Gallup and return to Las Cruces the following morning but changed his mind. He was impatient to see his parents and his wife.
His mouth curved into an unconscious smile when he thought of Emily, recalling their last time together. The weekend at the cabin had become a magical interlude, surpassing the one they’d shared in Ocho Rios.
They made love with a wild abandonment that was indescribable. When he’d asked Emily whether she wanted a baby the question had been a reckless impulse. He didn’t know what had prompted him to ask her, but it was as if he hadn’t been able to rid himself of the image of Alejandro’s lifeless body. Emily had buried her grandfather and he his father, and he wanted to celebrate life—a life he would create with her.
The driver pulled away from the curb, and he closed his eyes. The smooth motion of the automobile lulled him into a comforting, dreamless slumber.
* * *
“Senator Delgado, we’re here.”
Chris came awake immediately, sitting up straighter and glancing out the window. The driver held the back door open for him. He was back at Sterling Farms. His luggage sat on the loggia next to the front door.
“Thanks.” The single word mirrored his weighted fatigue. Reaching into the pockets of his slacks, he withdrew a money clip and tipped the driver, who gave him a wide smile.
“Thank you.”
Mission lanterns placed strategically along the loggia provided enough light for him to unlock the front door without fumbling with the key. A small lamp on a drop-leaf table in the entryway cast a golden glow in the quiet house. It was after three and his parents were asleep. Leaving his luggage on the floor near the table, he made his way to his bedroom. He’d been awake for twenty-one hours and he still wanted to shower before he retired for bed.
Walking into the bedroom he’d occupied while growing up, Chris closed the door, undressed quickly, then retreated to the bathroom. He managed to brush his teeth and shower in ten minutes. Not bothering to dry his body, he returned to the bedroom, lay across the bed and fell asleep.
* * *
Emily woke early. She left Sara a note, telling her where she could find her, then walked to Sterling Farms. The early morning temperature was cool and crisp, and by the time she’d crossed over onto Sterling property the rising sun had fired the eastern slopes of the Organ Mountains. Dressed in a pair of jeans, boots, a pullover sweater and a lightweight jacket, she welcomed the exercise. Shadow had accompanied her until she crossed the bridge spanning the narrow stream separating the two properties. The wolf watched her until she disappeared, then loped back to patrol the Lassiters’ vast Mesilla Valley acreage.
Pleasant memories assailed Emily as she surveyed the land Matthew Sterling had purchased several years
before he’d married Chris and Sara’s mother. Matt and Eve owned twelve hundred acres of prime land on which they’d amassed a fortune breeding champion Thoroughbreds.
There was a time when Sterling Farms had become her home-away-from-home. The summers she and Michael spent in Las Cruces they’d learned to ride, shoot, hunt and survive off the land. The summers Chris and Sara stayed with her family in Santa Fe included visits to museums, ballets and concerts. They became fierce competitors when they swam in her parents’ Olympic-size pool or squared off on their tennis court. They’d all grown up without the angst most adolescents experienced, lamenting that they never wanted to grow up because they were having too much fun.
Emily had grown up thinking her feelings for Christopher Delgado would change once she entered college. She dated other men, but she could never bring herself to like any of them as well as she liked her best friend’s brother. After a while she just stopped trying when she realized she was hopelessly in love with Chris.
She met Joseph Russell as he came from the opposite direction. The longtime Sterling Farms horse trainer’s gray hair bore little traces of what had once been flaming red hair. A widower, he had moved in with Marisa Hall six months after Salem and Sara had exchanged vows, hoping the divorced, middle-aged mother of an adult son would accept his marriage proposal. Marisa had agreed to live with him, while stubbornly refusing to marry again.
“Good morning, missy,” Joe called out. “Good to see you again.”
She flashed him a friendly smile. “Good morning, Mr. Russell.”
Minute lines fanned out around his brilliant topaz-blue eyes. “Risa told me that you’re celebrating a birthday today. She’s planning to bake your favorite cake. But don’t let on that you know.”
“I promise I’ll act surprised. Is anyone up yet?”
“Risa’s up preparing breakfast. She was kind of surprised to find that Chris had come in last night. We wouldn’t have known he was in except that he left his bags in the entryway.”
The pulse in her throat fluttered as she schooled her features not to reveal her delight. “Sara told me he wouldn’t be in until this afternoon.”
Joe sucked his teeth loudly. “I suppose he wanted to get here early to see his special lady.”
“Special lady?” Her voice had risen slightly.
“You.”
This time her eyebrows lifted. “Me?”
“Aw, missy, you have to know that you have Christopher Delgado’s heart.” He moved closer, peering at her shocked expression. “You don’t know, do you?” When Emily didn’t respond, he said, “You forget that I watched you kids grow up. I saw things you didn’t think I saw. I knew that your brother would either go into the military or law enforcement, because I’ve never seen someone shoot like him. I couldn’t believe it when he shot a quarter dead-center at three hundred feet.
“I knew Christopher and Sara would become lawyers because they were obsessed with Perry Mason. You, I hadn’t figured out so well. But I knew Chris always had a thing for you because of the way he took care of you. He protected you more than he did his own sister.”
“That’s because Sara was a little tougher than me.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, missy. It was you who used to tangle with the boys, not Sara.”
The horse trainer was right. She had a quicker temper than Sara and thought nothing of challenging Chris, her brother or Marisa’s son to a fight. Most times they laughed at her and walked away, saying they would never fight a girl. And if they had, they would have her father to answer to. Even though William Hall didn’t know his father, he wasn’t exempt from the punishment Matthew Sterling meted out to his own children.
She nodded, unable to conceal a knowing smile. “I’m going to go in and get a cup of Miss Marisa’s coffee. Are you going to join me?”
Crossing his arms over a wide, muscular chest, Joe shook his head. “Naw. I have to check a fence in the north pasture. I’ll be along directly.”
“I’ll see you later.”
Joe nodded. “Don’t mention about the cake.”
“I won’t.”
Emily walked up to the front door of the expansive one-story ranch house, pushed it open and stepped into the entryway. Chris’s bags sat on the floor beside the antique table. She was amazed how fast her pulse was beating as she stood there staring at them.
She and Chris would spend the next two days together while in the company of his family. Would they be able to fool everyone again? She hadn’t confirmed Joe Russell’s assertion that Chris liked her, but she hadn’t denied it either. Who else beside Joe and Sara knew? Could they afford to tell their families?
The questions continued to attack her as she walked into the kitchen. The man she loved and married sat at the table in an alcove drinking a cup of steaming black coffee. He placed the cup on its saucer, rattling it loudly, his hand shaking slightly at the same time he rose to his feet.
A soft gasp escaped Chris, and Marisa Hall turned to look at him. She followed his gaze and saw Emily Kirkland standing under the arched entrance to the large kitchen. The young couple seemed impervious to her presence as a silent, sensual entrancement passed between them.
Emily registered everything about Chris in one penetrating glance: his long damp hair, the dark stubble of an emerging beard on his brown jaw, the attractive shadows under his deep-set eyes and the prominent display of cheekbones in his lean face. Never had he appeared more virile. He was dressed in a pair of jeans that had been washed so many times that they’d appeared more pale gray than blue. The color was almost a perfect match for the sweatshirt bearing the logo of his college alma mater.
Marisa cleared her voice, capturing the young couple’s attention. Emily’s eyes crinkled into a smile as she turned her attention to the Sterlings’ live-in housekeeper and cook.
“Good morning, Miss Marisa.” Her soft, sultry voice was a shivery whisper.
Petite, fifty-eight-year-old Marisa Hall’s round, dark brown eyes sparkled in delight as she surveyed Emily. “Good morning, Emily. Even after all of these years, you still haven’t changed, have you?”
Emily’s confusion was apparent when her eyebrows raised inquiringly. “About what, Miss Marisa?”
“You still get up before the chickens.”
The running joke at Sterling Farms was that whenever Emily stayed over there was never a need for an alarm clock. She always got up before dawn. Most times Marisa found her in the family room, showered, dressed and watching her favorite videos.
“I’m not the only one who’s up with the chickens,” she teased, giving Chris a knowing look.
Marisa nodded. “You two make a perfect match. Our esteemed state senator just told me that he got in after three,” she continued, as if Chris weren’t in the room. “Yet he’s up at six prowling around and looking for coffee.”
Folding his arms over his chest and lowering his head slightly, Chris blew the housekeeper a kiss. “Can I help it if I love your coffee?”
Marisa waved a hand, shaking her graying chemically straightened hair. Her smooth coif swayed around her delicate jawline. “Save the pretty words for campaigning, Senator Delgado. What you need is a wife and a couple of kids to settle you down and keep you from prowling.”
Emily and Chris stared at each other. He did have a wife—a wife he couldn’t openly claim. A wife he saw occasionally, a wife he loved beyond description, a wife who stood several feet away. Yet he was unable to go to her to kiss her in the manner he wanted to.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll have a cup of coffee,” Emily said.
She walked over to the alcove and sat down at the table. Chris retook his own chair, his burning black gaze moving slowly over her face.
“You still take it with lots of milk and one sugar?” Marisa asked.
Leaning back in his chair, Chris stared down at the half-filled cup of black coffee, a sweep of long black lashes concealing the hollows under his deep, penetrating eyes. “Once Savoy released the news about Alejandro I decided to come back to talk to Mom. I got up early, thinking she would be up already.”
“Sara said she’s spitting mad.”
Chris glanced up at her without raising his head. “She’s probably a bit more emotional than spitting mad, kid. I’d be the first one to say that Alejandro Delgado was a debaucher, a kidnapper and a son-of-a-bitch, but not a drug trafficker.”
“How are you going to reply to the allegations?”
He waited until Marisa placed a cup of coffee on the table in front of Emily and walked away, then said, “I want to talk to Mom and Dad before giving my strategists a statement for the media.”
Picking up her cup, Emily nodded. She took a sip of the excellently brewed coffee, her gaze meeting Chris’s over the rim. She replaced the cup gently on the saucer.
“I want to tell my parents about us.”
Chris was certain Emily heard his quick intake of breath. When had she changed her mind?
“Why?”
“Come walk with me,” she suggested in a soft whisper.
They rose together and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Marisa staring at their departing figures. Her sparkling eyes narrowed as she smiled to herself. She’d always thought her employer’s stepson and the daughter of his best friend were perfect for each other. It was too bad they continued to relate to each other much like her own William did to Sara, Emily, Michael and Christopher—like siblings.
* * *
Chris held Emily’s hand as he led her out of the house and in the direction of the pasture, where the horses were turned out to run free to graze. The rising sun turned the lush landscape into an ethereal prism of shimmering yellows, oranges, heathers and russets.