The Long Hot Summer - By Rochelle Alers Page 0,2

"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.

She sat on the stepladder, her shoulders slumping in resignation as the enthusiasm she had felt earlier that morning dissipated. It did not take the intelligence of a rocket scientist to know that Ryan Blackstone did not like women. And apparently it wasn't all women - just the younger ones.

At thirty, she had experienced what most women her age hadn't: widowhood. Several months before she'd celebrated her twenty-eighth birthday Simeon Randall had been killed by a hit-and-run driver when he'd pulled off the parkway to fix a flat tire. Simeon, mercifully, had died instantly from massive head trauma.

The appearance of two police officers at her door, asking that she come to a local hospital because her husband had been killed in a traffic accident had changed her and her life forever. She'd lost her first love, soul mate and life partner. Even after she had buried her husband she refused to accept that he would not walk through the door each night to share dinner with her. She'd continued to set the table for two. When her mother, who had come to see her without calling first, asked about the extra place setting, Kelly broke down and sobbed in her arms the way she'd done as a child. Camille Andrews stayed the night, holding her daughter in her arms while they slept in the bed Kelly had shared with her son-in-law.

The following day Kelly walked into the principal's office at the school where she'd taught third grade, and resigned her position. Two days later she got into her car and headed for Washington, D.C. to spend time with her sister and brother-in-law. A month's stay became two, and eventually twenty-three.

She had returned to New York City to clean out her co-op apartment, sell items she did not want, place heirloom pieces in storage and list the property with a real estate agent. The apartment was sold six months later, and Kelly deposited the proceeds into a Washington, D.C., bank account. She continued to pay to store her furniture until she received official documentation of her hire as a teacher for Blackstone Farms Day School. The antique mahogany sleigh bed, armoire, heirloom linens, quilts and the wrought-iron table and chairs that had once sat on her grandmother's patio now graced the charming bungalow she would call home for the next year.

She sat on the stool until the door opened again, and this time it was Sheldon Blackstone who had come to see her. "Don't bother to get up," he said, as he came closer. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his legs at the ankles. "It looks nice, Miss Kelly."

She nodded. "I should finish decorating tonight."

A slight frown marred Sheldon's lined forehead. "Why don't you put that off until tomorrow?"

Kelly studied the older man's profile, finding him quite handsome. Tall, solidly built, with brilliant light-gray eyes in a face the color of toasted pecans, she knew the widowed horse breeder could easily attract a woman from thirty to eighty.

"Why?"

"Everyone's gathering in the dining hall tonight at six to welcome my son and grandson home." Since coming to Blackstone Farms Sheldon noticed that Kelly rarely took her meals in the dining hall with the other employees.

She nodded. "I'll be there, Mr. Blackstone."

Straightening, he wagged a finger at her. "I told you before that we're pretty informal here. Please call me Sheldon."

"If that's the case, please call me Kelly."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'll call you Miss Kelly in front of the children. There's an unwritten rule here. The children aren't allowed to address adults by their given name, especially women. I know it may sound outdated and quite Southern to a Northerner, but it is a Blackstone tradition."

Kelly smiled. "I may be from New York, but I do claim some Southern roots. I have some Virginia blood on my daddy's side and South Carolina on my mama's."

Sheldon flashed a rare smile. "Where in Virginia?"

"Newport News."

"The best seafood I've ever eaten was in Newport News."

"I have relatives there who are fishermen."

Sheldon took a quick glance at his watch. "I expect to see you later."

"You will."

Kelly had to smile. I expect to see you later. It was Sheldon's way of ordering