Private Passions

by Rochelle Alers

  “Hey,” she whispered. Her sultry voice vibrated with a lingering somnolence.

  Tilting his head, he regarded her, smiling. “Hey, yourself.”

  Emily returned his smile. He was casually dressed in a pale blue T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. His tousled hair and the shadow of an emerging beard on his chin and lean jaw made him so sensually masculine that she sucked in her breath, holding it until she was forced to let it out. Her gaze followed him as he rose and made his way to the bed. The side of the mattress dipped as he sat down beside her.

  Leaning against his shoulder, Emily closed her eyes. “Don’t you think it’s ironic that both our parents were married in Mexico? My mother met my father when she came here for a vacation, and your mother came to Mexico looking for her ex-husband and son, met Matthew Sterling and married him.”

  Chris stared at the mass of black curling hair covering her head. A few wayward curls fell over her forehead in seductive disarray. Unwittingly Emily had given him the opening he sought to make her privy to his stepfather’s clandestine activities before he moved to New Mexico.

  “How much do you know about Matthew Sterling?”

  Shifting, she stared at Chris. “What do you mean by how much?”

  “Do you have any idea what he did before he became a horse breeder?” She shook her head. “Your father never mentioned how he met him?”

  A slight frown furrowed her forehead. “He said that he and Uncle Matt met when they were in the army.”

  “That’s true. Dad joined the ROTC at the University of Texas at Arlington, graduated and fulfilled his military commitment with a tour in Vietnam. He was a member of an elite branch of the army that was the best when it came to rescue missions. After his military tour ended he taught political science for a few years after earning a graduate degree in international relations at Georgetown University. While there he ran into one of his former officers, who recruited him as an independent operative for the government.”

  Emily’s eyes widened at this disclosure. “He was a spy?”

  “He was a private citizen who had perfected rescue missions. Matthew Sterling was paid to marry my mother. It was a ruse to get Alejandro’s attention, but what began as a marriage of convenience changed when they fell in love.”

  “Who paid him?”

  Exhaling audibly, Chris stared across the room. “Harry Blackwell. Uncle Harry was an associate director of the FBI.”

  “What was the connection between your uncle and Alejandro?”

  “Alejandro was marked for death by corrupt officials within the Mexican government. High-level officials he’d identified who were trafficking in drugs and stealing millions of dollars from U.S. companies doing business in Mexico.”

  “Where were you during this time?”

  “Alejandro had contacted Uncle Harry and arranged for my return to Virginia a day before my third birthday, but I never made it back to the States. I was intercepted by a group of rogue Federales who held me hostage until they captured Alejandro. Dad negotiated with Mexican officials to release him. The U.S. Government paid nearly a million dollars to get their snitch out of Mexico alive.”

  Running her fingers through her short curls, Emily closed her eyes, unable to believe that the man she called Uncle Matt had once lived a double life. She knew he and her father had met when both were in the military, but she thought Matthew Sterling had always been a horse breeder. However, there were occasions when she’d heard her mother and Eve Sterling whisper about their husbands’ missions. There was no doubt that her own father had been involved with classified military assignments, but she had never suspected Uncle Matt.

  Opening her eyes, she stared across the room, her gaze fixed on a small wooden cross affixed to an otherwise bare whitewashed wall. “My father nearly lost his life here.” Her voice was low, even. “He’d encountered my mother while on an assignment. They met on the flight down and married seven days later. Then Dad left to meet his contact but was stabbed or left for dead. Uncle Matt was responsible for getting him out of Mexico and back to the States. The army threatened to court-martial him because he’d disobeyed orders by becoming involved with a woman while on assignment. They were separated for a year before reconciling. I came along a year later.”

  Chris chuckled softly. “They probably had a wonderful time making up.”

  “Mom and Dad can be pretty intense,” she said, flashing her own brilliant smile.

  Sobering, Chris said, “Dad saved Uncle Josh’s life because he’d saved his about ten years before, when both were in Central American on a so-called ‘fact-finding’ mission. Speaking of being intense,” he continued, smoothly changing the subject, “Alejandro was very animated this morning. He called the local parish priest as soon as he woke up. Father Gonzalez has agreed to marry us this afternoon. Don’t you think it’s a little eerie that your parents, my parents and now the two of us will marry in Mexico?”

  She nodded slowly. “There must be something about this country that the Kirklands, Sterlings and Coles can’t resist. My cousin Regina lived here for eight years. She and Aaron still own property about a hundred miles south of Mexico City. Our marriage will finally unite the Sterlings, Kirklands and Coles.”

  “You’re right. But things are going to change once we have children.”

  “Why?”

  “Our children will be exempt from your family’s mandate that they not fly commercial carriers.”

  “They’ll be considered Coles,” she insisted in a soft tone.

  Even though Emily’s last name was Kirkland, she was still a Cole. Her paternal grandfather, Samuel Claridge Cole, had engaged in an extramarital affair with a woman who worked for his company, and when she discovered she was carrying Samuel’s child he paid Everett Kirkland, a vice-president at ColeDiz, to marry her. It had taken nearly forty years for the breach between father and son to heal, and now Joshua kept a constant vigil at the bedside of his elderly, dying father.

  “Legally they’ll carry my name. This will be one time when the Coles will not have things their way,” Chris whispered in her ear. “Our children will be Delgados.”

  “I know they’ll be Delgados, but they will also be Coles.” There was a thread of annoyance in her voice.

  Sitting up, he shifted on the bed and held her bare shoulders in a firm grip. “Wrong, Emily. If they’re going to be anything, they’ll be Delgados and Sterlings.”

  Her gaze widened, then narrowed. “Are you dismissing my family?”

  “No, I’m not. I just want to let you know that I’m capable of protecting my wife and children. And I want all of us to be able to fly like normal people…”

  “Are you saying I’m not normal?” she interrupted, her eyes darkening with her rising temper.

  “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

  “I’m not putting words in your mouth, Christopher Blackwell Delgado. I don’t like being called abnormal, that’s all.”

  Pulling away from her, he moved off the bed. His black eyes blazed with repressed fury, and the muscle in his lean jaw twitched noticeably when he clenched his teeth. He and Emily hadn’t even exchanged vows and she had set down the rules for determining the lives of the children he hoped to share with her.

  The Coles—one of the wealthiest African-American families in the United States—had established strict mandates for everyone born or married into their family. Mandates that were expected to be followed without question. But that would change with him and Emily. The Coles and Kirklands might have their own traditions, but he and Emily would establish new traditions for their children.

  “I’ll see you downstairs.”

  Emily watched Chris turn on his heel and walk out of her bedroom. She wasn’t pregnant, they weren’t even married, and they were already arguing about child-rearing.


  She had known him all her life, but it was only now that she had become aware that she actually did not know Christopher Delgado. Easing back against the pillow, she closed her eyes. “He’s a stranger,” she whispered audibly. Hesitation plagued her as she vacillated. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, the words she struggled to verbalize were lodged in her throat: I hope I’m not making a mistake.

  * * *

  Emily stood beside Chris in the small chapel, repeating her vows in Spanish. They had met with Father Gonzalez earlier that afternoon. The young priest was quick to inform the couple that what he intended to do was highly irregular, but his superior had directed him to offer the son of Alejandro Delgado and his novia the sacraments of Reconciliation and Holy Matrimony. What Monsignor Ocasio hadn’t told Father Gonzalez was that the elder Delgado planned to leave a sizable portion of his estate to the Church.

  The hushed timbre of her voice belied the riot of emotions gripping her. She loved Chris and wanted to marry him—but not like this. She had spent years fantasizing walking down the aisle of the church where she had been baptized as an infant, a church filled with family and friends who had come to see her exchange vows with Christopher Blackwell Delgado. A rush of guilt and selfishness assailed her. She had given in to Alejandro’s wish to see her and his son married, thereby cheating her parents of their right to attend her wedding.

  Emily had lost count of the number of times she and Vanessa Kirkland had discussed her future. Her mother’s only wish was to see her children secure in their careers and private lives. And on more than one occasion she hinted that she was ready to become a grandmother. The desire for grandchildren always followed a visit with Eve Sterling. Whenever Salem and Sara Lassiter left their young son Isaiah with Eve, Vanessa was enamored by the intelligent child who had inherited his attractive parents’ best features.

  Emily’s head came up slowly, her gaze fusing with Chris’s. Unabashed love shimmered from the depths of his raven-black eyes as he promised to forsake all others, to love and protect her until death parted them. Her gaze lowered when he slipped an exquisite gold band on her left hand. The ring fit her slender finger as if it had been made for her. After breakfast Sonia had given her a small antique box, stating that it was a wedding gift. Emily’s shock was apparent when she’d gazed down at an assortment of exquisite rings, necklaces, bracelets and earrings. She had come to Mexico wearing another man’s engagement ring but would leave with heirloom pieces that had once belonged to Chris’s deceased paternal grandmother.

  Flickering light from burning white tapers reflected off the flawless diamonds in an antique band of yellow gold as she wound her arms around Chris’s neck when Father Gonzalez directed the groom to kiss his bride.

  There was no soloist, no organist, no pews filled with her family members, Chris’s family, and their friends when they turned to face the ancient wooden door at the back of the sanctuary. There was only Alejandro and Sonia, who sat together, holding hands. A shaft of sunlight coming through the stained-glass windows bathed the married couple in a shower of gold. The bright light picked up glints of red in Chris’s black hair, highlighted the deep gold hues in Emily’s sun-browned face, and accentuated the flattering contrast of her pale yellow dress against the olive-colored skin.

  The fingers of her left hand rested lightly on the sleeve of Chris’s navy blue suit as he turned to whisper in her ear, “I love you, Mrs. Christopher Delgado.”

  She nodded, smiling. “And I you, Mr. Delgado.”

  Sonia rose to her feet, her arms outstretched. “Permítame ser el primero en felicitarle.”

  Emily accepted Sonia’s embrace and congratulations. “Thank you.” She pulled away from Chris, handing him the small bouquet of white flowers bound with streamers of yellow, red, white and green ribbon, and walked to Alejandro.

  Sitting down beside her father-in-law, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “This is the happiest day of my life, Father.” And it was. Even though she did not have her family and friends to witness her nuptials, she knew she would agree to marry Chris again, in any foreign land, because she loved him just that much.

  Alejandro took her slender hand in his, squeezing her fingers gently. “This is only the beginning, Emelia. There will be many more happy ones.” He closed his eyes briefly as a mysterious smile parted his lips. “May life offer you everything you’ve ever wished for. We must get back to the house and eat something before you and Cristobal share your wedding night.”

  Heat warmed her cheeks at the mention of her wedding night. She didn’t think she could relax enough to make love with Chris with his father and aunt in the same house.

  Chris and Father Gonzalez flanked Alejandro to help him from the sanctuary and back to the house, where a light repast awaited them. He had put up a brave front, enduring excruciating pain when he refused the nurse’s recommendation that he take his prescribed sedative. He’d railed, saying he did not want to sleep through his son’s wedding ceremony. But now that he’d seen Cristobal married, he’d willingly accept the two tiny pills.

  January 12

  Acapulco, Mexico

  Emily pressed her face against Chris’s throat, feeding on his warmth and strength. In less than fifteen minutes she would leave her husband and Mexico to board the ColeDiz Gulfstream jet for her return to the States. He tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her flush against his body.

  “I’ll call you later tonight,” she vowed.

  “I’m sorry I’m putting you through this, baby. I promise I’m going to make everything up to you when…”

  She placed her fingertips over his mouth, stopping his apology. “Don’t, Chris. We know it has to be this way.”

  He grasped her wrist, easing her hand from his lips. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

  “As long as I work for KCNS and cover Savoy’s campaign, it will have to be this way.” She pressed her open mouth to his ear, whispering, “We’ll make it.”

  Chris closed his eyes. “I pray you’re right.”

  So do I, she thought. “I have to go, darling, they’re holding the plane for me.” Her luggage in hand, the copilot stood a distance away, watching her.

  Cradling her face between his palms, Chris placed light, moist kisses along her jaw, cheekbones and lips, increasing the pressure and devouring her mouth like a starving man who’d been deprived of food.

  “I love you. I love you so much,” he chanted over and over.

  Emily wasn’t certain where she found the strength, but she pulled out of his embrace and walked away from him.

  She followed the copilot as he led the way through a narrow corridor, down a flight of stairs, then onto the tarmac. She made her way up the stairs to the jet, where the pilot had just received clearance from the air traffic controllers at the Juan N. Alvarez International Airport. They were scheduled to arrive in Las Cruces by noon.

  The pilot greeted her with a friendly smile as she stepped aboard the aircraft. She took her seat, fastened her seat belt and closed her eyes as the plane pushed back in preparation for takeoff. The aircraft taxied, picked up speed, and within minutes they were airborne. She opened her eyes, staring down at the rapidly fading Mexican landscape as the jet increased its altitude. Bright sunlight poured through the windows, warming her face.

  She wanted to cry but didn’t. It was she, not Chris, who insisted they keep their relationship secret. They would be apart for ten months, and she rationalized that it wasn’t a long time for them to conceal their private passions. Or was it?

  * * *

  Chris stood motionless, hands thrust into the pockets of his slacks, watching Emily’s departing figure until she disappeared from his sight. He waited in the same spot for a full five minutes, unable to still an unexpected rush of foreboding. He forced himself to make his way to the terminal where he would
board his own flight back to the States. He had a two-hour wait before he would board a jet for Albuquerque.

  He’d called his campaign manager hours before he’d exchanged vows with Emily, and been read the riot act because he hadn’t heard from his candidate in two weeks. Grant Carson’s source had reported that William Savoy had planned a news conference, hinting that his investigators had uncovered additional information about Alejandro Delgado’s background that could prove extremely detrimental to his candidate’s political future.

  Chris reassured Grant that he would be able to counter Savoy’s attack. He’d terminated the call, then arranged for his return to New Mexico to coincide with Emily’s. He would spend time with Grant in Albuquerque before flying down to Las Cruces to visit his family and reunite with his wife.

  Part Two

  Separate Lives

  Chapter 18

  January 12

  Las Cruces

  The driver maneuvered into the driveway leading to the Lassiters’ home, stopping several feet from a large wolf. Emily leaned forward, handing the driver the fare for her trip from the Las Cruces Airport.

  The man’s gaze was fixed on the animal staring back at him. “Will he attack?”

  She smiled, shaking her head. “No. But, to be on the safe side, why don’t you pop the trunk and I’ll get my own luggage?”

  The man let out an audible sigh, pulling the lever for the trunk. He shook his head, unable to understand why someone would keep a wolf for a pet. He watched from the safety of the automobile’s interior while his passenger removed her bags from the trunk. Staring at the side-view mirror, he mumbled a soft oath under his breath when the wolf moved toward her and pressed his nose against the back of her hand. The trunk closed with a solid slam and he put the car in reverse and sped away with an ear-shattering screech of rubber hitting the paved driveway.