Private Lessons Read online

  Private Lessons

  Dara Girard

  Contents

  Private Lessons

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Also Available

  About the Author

  Copyright Information

  Private Lessons

  Dara Girard

  * * *

  * * *

  Published by ILORI PRESS BOOKS LLC

  www.iloripressbooks.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Author.

  * * *

  About the Book

  A lesson in love?

  Jodi Durant lives a lie.

  When she gets a promotion at work, she fears that her lie will be discovered and get her fired. An invitation to join the Black Stockings Society, promising her a new life, comes just in time.

  However, her membership comes with a price—revealing her secret to a man who could destroy her life.

  Or give her the lesson she always needed.

  The fifth book in the popular Return of the Black Stockings Society series.

  1

  Having coffee with her was not part of the plan. He didn’t even like coffee shops—the noise, the smell, the people—or the coffee for that matter. He didn’t even know why he’d said yes. He should have politely declined, but he hadn’t and now he had to pay.

  Dylan Flynn shifted his gaze from his white and brown cardboard cup filled with a nearly black liquid he didn’t plan to touch, to his companion’s drink, which looked more like a dessert than a beverage with the whipped cream piled high and dotted with chocolate sprinkles. He glanced at the glazed Danish that she’d ordered for both of them.

  He didn’t do sweets either. He lived a regimented life—boiled egg, toast and orange juice every morning—and rarely varied from it. But he wasn’t acting like himself and hadn’t been for the past month. It was Dylan Rodgers who’d said yes to a pretty woman, who drank coffee and the same man who was now out of a job.

  It hadn’t come as too much of a surprise after the arrest, but he didn’t want to think about that right now (his brother-in-law, Malcolm had fallen over laughing when he’d had to bail him out), nor did he want to think about how close he’d gotten into further trouble.

  If he had been thinking clearly he wouldn’t have said the words that had gotten him here, “They say bad news comes in threes. I had to put my dog down yesterday and now I’ve lost my job, I wonder what’s next.” He hadn’t expected her pretty brown eyes to widen in sympathy and then offer to take him for coffee where she had given him advice on other companies he could try. And that’s when he realized getting fired was a lucky mistake because in a short period of time he’d started looking forward to his job and seeing her and that would have complicated things since his job was to spy on her and everyone at By Your Side. The idea had been his grandmother’s.

  He’d drawn the short straw for his grandmother’s plan. He usually did. He did what others didn’t want to do. His younger brother, Josh, was too emotional; his brother-in-law, Malcolm, too recognizable and his sister, Gwen…well nobody considered her for anything. “You’ve been in the background so nobody knows you,” his grandmother had said as they all sat in the boardroom of the Flynn Fleet headquarters where she ruled. She sat at the head of the light pine table as if holding the attention of a small army.

  “Mom, do you really think this is necessary?” his mother, Adelaide, said in a soft voice.

  His mother always spoke softly in Elena Flynn’s presence, as if in constant gratitude that she’d been allowed into the family. Elena had taken her time giving her consent that Adelaide be allowed to marry her beloved only son, Mauro. Dylan had gotten his height from his mother, but she stooped her shoulders to appear smaller, her black hair had streaks of grey that would have made a more attractive, self-assured woman look distinguished, but instead just made her look old. She looked like the widow she was.

  His grandmother, in contrast, had a shock of white hair, styled in a trim pageboy cut that only made her light brown features appear even more striking and youthful, like the scent of orange blossoms she liked to wear. She stood several inches shorter than her daughter-in-law, but commanded attention as if she dwarfed her.

  Elena ignored her. “We have to find out what they’re doing. No detail is too small.”

  “What if he gets caught?” Adelaide said, lifting her voice to just above a whisper.

  Malcolm cleared his throat. Dylan noticed he always did that when he wanted to make a point. It wasn’t a nervous habit but deliberately done to appear as if he were working up the courage, when, in truth, he was never without it. He’d worked at Flynn for more than ten years and had been married to Dylan’s sister for nearly nine. Their union had produced a boy and a girl. He had the kind of corporate polish his grandmother loved. Good looking without being distracting, deferential without being oily and succeeded in making connections that were useful. “I have some data that—”

  “I don’t care about data,” Elena said. “I don’t like what I see. I don’t like seeing them expand into areas that should belong to us.”

  He cleared his throat again. “I just—”

  “This is not up for discussion. It’s time that one of us find out the inner workings of that company. You keep doing what you do.” She shifted her hard gaze to Dylan. “I’m trusting you. The success of our business depends on what you can find.”

  “But aren’t we already successful?” Josh said. Unlike Dylan, his younger brother hadn’t inherited their mother’s height, but instead their father’s more medium, stocky build. He had a round face and soft tones like his mother that generally irked his grandmother.

  She bristled. Whether at his question or his soft tones Dylan couldn’t tell. “In order to stay successful one must never become complacent. Haven’t I told you that?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “We cannot allow them to get a stronger foothold in this community. And that ride along—”

  “Sharing,” Malcolm corrected.

  She waved her hand in dismissal. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

  “We still have a strong market with our transport vans,” Malcolm said. “We have to be careful about using a different model without—”

  “You’re giving me excuses not answers.” She looked at Dylan. “And as usual you’re staying mute about this.”

  He shrugged.

  “You have nothing to say?”

  He blinked.

  She stared at him for a long moment, her dark green gaze, an indicator of her mestizo heritage in Nicaragua, challenging him to say something, but soon gave up and looked at the others.

  “I don’t see why you want to use Dylan when he’s not really part of the company,” Gwen said, twirling a long strand of da
rk hair around one of her manicured fingers.

  Dylan shot his sister a look, wondering why she had to bring that up. His grandmother wanted him to work at the company like everyone else did; instead, he only occasionally consulted with them. He ran a separate company that invested in other businesses. He loved his sister but didn’t particularly like her. She had a cruel streak and more than once he wondered why Malcolm had married her.

  “He knows that soon he’ll have to stop behaving like a child and take his rightful place.” Elena met his gaze. “The place his father would like to see him hold.”

  Dylan rubbed his chin, trying not to yawn.

  She frowned.

  “Well, if that’s everything,” Malcolm said, glancing at his cell phone. “I have another meeting.”

  “That’s all,” Elena said.

  Dylan nodded and went to the door. He was halfway down the dark carpeted hallway when he felt a grip on his arm that made him jump. He spun around and glared at his mother. “I hate when you do that.”

  “I said your name,” she said in a tone of apology, taking a step back.

  He took a deep breath; he didn’t like getting angry at her. His father had made her fearful enough. “It’s okay,” he said in a softer tone, “but I’ve told you to speak up when you say my name.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He turned and continued walking. “I’m in a hurry, what do you want?”

  His mother hurried after him like a scared mouse. “You don’t have to do this. You can say no.”

  He sent her a cynical grin. “Are you being serious?”

  She rubbed her hands together. “At least you can try. I guess, I don’t know. I don’t want—”

  He gently touched her shoulder. “I’ll be okay.”

  “You don’t have to keep taking the jobs no one else will.”

  “Why not?” Gwen said meeting them at the elevator. “He’s good at it.”

  Dylan rubbed his eyes, wishing he’d brought his eye drops since his contacts made his eyes dry. “As opposed to being useless?”

  She clicked her tongue unfazed. “Jealous because I married well?”

  “I still wonder what Malcolm got in the bargain.”

  She curled her lip.

  “Where is Malcolm by the way?”

  “He decided to take the stairs.”

  “Yes, being with you in closed spaces would cause a man to run.”

  Adelaide shook her head. “You shouldn’t say things like that Dylan, you’ll hurt her feelings.”

  “Feelings?” Dylan said with a laugh. “You mean she has them?”

  The elevator doors opened and they all got in.

  “Everyone has feelings,” Adelaide said gently scolding him. “You shouldn’t tease her like that.”

  “I don’t care, Mom,” Gwen said. “I did my part and Gran likes me.”

  “Wait!” Josh called out running towards the elevator.

  Gwen pushed the ‘Close’ button.

  Dylan put his hand between the doors, stopping them and then shot her a look.

  She shrugged. “He should use the stairs. He could use the exercise.”

  Josh stumbled into the elevator breathing heavy. “Thanks. I got caught with Gran.”

  “Poor boy,” Gwen said, patting his back in a patronizing way.

  Josh smiled at her not sensing her sarcasm. “Her idea is crazy, but there’s no way to change her mind.”

  Adelaide cast a nervous look at Dylan. “Unless someone decides not to do it.”

  Dylan stared at the elevator numbers as the car slowly descended.

  “She could be setting you up to fail. If anyone finds out—”

  “I can take care of myself.” Always have always will.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Josh said.

  “What’s wrong with you two?” Gwen said. “You keep acting as if he has a choice. We all know Dylan’s the guard dog.”

  “Gwen!” Adelaide said.

  “I mean it as a compliment. He knows that.”

  The elevator stopped on the lower level. Dylan exited first hoping he could get to his car without further discussion. His brother had other ideas.

  “I think Mom’s right,” Josh said, struggling to keep Dylan’s pace as he headed to the front doors. “Gran isn’t to be trusted.”

  Dylan waved goodbye to the security guard then opened the door to the autumn air. “You worry too much.”

  “I’m just not sure this is necessary. I looked over Malcolm’s data—”

  “No, what she has planned is not necessary, but it’s something I have to do.”

  “Because Gran says so?”

  He shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with seeing what our rival business is doing.”

  “But undercover?”

  “It’s a good way to see how things operate when they don’t think someone is watching.”

  “I’m not saying it’s a bad idea. I’m just not sure of the legalities…”

  “I won’t get caught.”

  “Plus...” He sighed and stopped.

  “What? Go on and say it.”

  “I’m not sure you’re the one to do it. You don’t exactly blend in well. You’re more of a ‘behind-the-scenes’ kind of guy.”

  His brother was right. Dylan wasn’t known as a people person and preferred to be by himself, but he could observe and spot systems and patterns in businesses and his grandmother knew that skill was useful. And he liked to keep their grandmother happy enough to keep her out of his life.

  “Do you want to take my place?”

  His brother visibly shivered. “No.”

  Dylan stopped in front of his car, the scent of freshly turned soil from the Maryland farmlands surrounding the industrial park where the headquarters sat, drifting in the air. He looked and saw a cow grazing in a distant field under low hanging white clouds. As a child he used to watch cows feeling a kinship. He knew they weren’t as stupid as they looked. He opened his car door and affectionately patted his brother on the cheek. “Relax and stop worrying, I’ve got this.”

  He pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road feeling as if he could start breathing again. He never felt himself when he had to be in the squat tan building that housed his grandfather’s business. Jamaican born Berton Flynn had left his adopted home of Nicaragua with a new bride and son and headed to America for a new life. After twenty years of working for the same medical billing company he branched out on his own and started “Flynn’s Fleet” a medical transport business more than thirty years ago and it had done very well. His father had briefly served as president until illness cut his life short and Elena took over.

  Then ten years ago, By Your Side entered the market. They didn’t think much of this new entity until they started losing some business. While working undercover Dylan saw firsthand how By Your Side’s different business structure mirrored other more popular ride share programs.

  While Flynn’s Fleets provided medical transport primarily to individuals and facilities serving clients with disabilities, limited access and various medical needs, By Your Side had a different audience. The owner of the newer company had seen a growing group of active seniors who would pay for a different form of transportation. Seniors who could no longer drive, or didn’t want to, signed over their personal vehicles in exchange for an ‘on call’ service that provided transportation for various errands such as grocery shopping, doctor appointments, clothes/gift shopping, visiting family and friends even trips to events such as the opera, plays, and sports games. Anywhere a person wanted to go.

  By Your Side also had a fleet of vans that worked exclusively with select nursing and rehabilitation facilities, providing medical transport.

  Their small community of Old Dayton could accommodate this bold plan and By Your Side was thriving, which made his grandmother nervous and with reason. If they wanted to stay ahead they needed to have the right information. Flynn’s Fleets current model was far too limited and set in
its old model and two straights quarters of declining revenue showed this.

  Dylan sat back in his chair as a child squealed behind him and a coffee machine hummed. He’d enjoyed his undercover work and the people he’d gotten to know. Especially Jodi Durant. She had been a surprise. At first, he’d been taken aback by her age (early thirties), nail polish (blue), jewelry (studded piercing at the top of her ear, plus four others—two in each ear) and short, natural black hair, they weren’t in line with the image he had of By Your Side. He’d imagined the clientele would feel more comfortable with a more conservatively dressed woman, settled comfortably in her middle years or older, but Jodi had quickly changed his assumption with one action: a smile.

  The first time he’d been introduced to her, her mouth had spread into a smile as warm as a hug. People hardly ever smiled at him. If they did, they were usually timid, nervous or unsure, but this woman flashed a bright smile as if she planned to make him her new best friend.

  “Hi, I’m Jodi and you’ll be shadowing me today. I usually work in the office, but we had an unexpected emergency because two drivers got sick so I’m taking one of the driver’s routes while we get a temporary driver to cover the other route.”

  To his annoyance he was actually tongue tied for a minute. He shook her outstretched hand while no words came out. “No need to be nervous,” she said, her smile making his cheeks burn. “You’ll be fine.”

  He was immediately under her spell. She made a person feel important; if his grandmother could clone her she could make a fortune.