Secrets Of The Heart (Book 1, The Heart Series) Read online

  “I’m sorry for my shortness, Bree. I’m a little cranky today.” Father Tom’s kind, craggy face wrinkled in dismay.

  His gray, fluffy brows lifted at the corners, like angel wings. Midnight blue, peeble-like eyes usually held a wealth of peace and serenity. Now, directed at Bree, they shone with contriteness. His bulbous nose dominated the center of his face, but his wide, ready smile captured the most attention.

  He explained, “Gil and I have a standing bet every time the Red Sox plays the Yankees.” He pulled out his tarnished silver pocket watch and flipped it open. “The game starts in a half hour.” He clicked the lid shut, and then returned it to his vest.

  “How much did you wager this time?” Bree asked, her tone one of forgiveness and understanding.

  The sly grin transformed his worry-filled expression, his eyes twinkling in mischief. “If the Sox wins he has to come to church for a month of Sundays.”

  “And if they don’t?” Nick prompted, arching a brow, curious at the losing end of this gamble. Father Tom and Gil were known to stack the decks high each and every time their teams competed, sometimes with hilarious outcomes.

  The priest shuddered. “Now, son, we won’t discuss that prospect. All I’ve got to say on that matter is it involves a chicken suit. I put in a good word, so we’ll just have to have faith in the power of prayers.” Father Tom looked heavenward and mumbled a desperate plea.

  Bree’s laughter sparked liquid fire in Nick’s blood, tantalizing him, unnerving him.

  Sydney slapped a hand to her forehead, saying, “Oh, brother.”

  “In this case, Oh, Father, would be more appropriate, wouldn’t you agree, young lady?” Father Tom asked, fighting a smile, and then beaming as Sydney burst out laughing. He shook his head, muttering, “The lengths I go to to get parishioners to come to mass.”

  “You can’t fool an old fool, Father,” Nick said, wagging a finger at him, “you love the Sox just as much as I do.”

  “Care to place a wager yourself, Nick?” Gil asked, entering the room in long strides.

  “Count me out,” Nick said. “I’ve got a wedding to attend, then a nice long honeymoon.”

  “Speaking of which, shouldn’t you two be getting this thing moving?” Gil shoved back the gray sleeve of his sport coat and checked the face of his oversized watch.

  “You’re right.” Nick knew, with a degree of regret, he had to follow through on his initial plan. “You go with Father Tom, Princess, we’ll be along in a minute.” He caught the priest’s curious look. “You don’t mind, do you, Father?”

  “No, not at all.” Directing the way, he patted Sydney on her shoulder, saying, “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the Boston Red Sox, now would you?”

  She looked up at him, smiling brightly. “Yep. I watch with Poppa all the time.”

  When the door closed and their conversation became muted, Nick turned to Bree. If anything, her grip had tightened and her face seemed devoid of color. The fear emitting from her pulsed, heavy and thick, clogging the air.

  He hesitated, silently questioning the soundness of his intentions once again. The wreckage of his first marriage carved through his doubts, reminding him how it had soured. His resolve returned.

  “What is it?” Bree asked, her voice reed-thin.

  She dropped her gaze to his neatly knotted black tie, avoiding his direct stare. Part of him ached at her discomfort. The other part, the stronger part, pressed him onward.

  Don’t do it, Nicholas, Nana’s sharp warning blasted in his head, causing him to waver for another moment.

  Gil, silent until now, burst out, “You mean you didn’t tell her?” His disbelief and anger bounced off the walls.

  Bree jerked to face Gil, and then twisted back to Nick. This time she chanced a look at him, a real honest-to-goodness minute passed as he captured that hazel stare, holding steady. He swore the shade changed several times, from distressing murky blue, to steely gray, to passionate jade green.

  That last shade sent a whole host of impure thoughts cascading through his mind, thoughts better left unexpressed in a Catholic church. But there was no denying it: He wanted her. And by damn, he’d have her, his way.

  He dug a hand into his inside breast pocket, extracting the thin folded piece of paper that defined who they were to become.

  Stepping forward, he came within two feet of Bree. He held the form out to her. She snatched it quickly, as if he’d yank it away if she didn’t grab it soon enough.

  With trembling hands, she peeled back the edges, and then read. He watched and waited. Gasping, she turned a ghostly white.

  Nick experienced a sinking sensation in his gut as he realized just how big a blunder he’d just made.

  With wounded eyes, she found his, saying in a stunned whisper, “A prenuptial agreement.”

  Chapter 5

  The concrete evidence of Nick’s lack of trust sat before Bree, chilling her to the bone. Crisp, black lettering against pristine white parchment blared the news. She skimmed the contents of the first paragraph: He wanted a real marriage.

  Her knees buckled. She felt Gil’s strong hands guide her to a nearby chair. She sank onto the cracked, black leather cushion, grateful for something to support her weight. Maybe it would help absorb the shock.

  “I object to this, Nick,” Gil spat out. “This union is an unorthodox situation to begin with. One I thought would bring a family together and smooth over the animosity brewing between you two. May I remind you, the only two people a little girl has left in this world. But, you can’t blindside someone like this. What kind of marriage do you expect to have after pulling this kind of shenanigan?”

  “One based on honesty.” Nick growled, low and deep, rattling Bree even more.

  Her body hummed with the foregone conclusion, the powerful enormity of the situation. He’d make love to her. She’d hoped, but never expected it. A flare of heat curled in her center.

  The seductive, years old attraction would finally be culminated, consummated. With no barriers, she reminded herself, except the ones you erect yourself.

  Gil’s hand pressed down on her shoulder, warm and comforting. “You don’t have to go through with this, Bree. Under the circumstances, I feel I can’t legally, nor morally, advise you on this agreement. Find a good lawyer to take a look at this before you decide anything.”

  Craning her neck, she looked up at him. His features clouded, growing dark and filled with concern for her. She frowned. “So you don’t think a real marriage will benefit me, a faithful one, it says here?”

  “It’s not that part that worries me.” He shot Nick a glare. “I know this comes as a shock—”

  “What part is the problem?” Silence greeted her question. She jerked her gaze back to the paper she held between her numb fingers. Scanning the rest of the page, she nearly tripped over the section devoted to Sydney.

  Fury erupted, blazing a white-hot trail through her veins. Jumping to her feet, she confronted Nick. His granite-like expression gave nothing away. She jabbed a finger into his rock solid chest, emphasizing each word with a poke. “I will never give up my daughter, Carletti.”

  He endured the punishment. “Good, because I don’t believe in divorce. This will assure both of us we’ll stay together.”

  She pulled away, dropping her hand into a fist at her side. Somehow that didn’t surprise her. Once, when Vinnie expounded on his unhappy childhood, he’d revealed his mother’s penchant for threatening a divorce. Nick’s adamant refusal was the only thing that kept the family intact.

  “If I give you my word will that be enough?”

  Skepticism washed over his features. “I tried trusting a woman once and it didn’t work. I can’t afford to make the same mistake twice.”

  What have I gotten myself into? Will I always pay for what his first wife did to him? Vinnie had also disclosed Dorthea’s remote, standoffish behavior, not only to her own son, but to Nick as well.

  Apparently the only person
the woman hadn’t kept at bay turned out to be her young lover. The knowledge gave Bree an insight she welcomed, understanding the many demons of this complex man standing before her.

  Dorthea betrayed her husband. Bree’s heart clutched in her chest, in affinity, in renewed shame.

  Didn’t I betray Vinnie by kissing Nick? No wonder he can’t trust me now.

  She staggered under his piercing stare, under the incredible weight of the decision.

  “If you really are solely motivated by Sydney’s well-being then you’ll have no problem signing on the dotted line.” Nick threw down the challenge, an open invitation for her.

  From her side of the fence, Bree had three choices: call the whole thing off which would disappoint her very excited daughter, plus create an opportunity for Nick to press on with the custody battle and undoubtedly expose Bree’s secret; beg for more time to seek out a reputable lawyer; or sign the damn thing to show Nick she’d never been more serious about protecting her little girl.

  Holding out her right hand, palm side up, she said, “Have you got a pen I can borrow?”

  ***

  Standing beside Nick, brushing arms, Bree shook. The bouquet of white roses Nick had given her took a firm grip in order for it not to fly out of her trembling, sweaty hands and crash to the altar floor. Father Tom’s continual soothing tone did nothing to calm her shattered nerves.

  Nick shifted, glancing down at her as he wrapped a warm, steady arm around her, absorbing her shakes, smoothing over her fears and her many doubts.

  Soon the quivering died down. Bree, encircled by Nick’s heat and scent, allowed hope to spread. Some small part of him must feel something other than dislike, she reasoned, or he’d be immune to my distress.

  Admiration, she guessed, having observed it in the look he sent her when she asked for his pen. She’d passed his test.

  But one crystal clear fact haunted her: Nicholas Carletti didn’t trust her worth a fig. The prenuptial agreement enforced that with icy, harsh reality.

  What would he do if he ever found out I’ve been lying to him all these years?

  ***

  Hours later, Nick pulled his black SUV into a large gravel parking lot. The crunching sound beneath the tires radiated through the silent truck. He’d passed the quaint little restaurant dozens of times since he’d bought the cabin near the lake years ago. This time, on his wedding day, he finally stopped.

  Sliding into the only empty space in the back row, Nick shut down the engine. He did a double take when a shaft of dying sunlight hit the thick gold band circling his left ring finger. His heart jumped, and then settled into a fast pace.

  Slowly, he undid his shoulder harness and pivoted in his seat, facing his sleeping bride. Wife, he mused, a frisson of awe mixed with fear tickled his spine. After all this time Bree was finally his.

  Resting, she let her militant guard slip. This is how he longed for her to always look, soft, alluring, and receptive to him.

  As her left cheek pressed against the back of the tall seat, a smile, small and teasing, tugged at the corners of her mouth, making him wonder what devilish scene she dreamt. He hoped he played a large role in it.

  But somehow, recalling his unwarranted attack of earlier, Nick doubted it. Shamefaced now, he lambasted himself for pulling such a dumb stunt. He could have warned her, at least talked to her about it beforehand, instead of springing the prenuptial agreement on her only moments before the ceremony.

  He thought winning his way meant everything. Now, he wasn’t so certain. A fresh wave of remorse washed over him when he remembered the stricken look on Bree’s face, the stark betrayal.

  Gil had hit the sore spot that still gnawed at Nick: It sure the hell wasn’t the best way to start a marriage.

  Why did she always bring out the worst in him? Why did he distrust her so? Allowing her husband’s father to kiss her on her first wedding day provided a clue. In fact, the tiny kernel of doubt grew to gigantic proportions after that telling incident.

  Sighing, knowing he’d racked his brain for years and failed to find a reasonable excuse for both their parts, Nick brushed it aside once again.

  Leaning forward, he tentatively reached out a hand, brushing the silky, pale gold bangs away. Her thick lashes cast dusky shadows on her creamy white skin. A delicate pink flush dotted her cheeks.

  Now, he focused all his attention on her full, rosy lips. His insides tightened. His heart skipped a beat, and then thumped wildly.

  “You’re s’pose to kiss her awake.” Sydney’s whispery voice coming from the back seat had Nick jerking back his hand as if he’d been caught at some prank.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” Nick said guiltily, twisting to catch her rub her eyes with doubled-up fists. “Just how long have you been up?”

  “A while.” Dropping her hands, she smiled with an inner knowledge, making Nick wonder how a five-year-old could know so damn much. “We in Hampsure yet?”

  “Yes, and it’s New Hampshire.”

  Unhooking her seat belt, Sydney moved closer, propping her chin on the back of his seat. “You’ve got to kiss Mommy like you’re the handsome prince and she’s sleeping beauty.”

  “Really? Fairy tales?”

  “It’s in the movie.”

  He chuckled, liking Old Walt immensely at the moment. Taking the advice of a little girl on how to treat his new bride seemed like a good idea to Nick, especially when Sydney knew Bree better than him. A tickle of nervousness wrapped its way around his gut, tying a knot. “If she gets mad at me will you back me up?”

  Sydney nodded, flashing him a wide grin, revealing her dimple. “But she won’t, you know. She likes when you kiss her.”

  That stopped him cold. “How do you know that?”

  She rolled those big, cobalt blue eyes of hers, making him feel like an idiot for asking. Shaking her head, she said, “She made funny noises, ‘member? Just like she does when she eats somethin’ she loves like pizza.”

  For a brief moment, Nick was back at the church, leaning down toward Bree, slowly, biding his time, wondering if she’d turn her head to avoid the full force of his kiss.

  She’d gasped as if her breath had caught and stuck in the back of her throat. Then, when he’d settled his lips on her soft luscious ones, she’d uttered a highly erotic sound, part moan, part groan. Heat had rushed through him like an inferno. He’d pulled away jerkily, sucking in a breath, gathering his scattered wits.

  “Noises,” Nick muttered under his breath now.

  “Nervous noises,” Sydney said with emphasis.

  He arched a brow at her astuteness. “Turn around and I will.”

  “Can’t I watch?” The pleading look nearly did Nick in.

  “No.” He couldn’t predict the outcome of this experiment. If it ended with a slap, fury, indifference, or, God willing, passion, Nick didn’t want his granddaughter to witness it.

  “Oh, brother,” Sydney complained, but did as he asked.

  He smiled at the little girl’s hunched over form in the backseat, her face buried in her tiny hands. Then Nick directed his attention to his sleeping beauty.

  Cautiously, he leaned forward, inch by inch closing the gap. A hairbreadth away, he stilled, mesmerized. A sudden leap of panic jolted him into action. Here goes, he mused as he settled his lips over Bree’s oh so soft, so lush ones.

  Nick feathered delicate, experimental kisses across her mouth, admitting she tasted sweeter than anything he’d ever had in his entire life. Mindful of his audience in the back seat, he stifled the bubbling groan in his chest.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Nick, Bree stirred. A flare of heat slashed through him, warming his blood. With just his mouth touching her, he wanted more. Carefully, he placed his left hand on the back of her long neck. The silky, wispy strands of her short hair brushed his hand.

  He pressed his mouth firmly on hers now, sliding his tongue between the seam of her lips, parting them. Her response, ready and willing, fueled him on. He
delved in, seeking the sweet, hot cavern and caress of her mating tongue he’d only savored once before, too long ago for him. Like that other time, she tasted of potent red wine, wine they shared after their wedding ceremony.

  Nick felt, as well as heard, Bree softly moan when he stroked his thumb down her satiny neck. Still connected to her, still kissing Bree, he inhaled sharply in reaction.

  Her heavenly scent filled his lungs. The warm pressure of her small hands against his chest, and then wrapping around his neck, drew a long drawn out groan from him.

  Bree froze in his arms, obviously coming fully awake. Nick pulled back, reluctantly breaking the embrace. Gazing into her now jade green, passion-filled eyes, Nick observed her sudden drop back to reality.

  “Nick?”

  Her horrified expression crushed his rising desire. But it was the way she’d uttered his name, the questioning lilt laced with stunned wonder, that whipped his heated blood into a frenzy of fury.

  “Who the hell did you think it was?”

  Chapter 6

  Bree held up the large menu, shielding herself from Nick’s keen, probing glances opposite her. Her hands trembled, causing her to prop the ungainly bill of fare against her water glass. She stared blindly at the black script lettering, too numb by recent events to decipher the wording.

  The charming little restaurant surprised and delighted her. It reminded Bree of an English country cottage with small intimate rooms lit with long tapered candles in sconces.

  The warm glow of the nearby fire, nestled in the stone hearth, combated the unusual evening chill. Crisp white table linens donned the five circular tables scattered in the blue and white room.

  The crystal glassware sparkled, the candlelight shafting through the facets like a ray of sunshine inside a prism. The faint sound of silverware and muted conversations drifted to her. And the mouthwatering aroma of baking bread and roast beef sharpened her, until now, latent appetite.

  She chanced a peek over the top of her menu, encountering Nick’s dark, unreadable stare. The heaviness of her wedding ring, and all that it meant, weighed on her mind.