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

  She became aware of the way he focused on her scantily clad body. His gaze lingered where the undone bikini top slid away exposing the side of her breast.

  A perverse part of her took advantage of the situation, driving her onward in fulfilling her half-baked plan. “Maybe I should go topless, Nick.”

  He growled low. “Don’t go there, Bree.”

  She pressed on. “You can rub some lotion in so I won’t get a sunburn.”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he cursed between gritted teeth, flinging down the towel he’d been using.

  “You even swear Catholic.” She couldn’t contain a chuckle. She turned over and sat up, clutching the scrap of red material to her breasts. Grabbing the white, palm-sized bottle of lotion near her hip, she tossed it to him. He caught it deftly. “Here, I think you need to pay particular attention to my–”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “Nipples.”

  He squeezed the bottle in a death grip. Gobs of thick, creamy sunscreen erupted like a volcano, dripping down his hand.

  He stood frozen for a moment, and then relaxed his clasp, letting the container slip to the ground. It landed with a dull thud. “You know if your daughter wasn’t just a few feet away playing in the water…”

  She gulped hard. “Yes?” Her voice sounded sultry even to her own ears.

  “Never mind.”

  His answer pelted her just as if he’d dumped a bucket of ice over her head. She scrambled to her feet, facing him as she still clutched her skimpy top to her chest. “As a matter of fact I do mind, Carletti. Why are you keeping me at arm’s length? We’re supposed to get to know each other better, you know, be more intimate.” She advanced a step.

  He grabbed her around her waist, smearing his cool, lotion-covered hand against her side and back. “Don’t come any closer,” he warned.

  “We can’t go on like we’ve been, Nick.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “Mommy, are you ’kay?” Sydney’s question floated to Bree. She turned her head, catching a hint of distress in her daughter’s stance. “Sure, sweetie. Nick’s just helping me with the sunscreen.”

  “It don’t look like it to me,” Sydney said, frowning.

  “He’s just starting. It’s all right. Go ahead and try the doggie paddle again, sweetie.” She waited until Sydney began splashing around. Facing Nick, Bree said in a low voice, “Start rubbing it in. I don’t want her to think anything’s wrong.”

  With what remained on his hand, Nick smoothed a creamy puddle of the liquid onto her left shoulder, his long fingers trailing provocatively over her collarbone, and then dipping dangerously lower.

  Bree closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his palm against her skin, the molten heat of his touch. His ragged breathing and expanding chest stirred more than wisps of her hair. He dragged his hand up and across to her other shoulder.

  “You missed a spot,” Bree pointed out, gasping for air.

  “A couple of big ones.”

  She swallowed past the lump lodged in her throat. “Help yourself.”

  Chapter 10

  Hours later, Nick held the door open to the small town’s only Italian eatery. The mouthwatering scents of tomato sauce, oregano, and dough filled the air.

  He focused on the crowded, wood-grained room with its long wrap around bar, several scattered tables, and a line of booths adjacent to a row of tall, fat windows. The many cadences of the patrons’ voices changed, heightened to a deafening din when the Red Sox scored a home run on the boob tube over the bar.

  Sydney scampered into the dim, noisy establishment. Bree moved slower as he ushered her in front of him. Nick pressed a hand to the small of her back and bit back a groan at the innocent touch. He’d been doing that a lot lately, clamping down on his urges where Bree was concerned.

  She halted abruptly and he collided with her back. Instinct took over as he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her to him, protecting her from a fall. The red dress she wore offered little in the way of safeguarding her from his impure thoughts and his body’s instant reaction.

  “Why did you stop?” he asked when she turned, brushing against him. His hands circled her middle loosely and he wished he had the courage to hold her tight.

  “I can hardly see. I needed to get my bearings.”

  “Yeah, right,” he muttered, thinking no woman could possibly feign what she’d done, deliberately arousing him.

  “Don’t start with me, Carletti.”

  “If I start something, believe me, I’ll make sure and finish it.”

  “Promises, promises.” With that she sashayed away, weaving a path through the cluster of tables to Sydney who commandeered a booth in the back.

  Nick followed suit, noting the many male appreciative stares directed his wife’s way. A spike of jealousy pierced his gut. Didn’t Bree know what she did to a man?

  She tied him up in knots and spit him out again.

  Flashes of earlier in the day rushed back, staking claims to the obvious answer. She knew exactly what she’d done to him, tempting and teasing. She’d twisted him in an agony of desire. He’d been hard pressed to decline her bold invitation, but forced himself to or he’d have never stopped caressing her silky skin, embarrassing both of them in front of Sydney.

  As he watched her hips sway in the short red dress, the flared edges swirling and slapping against her shapely bare thighs, he wondered how long before his rigid control snapped.

  “Not long,” he murmured.

  So why don’t you go for it, Nick?

  “Yeah, why not?” A part of him, the sane part, broke the surface of his passion. He admired her tenacity, her steely conviction, and especially the way she cared for her daughter. But it all came back to he couldn’t trust her.

  She’d robbed Nick of Vinnie’s presence, stole away the loving connection to replace it with anger. She’d been the cause of the mountain of guilt and betrayal that still plagued him.

  Because of Bree, a thick, impenetrable wedge had been forged between father and son from the day Vinnie announced his intentions of wedding her, a complete stranger to the Carlettis. The breech had grown worse over time, dividing Nick’s family, ripping it to shreds.

  Marrying Bree solved the custody battle over Sydney, but little else.

  He slid onto the seat opposite hers, studying her as she averted her gaze and fidgeted with the silverware. Her uneasiness annoyed him.

  When will she ever relax around me?

  “Can I have a quarter to play the box?” Sydney stood near his elbow batting her big, blue eyes at him.

  He shifted, fished in his pocket for the coin, and then extracted two for her. “Here, Princess, go have fun.”

  The brilliant smile she sent him melted his heart and pricked his guilty conscience; he’d sent her off so he could talk to her mother alone.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Bree glanced at Sydney skipping away.

  “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  Turning back to him, she said, “I meant letting her have a free rein when it comes to music. My daughter has some pretty bizarre tastes in that regard.”

  Nick chuckled. “She claims it’s because she needs to experience a wide range of melodies in order to choose just the right one for her dance routines.”

  Bree groaned. “I’m afraid that’s Tessa’s artistic influence.”

  “Artistic? Is that what she calls it? And here I thought one of your new business partners was a little crazy.”

  “Now that’s debatable at times.” The soft smile playing at her lips assured Nick of the fondness Bree held for the lady.

  That smile also tied the knot in his abdomen a little tighter, tugging painfully. He wished it away, but it failed to budge.

  “We need to finish what we started this afternoon,” Nick said.

  Crossing her arms and pressing her breasts against them, Bree leaned forward, pitching the wobbly table to her side.

  He dropped
his gaze to the tantalizing display of dusky cleavage the low scoop of her dress afforded him. The locket swung forward, and then back, fitting itself in the deep crevice he longed to kiss. His heart thundered in his chest. He clamped down on the urge to touch her.

  “Really?”

  “Huh?” He dragged his attention upward, lingering for a moment on those delectable cotton candy lips of hers. Her surprised look warned him, but he had to ask. “Really what?”

  “You know.” She blushed, shrugging. “Finishing what we started,” she whispered, turning crimson and hugging herself tightly.

  Shock raced through Nick at her implication and her embarrassed reaction. What an odd mixture: innocence and seductress. Could she be for real?

  He searched her face, registering the hint of panic that slashed across her gaze. Flustered at this new insight, he tried to stop the well of conflicting thoughts racing in his head.

  One remained: Bree might be pushing for a closer relationship, but she was frightened of the outcome. Storing away that little detail for a later time, Nick regrouped quickly. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “Oh.” Her crestfallen look baffled him. “You don’t want me, like that.”

  “That’s not it.” How could she be so naive around a man? Of course I want you, I always have. “I’m talking about your teasing me. It’s got to stop.” You’re driving me crazy.

  Under the table, Bree brushed her crossed leg over the back of his calve, stroking her high-heeled shoe along the length. Sparks of yearning beat a path through his body. Did she do that on purpose?

  Nick pointed a finger at her. “You’re pressing your luck.”

  With her cheeks still rosy, she grabbed his digit, saying, “And we’re headed for a showdown, Carletti.”

  “This isn’t the time or the place.” He pulled away from her silky grasp.

  “And where and when would you suggest we have it?”

  “Tonight after we tuck Sydney into bed.”

  She drew in a ragged breath, and then exhaled slowly. “All right, Nick, we get it out in the open. Then we get rid of it.”

  “Fine.”

  “After tonight the past is dead. Pinkie promise.” Bree issued the same pledge Sydney demanded from both of them when everything was on the line, when nothing but the absolute truth was needed.

  “Now wait a minute. Isn’t my word good enough…” He stopped, disturbed at the shadows in the depths of her eyes, sensing her desperate need for reassurance all too well. He’d give her that and hopefully so much more after the dust settled. Hope glimmered softly. Hope of a future.

  He locked gazes with Bree, and then propped his right elbow on the table. It rocked slightly to one side. He ignored it and stuck out his little finger. “Pinkie promise.”

  She instantly hooked hers with his and repeated his words, “Pinkie promise.”

  Her soft, warm skin touched his. His vow was sealed. He’d never break it, no matter the cost.

  Come tomorrow morning they would start anew. But before dawn broke, no holds barred would rule.

  “I’m warning you, you’re not going to like what I have to say.” Nick prepared her for the battle ahead.

  “And when do I lately, if ever?”

  He bit down on a reply as the harried, dark-haired waitress stopped at the table and quickly set down glasses of water. With a stubby pencil, the young woman scratched out their order they gave her on her pad, and then waltzed away.

  Bree studied Nick under her lashes. Dread pooled in her middle. She’d bullied him into the confrontation. She didn’t take his threat lightly. Whatever he intended to talk about later would most likely hurt her feelings.

  Would he repeat his son’s words from years ago? Would he speak of his disgust as Vinnie had?

  A knife-like pain slashed through Bree’s heart, ripping that mended part to shreds. The ugly words rushed back, choking her like vicious bile.

  She gulped down her ice water, washing away the vile, bitter taste in her mouth.

  Clutching onto the one ray of hope, Bree recalled whatever Nick said could never come close to that other time. Nick knew nothing of her secret, nothing of her shame.

  And he never would.

  She’d keep that little capsule of time bottled up and buried from his prying questions, protecting her precious daughter.

  But Vinnie had known. And he used that to his advantage time and time again, hurting her, taunting her.

  What happened to the caring young man she’d known? What happened to her best friend? The compassionate man she’d first met and opened up to seemed like a forgotten dream compared to the cruel, resentful one that used words as weapons and had died too soon.

  Nick’s large warm hand wrapped around hers, helping Bree guide her glass back to the table. “You’re shaking.”

  She shivered when he pulled away, bereft at the loss of his comforting touch. Clasping her hands under the table, she sent him a weak smile and made light of it. “Afraid I’ll dump this on you, Nick?”

  Concern etched lines between his brows. “Something like that.”

  Music blared from the jukebox, doubling the noise level in the cramped, crowded pizza parlor. Bree cringed at the high decibels, but silently thanked her daughter for providing her with an easy out with Nick. She didn’t relish him probing into her sudden trembling.

  He leaned forward, bridging the gap over the tabletop. “You’ve gone deathly white. Are you feeling sick?”

  She shook her head, too overcome with the well of sympathy in his gaze to speak. Her heart hitched in her chest. He actually cared.

  “Are you sure? We can go if you want.”

  “And miss eating ’roni pizza? You must think I’ve gone batty. Plus, Sydney would never forgive me if I kept her away from her favorite food.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes remained fixed on hers, dark and probing.

  He sees too much.

  Disconcerted, she focused on a spot near his hand. “It’s probably too much sun today…” she trailed off as the afternoon events tumbled through her mind, stealing her breath from her lungs.

  In spite of the surrounding noise, Bree heard his soft groan. That telltale sound sent a cascade of tingles arrowing toward her core, spiking the ache to almost painful proportions.

  “Nick.”

  “Don’t. Just don’t say a damned thing.” Strain laced his words, conveying his similar condition more than anything else could.

  She sucked in a shaky breath, unnerved by his unspoken admission. Quaking inside, Bree fought with herself.

  Fear of the unknown, the intimacy she’d eventually share with her husband nearly paralyzed her. All her inadequacies rushed back, her ineptness of pleasing a man. Hadn’t Sydney’s father told her how lacking she was in that department the very last time she’d seen him?

  The femme fatale disguise she’d adopted earlier in the day vanished. Trading stinging barbs with Nick helped her portray confidence and self-assuredness. She possessed neither one, not even an inkling. Inside, she trembled, at her inexperience, at Nick’s reaction to that discovery.

  She may be shaking underneath it all, but Bree held onto her outer composure. She clung to her earlier resolve now. Priority number one: protect Sydney at all costs. Exposing most of her past, putting the guilt to rest, thus leading the way for a real relationship with Nick held unlimited rewards for her little girl, for her new family.

  “How’s that one, Poppa?” Sydney slid onto the bench beside Nick, chewing on some gum.

  “It’s a little loud, don’t you think?” Nick asked.

  “I like it that way.”

  Suddenly, the song died down. Bree noticed their waitress fiddling with the back panel of the jukebox, then adjusting a knob. When she finished the music came back much lower than before.

  “Obviously, not everyone likes it that way, Princess. They’re trying to watch a ball game.” He held out his big hand in front of Sydney’s mouth, saying, “Here, spit
it.”

  She obeyed, depositing a pink wad into his palm.

  “I’m surprised she gave it up,” Bree said, feeling a little left out of the easy companionship.

  As he balled up the remains in a napkin, Nick answered, “It’s either that or a lecture on rotting her teeth.”

  Sydney wrinkled her nose. “I hate lec-shores.”

  Bree chuckled. “I do, too.”

  Nick captured her gaze, holding steady. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  The waitress’ arrival halted a response. With a flourish, she delivered the large pepperoni pizza, making short work of divvying up three cheese-dripping slices on their plates. She soon left with a parting shot of hollering if they needed anything.

  “Oh, yum, yum.” Sydney rubbed her hands together. Before turning to Nick, she scrunched up one side of her face and winked at Bree. Sydney laid her head on Nick’s upper arm and looked up at him, all wide-eyed and innocent.

  Bree covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a giggle. She had a feeling what would come next. Her darling daughter had a wonderful sense of humor.

  “Poppa?’

  “Yes, Princess.” Nick gave her his full attention.

  “I just love you.”

  Bree watched Nick fight for composure, biting the inside of his cheek. He leaned down close to his granddaughter, nearly touching noses, saying, “You’re still not getting a slice of my pepperoni pizza.”

  At Sydney’s manufactured crestfallen look, Bree couldn’t contain her laughter for a moment longer. Nick joined her, sending delightful little thrills shooting through her veins.

  Like this, carefree and easygoing, Bree could imagine almost anything for her and Nick. The love they each held for her daughter would see them through the worst.

  Except your secret, that one doubt cast long, dark shadows over her future.

  Chapter 11

  “She’s finally asleep,” Bree said.

  Nick watched as she padded across the living room, and then sank down onto the large ottoman only a few feet away from where he stood.