Secrets Of The Heart (Book 1, The Heart Series) (30 page)

“I found you there sobbing your heart out. Just seeing you like that felt as if someone had shoved a dagger into me and twisted. That’s how I feel now.” He paused, holding her rapt attention. “I gathered you close.”

A soft sigh escaped her parted lips. “I felt so safe, so secure. Being in your arms seemed so right. Like a place where I belonged.”

“You did. You still do.”

Clearly caught up in the magic of the past, she continued, “You were so kind to me. You wiped away my tears. Your touch was so gentle, so caring.”

“Then I leaned close.”

“I did, too.”

Locking gazes with her, Nick said, “I kissed you. It was the softest, sweetest kiss I’d ever experienced.”

“That’s the first time you ever called me sweetness.”

“And the last, until a few weeks ago. I want the right to keep calling you that.”

Bree gasped as she stared unflinchingly into his dark gaze. Reading a wealth of emotion there, she said, “But…I hurt you. I lied for years.”

“I still hate the fact that you found it necessary to. But I understand it. And I hate that I might never forgive myself for not being accessible enough so you could have come to me to share your burden with someone who would listen, who would offer you some kind of solace, someone you felt you could trust with your secret.”

Wonder, like droplets of rain, washed over her. A slight breeze ruffled his hair and she longed to brush it back. She longed to touch him.

The sandalwood scent captured in the folds of his jacket rose to envelope her and remnants of his body’s heat warmed the coldest regions of her.

Do I dare hope?

“What are you saying, Nick?”

“I’ve been so afraid of being hurt that I kept you away anyway I knew how, only to nearly end up left alone.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “You’re all I ever wanted, sweetness.”

A niggling doubt poked her middle. “Will that be enough? What will happen if I do something you don’t like? Will there always be this danger of having to pass your unspoken tests, and failing miserably?”

She watched as a wave of pain chased across his features. A weight pressed on her chest at what she’d inflicted.

“No more tests, Bree. We’ll live on faith and trust.”

Her breath stuck in her lungs. “Do you mean it?”

He held out his right hand with his little finger extended. “Pinkie promise.”

Looking from his hand to his eyes, she read the utmost sincerity shining there. He’d never make a famous pinkie promise without meaning it. He’d never break his word, his honor.

She linked her baby finger with his, relishing the feel of his skin. “Pinkie promise,” she repeated, confirming the pact.

Hesitantly, she released the hold, hugging her knees once again, unsure of how to proceed with this new and wondrous revelation.

“Don’t look so scared. I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life, sweetness. I can do that one of two ways: Either apart, longing to be with you, but not being able to because I keep putting obstacles in the way; or living with you and showing you every minute of the day just how much I do love you.”

Awe flooded her. But a leftover concern surfaced. “What about Sydney?”

He grinned, that devilish grin that robbed her of her senses. “It’s a package deal. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Could this be for real? “I’m serious, Nick.”

“So am I.”

The object of her conversation with Nick shouted in glee, and then raced to him, flinging herself in his arms. “Oh, Poppa, why didn’t you tell me you were here? I missed you bunches and bunches.”

Bree, holding her breath, watched as Nick cradled her daughter to his chest and deposited a tender kiss on her rosy cheek.

Capturing his gaze, Bree detected the moisture gathering in the corners of his loved-filled eyes.

“Well, Princess, that’s not half as much as I missed you.” His emotion clogged voice was like a balm to Bree’s battered soul.

A giggle erupted. “I missed you a cabillion times more.”

“Enough to say you’ll be my daughter?”

She let out a shriek as Bree’s heart stilled. Pulling away from him, Sydney confronted her mother. “Is it true, Mommy? Is poppa gonna ‘dopt me?”

Happiness bubbled up inside of Bree. “If he wants to.”

“Oh, I definitely want to,” Nick said with conviction ringing in his voice. “Go on and play with Sherrie and your other little friends, Princess, your mom and I need to talk some more.”

She smacked her hand to her forehead and shook her head, saying, “Oh, brother, I just know it’s more of the mushy stuff.”

Bree chuckled. Sydney left them alone, racing back to her friends and shouting the news of what she liked to call her ‘doption.

“Nick, are you sure? I mean,
really
sure.”

He scooted close, close enough so he framed her face in his big, warm hands. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

He gave her a long, lingering look that left her in no doubt. Her heart melted and tears pricked the backs of her eyes; she’d never been loved like this before. Leaning toward her, he pressed his lips against hers. Softly, gently he told her without words how special she was to him.

When he withdrew, she said, “I couldn’t have picked a better father for my daughter.”

He shot her a lop-sided grin. “I’m glad to hear you say that because I’ve been thinking about that specialist you mentioned a few weeks ago. Do you think we could get an appointment?”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

Concern etched lines between his brows. “Now, that’s only after I adopt Sydney. I’d never want her to feel left out of anything. And, of course, it goes without saying, that your health comes first. But, would you like to have my baby?”

Overflowing with love, she could only nod, and then hug him close. His arms came around her, holding her so near that she could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart pounding in sync with hers.

So safe. So secure. So loved
.

“Hey!” Nick pulled back and rubbed the side of his chest. He fished in the pocket of the denim jacket she wore, extracting her locket. Dangling it in front of her, he said, “This, my lovely wife, belongs to you.”

Warmth suffused her as he gingerly placed the gold heart around her neck. The slight weight of it felt so welcome, so right.

Gathering her close once again, he whispered fiercely, “We were meant for each other, sweetness.”

The End

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Laurie LeClair writes contemporary romance and women’s fiction. Laurie’s habit of daydreaming has gotten her into a few scrapes and launched her to take up her dream of writing. Finally, she can put all those stories in her head to rest as she brings them to life on the page. Laurie considers herself a New Texan (New England born and raised and now living in Texas). She lives in Central Texas with her husband, Jim.

Laurie loves to hear from readers. Please contact her at:

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The Heart Series:

Secrets Of The Heart – Book 1

Crimes Of The Heart – Book 2

Lies Of The Heart – Book 3

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Once Upon A Romance Series:

If The Shoes Fits
– Book 1

Waking Sleeping Beauty
– Book 2

Taming McGruff
– Book 3

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Coming soon:

The Long Journey Home

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Coming soon:

The Bounty Hunter Series:

Murphy’s Law – Book 1

Here’s an excerpt from Crimes Of The Heart Book 2 in the Heart Series.

Chapter 1

Her dream man just walked through the door.

Jewel Wainwright’s breath caught in the back of her throat and her heart hitched. Devon Marshall stood in a brilliant beam of autumn sunlight in the foyer of her vacant childhood home.

The tall, angular boy she’d known and loved had evolved into a lean muscular man, rendering her senseless. The sun brought out the mahogany highlights in his brown hair, just as it always had. But, the color seemed darker, richer somehow and she longed to run her fingers through the thick, wavy mass, disrupting the orderly style he now wore it in. A sweet rush swept over her as she recalled the soft texture and clean scent of his hair. She curled her fingers into her palm, halting the impulse to touch the dark strands, to touch him.

He moved forward. A knot tightened in her middle. Would he discover her? When he headed toward the arched entrance to the formal living room, she sighed inwardly.

What was he doing here? She stepped deeper into the shadows of the long hallway, hoping to continue to go undetected. Feeling for the doorjamb, Jewel clutched the wood for support as she tip-toed backwards into the kitchen. She planted her back against the wall.

With a shaky hand, she covered her mouth and drew in several short, ragged gasps. Years of doggedly building up her self-reliance and resilience melted away. Just seeing him again transported her back to the rebellious teenager she’d been: A young woman who had craved attention and found the dangerous aspect to their forbidden affair far too appealing.

No, it can’t be him. Not here. Not now.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to dislodge the image of him. She failed. From nearly twenty feet away she’d succeeded at memorizing the angles and planes of his well-honed features. In her mind, she’d imprinted every powerful muscle clothed in his black shirt and jeans. Breathless anticipation had her imagining the carefully banked desire that used to reside in his green eyes whenever he gazed at her.

Oh, and his hands, settled on his hips, brought the most delicious recollections filtering through her. Long fingers, padded with calluses from all the hard work he’d performed in the stables, had touched her with such reverence, such intimacy. Heat suffused her, blazing trails through her bloodstream and warming places that had been cold for ages.

His footsteps echoed through the barren Victorian home, revealing to her where he’d decided to go. The library. “Of course,” she whispered, recalling the vivid memory twelve years ago when her father had banished Devon from the property because of her. It had been the last time she’d seen him.

An ache gathered behind her heart. The evidence proved his intentions beyond a doubt. He’d needed her to exact his revenge against her father. He didn’t want her. He only wanted what she could do for him in furthering his cause.
So why hadn’t he played out his last card?
she wondered even today. Shaking her head, she rid herself of the nagging question.

But one thought prodded her. Would anyone ever want her for who she was deep down inside? Or would she always be someone’s trophy? Just like mother was.

Voices floated to her from outdoors, reminding her why she’d come here today. The estate auction. A dart of pain jabbed her as she realized she had no claim over any of her family’s property and hadn’t since she’d been eighteen. But, she planned on remedying that in just an hour.

The bidding would most certainly run high for her mother’s antique silver hairbrush, comb, mirror, and tray set. Jewel had prepared for that, dipping into her nest egg.
I’ll finally have something of my mother’s to cherish.

The heavy sound of Devon pacing the long room in the west wing of the house intruded on her intention. He’d created more distance away from her. With that assurance firmly in her mind, she quietly crossed the now dilapidated kitchen she’d had many fond times in and swore the scent of baking sugar cookies still hung in the air.

Carefully opening, and then closing the squeaky screen door behind her, Jewel cringed at the noise. She hoped Devon hadn’t heard her and prayed she wouldn’t have to face him anytime soon.
How can I look at him without revealing everything he needs to know?

***

Devon stilled, and then turned sharply. Silence reigned, heavy and oppressive. The metallic squeal didn’t sound again. Relaxing, he raked a hand through his hair and blew out a breath.

“You’re imagining things, Marshall, just like the rose scent you swore you detected a few minutes ago. Jewel’s scent,” he muttered under his breath.

Being in the house again dug up long-buried sensations, never mind the thoughts of Jewel with her long, glossy black hair, heart-shaped face, violet eyes, silky perfumed porcelain skin, perfect cupid lips, and soft sighs.

“Hey, Devon, you in here?” His lawyer’s gravelly voice vibrated through the house and jarred him from his heated mental exploration of the one and only woman he’d ever cared for. The woman who’d chose to stay here with her family instead of leaving town with him. But that had never been in the initial plan of vengeance, nor had hurting Jewel.

“In the library, Gil!”

His steps clopped on the hardwood flooring as he sought out Devon. A few minutes later, Gil Lambert strode into the barren room where the surrounding shelves stood woefully missing its dear occupants.

Devon smiled at the disheveled appearance of the man. Tousled salt and pepper hair and a rumpled navy suit were at odds with the keen, perceptive attorney.

He halted in front of Devon, holding out a manila envelope. “The papers are signed. The place is all yours now. You staying for the sale of the contents of the house?”

Taking the packet of documents, the tight band around Devon’s chest eased.
It’s finally mine. God, I’ve waited a lifetime for this. And this is only the beginning in getting back what my father deserved
. Searching the questioning gaze directed at him, he asked, “Yeah. So why don’t you look happy about it?”

“Do you want my professional or personal opinion?”

“Give it to me straight.”