Secrets Of The Heart (Book 1, The Heart Series) (12 page)

“There’s plenty,” Bree murmured under her breath, but Nick caught it.

“And you didn’t see the need to come to me?” Disloyalty beamed bright in Nick’s gut, first by his son, and then by Bree.

“What was I supposed to say, Nick? Your son and I are better friends than spouses? Or something along the lines of, I’m leaving your son, but I’d like to still see you?”

“So, it was
you
that instigated the whole thing.”

“I swear it was mutual.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken, his distrust carving an even deeper and wider path. “Well, don’t even think of it this time; I’m not my son. I won’t be pushed around and manipulated. Thank God I had the presence of mind to have the pre-nup drawn up. You’re my wife until death do us part.”

She stiffened noticeably, and then suddenly deflated like a flat tire. With her forehead pressed to her raised knees, she choked out, “Oh, God, Nick, you’re going to regret marrying me, I just know it. You’re going to end up hating me.”

Bree lifted her head. Her fast falling tears glistened in the silvery beam of moonlight. “I don’t know how to be a wife, Nick.”

His throat clogged. He fought to swallow past the constriction. Her distress grabbed his heart like an invisible hand wringing every drop of energy from him. Nick dropped to the ground in front of her, drained of his anger and with a terrible hollow ache behind his rib cage.

You’re the only woman who can bring me to my knees.
“Well, I certainly don’t know how to be a husband, to you or anyone else.”

She sniffed loudly. “So, we’re in the same boat, right?”

He nodded, and then sucked in a long, slow breath. Trying to hold her unreadable gaze in the dimness, he begged, “Please tell me what happened to you and Vinnie. I need to know.”

Bree heard the catch in his voice and it twisted her heart. How could she deny him that? How could she hold back if the information granted Nick some peace of mind?

She’d reveal what she could without compromising her daughter’s well-being.

Swiping at the remnants of her crying, Bree gulped in the fresh, clean air. “He badgered me to marry him for weeks until he wore me down. Part of me realized what a mistake I was making…” She stopped herself, afraid to continue along those lines without disclosing the darkest spot in her soul. “We cared for each other, like best friends do. But, it wasn’t enough to sustain a happy marriage.”

“Because of me.”

“No, not you.” She rushed to reassure him. “There was very little there, between Vinnie and me, to keep a lasting relationship going. How could there be when he was in love with someone else?”
And I only dreamed of you, Nick.

“You knew about Tina?”

She nodded, wishing that Vinnie’s first love hadn’t run off with another man, a richer man. “Like I said, we were the best of friends and he told me everything. He never got over her. How sad for him.”

“You sound like you really care.”

Bree detected the skepticism. “Hard to believe as it is, I only wanted him to be happy. Deep down I knew I wasn’t it.” She blew out a breath. “And the moment he saw you and me together, Vinnie realized he could never bring me happiness, he could never compete with his own father.”

Stunned wonder transformed Nick’s features. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. Finally, he succeeded. “Did you say
compete?
”

“Yes,” she dragged it out, mindful of his precarious state. She never wanted to hurt him. Her heart clenched in sympathy. “As much as I could gather, I think it began as hero worship. Oh, Nick, he really loved and admired you. Sometimes he’d go on for hours just talking about you.” She bowed her head sheepishly, saying, “He painted you as such a great man that I think I…I came to care for you even before I met you.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, drawing her full attention. His dark, glittering gaze searched hers in the cloud-covered light. “What are you saying, Bree?”

Refusing to reveal herself totally, she improvised. “He didn’t do you justice.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I told you once before, don’t give me too much credit.” Emotion roughened his voice.

“Why, because you’re human? Flawed? Everyone’s like that. You least of all, Carletti.”

“You see what you want to see.”

“I see what’s there in front of my eyes, what’s inside of you,” she countered.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Forget about me for a minute and go back to Vinnie.”

A knot formed in her middle, tightening. She closed her eyes and her senses heightened. The cool air caressed her skin. A trace of Nick’s after-shave tickled her nose, drawing a neediness from her center. But the heavy pine pitch whisked the sandalwood fragrance away and dropped her back to Earth, to the moment.

“He confronted me about the ‘forbidden kiss’ on our wedding night.” Images flashed in her mind, ugly and humiliating. Hateful words rushed back, making her ill. “It was like he changed right before me.”

“Oh, God, he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Surprise lanced through her.
He actually cared.
Focusing on Nick once again, she sensed his tension and saw the controlled way he held himself, his hands balled into fists. She hastened to put his fears to rest. “Not like you mean. But with words.”

Nick cursed under his breath. “Sometimes they can be worse.”

Yeah, tell me about it.
“Only a day before he was sweet and caring. That night his mouth twisted into this menacing sneer. His face turned beet red and the veins on the side of his neck popped out. And his eyes, oh, his eyes, were almost black.” A shiver inched down her spine.

“You should have never gone through that alone.”

She sent him a half-smile. “Nick, My Knight in Shining Armor.” When he shot her a self-deprecating one in return, she pressed on. “He never blamed you, only me.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he swore. “Why not? I was just as responsible for that kiss, for what happened.”

“I told him it was all my fault.”

“You did what?!”

He leaned close, close enough for her to see the glimmer of his angry, dark brown eyes. But she didn’t fear him, not like she had Vinnie.

Nick doesn’t know my deepest darkest confession, but his son had and held that power over my head until the day he died
.

“Damn it, Bree, you took the heat for me. Don’t you
ever
do that again, understand?” He sat back on his hunches.

A flicker of admiration sparked inside her. “You never back down from a responsibility, do you, Carletti?” She shrugged uncomfortably. “I didn’t want to pit the two of you against each other. But I did. That’s where the competition comes in.”

“I wish I’d known.”

“Why, so you could stop it? It wasn’t that easy. Vinnie was fighting himself more than you.”

He scowled, asking, “How so?”

“He knew he wasn’t you and could never be. He couldn’t measure up to the man you are.”

Nick groaned, apparently in understanding. “That’s why he became a cop.”

Bree shifted her legs so she sat Indian style. Leaning forward, she sought and found his arm. She squeezed his rock hard forearm, trying to snap him out of his inner turmoil.

“It might have started out that way, but Vinnie stayed because he loved being a cop. The problem was he tried to cram your twenty-year service record into two short ones. It was impossible.”

“He took so many risks…”

“Too many and got himself killed for it.”

“What do you know about that night?” Suspicion etched the question and he shook off her hand.

She pulled away, bereft at the loss and hurt he’d shunned her. “Nana told me.”

Silence, heavy and unnerving, blanketed Bree. Her tense muscles ached with the strain. But it was his churning emotions she sensed that disturbed her the most.

“It should have been me.”

She scrambled to her knees, covering his mouth with her fingertips. "No, don’t you dare say that.”

He brushed her hand away. “If she told you, then you know it’s true.”

Anguished, she framed his face between her palms. The light stubble dusting his jaw pricked her sensitive flesh, but she reveled in being this close to him. “Look at me, Nick. Mistake number one: He went in without backup. Mistake number two: He antagonized a gun wielding drunk. Mistake number three: He rushed the guy.”

“He saved the guy’s wife from being killed.”

She ached for him, his pain, his suffering. “He died a hero. But he died because of stupidity, not because of you. You shouldn’t have even been working the graveyard shift that night. But you went in for Crawley so he could stay home with his sick baby.”

“I was closer than Vinnie to that call.”

“He was faster. Is that a crime? Does that deserve years of self-inflicted punishment?”

He blew out a long, shuddering breath.

Her middle twisted in agony. “Oh, Nick.” She leaned close, brushing her lips against his in comfort, in understanding. “Don’t blame yourself, no one else does.”

Something heavy and dark shifted inside Nick, releasing him from his self-imposed prison of guilt regarding his son’s death. Lightness seeped into the wide cracks, generating hope, blotting up the pool of grief.

Hungry for Bree and her acceptance, he wrapped his arms around her. The sweetness of her kiss spread light and warmth. Holding her in his arms filled the lonely, empty spaces in his center.

She broke the embrace. With her hands, she traced his features in a loving caress. “You had me worried when you stalked off like that. It…it reminded me of Vinnie. That’s how we parted the last time.”

A hand gripped his chest in shared anguish. “Oh, sweetness, that’s what happened between Vinnie and me, too. My last words to my son were ones of anger.” He bit down on the wealth of emotion bubbling inside him, the waves of regret and remorse.

“How awful for you, Nick. How awful that you have to live with that memory for the rest of your life.”

She knows exactly how I feel.
Something tugged at his heart, allowing him to share the haunting memories. “I can’t seem to forget it. I can recite the whole awful argument, recall every change of expression on his face. I can even tell you how he moved, the way his hands slashed in the air. Most of the time, I can bury it. But sometimes it comes to me in dreams and I wake up drenched in sweat and screaming out—” He cut himself off, shunning the horrible images his words evoked.

“You don’t have to be ashamed of that. In the beginning, I had those kinds of nightmares, too. Sydney and I call them the demon attacks.”

“Why haven’t we ever talked like this before? Why haven’t we been there for each other to fight the demons together?”

Tenderly, Nick pulled Bree close. He found her mouth, parted on a gasp, and plundered the sweet, hot recesses. She tasted of red wine.

A primitive savagery took root as Nick prolonged the deep, wet kiss, seeking the incredible sweetness, inhaling her heady scent.

He lowered her to the ground. Covering her now, Nick marveled at how her tiny frame fit his perfectly. Every curve, supple roundness, and every delicate indentation matched his hard angles and smooth planes. Her soft, full breasts, crushed against his chest, urged him on.

Her legs twined with his. Gathering her closer still, Nick raked his fingers through her silken hair, cupping her head in his palm.

Plunging his tongue into the depths of her mouth once again, he sought a way to appease this growing longing in his middle, this age-old need to be a part of her, to be totally surrounded by Bree.

She whimpered, the sound catching in the back of her throat, shattering Nick’s sensual attack. Self-reproach for his insensitivity nagged him.

She grabbed his shoulders, first shoving at him, and then clinging to him. Nick slowed and gentled the embrace. With a softness he didn’t think he had in him, he peppered kisses over her bruised lips, silently begging forgiveness.

Next, he showered her beautiful face with delicate, feathery caresses, paying homage to her, to the attraction they shared for years.

“I’m sorry, sweetness,” Nick murmured between kisses. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.” He found her long throat, darting out his tongue to stroke the length. He dipped into the space where her neck and shoulder connected.

She shivered in response. “Nick,” she moaned. Her tentative touch on his chest stroked a tender spot deep inside him.

“Shhh!” He kissed her quiet, thoroughly.

When it ended, she pulled back, her face only inches from his. Her hot, ragged breaths kindled another wave of desire.

He clamped down on the rush of heat. Gingerly, Nick reached out, rubbing a knuckle over her satiny cheek. “So soft,” he whispered. “Here.” He dragged a fingertip to her swollen lips. “And here.”

Trailing his finger downward, first he caressed her chin, her throat, over the rapid pulse beat at the base, and then he dipped lower parting her shirt until he reached the full roundness of her breast. “And especially here.”

She trembled under his touch. A part of him wondered at the response. Was it fright or desire?

“I want to kiss you here,” he said huskily, tracing the lace edge of her bra.

Her eyes sparkled and her breaths came in tiny pants. She nodded her ascent, but he felt her body stiffen as if bracing herself for the intimate contact.

He halted, highly aware now that she feared what would come next. Concern for her shadowed his growing need. Pulling his hand away from her, he undid the first few buttons on his shirt.

“Give me your hand.” She obeyed his soft command. He raised her quivering hand to his mouth, dropped a kiss on her palm, and then he flattened her hand to his skin. “Feel my heart pounding? I’m just as scared as you are, sweetness.”

Springy whorls of soft hair tickled Bree’s palm. The heat of his skin seared her. Under it all she felt his thundering heart rate match hers. “
You
scared?” Wonder filled her voice and a little bit of her fright dissipated.

He chuckled, low and raw. “Remember you found me out; I’m just a mound of mush when it comes to you.”