Secrets Of The Heart (Book 1, The Heart Series) (13 page)

She giggled at that, a nervous squeaking. Wiggling beneath his large, heavy frame, she felt the blistering caress of his arousal burning into her thigh. Heat crawled up her neck and into her cheeks. “I wouldn’t exactly call you mush at the moment.”

A devilish smile transformed his features, stealing the breath from her lungs. “On the
inside
I’m mush, but on the outside I’m
steel.
” He pressed his hips into her, proving his point.

She gasped as a pool of liquid fire swirled in her middle. But the doubts crowded in once again. Panic at his earlier demands, demands she knew she couldn’t meet, bubbled to the surface. “Nick, I need to warn you, I’m…I’m not very good at this…sort of thing.” Hadn’t Sydney’s father told her that?

Nick eased the pressure, searching her gaze. A tiny frown marred his brow. “Is that what’s worrying you?”

His understanding brought tears stinging the backs of her eyes. She turned away, blinking rapidly.

The delicate feel of his fingertips brushing back her hair, caused more moisture to gather, and then spill.

“Ah, sweetness, don’t cry. It just kills me when you cry.” The roughness of his voice lent credence to his plea. Applying slight pressure to her chin, he turned her face to him. Nick feathered soft kisses over her eyelids, and then darted out his tongue to lick the droplets away. “Salty, yet still sweet,” he murmured. “Hell, honey, you kiss like a dream.”

She drew in a quick breath, stunned by Nick’s declaration.
He
had never said that to her, in fact,
he
had sounded disgusted at her futile attempts.

Frigid. Pathetic.

Wonder filled her, making her question all her assumptions based on
him.

She curled her hand, softly scratching Nick’s chest. He shivered. Bree stilled. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, in fact, just the opposite.” He nibbled the corner of her mouth, coaxing a response.

She complied, tentatively at first, then, as her courage grew and he groaned his satisfaction, she sought more. His firm, masculine lips parted at the bold invitation of her tongue. The taste of wine transported Bree back, tumbling in time to that first forbidden kiss. But this night proved even better and Bree clung to that insight.

His large, hot hands, splayed on her back, seared through her thin shirt and seeped into the coldest regions of her being.

Sandalwood after-shave mingled with fresh pine and sweet grass. Tunneling her fingers through his slick, damp hair, she relished the thick strands sliding sensuously over her skin.

The hard ground beneath her seemed to melt away. She was only aware of the welcoming pleasure of his rock hard body molding itself to hers and the ache in her center mushrooming outward.

She longed to run her hands over every inch of him, to span his broad shoulders and feel the way his muscles rippled and bunched beneath her touch. She put action to her thoughts, freely caressing the width and breadth of her husband.

Bree trailed kisses over his jaw, the bristles sharp, yet welcoming. Inhaling, she detected the scent of the lake clinging to his skin and she longed to be a part of him like that, blending with him in a unique fragrance all their own.

Finding his earlobe, she suckled it gently. His answering hot hiss against the side of her neck sent delicious thrills along her nerve endings. Power surged through her veins, feminine power to please him.

A sense of soaring took over, a gliding sensation that spun her world. Her mind reeled, growing lighter and matching the carefree mood of her heart and soul. All her nagging doubts evaporated like dew in the early morning burning sun.

In her core, something intangible expanded, glowing brighter as he cherished her with his mouth, his hands, and his body.

Shattering glass, coming in the direction of the cabin, rent the cool, crisp night air. A stab of fear gripped her. Bree froze. Nick followed suit.

An unmistakable child’s cry sounded, ripping through Bree’s heart. Crashing back to Earth and pulling away from him, she cried, “Sydney!”

“No hos-pa-doodle,” Sydney wailed. “Please, Poppa, no hos-pa-doodle.”

Hugging herself tightly, Bree’s middle twisted once again at the non-stop pleading from her daughter. Nick cradled the little girl in his big, loving arms as he sat on the emergency room examining table.

Nick’s black jeans contrasted sharply with the white paper table covering. He shifted and the parchment paper crinkled. Sydney, wearing her favorite pink pajamas, grasped Nick’s white shirt in bunches, wrinkling the fabric.

A big, wet spot decorated the front where her tears lay, matching the one on Bree’s shirt where she’d held her daughter as Nick raced them to the hospital.

“I’m sorry, Princess, we have to get your foot checked out.” Nick’s voice echoed in the sterile room with a well of regret in an obvious attempt to comfort her.

Fear grew inside Bree when she glanced at the blood soaked gauze covering her daughter’s right instep. The breaking glass and Sydney’s cries still reverberated in her head. She prayed that the embedded glass hadn’t cut any major nerves or tendons.

Approaching the table, Bree brushed back Sydney’s damp bangs and tenderly kissed her daughter’s hot, sweaty forehead. “Your poppa and I will be right here with you.”

Tiny trusting hands clutched at Bree. Sobs racked the little body. “Please, Mommy, don’t make me stay!”

Bree’s heart turned over in her chest and tears filled her eyes. Lifting her gaze, she sought Nick’s.

Standing this close to him, grazing his knee with her hip, she felt the bottled up anxiety in his body and read the similar helpless emotions chasing across his features. But, behind the shared anguish, Nick sent her another message, one of reassurance.

“Everything’s going to be all right.” His words had a calming effect on her. Still holding Sydney securely in his arms, he extended his right hand to Bree. She grasped it for a moment, gaining strength from the warm, strong pressure. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

The tension eased in Bree’s shoulders, yet the pain bounced behind her rib cage. The unspoken words lay thick and heavy between them.
Not like I did to my son.

“I hate hos-pad-doodles!” Sydney’s pitiful cry rent the air, dragging Bree’s full attention back to her daughter’s distress.

Bree swiped away the moisture on the hot, red round cheeks. “But why? The doctors and nurses are here to help you get better.”

“Daddy died here. And…and they made me get blood all over me when I had surge-ee. And ’sides that, Nana never came home…”

Bree sucked in her breath, nearly torn in two by her daughter’s disclosure. She’d never comprehended the bizarre implications Sydney had absorbed from all she’d experienced in her short life.

What kind of irreversible mark had been left on her?
A mixture of stunned wonder and despair twisted Nick’s face, ripping Bree’s heart even more.

“Princess…” Nick’s voice cracked. Clearing his throat, he began again. “Sometimes bad things do happen in hospitals, but there’s a lot of good that comes out of them, too.”

“Name…name ’em.” Sydney hiccupped, and then sniffed loudly.

“Well…” Bree could tell he scrambled for an answer, and then he glanced down at Sydney and said, “You for one. Your mommy had you in the hospital and it was one of the happiest days of my life. And don’t forget when you had your tonsils out last year you met your best friend Sherrie there. Plus, you had all the popsicles you wanted, especially the grape ones.”

“Oh, yeah…”

Bree watched as the stiffness siphoned out of the little body he held. A wealth of gratitude for Nick’s clear, cool reasoning replaced her own tension. “Thanks, Nick.”

He nodded in her direction, and then quickly looked away. But she swore she caught the glitter of moisture in his eyes.

“Is it gonna hurt, Mommy?”

“Maybe a little.” She refused to openly deceive her child. “I’ll ask them to numb it first if they can, okay?”

“S’okay.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Bree pressed a kiss to Sydney’s temple, tasting the remnants of the salty tears.

Please don’t let it hurt her too much, Bree prayed silently, wishing to absorb the pain for the most precious person in her life.

Pulling back, she caught sight of Nick’s bloody sleeve. A shock wave crashed over her as the most horrible memory from eighteen months ago screamed in her mind.

The pounding on the door at three in the morning had alerted her to tragedy. She’d thought, only bad news comes in the middle of the night. With her heart in her throat, Bree had faced Nick.

His complexion, under the pool of the bright porch light, had appeared ghostly white. The torture chasing across his face and the big rusty blood splotch on his police uniform had made her assume he’d been hurt.

The scent of death surrounded him and she choked back a sob. Thunder-like heartbeats roared in her ears, blocking out everything else. The bottom of her world dropped out, making her dizzy and sick to her stomach.
No, not Nick! How will I ever live without him?

“Oh God, Nick. No!” She thrust open the screen door and reached for him. He flinched. She drew back as if slapped. “Did I hurt you?”

“May I come in?”

Why is he being so polite?
Then, squinting past the harsh artificial lighting, she noticed the police cars lining the street in front of Vinnie’s and her home.

The somber mood of the state troopers standing in a small semi-circle nearby penetrated her reeling thoughts. Father Tom climbed her front steps and nudged Nick aside.

“May we come in, child?”

Dumbfounded, Bree nodded.
It’s Vinnie, not Nick.
A surge of relief that Nick was all right shot through her. Guilt and shame followed close on its heels, rooting themselves in her middle.
Vinnie was hurt.

She stepped back as Nick entered. Looking into his dark eyes, she read the naked pain and her heart clenched in empathy.

“There’s been an accident, Bree.”

“Ah…maybe it would be best if we all sat down,” Father Tom offered helpfully.

“Tell me,” Bree said, staring at Nick, bracing herself.

“Vinnie’s dead.”

She’d reared back, blinking quickly. Sorrow had slashed through her, deep and aching. Bree had never suspected she’d feel this way, not for a man who had become a stranger in the three years they’d been married, not for a man who had blackmailed her all that time with her own secret.

Then she’d realized the heavyheartedness she experienced related to Nick’s suffering for his beloved son not just for her own loss.

Now, Bree shook her head, sweeping aside the haunting memories as Nick soothed the rest of Sydney’s fears. But the lingering despair stayed.
What would I ever do without Nick?

Dawning hit, cold and harsh; she could very well discover that horror someday. He was still a cop and might be gunned down, also.

Losing Vinnie left a well of guilt and a mountain of regrets. With startling clarity, Bree knew losing Nick would devastate her.

It would destroy Sydney and me and nothing could ever make us whole again
.

Had she made a terrible mistake by marrying Nick and jeopardizing Sydney’s well-being once again? A ripping pain tore her heart in two.

Oh God, what have I done?

***

Forty minutes later, Bree leaned against a hospital corridor wall. The pale blue color reminded her of a robin’s egg. The glaring fluorescent light hurt her eyes, nudging the pain throbbing in her head.

The muted conversations at the end of the hallway jabbed at her eardrums. Heartache for what she’d done by marrying another cop, what she should have prevented her daughter from reliving, resided in every fiber of her being, terrorizing her.

In spite of her physical discomfort and emotional trauma, relief shot through Bree at the doctor’s diagnosis: Several minor lacerations and two deep ones that required stitches, but not long lasting damage.

Thank heavens she didn’t lose a lot of blood.
A niggling fear, rooted in the past, prodded her conscience.

She squashed it down and centered her thoughts on how grateful she was for Sydney’s escape from worse harm.

She always comes first, remember that and I’ll never make a mistake again, not like when I married Vinnie. But I already have
…

She willed away that nagging suspicion, that petrifying realization she’d put Sydney at risk.

Bree gulped in a breath. The antiseptic scent, sharp and persistent, made her queasy and light-headed.
The death smell
, Bree recalled the nickname she’d given that particular odor nearly eighteen years ago when her father had died.

Numerous trips to the hospital for her ill mother followed, imprinting images of suffering so indelibly on her mind that they rushed back every time she stepped foot in a hospital since. Losing Vinnie added to the horror and Nana’s death, so recent, had brought on the demon attacks once again.

Sydney had been right when she’d claimed that people don’t come home from these places
. Thankfully, Nick had reminded them that some good did exist here.

“You look like you’re going to be sick on me.” Nick’s softly spoken words pulled Bree away from the haunting past.

She smiled weakly at him as he drew near, a hollow ache throbbing behind her rib cage. Inhaling, she detected his male scent and clung to that familiar fragrance, trying to expunge the sterile odor of the building and the careening doubts about him and his profession.

The heat of his body encompassed her and warmed the cold recesses in her middle. “I hate hos-pa-doodles, too.”

He grinned at the nickname, and then shuddered. “Me, three.”

“Is Sydney all right?” she asked, frowning.

Nick shook his head and dragged a hand down his face. “That bubbly nurse that took care of her is giving her a first rate tour. And your daughter is loving every minute of it. Sydney’s even considering adding being a nurse to her long list of careers when she grows up.”