Secrets Of The Heart (Book 1, The Heart Series) by Laurie LeClair Page A
Authors: Laurie LeClair
Ads: Link
root, warming him. And the invisible band of steel constricting around his chest finally eased.
He hated the well of suspicion that sprang inside of him at the assumption she’d wished he were any other man kissing her.
Could she have been dreaming of Vinnie? Nick winced as if a mule kicked him in the gut. Jealousy, raw and ugly, heated his blood. How the hell could he ever compete with a dead man?
Nick leaned back. Studying Bree, he detected the reserve she usually kept with him slipped out of place, allowing him access to the real woman.
Soft, open, approachable, he mused. He longed for her to always be like this, especially with him. Sighing, he wondered how long she’d let her guard down this time. Would he have seconds, minutes, or hours?
Her teasing smile stayed in place, giving him a small measure of hope and a great amount of pleasure.
Five and a half years passed and still he sensed he barely knew her. He’d memorized the cold, bald facts: only daughter of middle-aged, middle-income parents; father died of a heart attack when Bree turned thirteen; Bree nurse and caretaker to her sickly mother until nineteen when the woman finally succumbed; a year of cosmetology school; full-time hairdresser for years; night-time business student; met Vinnie in college; got pregnant; hasty marriage; three years later, after Vinnie was killed in the line of duty, widow.
Nick knew the short, plain resume hinted at none of her courage, her strength, her determination, her pain. Nor did she wear them like badges of honor, won in mortal combat.
She hid all that, and so much more, behind a fortress a mile high. The so much more plagued Nick over the years, nagging at him now as he stared at his radiant bride. It seemed as if she locked away a vital part of her, a secret part.
He hadn’t been a cop for twenty plus years without learning the signs: averting the eyes, changing the subject, evading the issues. It was all there in Bree.
Catching and holding her sparkling gaze, something inexplicable shifted in his middle, chasing away the long shadows of his grief.
Nick’s goal formed. He wanted his wife like this all the time. He promised himself he’d uncover the sequestered, mysterious portion of Bree, revealing the many complex layers of her. Only then, when she bared her soul, could he ever allow himself to open up and trust Bree Hansen Carletti.
***
With a bag in his left hand and another tucked under his arm, Nick shoved open the cabin door. Reaching in, he flicked on the hallway light.
A pool of light bathed the foyer and hallway of the log cabin, the varnished wood floor gleaming in welcome.
“Ladies, after you.” Nick stepped aside, ushering in his new family with a sweeping gesture.
Exhausted, Sydney tripped over the threshold. Bree caught her and steadied the little girl. “Bedtime for you, sweetpea.”
“Do I have to?” she asked, following the question with a huge, noisy yawn.
“I think you answered yourself,” Nick said with a smile in his voice while setting the luggage down. They hit the floor with a dull click.
“Only if mommy comes to bed, too,” Sydney whined, crossing her arms over her tiny chest.
“She will, all in good time,” Nick promised in a hoarse whisper, catching Bree’s anxious look as he straightened. Visions of taking her in his arms and repeating the kiss from earlier, flared in his mind. The thought of making slow, sweet love to her fired his blood.
Sydney stomped her foot and screwed up her face. “Mommy, sleep now. In my top bunk, like always.”
Nick stilled. Had he heard right?
Bree knelt next to Sydney, purposely avoiding his questioning look, Nick figured. If his granddaughter was to be believed, Bree and Vinnie hadn’t slept together, at least not when they were here.
Only one conclusion came to mind: trouble, deep-seated and unworkable, forged a wedge between Vinnie and Bree. Surprise lanced through Nick; he’d never known that. Vinnie hadn’t
He hated the well of suspicion that sprang inside of him at the assumption she’d wished he were any other man kissing her.
Could she have been dreaming of Vinnie? Nick winced as if a mule kicked him in the gut. Jealousy, raw and ugly, heated his blood. How the hell could he ever compete with a dead man?
Nick leaned back. Studying Bree, he detected the reserve she usually kept with him slipped out of place, allowing him access to the real woman.
Soft, open, approachable, he mused. He longed for her to always be like this, especially with him. Sighing, he wondered how long she’d let her guard down this time. Would he have seconds, minutes, or hours?
Her teasing smile stayed in place, giving him a small measure of hope and a great amount of pleasure.
Five and a half years passed and still he sensed he barely knew her. He’d memorized the cold, bald facts: only daughter of middle-aged, middle-income parents; father died of a heart attack when Bree turned thirteen; Bree nurse and caretaker to her sickly mother until nineteen when the woman finally succumbed; a year of cosmetology school; full-time hairdresser for years; night-time business student; met Vinnie in college; got pregnant; hasty marriage; three years later, after Vinnie was killed in the line of duty, widow.
Nick knew the short, plain resume hinted at none of her courage, her strength, her determination, her pain. Nor did she wear them like badges of honor, won in mortal combat.
She hid all that, and so much more, behind a fortress a mile high. The so much more plagued Nick over the years, nagging at him now as he stared at his radiant bride. It seemed as if she locked away a vital part of her, a secret part.
He hadn’t been a cop for twenty plus years without learning the signs: averting the eyes, changing the subject, evading the issues. It was all there in Bree.
Catching and holding her sparkling gaze, something inexplicable shifted in his middle, chasing away the long shadows of his grief.
Nick’s goal formed. He wanted his wife like this all the time. He promised himself he’d uncover the sequestered, mysterious portion of Bree, revealing the many complex layers of her. Only then, when she bared her soul, could he ever allow himself to open up and trust Bree Hansen Carletti.
***
With a bag in his left hand and another tucked under his arm, Nick shoved open the cabin door. Reaching in, he flicked on the hallway light.
A pool of light bathed the foyer and hallway of the log cabin, the varnished wood floor gleaming in welcome.
“Ladies, after you.” Nick stepped aside, ushering in his new family with a sweeping gesture.
Exhausted, Sydney tripped over the threshold. Bree caught her and steadied the little girl. “Bedtime for you, sweetpea.”
“Do I have to?” she asked, following the question with a huge, noisy yawn.
“I think you answered yourself,” Nick said with a smile in his voice while setting the luggage down. They hit the floor with a dull click.
“Only if mommy comes to bed, too,” Sydney whined, crossing her arms over her tiny chest.
“She will, all in good time,” Nick promised in a hoarse whisper, catching Bree’s anxious look as he straightened. Visions of taking her in his arms and repeating the kiss from earlier, flared in his mind. The thought of making slow, sweet love to her fired his blood.
Sydney stomped her foot and screwed up her face. “Mommy, sleep now. In my top bunk, like always.”
Nick stilled. Had he heard right?
Bree knelt next to Sydney, purposely avoiding his questioning look, Nick figured. If his granddaughter was to be believed, Bree and Vinnie hadn’t slept together, at least not when they were here.
Only one conclusion came to mind: trouble, deep-seated and unworkable, forged a wedge between Vinnie and Bree. Surprise lanced through Nick; he’d never known that. Vinnie hadn’t
Similar Books
