

Secrets of the Heart

BY

Laurie LeClair

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 1999, 2013 by Laurie LeClair

All rights reserved. This work is not transferrable. Any reproduction of this work is prohibited without the permission of the author due to the infringement on the copyright. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the creation of the author or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or people, living or dead, is coincidental.

Dedication

As always to Jim.

# Chapter 1

"You could always marry her."

Nicholas Carletti froze, staring at his longtime friend and lawyer, Gil Lambert. Nick thought nothing could stop his pacing as he waited for Bree Hansen to show for their meeting. But, as he gazed at Gil, he realized that little bit of advice shook him to his core. The suggestion drove Nick's mind insane and his body flaring with heat.

Curling his hands into fists, he squashed the reaction. He denied his deep-seated longing to be close to Bree. "Marry her? Are you crazy? I want her daughter in my life, not her."

"Liar!" Gil's retort sliced through Nick with a stinging edge, ripping apart that mended portion of his heart.

Dragging in a ragged breath, Nick inhaled the lemony wax polish in the book-lined attorney's office.

He swallowed the bitterness. Disloyalty crowded his center. _I can't have what I really want. Not then. Not now._

Standing behind his big, cluttered desk, Gil tunneled a hand through his salt and pepper hair, causing it to stand on end more than usual. The morning sun streaming in through the window highlighted his rumpled tan suit, adding to his overall disheveled appearance. His gaunt face and tall, lanky frame seemed at odds with his razor-sharp mind and keen perception.

"It will solve the custody battle that's brewing between the two of you." Optimism threaded Gil's gravelly voice.

The look of hope that entered his friend's blue eyes halted Nick from saying what he truly thought. "I have every right to spend time with Sydney," he pointed out. A pang echoed behind his ribs. _I miss her._

He resumed his pacing, impatience and denial warring to take the lead.

Gil sighed. "Of course you do. But isn't trying to take a little girl from her mother a little drastic?"

A stab of acceptance pricked his conscience. _Of course it is. But it's the only way I know how to hang onto a part of my family._ "Bree works twelve or more hours a day, six days a week keeping that beauty shop of hers in the black. And that cracker box she calls an apartment isn't fit for a five-year-old. Is that any way to raise a child?"

Frustration burned a deep, red-hot path in his gut. He could give Sydney so much more, if only he had the chance. If only her obstinate mother would take what he offered.

"She's doing the best she can. She's a darn good mother to that little girl."

With his anger suddenly diffused, Nick realized no matter how hard he tried he couldn't deny that glaring fact. She didn't spend a lot of time with her daughter, but, when she did, nothing caused her to waver from her devotion.

Bree, gentle, loving, and nurturing, proved it time and time again. Her tenderness toward Sydney shook him. Nick wished Bree would share some with him.

He tossed that thought away. But his heart tugged painfully, reminding him how their relationship had disintegrated.

Nick admitted silently that selfish reasons, not neglect, forced him to play out this scenario with Bree. He yearned to spend more time with her little girl; she was all he had left in this world. _If only I could find another way, one where it wouldn't hurt Bree._

"She's been reasonable with your visitation when she didn't have to be. Connecticut laws would agree," Gil reminded him gently.

Irritation grated along Nick's nerve endings. "Don't tell me you're on her side."

"Whoa, now. I never said that." He stuffed his large hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "I look at both sides. That's my job. I'm thinking of the child and what's best for her."

"And I'm not it? Is that what you're saying?" The truthful answer to that question wounded Nick more than he'd dare admit. But the thought of losing Sydney terrified him even more.

"Granted, you love the child and would provide a wonderful home life... Well, with Nana gone now it isn't as ideal as it once was." Gil's pep talk petered out. Nick slowed his steps.

Grief, heavy and burdensome, swamped Nick's chest. He'd lost his feisty grandmother two months ago and it still felt as raw and fresh as the first day. Nick knew from experience the pain wouldn't end, not anytime soon. Maybe never. Hadn't he gone through that with Vinnie? Didn't he still ache from that crushing blow?

Gil's tone changed to one of compassion, splitting Nick in two, exposing the vein of loneliness that ran wide and long. "Taking her child won't replace—"

"What?" Nick interrupted, jerking to face his friend, throbbing with pain. "Go ahead and say it." Silence crashed down with resounding tension. "All right, then I will. I want my family back. Is that a crime?"

"You and I both know it's not. Legally anyway." He paused. Nick's narrowed gaze captured Gil's sympathetic one. "You're a cop, Nick, you tell me, is tearing a little girl from her mother any better?"

A sharp knock on the door cut off Nick's reply. He stilled, knowing Bree waited, knowing he had to check his heart rate before he faced her.

Gil rounded the desk, hesitated a moment at Nick's side, and then patted his friend on the shoulder. "Marry her. It's the _only_ way. For the three of you."

Nick tried to absorb the enormity of it all as his friend moved on. Was it _his_ single best option to hold onto his crumbling family? he wondered, afraid of the answer, yet tantalized with the idea of marrying Bree and all it encompassed.

Devotion, deep-seated and age-old, to Vinnie flashed through his mind. Betrayal came on its heels. That feeling plagued him since the first moment he set eyes on Bree Hansen.

Nick Carletti played by the rules: in work, in life, in everything. Loyalty seethed in his chest like a beacon, always guiding him. So how could he even contemplate wedding Bree? How could he ever imagine double-crossing a dead man?

With his back turned, Nick heard the soft click of the door, and then Gil's hearty greeting. "Why, Bree, it's a pleasure to see you."

"No disrespect, Gil, but the pleasure isn't returned." Her husky voice sounded deeper, richer. Nick's breath caught.

"No harm. Come in. I think you and Nick might be able to work this out without me, so I'll leave you two alone for a bit."

Nick strode to the far side of the room. He perched on the edge of his lawyer's paper-strewn desk. The solid piece of wood lent support and stability to the churning sea of emotions inside him.

Folding his arms across his chest, he stared as Bree advanced toward him. He braced himself. _So beautiful._ Wispy, short blonde hair, the color of pale spun gold, framed her large hazel, cat-like eyes and fanned her high cheekbones. Her lush, sensual lips tugged downward at one side.

The absence of her usual smile and sunny disposition nagged at Nick. She reserved that special blend of welcome to everyone but him, now and always. A hollow ache engulfed him each time he witnessed it.

He'd thought seeing her again would appease the hungry need inside of him, would fill up the empty space. He realized now that nothing short of Gil's recommendation would even come close.

"What's this all about, Carletti?" Her words pelted him with their fierceness.

He nodded for her to sit in the chair in front of him. Waiting for Bree to comply, he observed the slight tremor in her hand as she reached for the chair while keeping her eye on him. Something inside him twisted at his part in her distress.

"How's Sydney?" he asked, struggling to find a way to work this out without hurting her any more. _How can I not hurt her?_

She frowned in confusion. "You just saw her at her birthday party."

When she finally took a seat, he leaned forward to get a closer view of her telltale hazel eyes. The color shifted to gray, a clear indication of how perturbed she felt about meeting with him.

He inhaled, and then wished he hadn't as her haunting, floral scent tickled his senses. Gathering his strength, he tried to ward off any more of her hidden weapons.

"It's been ten days." _Ten long, barren days since I've seen you both_.

In the back of his mind, he noted how her small, capable hands gripped the burgundy leather armrests until her neatly rounded fingernails turned a ghostly white. Fear, pluck, or a combination of both, he mused.

Nick shied away from the more obvious indication: She wished to strangle him and had a difficult time keeping her hands from circling his neck and squeezing.

"She's anxious to start kindergarten in a few weeks."

He smiled, recalling how excited Sydney always was at the mention of school. "You'll let me know if she needs anything. Ah...clothes, supplies, anything at all." He'd offer her money, but he'd swear on Nana's grave Bree would toss it back at him.

Her pride showed itself as she stuck out her cute little chin, saying, "I've got it covered."

Way to go, Carletti, alienating her yet again and you haven't even gotten to the tough stuff.

Awkwardly, he shifted his gaze, his eyes landing on the low scoop of her blouse, giving him a wonderful glimpse of her dusky cleavage. His abdomen knotted with tension and he tried to banish the swirling dregs of desire.

"Well? Aren't you going to tell me why you asked for this meeting?" she prompted, the strain in her voice evident.

Clearing his throat, he finally answered her. "We have to talk."

Scanning the rest of her, he flexed his aching fingers, fantasizing about how soft and warm she'd feel in his arms. He choked back a groan. The rumble vibrated in his chest. Her crossed leg nearly reached his right one, her black, ballet slipper clad foot tapping air. If he just moved a little bit more...

He stanched the movement, yanking back on the free rein his imagination had taken. Forbidden, he reminded himself. _She was Vinnie's. Always had been, always will be. It doesn't matter that Vinnie's dead._

"That part was obvious from Gil's urgent call this morning."

Reluctantly, he dragged his wandering gaze back to her face. Thick lashes cast dark shadows on her creamy skin when she blinked.

"Come on, Nick, don't keep me in suspense any longer."

In the back of his mind, he heard her words, registered the anxious quality of them. But all he could concentrate on was the way her rosy lips moved. What would they taste like? he wondered as he allowed his stare to linger there, thinking of cotton candy, sweet and addictive.
Shaking himself mentally, Nick silently berated himself. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

Taking a deep breath, he blurted out, "I want Sydney."

Confusion chased across her features. "You want to see her more?"

Now that he voiced it, he knew how ridiculous it all seemed. But he had to take a shot at it. He had to use everything in his power to resurrect his disintegrating family. "In a sense, yes."

She stilled. "What exactly does that mean, Nick?"

"Custody." Clenching his jaw, he steeled himself for her expected outburst. It didn't take long. But not before he witnessed a flash of raw, blinding panic, which she instantly suppressed.

The color drained from her face and he experienced a wave of remorse for the showdown. She gulped for air, and then said, "I'm her mother. And you're her—"

"I'm well aware of my relationship to your daughter, Bree."

"Then you know how silly this all sounds, don't you?"

Doggedly, he pursued his course of action. "I'm serious."

"Joint custody?"

He played out his hand. "Full."

As she stared him down, the taut silence in the oppressive room stretched to an unbearable eternity. Dust motes danced lazily in the warm ray of sunshine beaming into the room. The large branches of a tall oak tree stirred in the slight breeze outside, softly scratching the panes of glass, shifting the shadows.

His heart galloped in his chest. His ears filled with the whoosh of his pounding blood. He swallowed to combat the dry sensation in his throat. He'd faced gun-wielding criminals with more poise. _Never let them see you sweat_ , Nick reminded himself now as he often told rookies he trained.

With a great deal of grace, she rose, standing ramrod straight before him. Steely determination radiated from her.

Mere inches separated her from him. Nick allowed himself to take a tiny breath, and then chided himself as her heady scent filled his lungs.

He met her cold, hard stare.

He'd seen that look a thousand times before in a thousand different situations: freezing out a frisky admirer, facing down anyone who stood in her way, and getting her hackles up when someone had the audacity to say she couldn't do something she wanted to.

Stubborn, obstinate were too mild to describe this narrowed-eyed glare. The set of her chin added concrete evidence to her single-minded resolve. Conviction, plain and clear, sparkled bright.

He knew from past experiences she wouldn't give up until she got what she wanted. The word failure wasn't in her vocabulary. Only success stamped in large letters ran through her mind whenever she stumbled upon any resistance.

Damn, he admired this woman.

# Chapter 2

"Go to hell!" Bree Hansen bit out as fury whipped her into a tornado of clashing emotions.

"I'm already there." His rich, baritone voice ripped through the strained atmosphere, tearing it to shreds.

She gasped, the tiny sound catching in the back of her throat. Shadows of grief loomed in his dark eyes, twisting a knife in her middle. It turned her wrath into sorrow for the man as nothing else could.

"Nana?" she whispered, distracted from her anger. A faint waft of his sandalwood after-shave ticked her senses, stirring her blood.

"Vinnie."

An ache, hot and blinding, spread from her chest to fan out in all directions. This man had suffered more than anyone over Vinnie's death, even more than she, Vinnie's wife. Guilt riddled Bree like bullets piercing paper, leaving big gaping holes in their wake.

"I'm so sorry, Nick," she whispered, wishing she could wash away his misery.

Looking her fill, she skimmed over his neatly styled, chestnut brown hair to scan Nick's strong, handsome features. His broad forehead topped his squarish face. Defined cheekbones flanked a nose broken in a high school football game, the slight bump just below the bridge adding character and strength.

"Yeah, so am I." His striking, chocolate brown eyes echoed his pain, layer upon layer of it. His firm, masculine lips thinned into a straight line now.

Staring at his mouth she recalled one time, so long ago, when she'd dared to return his stolen kiss. He'd tasted of the sweet, heady wine they'd shared, and heat, wonderful glorious fiery passion.

If only... Flustered at her wayward thoughts, she dropped her inspection to his broad shoulders, wide chest, and bulging biceps covered in a blue shirt. Rock solid, sturdy, she thought, knowing, without a doubt, she'd always battle this powerful, gripping attraction.

The sharp contrast between her late husband and Nick reared its head as it usually did. Nick, strong, supportive, and always there when either Sydney or she needed him. And Vinnie, younger than herself, immature, weak... She'd always compared the two men with Vinnie coming up lacking in so many ways. Years of disgrace bathed her.

Clinging to the remnants of her dignity, she tried to focus on the issue at hand. Full custody. The recalled demand splashed Bree like a bucket of icy water, jarring her from her stupor.

Renewed temper ignited in her middle. She welcomed the flames of indignation. "How dare you try to take Sydney away from me, Nick. That's low."

She suddenly realized just how close she stood to Nick as he perched on the desk. His thick muscular thighs, in blue dress pants, veed out with her planted between them.

He shifted. His left inner thigh brushed her right outer thigh. Heat scorched her where he'd touched. She jerked her gaze to his. Did he feel it, too? Was it there burning in his eyes, searing her just as his unintentional stroke had? Or was it his usual storm brewing just below the surface?

"Nick, listen to me," she said, placing a hand on his upper arm. She felt the ripple of muscle as he flinched. Rejected, she dropped her hand, and then backed up. He rose, striding to the window, creating space and distance. His broad, stiff back faced her.

"She's a part of me. She's family."

She's all I have left, Bree heard his unspoken words. They tugged at her heart.

He sighed, long and loud. "All right, I'll settle for joint custody. I don't want to rip Sydney away from you. I just want more time with her."

"You're asking me to be a part-time mother. Do you think I'd give up my own daughter?" She winced at her fear-laced tone, cursing herself for allowing any sign of weakness to shine through.

He spun around, startling Bree. "Isn't that what you are right now? A part-time mom."

A well of frustration and how unfair the world was nearly choked her. "I _have_ to work. And, come to think of it, so do you."

His lips thinned into a straight line again. "If I have to I'll take early retirement from the force."

Bree clasped her hands. "And I'll go to hell and back to fight for Sydney."

"Oh, I don't doubt there'd be a fight, but I have more resources than you do."

The constant nugget of dread that resided in her center for the past five and a half years now seemed to expand to boulder-size terror. With her daughter's well-being paramount, Bree lashed out at him. "Judges in your pocket, Nick? I thought you were more of a man than that. I'd be the last one to think you, Sergeant 'By The Book' Carletti, would stoop so low, be so damned underhanded."

That struck a chord, she noted, as red flags slashed across his cheeks. A hint of satisfaction slid into her, barely warming her chilled, numb body.

A muscle jumped along his clenched jaw. "Rest assured I don't operate on your level."

A fistful of hurt slammed into her belly, stealing her breath away. The hot sting of tears smarted the backs of her eyes. She blinked several times, holding them at bay. How could she ever convince him he'd been wrong about her from the very beginning? How could she ever gain his respect?

No matter how many times she pled her case Nick would never trust her, Bree realized hollowly now as she stared at his uncompromising stance. The rigid set of his shoulders and balled up hands spoke volumes.

There was only one way to set the record straight. She balked at the solution; she'd put Sydney in danger. No matter what, she'd protect her daughter, at any cost, even her soul. Her secret would die with her, the terrible truth buried in the casket inside her heart.

In order to ensure the lid stayed firmly on the facts, she couldn't risk the exposure of a custody battle.

Taking a shaky breath, she said, "I've tried to work out a suitable arrangement for you to see Sydney."

"It's been nowhere near to suitable. Four, maybe five, hours in tiny increments a week, if that. You have some nerve suggesting you've been generous. Hell, even the babysitter sees Sydney more than I do."

"I've been—"

"Reasonable, is that what you were going to say?" He listed the many times he'd call to talk to Sydney or try to arrange more visits with her only to be turned away or shut out.

As he made an impassioned point, Bree noted his large, long-fingered square hands hacking the air. Every slight movement, every change of expression, every shift of his dark eyes only endeared him to her more, stabbing at her treacherous heart. _He loves her just as much as I do._

He finally ended. She rallied her defenses, saying, "You will not take my daughter away from me." The vow ignited her purpose, fueling her undying love for her precious little girl.

He arched an eyebrow, baiting her. "You think?"

A mixture of fury, frustration, and fear nibbled at her conscience. It broke her staunch conviction she could change his mind just by talking, jarring her usually unshakable confidence. "That's what you've been after for a long time, isn't it?" she asked, her voice throbbing with pain. "For Sydney's sake, I beg you not to go through with this."

Granite-like features answered her. Nick's stony expression gave nothing away, probably from years of honing it to perfection in his line of work.

But was that something entirely different she read in his dark eyes? Was it a certain grimness that spoke of hating what he was doing? Whatever she thought she witnessed vanished an instant later.

Worry gnawed at her middle, tying her in knots. Bree dug in her pocket for her keys. Metal jangled against metal. "I guess there's no way around my having to hire a lawyer. I don't know why Gil assumed we could work this out by ourselves."

"He doesn't agree with the custody suit."

Shocked and confused by Nick's confession, Bree dropped her keys. They hit the carpet with a dull jingle. On trembling legs, she moved toward him, stopping when she stood a foot away. His body heat washed over her. A hazy fog of longing tickled her senses. "I don't understand. Isn't he representing you?" Her question came out on a whispery note.

"He highly recommends another avenue altogether," Nick said softly, stepping closer, causing her temperature to rise drastically. "One, he assures me, will be best for everyone involved." His warm breath fanned her face, sending tingles down her spine.

She'd nearly forgotten what it was like to be this close, this intimate with him. Part of her loved the exhilarating way her body sprang to life. Part of her hated her traitorous being.

Frowning, she said, "I don't follow."

"Marriage."

That answer, short and direct, drained the color from her face. The room began to sway around her. She closed her eyes for a moment, praying for strength, for composure.

Large, strong hands circled her waist, steadying her, scorching her. She brought her hands up to shove at his shoulders. Instead, she found herself clinging to his broad chest, hanging on to the alluring stability he offered. She curled her fingers, grasping his shirt. His heartbeat increased, matching hers.

Speechless and dizzy, she leaned her forehead on his rock solid shoulder, seeking a safe haven. The warmth of his body and his sandalwood after-shave mingled together to overwhelm her fragile senses. Memories flooded in her mind, memories of when she'd first met this man.

That long ago spring afternoon rushed back. Fresh cut grass had sweetened the already crisp, clean air. A slight breeze had ruffled her then shoulder-length hair as she stood on his doorstep. He'd answered on her first knock as if he'd been anxiously awaiting her arrival.

As she faced him, a tiny current of electricity zinged through her blood. His bold stare, filled with male appreciation, seemed to strip her of her simple lavender wedding dress.

Her weak smile tugged at one corner of her mouth, betraying her nervousness. Without so much as a word, he ushered her in. His disapproval smacked her then. Was it because she was already with child or because she was clipping Vinnie's wings?

Vinnie rescued her quickly, introduced them, and then rushed her to the lovely sun room where they planned to conduct the short ceremony.

Sweet, dear Nana ordered Nick to gather a bouquet of flowers in the garden for Bree. In less than five minutes, he returned with a fistful of lilacs, her favorite flower. He held the hastily plucked arrangement out to her.

Grateful at his thoughtfulness, she accepted with tears in her eyes. His warm hand brushed hers and they both jerked at the charged touch. Gasping for breath, she stared at him in dazed wonder. His sandalwood after-shave mixed with the delicate lilac fragrance, entwining the two scents forever in her mind.

Everything had seemed to blur for Bree after that until, one striking moment when, the justice of the peace asked Vinnie and her to face each other.

Bree had glanced fleetingly over Vinnie's right shoulder, briefly encountering Nick's probing, questioning gaze. She had looked again, this time longer and more intently. Her heart had whispered a single word that echoed through her mind: Forbidden.

Now, she dragged her guilt ridden thoughts back to the moment. Nick pressed his cheek to her hair, his hot, ragged breathing stirring little wisps. His chest rose and fell quickly, enticing her as the motion brought the hard muscles in contact with her aching breasts.

Nick's fingers bit into her back, his thumbs digging into her waist just under her rib cage. But the pressure hadn't cut off her air supply. His reply had.

Marriage, he'd said. How tempting, how tantalizing, Bree thought, wishing it had come ages ago without prompting, without the need to rectify their undeclared war on each other. Did she dare?

She opened her eyes and tilted her head back to look up at him once again. Awestruck, she stared at him.

He frowned down at her. Tiny lines fanned out from between his dark eyebrows, making her long to smooth them away, to soothe his troubled soul. His stare narrowed, probing hers.

Bree saw astonishment reflected in the dark depths and something more, something intangible shifted, and then expanded.

Closing her eyes for several long seconds, she opened them again, this time catching sight of his firm, masculine mouth. A part of her urged her on. If she stood on tip-toe...

Berating herself silently, she forced her gaze back to his. Banked desire singed her blood, kindling her own passion until she could no longer run from the lie that haunted her.

A tiny pocket of her heart opened, allowing her to look inside and release the damning kernel of information she'd tucked away so long ago: She'd always been far more attracted to the father than the son.

# Chapter 3

"Of course I told Gil he was crazy."

Nick's scornful tone penetrated Bree's foggy mind, forcing her to tune into her rational side. Common sense took over. "Of course," she bit out, jerking away from his hold. "You wouldn't dream of putting Sydney's happiness and peace of mind first in all of this, now would you?"

"That's exactly what I am doing." The censor radiating from him cut her to the quick.

Dragging in a deep, cleansing breath, Bree concentrated on the disastrous outcome if he won. He could not discover the damning truth about her.

Pushing aside the fresh wave of fear, she rallied her wits. "You may very well dislike me, but she doesn't. As much as it annoys you, she loves me. And she loves you. We're all she has left. Please don't tear her world apart any more than it already has been."

With that she turned, scooped up her ring of keys, and then walked on unsteady legs to the door. She grasped the shiny brass knob as if it were a lifeline.

Before she twisted it, Nick halted her actions by planting a hand against the wide wooden door, a hairbreadth from her. She jumped, wondering how such a big man could move so fast, so silently.

Tension surrounded him as if it were a living, breathing being. He stepped closer, holding his body scant inches away. Immobilized, she waited for him to move, to speak, to do anything.

He didn't make her wait long. His hot breath made her shiver. But his voice, angry and dangerously low, sliced her to her core, shredding all hope of a compromise. "Is that how you operate? Is that how you tethered my son to you? By using your daughter?"

***

With her keys digging into her palm, Bree trudged up the concrete stairway to her tiny, second floor apartment. Each step was more leaden than the last. The pungent scent of flowers floating on the warm summer night breeze did little to refresh her from the hellish day she'd endured.

All afternoon and evening she went through the motions of styling hair. People's faces, many of them longtime friends and customers, blurred now as she recalled the numerous haircuts, blow drys, dye jobs, and permanents she'd accomplished. Usually, she loved her demanding creative work, but today proved different.

"All because of Nick," she whispered, still disturbed after the passage of ten hours. "Marriage? To Nick?"

She halted on the top step, momentarily paralyzed. Weariness seeped in and she turned around, plopping down on the hard cement as she reviewed their meeting.

The debacle played havoc with her mind, body, and soul. Every fiber of her being pulsed in memory. Her thoughts shunned the possibility of losing Sydney and drummed up the close contact with Nick.

Her body flared with remembered desire. But her soul suffered the most, twisting in agony. Dagger-like spears of guilt stabbed at her conscience, torturing her for her silence, her secret. _It's the price I have to pay._

Bree blinked rapidly as if she could will the painful confrontation into nonexistence. Nothing would sweep away the bitter taste it left in her core.

Leaning her forehead against the cool iron railing, Bree released the tidal wave of regret, for the horrific present and for the loss of the past. What had gone so very wrong?

Vinnie, so young, so scared, either wouldn't or couldn't cope well with her problem pregnancy. With countless doctors' appointments and numerous tests always looming, he had either volunteered to work more hours or planned his class schedule accordingly, leaving Bree to fend for herself. Or, she'd thought.

Nick came to her rescue more than once, creating an undeniable bond between them, an unmistakable connection. One she longed to reestablish for her sake, if truth be told.

More often than not, he taxied her back and forth, making certain any bad news be filtered through him first. On many occasions it was his strong shoulder she cried on when the risk, the pressure, became too great.

And eight months into it, when Vinnie left her alone while he went to the cabin for a breather, it was Nick she called in the middle of the night.

The contractions gripped her in frighteningly painful squeezes. He, with Nana in the backseat, rushed her to the hospital in his police cruiser with the siren blaring, clasping her hand, lending her his strength.

And it was Nick who coached her through the arduous labor and delivery, even being the first one to hold Sydney after the nurse brought her to him.

For all intents and purposes, Nicholas Carletti was more of a father to Sydney than Vinnie had ever been. So how could she fault Nick for seeking custody when they both knew he deserved more time with her daughter?

Nick's ingrained sense of right and wrong, his loyalty, his integrity, always impressed her. She welcomed, even cherished, his positive influence on Sydney. Bree admired him and had come to depend on his solid, steady presence in her life.

Now she felt bereft, lonely, without his ready brand of security, his assistance. A big gaping void nearly swallowed her whole.

She missed him, missed the man he had been before Vinnie died eighteen months ago, before all their lives had been shaken upside down like a snow dome, upsetting the norm.

Even with all their bickering, all their differences, all his unspoken accusations, Nick had always come through for her, time and time again.

Nick Carletti had been her Rock of Gibraltar, her Sir Galahad, and her Knight in Shining Armor. "And your substitute husband," she murmured. The stark reality penetrated her thoughts, confounding her at this shiny new nugget of startling information.

Bree discovered more solace, more comfort in Nick's arms than in Vinnie's. And, with that one, all-too-brief kiss, more passion, she admitted ruefully.

Shame stung her cheeks.

Mentally shaking herself, she tried to brush aside the clinging cobwebs of despair, the darkness dogging her heels.

With more energy than she felt, Bree stood, dusted off her bottom, and then approached her humble dwelling. She fit her house key in the lock and opened her door.

"I'm home, Tilly," she called softly, not wishing to awaken Sydney. The muted sounds of the television reached her in the cheery yellow kitchen. She placed her purse along with her keys on the nearby scarred secondhand pine tabletop.

"It's me, Ms. Hansen," Tilly's teenaged granddaughter answered. "Gram has another one of her migraines, so I offered to take care of Sydney."

Bree moved to the living room archway, and then leaned against the frame. The only light in the dark, spartan room came from the flashing images on the boob tube.

Sprawled on her stomach on the square of beige carpeted floor, the tall, willowy fifteen-year-old gazed intently at the small screen, absently flipping her long, reddish blonde hair over her shoulder. She obviously favored the hard floor over the Bentwood rocker and worn armchair.

"Thanks, Ali."

"Mmmm," she murmured, glued to the popular Thursday night comedy.

Bree chuckled at the single-minded absorption. "Ah, if life were that easy," she muttered, feeling ancient all of a sudden. Today thirty seemed so much older than normal.

"Huh? Did you say something?"

"Just talking to myself. I'll go check on Sydney."

Tip-toeing down the short hallway, Bree wished for a real home with a great big yard for the puppy Sydney longed for. Selling the house Bree shared with Vinnie, along with most of its contents, to pay off their debts and finance her beauty shop provided continued security, a future for Sydney.

Guilt ridden from taking so much from her daughter, Bree poured the little bit of extra money into a special place for Sydney. The pink and white bedroom was a little girl's dream, one Bree happily supplied for her daughter.

She pushed open the door. The glow of the night light yawned across Sydney's tiny, pink pajama-clad form as if standing guard over her daughter, protecting her.

Entering, Bree almost stumbled as a well of love, so deep and so pure, rocked her. _How did I get so lucky?_

She halted at the side of the twin bed, a ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth. Gazing down at the angelic sleeping child brought tears to her eyes. A tight band of steel constricted around her chest, squeezing off her air supply.

She yearned to spend more time with Sydney. The constant ache of missing her daughter, the loss of witnessing all the wondrous things happening to her, became so unbearable.

More often than not lately, Bree toyed with the idea of asking her two best friends and employees to buy into her business. The plan would solve the time issue since she'd cut back on her long hours. But, she reasoned, the assuredly lower income would only add to her struggle to make ends meet.

Gently, she sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly. She tucked the white sheet around her daughter's shoulders. Undisturbed, Sydney slept on in blissful wonderland with her thumb stuck in her mouth.

Bree's heart hitched; she knew Sydney only sucked her thumb now when she was emotionally troubled. Nana's death certainly caused this new bout of upheaval. Bree suspected the thick, oppressive tension between Nick and her contributed to the situation.

Reaching out, she tenderly brushed back the white blonde bangs and chin length hair, grazing the full, soft cheek and exposing the dusting of freckles dotting the tiny nose.

Bree longed to see the cobalt blue eyes staring up in joy at her, but denied herself that reward, putting Sydney first as she always did.

"Oh, sweetpea," she murmured, feeling the tug of war with her conscience, watching her daughter's little chest rise and fall. "How can I keep you safe?"

The risk of a custody battle loomed like a huge rain cloud over her head, dark and threatening. The alternative frightened her to death; she'd worry endlessly on guarding her overwhelming attraction to Nick.

On the other hand, marrying him would cease his relentless prodding and probing into her merits on mothering Sydney, into her past. Into the circumstances on the shameful conception of my daughter, she added that painful reminder, shying away from the dreadful memories it evoked.

"What's more important here?" she whispered softly. "My pride or Sydney's safe, secure knowledge that she was conceived in love?"

If she allowed Nick's search to continue he'd ferret out every kernel of truth, holding it up to the harsh, unforgiving light of his high standards. And, in doing so, she'd lose everything, including her daughter's unwavering love, respect, and trust. "And Nick," she said, experiencing a hollow sensation in her middle.

She chuckled. It came out raw and pain filled. " _He_ doesn't trust you now, silly."

If Nick uncovered her deceit it would destroy all her hopes of developing a more satisfying, more intimate relationship with him. But, far worse, Sydney's life would be irreversibly harmed, ruined.

"I can't let that happen," Bree vowed.

Taking a shaky breath, Bree made her decision. Even if she had to grovel she'd get Nicholas Carletti to marry her and put an end to his constant nagging suspicions about her.

***

In his refinished basement gym, Nick grunted as he lifted the ten-pound weight, performing arm curls. The unusual night time workout had nothing to do with conditioning his body. It had everything to do with sexy, disturbing Bree Hansen.

"Damn woman," he bit out between gritted teeth. He prayed expelling this restless energy that plagued him since seeing her this morning eased his troubled thoughts. So far it proved futile.

She'd been a constant companion in a corner of his mind since their first meeting. The time and space she occupied seemed wrong, forbidden.

As much as he fought it, as much as he hated himself for it, Nick couldn't stop it from occurring. She slipped into his musings at the strangest of times, bringing a smile to his lips or a chuckle rumbling from his chest.

Cold stark reality hit him square between the eyes: Sydney, a miniature version of her mother's zest for life, kept him close to Bree, kept him connected to a woman that didn't want anything to do with him.

"You fool, Carletti," he cursed himself for hurting Bree today. "In order to get your family back you tried to steal a child away from her mother. You're a sorry excuse for a man."

_Admit you want Bree back in your life, that's why you went after sole custody of Sydney, that's why you won't stop pestering Bree_.

Nick could almost feel Nana's chastisement raining down on him. He figured it didn't even measure up to the pile of recriminations he heaped on himself.

He gave in to the burning in his overworked muscles, putting an end to his brutal pace. Placing the weight on the floor produced a ting of metal. He ignored the rivets of perspiration sliding down his bare chest.

Instead, he focused on blotting out the fresh wave of agony every time he recalled how close he'd been to Bree only hours earlier.

He cringed inwardly at his ruthless attacks on her. Why should he be so surprised at her withdrawal from him, at her rejection? Why should he care if she didn't want him as her husband? But he did.

The sharp, piercing peel of the doorbell ripped through his disquieting reverie.

"Who the hell's visiting at this time of night?" he growled as he snatched up a handy white towel and took the stairs two at a time. At the last minute, he remembered he'd left his T-shirt downstairs.

Passing through the pitch black, newly renovated kitchen, he wrapped the towel around his neck, using a dangling end to mop his forehead.

The annoying sound shrilled through the house again as he skirted the dining room and made his way into the living room.

"Hold your horses," he said as he yanked open the front door. Shock rippled through him as he stared at his late night visitor on the other side of the screen door. She never made unscheduled visits. "Bree." Her name came out on a thready breath.

"Can I come in? I need to talk to you." Her husky voice sent tingles down his spine.

He shoved open the screen door. The hinges protested sharply. He kept his hand on the cool metal, his arm stiff, so she could pass by. She took her sweet time entering.

A waft of her heady scent tickled his senses. Her lengthy perusal of his nearly naked body caused his middle to knot. Her gaze lingered on his gray workout shorts, making him fear she'd get an eyeful in a minute.

"Why are you here?" he asked, still standing less than a foot away from her as he released the door. The squeak that followed grated along his strained nerves.

"I told you, to talk." She broke the invisible threads that bound them together as she moved inside. "I hope I didn't disturb you."

Lady, you always disturb me, more than you'll ever know.

Closing the door, he cupped her elbow and directed her beyond the night shrouded dining room and into the starlit sun room.

Her warmth seeped into the empty spaces in his splintered core, making him want to hold on for much longer. With his thumb he found the pulse point in the fold of her arm, detecting the jump in the rapid beats. He figured he wasn't the only one affected by the closeness and the physical attraction.

She pulled away when they entered the plant-filled, glassed-in addition, creating distance. A sharp ache behind his rib cage throbbed to life.

The lush potted plants blended to concoct a fragrant bouquet. The overhanging blossoms caressed Bree's cheek as she passed by. Nick longed to do the same.

Switching on a lamp near Nana's favorite stuffed peach armchair, Nick squinted at the blare of harsh light, and then focused on Bree's pale, almost pasty, complexion.

"Is Sydney all right?" His heart stilled.

"Yes. I'd tell you right away if she were hurt. You know that."

Nick released a ragged breath, thankful that his granddaughter's health hadn't brought Bree on this late night mission. But Bree's profile warned him of the serious nature of the conversation.

"I...I think we should reconsider Gil's advice," she choked out.

It felt like a bombshell went off in his head. Jolting himself out of his frozen stance, Nick moved to Bree's side. She turned to face him.

Her hazel eyes, now a medium blue, halted the countless questions buzzing in his head. He'd seen that shade only when she cried.

Something inside Nick twisted, wringing out a river of sympathy, a well of despair. "Is marriage to me so distasteful?"

# Chapter 4

Bree gulped in a breath, furious at the tears smarting the backs of her eyes. Part of her wished she could walk out and erase the whole humbling episode. The other half, the half that cheered on Sydney's welfare, kept Bree's feet planted firmly in place.

"I barely know you," she lied, sidestepping a direct response. "I want what's best for Sydney."

"And what about you?"

She stared at his firm chin, avoiding the tempting display of hard, male flesh and the whorls of damp dark hair peppering his wide chest.

Silence hung in the air. Tension swirled between his heated body and hers. Sandalwood after-shave mingled with his male scent, making her dizzy.

What had he asked her? She dragged her attention back to the question. An alarm rang in her head when she remembered.

Holding her breath, she ran several options through her scrambling brain. She always came back to one: lie like the devil. "Oh, all right, I'll tell you, if you _must_ know. I need help."

She chanced a peek at his face. A puzzled look replaced the stunned expression of earlier.

"What kind of help?" The hint of sympathy in his words surprised her.

"Uh...I've taken on too much with the shop and all." Well, you have, she soothed herself for the exaggeration, the blatant deception. "I'm working night and day to keep it afloat and I miss Sydney. Hiring a lawyer to battle it out in court with you... Well, it will set me back, way back." Her voice cracked.

She disliked this weakness, this vulnerability. But she knew she had to convince Nick of the soundness of this proposition, for her daughter's sake. And the one sure way to achieve that lofty goal seemed to be by baring her concerns, her soul.

_After all, he isn't heartless, even where I'm concerned_. Hadn't he shown her that time and time again?

"If you needed more money than all you had to do was ask me. I'll write you a check right now. How much?"

A blistering heat slapped her cheeks. She stepped away, hiding her embarrassment. She prided herself on her financial independence, her resourcefulness. It rankled to have Nick think she failed.

Think of Sydney, she reminded herself.

Facing the back glass wall once again, Bree encountered the abundance of Nana's gardening passion, her labor of love. Breathing in deeply, inhaling the pungent floral perfume, she curtailed her retort, the unvarnished truth. Instead, Bree said tightly, "I'm not destitute."

"Even if you were you'd reject my offer, wouldn't you?" he snapped.

Watching his reflection through the spindly arms of an Ivy, she noticed him dragging the end of his towel over his face. His frustration, thick and rock-like, swelled in the silence that followed.

"I didn't come here to fight with you, Nick," she said gently, mindful of his banked emotions.

"No, but that's what we always end up doing anyway."

"Not always," she reminded him.

He sighed. "Vinnie was our referee on more than one occasion." He paused. "Then Nana."

"There were some civil moments."

"Some. Mostly after Sydney was born."

"Yeah." She paused, debating the wisdom to probe a sore subject. Twisting around to face him, she put it on the table. "I didn't corrupt Vinnie. Being six years older than him doesn't mean I manipulated him or the situation. He's the one who insisted on marrying me."

"I should hope I raised him right so he wouldn't shirk his responsibilities. But he was far too young to get involved with you."

A fiery ball of resentment sat in her chest, heavy and pressing. She held back the bubbling candor, robbing herself once again of the acquittal, the satisfaction.

For Sydney's sake, for my little girl's peace of mind, she reminded herself, knowing in Nick's eyes she'd always be branded as an older woman stealing his son.

Even an all-out brawl would fail to solve the many differences they hung onto, Bree admitted. She bypassed her normal direct combativeness and doggedly proceeded with the matter at hand. "As long as we always put Sydney first I don't see any problems with a marriage of convenience."

Cold, stark pain mixed with stunned disbelief in the glare he shot her. "You've lost your mind."

"Probably."

"For God's sake, I can't marry my son's wife." She heard the sense of betrayal coloring his words.

"Widow," she corrected, a fresh wave of heat igniting in her cheeks. She'd rip out her tongue before she admitted that "wife" hardly described her role in her sham of a marriage.

"It adds up to the same for me, no matter how you present it."

Her chest ached with the violent action her thundering heart put her through. "So, I take it the answer is no then."

Nick froze, his hands curled around the ends of the crumpled white towel circling his neck. Despair robbed her of action. If she wished for even a thimbleful of dignity she'd leave right now. Instead, she waited for his final reply, the final blow to her self-respect.

She saw, as well as felt, Nick relax. The palpable tension siphoned out of him like a leaky balloon, slow and steady.

He sighed. "All right, I'll marry you."

***

Two weeks later, Nick still found it difficult to explain his agreeing to the ridiculous farce about to take place.

At forty-two he never intended to wed again. His first experience proved he didn't do the compromising route very well.

Dorthea and he had battled, long and hard, for ten years, hanging on to a dead, non-existent relationship for their only child. He felt a well of sadness, regret even, after she died in a car accident when Vinnie was nine.

An image of twisted, blackened metal flashed through his head like a lightning bolt. The next zigzag of blinding light brought a picture of Dorthea's charred body. A river of guilt swelled; she'd wrapped the car around a tree trying to escape him and their loveless marriage on her way to her lover.

Thank heavens he'd arrived home earlier to stop her from taking Vinnie. Nick had snatched his son from the car with only moments to spare. He'd saved Vinnie that time, but failed later on.

A shiver coursed through Nick. He shook off the ghosts of the past and focused on the here and now.

The eerie stillness of the holy sanctuary of Father Thomas O'Malley's rectory office seemed to mock Nick's forthcoming union.

Even with the stacks of books littering the floor and the cluttered scarred desktop, Nick felt the power. The reverence of the church seeped into the tiny, tucked away room.

Alone, he prowled the perimeter of the dark space. Drawing near to the waist high book stand which bore the heavy weight of a huge weathered Bible, Nick hesitated. He shrugged, and then stopped, "Aw, what the h—" he cut himself off before correcting the word, "heck."

With a quivering hand, he touched the worn black leather. He jerked back as a ray of heat seared his palm. "Naw," he said shakily, rubbing his still hot hand. "It's all that force-fed religion growing up," he pacified himself.

He turned his back on the Bible just as he had his faith a year and a half earlier when Vinnie's life was snatched away, snuffed out.

Shaking his head to clear it, Nick patted the top left hand side of his black suit coat. The faint ruffling sound assured him that the legal document still remained in place.

He continually reiterated that the soon-to-be spoken nuptial's had more to do with raising Sydney than with the undeniable attraction he experienced with Bree. If he had to marry her, then he'd control the situation, he reasoned, tapping his hand against his chest once again.

He'd blindly gone into his alliance with Dorthea, relying on trust and faith. The end result proved sorely disappointing and disillusioning.

_I'll never make that mistake again._ This marriage would be far different than his first dreadful one. He held the insurance close to his heart.

Dropping his hand a couple of inches, Nick outlined the square jeweler's box resting in his inside pocket. A niggling sense of unease tickled his mind.

How could he present Bree with a wedding gift right after he issued his conditions? _How would you feel if she did this to you, Carletti?_

Grimacing, he mentally kicked himself for the single-minded insistence he'd applied to Gil. If he had any compunction at all he'd yank out the paper and rip if into tiny pieces. He slipped his hand between his suit jacket and shirt ready to follow through on his last twinge of guilt.

The door burst open then, crashing against the wall. Nick spun around, withdrawing his hand.

"Poppa," Sydney cried, rushing in. A whirlwind of white tulle dashed across the floor and launched itself at Nick.

He bent, scooping up the little girl. Hugging her tight, his heart expanded, filling to overflowing with love. "Princess." He kissed her soft, flushed cheek, and then pulled back a little to get a good look at her.

She smiled widely, showing off the small dimple at the corner of her mouth. Her blue eyes sparkled with delight. No sign of sadness shadowed her round features, something he'd longed to see.

"Do you like my new dress? Isn't it pretty? I just love the pink roses." With a stubby digit, she pointed to the silky waistband, fingering the clusters of pink roses circling her. "I picked them out and Mommy made it for me."

"She did?" Wonder and admiration colored his answer. "It's beautiful. And so are you." He kissed her on the cheek, making her giggle. It sounded like sweet music to his ears.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." Bree's husky voice, with a catch of hesitation in it, tugged at his middle.

Nick jerked his head to the doorway. His breath stuck in the back of his throat. The mid-thigh, ice blue satiny dress she wore molded itself to all the right places and exposed her long, shapely legs. "Wow," he whispered.

Sydney giggled again. "I think he likes it, Mommy. That means you're beautee...beautee..."

"Beautiful," Nick corrected, meaning it. He lowered Sydney to the floor and she raced to her mother's side, grabbing her hand.

"Why, thank you," Bree said almost shyly.

She failed to meet his gaze. Second thoughts? he wondered. Determination grew roots. She'd get one hell of a fight if she backed out.

That thought took him by surprise. But, once noted, it cemented itself in his mind, in his resolve. Bree would become his wife today, even if he had to fling her over his back caveman style and dump her on the altar.

He'd have his family, the family he yearned for, within the next hour. Nothing would stop him now.

"Go in, child," Father Thomas O'Malley said as he stood impatiently behind Bree.

Bree stepped in, moving to the desk. Sydney followed, but the angel paper weight soon caught her full attention. Bree leaned against the sturdy structure, gripping the edge as if her life depended on it. Nick saw the white-knuckled clasp, realizing this wasn't easy for her either. A knot of empathy crowded in his chest.

"I'm sorry for my shortness, Bree. I'm a little cranky today." Father Tom's kind, craggy face wrinkled in dismay.

His gray, fluffy brows lifted at the corners, like angel wings. Midnight blue, peeble-like eyes usually held a wealth of peace and serenity. Now, directed at Bree, they shone with contriteness. His bulbous nose dominated the center of his face, but his wide, ready smile captured the most attention.

He explained, "Gil and I have a standing bet every time the Red Sox plays the Yankees." He pulled out his tarnished silver pocket watch and flipped it open. "The game starts in a half hour." He clicked the lid shut, and then returned it to his vest.

"How much did you wager this time?" Bree asked, her tone one of forgiveness and understanding.

The sly grin transformed his worry-filled expression, his eyes twinkling in mischief. "If the Sox wins he has to come to church for a month of Sundays."

"And if they don't?" Nick prompted, arching a brow, curious at the losing end of this gamble. Father Tom and Gil were known to stack the decks high each and every time their teams competed, sometimes with hilarious outcomes.

The priest shuddered. "Now, son, we won't discuss that prospect. All I've got to say on that matter is it involves a chicken suit. I put in a good word, so we'll just have to have faith in the power of prayers." Father Tom looked heavenward and mumbled a desperate plea.

Bree's laughter sparked liquid fire in Nick's blood, tantalizing him, unnerving him.

Sydney slapped a hand to her forehead, saying, "Oh, brother."

"In this case, Oh, Father, would be more appropriate, wouldn't you agree, young lady?" Father Tom asked, fighting a smile, and then beaming as Sydney burst out laughing. He shook his head, muttering, "The lengths I go to to get parishioners to come to mass."

"You can't fool an old fool, Father," Nick said, wagging a finger at him, "you love the Sox just as much as I do."

"Care to place a wager yourself, Nick?" Gil asked, entering the room in long strides.

"Count me out," Nick said. "I've got a wedding to attend, then a nice long honeymoon."

"Speaking of which, shouldn't you two be getting this thing moving?" Gil shoved back the gray sleeve of his sport coat and checked the face of his oversized watch.

"You're right." Nick knew, with a degree of regret, he had to follow through on his initial plan. "You go with Father Tom, Princess, we'll be along in a minute." He caught the priest's curious look. "You don't mind, do you, Father?"

"No, not at all." Directing the way, he patted Sydney on her shoulder, saying, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about the Boston Red Sox, now would you?"

She looked up at him, smiling brightly. "Yep. I watch with Poppa all the time."

When the door closed and their conversation became muted, Nick turned to Bree. If anything, her grip had tightened and her face seemed devoid of color. The fear emitting from her pulsed, heavy and thick, clogging the air.

He hesitated, silently questioning the soundness of his intentions once again. The wreckage of his first marriage carved through his doubts, reminding him how it had soured. His resolve returned.

"What is it?" Bree asked, her voice reed-thin.

She dropped her gaze to his neatly knotted black tie, avoiding his direct stare. Part of him ached at her discomfort. The other part, the stronger part, pressed him onward.

_Don't do it, Nicholas,_ Nana's sharp warning blasted in his head, causing him to waver for another moment.

Gil, silent until now, burst out, "You mean you didn't tell her?" His disbelief and anger bounced off the walls.

Bree jerked to face Gil, and then twisted back to Nick. This time she chanced a look at him, a real honest-to-goodness minute passed as he captured that hazel stare, holding steady. He swore the shade changed several times, from distressing murky blue, to steely gray, to passionate jade green.

That last shade sent a whole host of impure thoughts cascading through his mind, thoughts better left unexpressed in a Catholic church. But there was no denying it: He wanted her. And by damn, he'd have her, his way.

He dug a hand into his inside breast pocket, extracting the thin folded piece of paper that defined who they were to become.

Stepping forward, he came within two feet of Bree. He held the form out to her. She snatched it quickly, as if he'd yank it away if she didn't grab it soon enough.

With trembling hands, she peeled back the edges, and then read. He watched and waited. Gasping, she turned a ghostly white.

Nick experienced a sinking sensation in his gut as he realized just how big a blunder he'd just made.

With wounded eyes, she found his, saying in a stunned whisper, "A prenuptial agreement."

# Chapter 5

The concrete evidence of Nick's lack of trust sat before Bree, chilling her to the bone. Crisp, black lettering against pristine white parchment blared the news. She skimmed the contents of the first paragraph: He wanted a real marriage.

Her knees buckled. She felt Gil's strong hands guide her to a nearby chair. She sank onto the cracked, black leather cushion, grateful for something to support her weight. Maybe it would help absorb the shock.

"I object to this, Nick," Gil spat out. "This union is an unorthodox situation to begin with. One I thought would bring a family together and smooth over the animosity brewing between you two. May I remind you, the only two people a little girl has left in this world. But, you can't blindside someone like this. What kind of marriage do you expect to have after pulling this kind of shenanigan?"

"One based on honesty." Nick growled, low and deep, rattling Bree even more.

Her body hummed with the foregone conclusion, the powerful enormity of the situation. He'd make love to her. She'd hoped, but never expected it. A flare of heat curled in her center.

The seductive, years old attraction would finally be culminated, consummated. With no barriers, she reminded herself, except the ones you erect yourself.

Gil's hand pressed down on her shoulder, warm and comforting. "You don't have to go through with this, Bree. Under the circumstances, I feel I can't legally, nor morally, advise you on this agreement. Find a good lawyer to take a look at this before you decide anything."

Craning her neck, she looked up at him. His features clouded, growing dark and filled with concern for her. She frowned. "So you don't think a real marriage will benefit me, a faithful one, it says here?"

"It's not that part that worries me." He shot Nick a glare. "I know this comes as a shock—"

"What part is the problem?" Silence greeted her question. She jerked her gaze back to the paper she held between her numb fingers. Scanning the rest of the page, she nearly tripped over the section devoted to Sydney.

Fury erupted, blazing a white-hot trail through her veins. Jumping to her feet, she confronted Nick. His granite-like expression gave nothing away. She jabbed a finger into his rock solid chest, emphasizing each word with a poke. "I will never give up my daughter, Carletti."

He endured the punishment. "Good, because I don't believe in divorce. This will assure both of us we'll stay together."

She pulled away, dropping her hand into a fist at her side. Somehow that didn't surprise her. Once, when Vinnie expounded on his unhappy childhood, he'd revealed his mother's penchant for threatening a divorce. Nick's adamant refusal was the only thing that kept the family intact.

"If I give you my word will that be enough?"

Skepticism washed over his features. "I tried trusting a woman once and it didn't work. I can't afford to make the same mistake twice."

_What have I gotten myself into? Will I always pay for what his first wife did to him?_ Vinnie had also disclosed Dorthea's remote, standoffish behavior, not only to her own son, but to Nick as well.

Apparently the only person the woman hadn't kept at bay turned out to be her young lover. The knowledge gave Bree an insight she welcomed, understanding the many demons of this complex man standing before her.

Dorthea betrayed her husband. Bree's heart clutched in her chest, in affinity, in renewed shame.

_Didn't I betray Vinnie by kissing Nick? No wonder he can't trust me now_.

She staggered under his piercing stare, under the incredible weight of the decision.

"If you really are solely motivated by Sydney's well-being then you'll have no problem signing on the dotted line." Nick threw down the challenge, an open invitation for her.

From her side of the fence, Bree had three choices: call the whole thing off which would disappoint her very excited daughter, plus create an opportunity for Nick to press on with the custody battle and undoubtedly expose Bree's secret; beg for more time to seek out a reputable lawyer; or sign the damn thing to show Nick she'd never been more serious about protecting her little girl.

Holding out her right hand, palm side up, she said, "Have you got a pen I can borrow?"

***

Standing beside Nick, brushing arms, Bree shook. The bouquet of white roses Nick had given her took a firm grip in order for it not to fly out of her trembling, sweaty hands and crash to the altar floor. Father Tom's continual soothing tone did nothing to calm her shattered nerves.

Nick shifted, glancing down at her as he wrapped a warm, steady arm around her, absorbing her shakes, smoothing over her fears and her many doubts.

Soon the quivering died down. Bree, encircled by Nick's heat and scent, allowed hope to spread. Some small part of him must feel something other than dislike, she reasoned, or he'd be immune to my distress.

Admiration, she guessed, having observed it in the look he sent her when she asked for his pen. She'd passed his test.

But one crystal clear fact haunted her: Nicholas Carletti didn't trust her worth a fig. The prenuptial agreement enforced that with icy, harsh reality.

What would he do if he ever found out I've been lying to him all these years?

***

Hours later, Nick pulled his black SUV into a large gravel parking lot. The crunching sound beneath the tires radiated through the silent truck. He'd passed the quaint little restaurant dozens of times since he'd bought the cabin near the lake years ago. This time, on his wedding day, he finally stopped.

Sliding into the only empty space in the back row, Nick shut down the engine. He did a double take when a shaft of dying sunlight hit the thick gold band circling his left ring finger. His heart jumped, and then settled into a fast pace.

Slowly, he undid his shoulder harness and pivoted in his seat, facing his sleeping bride. Wife, he mused, a frisson of awe mixed with fear tickled his spine. After all this time Bree was finally his.

Resting, she let her militant guard slip. This is how he longed for her to always look, soft, alluring, and receptive to him.

As her left cheek pressed against the back of the tall seat, a smile, small and teasing, tugged at the corners of her mouth, making him wonder what devilish scene she dreamt. He hoped he played a large role in it.

But somehow, recalling his unwarranted attack of earlier, Nick doubted it. Shamefaced now, he lambasted himself for pulling such a dumb stunt. He could have warned her, at least talked to her about it beforehand, instead of springing the prenuptial agreement on her only moments before the ceremony.

He thought winning his way meant everything. Now, he wasn't so certain. A fresh wave of remorse washed over him when he remembered the stricken look on Bree's face, the stark betrayal.

Gil had hit the sore spot that still gnawed at Nick: It sure the hell wasn't the best way to start a marriage.

Why did she always bring out the worst in him? Why did he distrust her so? Allowing her husband's father to kiss her on her first wedding day provided a clue. In fact, the tiny kernel of doubt grew to gigantic proportions after that telling incident.

Sighing, knowing he'd racked his brain for years and failed to find a reasonable excuse for both their parts, Nick brushed it aside once again.

Leaning forward, he tentatively reached out a hand, brushing the silky, pale gold bangs away. Her thick lashes cast dusky shadows on her creamy white skin. A delicate pink flush dotted her cheeks.

Now, he focused all his attention on her full, rosy lips. His insides tightened. His heart skipped a beat, and then thumped wildly.

"You're s'pose to kiss her awake." Sydney's whispery voice coming from the back seat had Nick jerking back his hand as if he'd been caught at some prank.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Nick said guiltily, twisting to catch her rub her eyes with doubled-up fists. "Just how long have you been up?"

"A while." Dropping her hands, she smiled with an inner knowledge, making Nick wonder how a five-year-old could know so damn much. "We in Hampsure yet?"

"Yes, and it's New Hampshire."

Unhooking her seat belt, Sydney moved closer, propping her chin on the back of his seat. "You've got to kiss Mommy like you're the handsome prince and she's sleeping beauty."

"Really? Fairy tales?"

"It's in the movie."

He chuckled, liking Old Walt immensely at the moment. Taking the advice of a little girl on how to treat his new bride seemed like a good idea to Nick, especially when Sydney knew Bree better than him. A tickle of nervousness wrapped its way around his gut, tying a knot. "If she gets mad at me will you back me up?"

Sydney nodded, flashing him a wide grin, revealing her dimple. "But she won't, you know. She likes when you kiss her."

That stopped him cold. "How do you know that?"

She rolled those big, cobalt blue eyes of hers, making him feel like an idiot for asking. Shaking her head, she said, "She made funny noises, 'member? Just like she does when she eats somethin' she loves like pizza."

For a brief moment, Nick was back at the church, leaning down toward Bree, slowly, biding his time, wondering if she'd turn her head to avoid the full force of his kiss.

She'd gasped as if her breath had caught and stuck in the back of her throat. Then, when he'd settled his lips on her soft luscious ones, she'd uttered a highly erotic sound, part moan, part groan. Heat had rushed through him like an inferno. He'd pulled away jerkily, sucking in a breath, gathering his scattered wits.

"Noises," Nick muttered under his breath now.

_"Nervous_ noises," Sydney said with emphasis.

He arched a brow at her astuteness. "Turn around and I will."

"Can't I watch?" The pleading look nearly did Nick in.

"No." He couldn't predict the outcome of this experiment. If it ended with a slap, fury, indifference, or, God willing, passion, Nick didn't want his granddaughter to witness it.

"Oh, brother," Sydney complained, but did as he asked.

He smiled at the little girl's hunched over form in the backseat, her face buried in her tiny hands. Then Nick directed his attention to _his_ sleeping beauty.

Cautiously, he leaned forward, inch by inch closing the gap. A hairbreadth away, he stilled, mesmerized. A sudden leap of panic jolted him into action. Here goes, he mused as he settled his lips over Bree's oh so soft, so lush ones.

Nick feathered delicate, experimental kisses across her mouth, admitting she tasted sweeter than anything he'd ever had in his entire life. Mindful of his audience in the back seat, he stifled the bubbling groan in his chest.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Nick, Bree stirred. A flare of heat slashed through him, warming his blood. With just his mouth touching her, he wanted more. Carefully, he placed his left hand on the back of her long neck. The silky, wispy strands of her short hair brushed his hand.

He pressed his mouth firmly on hers now, sliding his tongue between the seam of her lips, parting them. Her response, ready and willing, fueled him on. He delved in, seeking the sweet, hot cavern and caress of her mating tongue he'd only savored once before, too long ago for him. Like that other time, she tasted of potent red wine, wine they shared after their wedding ceremony.

Nick felt, as well as heard, Bree softly moan when he stroked his thumb down her satiny neck. Still connected to her, still kissing Bree, he inhaled sharply in reaction.

Her heavenly scent filled his lungs. The warm pressure of her small hands against his chest, and then wrapping around his neck, drew a long drawn out groan from him.

Bree froze in his arms, obviously coming fully awake. Nick pulled back, reluctantly breaking the embrace. Gazing into her now jade green, passion-filled eyes, Nick observed her sudden drop back to reality.

"Nick?"

Her horrified expression crushed his rising desire. But it was the way she'd uttered his name, the questioning lilt laced with stunned wonder, that whipped his heated blood into a frenzy of fury.

"Who the hell did you think it was?"

# Chapter 6

Bree held up the large menu, shielding herself from Nick's keen, probing glances opposite her. Her hands trembled, causing her to prop the ungainly bill of fare against her water glass. She stared blindly at the black script lettering, too numb by recent events to decipher the wording.

The charming little restaurant surprised and delighted her. It reminded Bree of an English country cottage with small intimate rooms lit with long tapered candles in sconces.

The warm glow of the nearby fire, nestled in the stone hearth, combated the unusual evening chill. Crisp white table linens donned the five circular tables scattered in the blue and white room.

The crystal glassware sparkled, the candlelight shafting through the facets like a ray of sunshine inside a prism. The faint sound of silverware and muted conversations drifted to her. And the mouthwatering aroma of baking bread and roast beef sharpened her, until now, latent appetite.

She chanced a peek over the top of her menu, encountering Nick's dark, unreadable stare. The heaviness of her wedding ring, and all that it meant, weighed on her mind.

Smiling weakly, she dropped her gaze back to the list. Words blurred, becoming unrecognizable. Her cheeks still stung with remembered mortification.

She'd lost control, allowing her desire full rein. A curl of heat swirled in her center at the memory of his firm, masculine lips. She'd never been kissed so thoroughly, so passionately before in all her life. And she'd never responded with such reckless abandon either.

She shifted in her seat as she recalled the erotic dream turning quickly to even better actuality. How could she erase the doubts, the momentary jealousy that shadowed Nick's expression when he'd asked her who she thought was kissing her? How could she convince him she'd become dumbfounded that her fantasy had come true?

Nick's rich voice carved through her thoughts. "What will you have?"

You, she bit back the hasty reply, the reply she'd yearned to give him earlier in the truck. Instead, she remained silent now as she did then.

Sydney piped up, "Do they have 'roni pizza?"

"No, Princess, I'm afraid not," Nick said with a smile in his voice. "But they do have cheeseburgers and French fries, will that do?"

"Yum, yum."

"I guess that means yes."

Bree grinned behind her shield, absorbing the easy interplay between Nick and her daughter. Her heart swelled with sudden, unexpected tenderness, for her little girl, for Nick.

At that startling thought, Bree jerked. She snapped the menu shut, and then cast it aside. Nick's arched brow prompted her to say the first thing that popped into her mind. "I'll try the special."

"Roast beef, it is then." He laid his menu on top of hers.

Sydney leaned toward Nick, whispering loudly, "Now, Poppa, can we do it now?"

Bree looked from her daughter, and then to Nick. He avoided her stare. Surprise washed over Bree when she spotted the dull flush rising in his cheeks.

"Sure, Princess." Nick dipped a hand inside his suit jacket, tugging out a multi-colored wrapped package. "Ah, this is...a wedding present. For you."

Almost bashfully, Nick passed the small rectangular box across the table. His vulnerability erased her own awkwardness, touching a soft spot in her center. Joy tickled her at the unexpected gesture.

"I helped pick it out." Sydney smiled widely.

With the package cradled in her palms, Bree giggled at the telltale cartoons encircling the box. "And I'm sure you chose the wrapping paper, too."

"Yep. I just _love_ Maxine."

"Ah..." Nick said, turning a brighter shade of red. "It's just a little something from both of us."

"Can I open it now, or should I wait?" Bree asked, teasing her daughter's streak of impatience.

"Now." Sydney inched closer in anticipation.

Slowly, almost reverently, Bree peeled away the colored newspaper. She wished to savor her first gift from her new husband.

"Hurry, Mommy."

Tongue-in-cheek, Bree answered, "Well, I wouldn't want to ruin the lovely paper, now would I?"

Sydney slapped her hand to her forehead and shook her head. "Oh, brother."

Bree laughed out loud and Nick followed suit. Her hand shook slightly as she gingerly lifted the lid of the blue velvet box. She gasped as the firelight bounced a flare across the shiny surface of a gold, heart-shaped locket.

"Go ahead and open it. You're gonna love it." Sydney rubbed her small hands together with glee.

Robbed of speech, Bree found the tiny latch and snapped the smooth top open. Tears smarted her eyes as she gazed at a picture of Nick and Sydney beaming back at her. "Where? How?"

She looked to Nick for the answers. He shrugged uncomfortably, dragging a hand over his face. "We planned it right after you and I decided to get married. When I took care of Sydney a few days ago we saw the idea through."

His stilted recital only warmed her more. It was obvious to Bree that he'd put great time and thought into arranging this special gift. She traced the script engraving on the inside of the lid. _Nick and Bree,_ along with their wedding date.

With trembling hands she closed the locket, and then fumbled with the catch. Finally she secured it around her neck, the pendant nestled between her breasts. Bree snatched up her napkin, blotting the moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes. "I don't know what to say. It's such a beautiful present. Thank you, Nick, I'll always treasure it."

"I'm glad you like it." His voice sounded rough and clouded with emotion.

"What about me? I helped." Sydney crossed her arms over her little chest.

"Oh, sweetpea, thank you so much." Bree caressed her daughter's cheek, drawing a wide smile. "It's the nicest thing anyone has ever given me. Besides you, of course."

"Is everything all right, folks?" the older, red-haired waitress asked as she joined them, eyeing Bree closely.

A tad embarrassed, Bree gave the lady a watery smile. "Oh, yes. I'm fine." She fingered the locket, cherishing it. The cool gold warmed instantly.

"It's nerves," Sydney said, nodding her head. "That's what Father Tom said anyway," she added as Bree turned to her.

"It must be the wedding day jitters," Bree fibbed, too overcome to tell anyone how touched she really was. A thick mixture of elation and awe clogged her throat. Optimism blossomed in her heart. _There is hope for Nick and me after all._ He'd just proved it to her.

"It's your wedding day?" A wide smile accompanied the waitress' question, etching soft, deep wrinkles into the woman's long face. Her pale green eyes danced in merriment.

"Yep," Sydney willing supplied. "And this is our 'ception."

"Reception," Bree corrected.

"Isn't this wonderful? Well, congratulations," the woman said while pumping Nick's hand. "This calls for a very special treat." She addressed Sydney now, asking, "Would you like to help me pick out a cake from the dessert cart?"

Sydney's eyes widened as she turned to Bree. A hopeful, expectant look cried out to her. "Can I, mommy?"

Bree nodded. Her reward was the happiness on the little round face beaming up at her.

"Oh, goodie." Sydney jumped down from her chair, and then skirted the table. "What kind do you want, Poppa?" she asked over her shoulder as she followed the lady to the three-tier cart, ten feet away.

"Chocolate," Bree and Nick said in unison. Bree locked gazes with Nick, exchanging a warm smile filled with loving memories.

"Nana."

Bree echoed that one word. "Nana." With warmth in her cheeks, she went on, "I can still remember the look on your face when you walked in on us."

"It can't be half as bad as seeing Nana covered from head to toe in flour."

Bree joined in his laughter. "You have to admit my first chocolate cake turned out pretty good."

"Yeah, it did," he said wistfully. "But it took Nana a week to get all the ingredients out of her hair. I swear her friends thought she'd dyed her hair all sorts of strange colors."

Bree laughed until more tears moistened her eyes. She dabbed at them with the corner of her napkin. "Remember how many precautions she took the next time?"

"I understood the shower cap, but when she pulled out the umbrella..." Nick chuckled, recalling the hilarious scene in his mind. Watching Bree, observing her unrestricted delight at the wedding gift and happy times, he felt a pool of sweet, shared sentimentality take 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 confided in him. What else didn't he know?

"Come on, honey, I'll carry you upstairs and help you get ready for bed," Bree coaxed.

"You, too."

"After I help your Poppa unload the truck, all right?"

"You'll stay with me?" Sydney asked. Her lower lip stuck out in a pout.

"Ah..." Bree hesitated.

Something inside Nick tightened, tying a thick, heavy knot. He'd shared Bree with so many people over the years, too many for his taste. He didn't deny Sydney needed her mother. But he'd be damned if a five-year-old dictated his sleeping arrangements.

_Start out as you intend to go,_ Nana's often used words of advice came to him now.

Nick kept his tone even, but heard the edge of steel all the same. "We discussed this all a few weeks ago, remember, Princess? Your mom and I told you we were going to get married and we'd all be a family. That means your mom and I are a couple now. And I think I should have a say so in where _my_ wife sleeps."

# Chapter 7

An hour later, Bree, clasping the precious locket to her chest, leaned her forehead against the cool pane of glass. She looked out into the dark night from Sydney's second floor bedroom window.

Her breath steamed on the glass, fogging her view. Her daughter's faint snoring in the bunk bed behind her comforted Bree, assuring her at least Sydney seemed at peace.

Hugging herself, Bree trembled. Her hands did little to heat her bare, icy arms. The thin T-shirt she now wore held no warmth or protection.

"You're not a virgin, silly," she scolded herself softly. It did nothing to still the quivers. "You might as well be for all the shaking you're doing. And for all your lack of experience."

That little remembered tidbit only increased her nervousness. Nick would discover that glaring fact soon enough, hence the problem.

She knew Nick waited for her on the front porch; he'd warned her when he came in to kiss Sydney goodnight. She shifted her stare to the roofed porch below and to her left, seeking him out.

The crescent moon cast silvery light across the yard. An arch of yellow widened as the door opened. A shadow moved restlessly, merging with the buttery luminosity, next swallowed into the darkness, and then materializing once again.

"Nick," she whispered, realizing he prowled the wide, wooden planks. He acted as jittery as she felt. That little bit of knowledge forged a lasting kinship with him.

After all, we're in this together, she reasoned. Her instinctive withdrawal from Nick splintered, and then peeled away.

Gathering her courage, Bree stood, straight and tall, ready to face the inevitable. Wiping her damp palms on her faded jeans, she marched out of the small room and down the stairway.

She slowed when she neared the big, wide opening to the porch. With each step, her heart crashed against her ribs in a wild tempo.

Gulping hard, she pressed on toward the threshold. She gasped in alarm as Nick came into view. He filled the frame, tall and broad-shouldered.

Lord, he looked handsome in his dark blue UCONN sweatshirt, a hint of white underneath revealing his T-shirt, and tight well-worn jeans. "I was just coming out..." her voice trailed off.

He stepped back, giving her room to pass. A wave of his body heat and his scent attacked her, causing her to stumble. He caught her easily, pulling her close. She held herself rigid for long, drawn-out moments, and then, in spite of her mental opposition, she succumbed to the irresistible man cradling her. Time stood still for Bree. Enveloped in his welcoming, comforting embrace, she drank it all in. His warm, large hands splayed on her back, reminded her of much needed balm to a raw wound.

Here she discovered a serenity she felt nowhere else. Here, in his strong arms, she received no harsh judgments, only solace from the guilt and shame she heaped on herself. Here she found a safe haven.

Tucking her face into the side of his neck, Bree inhaled the intoxicating combination of his tangy after-shave and his male scent. Bree leaned into him more, pressing her aching breasts to his rock solid chest, bringing an answering thrill to her blood.

Suddenly, he clamped his hands on her shoulders, pushing her away. "We need to talk." His words rang with strained determination.

Hurt, she pulled back. She berated herself for her fanciful notions; she had grave doubts he'd ever see her in a favorable light. The humiliation of her actions burned in her cheeks. "I owe you an apology." The stiffness in her voice could have starched a shirt.

Nick sighed, his hot breath fanning her face.

Twisting away, she turned her back on him. As she made her way to the porch steps on shaky legs, she heard him close the door with a definite click, stemming the stream of light.

Now only silvery moonbeams washed the landscape and the porch. Bree plopped down on the top stair, circling her knees with her arms. "I'm sorry. I thought that's what you wanted." That's what _you_ wanted, she said silently, her body still humming with delicious delight, her heart still thumping in her chest.

"It is and it isn't," Nick said, confusing her even more. He took a seat beside her. A mere four inches separated them.

"You've...lost me." She shivered. From the chilly night or from him, she couldn't say.

He yanked his sweatshirt off, and then handed it to her. "Here, take this." When she hesitated, he put it on her.

Some strange, invisible thread tugged at her heart as he tenderly smoothed the garment over her, making certain to cover her fully.

"Thank you," she whispered. The heat from his body clung to the fabric, surrounding her in badly needed warmth and sandalwood after-shave. Something low and deep tightened in her core, sending an ache mushrooming through her soul.

Why did she always want what she couldn't have? She knew Nick held fast to his loyalty to Vinnie, to his distrust of her.

Silence reined, blanketing Nick and her in a shared moment of awareness.

The peep frogs sang to each other in a song of loneliness, strumming a similar chord in her.

Bree looked on in wonder as stars twinkled in a rhythm all their own. The sweet scent of pine on the cool night air swirled around her, heightening her senses.

The world went on as it always had and always would. And Bree realized how strange life turned out; here she sat in awe beside the most appealing man she'd even known, her husband.

"I guess I have some explaining to do," Nick offered with a hint of reluctance, his rich voice a salve to her injured pride. Taking a deep breath, he went on, "In all my years on the force I've learned one vital key to relationships: communication. That's something you and I lack."

A stabbing pain speared Bree's chest; she knew he spoke the truth. She chuckled. It came out raw and strangled. "You can say that again. We've used others as a buffer, haven't we?"

"Yeah. Too much, it seems. Do you realize that for everything we've gone through in the last five and a half years we barely know each other?"

"I think I did that on purpose." She bit her bottom lip, afraid she'd revealed too much.

He turned to her. She felt the heat of his stare on her profile. Silently, she sensed he questioned her. Refusing to meet his gaze, she waited for him to speak.

"I did, too," his deep voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "I've read all the manuals, taken all the required courses while on the force, but when it comes to reality it's a different ball game all together."

She smiled, warmed by his insight, his willingness to form a healthy, happy marriage. Hope blossomed. "We've got Sydney's welfare in common, that should help some. It's a beginning."

"We have more than that in common. We both grew up as only children and lost our parents before we were twenty. Mine to a car accident, yours to illness."

"You were lucky to have Nana." She couldn't stop the wistfulness in her voice.

"Yeah. She was a character, though." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head. "All these years I'd always thought I took care of her, but, after losing her, I've discovered she was the one keeping me together."

Something sharp pierced Bree. Empathy. Without thinking, she shifted, her knee pressing against his thigh.

Reaching out, she placed her hand on his lower arm. Heat warmed her and the soft hairs on his arm tickled her palm. A current buzzed between them, making her highly aware of the intimate situation. "You helped each other in more ways than you realize, Nick."

Silvery light bathed his unreadable face. Somehow, in the ensuing silence, Bree understood the wealth of emotions that shafted through him, the well of grief and the healing power of love. She sensed an intangible bond forged them together.

"Thank you." His soft, vibrant voice slipped into her heart, into her soul. He lifted her hand from his arm, and then gently fitted it between his two palms, intertwining fingers.

The innocent clasp, and his stroking thumb, caused a sharp ache, a deep longing behind her rib cage. One half of her wished to yank her hand away from his fiery brand. But, the other half, the half that hungered for so much more, stilled her, accepting this tiny bit of heaven.

"There's more that links us than separates us," Bree said, trying to hold onto that ethereal cord. He squeezed her hand, in agreement, she hoped. The warmth seeped into the tiny cracked crevices of her center. "I never could find a way to thank you for all you did for me when I carried Sydney. You had this uncanny knack for calling me late at night right when I needed someone to talk to, to ward off the fears."

"Do you think I'd let you go through that alone?"

"Oh, I know you said you felt you should since Vinnie worked the graveyard shift, but, for whatever reason, you did it, I was grateful. And for all the times you and Nana just happened to be in the neighborhood and drop in on the evenings when Vinnie had a class, I can't tell you how much that meant to me." She stopped, embarrassed at her candor, at what she'd revealed.

A strained silence followed until he broke it. "I was ashamed of my son for not living up to his duties. I thought I taught him better." She knew how much that admission had cost him.

"Oh, Nick, don't blame yourself for that. In some ways, he was like you, but not in the ways that counted, at least to me. He grew scared. Instead of being at my side he dealt with it the only way he knew how, by distancing himself."

"Like Dorthea," Nick said, with a hint of stunned wonder as if he'd only just realized that fact.

"Not everyone lines up their priorities like you do. You put family first, you always have and you always will. That's one of the things I admire most about you. That's something we both share. I know, as much as it hurt me, that's why you wanted custody of Sydney; she's all the family you have left."

Nick stiffened his back. His guilt antenna went on alert. She gave him more credit than he deserved, more than he would ever accept. _Not when I betrayed my own flesh and blood by kissing her._

"You're wrong, you know." He felt her drawing away at his harsh tone, but held fast to her soft, tiny hand. He wanted license to touch more than her delicate hand. But he knew this wasn't the time or place to take such liberties. There was a still a wall between them. "I'm not that noble, so don't make me out to be or you'll be very disappointed."

She sighed, the rush of warm air caressing his face. "It's all that good old-fashioned Catholic guilt eating away at you. Don't be so tough on yourself."

He snorted. "It's not just habit. It's what I've earned."

"Your penitence? Is everything beyond forgiveness, according to your rigid rules and regulations?" Disgust colored her voice.

"It's what I believe."

"It's what you've been force-fed for years," she countered, irritating him. "I'm surprised at you, Nick, I'd heard you lost faith when Vinnie died. If you really had you wouldn't be living by the church's code of ethics any longer."

"Damn it, Bree!" He sucked in a ragged breath. Dropping her hand, he broke their fragile connection. He clenched his hands into fists, warring against the truth of her words. "Maybe it's _my_ code of honor. Did you ever think of that?"

"And there's no room for misdeeds, are there?" She sounded close to tears.

"Not in my book," he bit out, knowing how unreasonable it sounded, yet sticking to his creed.

"You're thinking everyone has to be this ultra-perfect, super person. We're not robots, Nick. Everyone makes mistakes, everyone deserves absolution." She faced forward again, hugging her legs.

A wave of regret assaulted him at the total loss of contact and at the usual nasty end to their conversations. "You wouldn't say that if you had to deal with some of the criminals I've met."

He ached to feel the same as Bree. He admired her bottomless reservoir of forgiveness, her unshakable belief in people, in God. He failed to find the same sterling qualities in himself anymore, ones he once held dear. That hurt, nagging his conscience. He'd lost everything when he'd lost Vinnie, including himself.

"There are reasons why people do what they do. They may not be rational or even understandable justifications even to me, but I allow room for that difference of opinion."

"Excuses, you mean." He paused, heaving a sigh, trying to dislodge the ever present weight on his soul. He despised the hard, cynical edge he'd adopted when his son died. "Lord, I hate liars." His faith in people had been sorely tested over the years. Doubts shadowed Nick, making him question the goodness, the honesty of others.

"Liars?" Her voice sounded empty.

He frowned. "You know, people who hide the truth."

"Maybe you can get them to add lying to the seven deadly sins, bringing the number to eight."

Her sarcasm cut deep. "It's got nothing to do with religion. I can't count the times I've had someone lie to my face. Lying is the one thing I will _never_ tolerate." Hadn't he lived with a barrel full of lies with Dorthea?

"Even if it's for a good cause?"

"No motive holds water against honesty."

She turned to him abruptly, taking him by surprise. In the dim light he watched her shadowed eyes shift back and forth, clearly trying to find a crack in his armor. Something in the way she searched signaled his suspicions. His gut churned, bile rising to his throat. He nearly choked on the bitterness.

"I'm warning you now. Don't ever lie to me, Bree."

She stilled, letting the pulsing silence blanket him. "Who made you judge and jury? Tell me? Is being a cop so damn important that you see things only as right and wrong? What about compassion for others, for yourself?"

"I don't deserve it."

"God, Nick, haven't you ever done something you've regretted, something you couldn't take back, but wish to hell you could? And in order to be able to look in the mirror every morning you've had to forgive yourself just so you could go on living?"

Something inside Nick fragmented into a thousand little pieces like shards of splintered glass. How could she know the demons he fought? "I can never grant myself mercy for what I did."

"What could you have done that's so bad? What could be so awful?" Her puzzled tone tore at him, jabbing at his loyalty, his honor.

He gave her one from a list of many, the one that would end this painful interrogation. "Kissing my son's wife."

Her shocked gasp rent the air. She moaned as if in pain. The sound tore him in two. "If you haven't been able to pardon yourself, then I have no chance, do I?"

Nick dragged a hand through his hair. "Not likely," he said in resignation, hating himself in the process and wondering when he'd become so heartless, so damned hurtful to Bree.

"I thought that by marrying me...you could at least put it behind you." Her voice throbbed with agony, ripping him apart even more. "I guess I was wrong."

Nick's thoughts whirled, crashing together. He had to find a way to salvage what little potential remained in repairing what he'd nearly destroyed. "We may never mend the past."

"We won't as long as you hold onto those uncompromising ideals you refuse to examine."

Her barb stung. Drawing strength from his desire to have a family once again, Nick continued, "If we can find a way to bury our ancient history, then maybe we can go on to have a pretty good future together."

"Just because you bury something doesn't mean it dies, Nick. You and I both know that; haven't we tried to do that with our forbidden kiss? It just festers and becomes infected. If we had talked it out when it happened maybe we wouldn't be in the position we're in now."

"Married?"

"Guilt ridden."

"Well, we can't change the past, can we?" He took a slow, deep breath, and then released it. Nick dismissed her attempts to hash out their terrible mistake. It was over and done with, the threatening repercussions gone along with Vinnie. "I'll be the first one to admit we've made this huge leap from antagonists to husband and wife. It's a little daunting to expect to switch gears so fast. Maybe we should look at this time at the cabin as an adjustment period."

"A sort of transition?"

"Consider it a start to lay down a foundation of friendship."

"Friendship..." She'd ended the word on a questioning lilt. "But you're the one that forced the issue of a real marriage with the prenuptial agreement. Are you taking it back now?"

He gritted his teeth, trying to stem the raw edge of his desire for her. He'd waited years to make love to her. What would a few more days matter? What he said next screamed against his body's needs. "We should get to know each other better first. I'm asking for a delay, that's all."

"A delay."

"You sound like a damn parrot. Don't you have anything worthwhile to say?"

"Well, excuse me for not being so _damned_ articulate!" She rose swiftly. Towering over him, she bit out, "If you didn't want to make love to me, Nick, then all you had to do is come right out and say so, not beat around the bush." She marched into the cabin. The loud click of the door shut him out once again.

He groaned. If she only knew just how much he wanted her, he thought, it would scare her just as much as it did him.

***

Bree stirred awake. Peeking under her lashes, she found herself alone in the king-size bed. Weak beams of predawn gray light penetrated the cracks in the twin shuttered windows, illuminating the shadows in the large, masculine master bedroom.

The curved indentation in the snowy-white pillowcase beside her told her Nick had finally sought rest sometime last night, without waking her, without consummating their marriage.

A flash of sadness shafted through her chest. And an ache grew, deep and strong. Bree sucked in a shaky breath. The sharp painful catch caused a knife-like stab to puncture her throat.

Moisture gathered in her eyes, making her vision swim in disjointed, blurred shapes.

Will I ever have a husband who wants me on my wedding night?

# Chapter 8

Sighing, Bree grabbed Nick's pillow to her, burying her face in the plush spongy softness and inhaling his special scent.

Anguish, low and deep, tugged at her, painfully reminding her how badly she wanted a real husband, one who loved her. In spite of her allegation, Bree sensed he wanted her. She may have little experience with men; she'd only been intimate with one, but she did detect desire in Nick.

The gentleness of his kiss yesterday still surprised her. Gentle wasn't a word she'd ever associated with Nick, not in conjunction with her at least. He'd sampled her lips, and then gauged her response before he carried on.

There was tenderness in him, and compassion, only he refused to acknowledge that aspect of himself. Why would he hide that? Why would he deny that vital part of himself? Did he see it as a weakness?

He suffered unduly, heaping mountains of accusations on his doorstep when in fact nothing of the sort rang true.

She'd thought the closeness they'd shared last night would pave the way for a frank discussion on his son, therefore releasing Nick from his prison of guilt. But, he'd obstinately held onto his strong, unwavering stance on the entire matter, creating a wider rift between him and her.

And Bree realized now, the more she revealed about her life, the greater jeopardy she placed Sydney in.

Something I won't fall prey to any time in the near future, she vowed, filling with steely conviction.

Her past tainted her first marriage. She wouldn't allow it to destroy her second. Hadn't Nick made it perfectly clear he hated liars? She'd keep her secret barricaded behind a very high, unbreachable stone wall with Nick on the other side.

But, she refused to disregard how Nick stirred a need in her, one that hinted at affection, caring, passion and so much more.

She marveled at that untapped side of herself, the emotional neediness. No other man had approached that level of fulfillment, not even hinting at the wondrous delights a mere hug could evoke. No other man could give her the refuge she sought.

Bree planned to seek haven in Nick's arms. Hopefully, by doing so, he'd also find solace, and then grant himself some clemency for the whole host of crimes he swore he'd committed.

With a growing sense of rightness, determination sprouted. She'd give Nick her body, quenching this deep-seated craving to be cherished by him, releasing him from his self-imposed torment, but she'd never relinquish her precious, fragile secret.

That she'd guard with her life. And Sydney's.

***

Bree must have dozed off; the next thing she knew brilliant sunshine, like greedy fingers, clawed through the slats. The mouthwatering aroma of frying bacon, percolating coffee, and something else drifted to her. "Blueberries," she identified the third distinct scent. She groaned in appreciation.

Tossing off the covers, Bree rose hurriedly. Barefoot, and only wearing Nick's UCONN sweatshirt, she padded across the highly polished wood floor, down the narrow hallway, and then the stairway. She ran her fingers through her hair, straightening it as she went.

Rubbing the last of sleep out of her eyes, she rounded the corner to the large living room. Part of her wished to prolong her next meeting with Nick, wondering at the reception she'd get, and the other part stood in admiration. She loved this room.

The comfortable red sofa and chairs invited guests to sit and relax. The many artifacts surrounding the large stone fireplace on matching floor-to-ceiling, built-in natural wood shelves spoke of Nick's love of the Native American culture.

His house in Connecticut held Nana's touch. But here, in his log cabin, Nick's personality, his passion, beamed bright and strong.

She let her gaze sweep over the space, capturing the essence of the man she'd married. Tradition, heritage, family, loyalty, all screamed in unison. When she focused on the delicate sculpture of a mother cradling her infant, tenderness forged a path to Bree's center.

_That_ elusive quality in Nick presented itself on rare occasions. Or maybe he purposely kept his compassion under wraps, she guessed. But it was there, an integral, endearing component to the man. One he claimed he didn't possess.

He lied.

His deep voice intruded on her reverie, jolting her heart rate. He sang a familiar tune.

Bree walked softly to the kitchen, and then leaned a shoulder against the arched entryway. Sydney, dressed in a pink T-shirt and denim overalls, stood on a chair and lent her voice to the song. Her little girl assisted Nick in cooking breakfast. Bree's heart swelled at the touching scene.

He wore faded jeans that hugged his bottom and a form-fitting black T-shirt. She halted the impulse to walk to him, wrap her arms around his middle, and then press her face against his solid back.

When the last note drifted away, Bree clapped, gaining their attention. "You guys are great together. Just as good as Dino, in fact. Maybe you should go on the road with your act."

Sydney giggled. "And I can dance and put on a great big show. You can come, too, Mommy." She jumped down and ran to Bree, hugging her, and then scooted to the table to pull a chair out for her mother.

Nick's long, lingering perusal caused heat to enter her cheeks. Unmistakable male appreciation produced a zing tingling through her blood.

"The Singing Carlettis. How does that sound?" Nick asked, trying, with difficulty, to drag his thoughts back to the conversation. He could barely form the two sentences after seeing Bree standing there in nothing but his sweatshirt.

With her short hair tousled, no trace of makeup on her beautiful face, and his sweatshirt skimming her mid-thigh, revealing her shapely legs, Nick had never seen a sexier woman in his entire life.

He bet she wore nothing under his favorite shirt, he figured as he watched, mesmerized at the gentle sway of her full, unbound breasts as she walked to the breakfast table. His middle twisted in a tangle of knots, a myriad of desire.

"Can we really?" Sydney asked, her voice filled with hope.

He turned back to the frying pan, flipped the blueberry pancakes, and then chanced a glimpse over his shoulder.

_No, Carletti, you weren't delusional, she's still one hot woman. Just like when she was lying beside you in bed last night, sleeping soundly as you memorized every nuance of her features, heard every soft breath, and slowly drove yourself insane_.

Bree's chuckle sent a flare of heat shooting through his veins. "Sorry, sweetie," she said. "I'm not half as good as you and Nick when I sing. You certainly don't take after me in that regard."

"It must be in the Carletti family," Sydney said.

"Ah...yeah, that must be it."

Nick heard the hesitation, his years of training easily detecting the brief, uncomfortable pause. What could have caused it? Did Bree want her daughter to have nothing from his side? Or was it his direct link to her child that irked her so?

Irritated at the thought, Nick spoke a little more harshly than he intended. "You owe your mother an apology." He glanced at Sydney, urging her on after his discussion with her minutes before Bree arrived. His chest clenched as Sydney's smile vanished, her lower lip trembling.

"I'm sorry, Mommy, for being a brat last night."

Bree scooped up her little girl, wrapping Sydney in a big hug and placing a kiss on her temple. "You weren't a brat, just a tad crabby after a very long day. You're forgiven."

Nick's heart contracted, wishing she'd forgive him as quickly, wishing he could follow Bree's lead and do the same to her. But he couldn't. For Vinnie's sake, he needed to press onward, uncover the secrets, and shed some light on this woman, on his doubts. Maybe then Nick could cut some slack on his tortured soul.

"Anyone hungry?" He broke the awkwardness.

Fifteen minutes later, sitting opposite Bree, Nick smiled inwardly at the woman's ferocious appetite.

"Mmmmm. This is so good." She closed her eyes as she savored a morsel. Nick conjured up erotic images of her.

With a great deal of difficulty, he swallowed his last bite of blueberry pancake.

"See, I told you she makes noises when she likes something," Sydney said, and then popped a fork full of pancakes into her tiny mouth.

"Yeah," he murmured, recalling Bree's moans when he kissed her, long and slow.

Opening her eyes, Bree sought his. Hers widened and shifted to green, clearly telling him without words they both thought the same thing. An answering awareness hummed in his middle.

"Just wait 'til you see what's in the picnic basket, mommy."

Bree averted her stare, turning to her daughter. "Picnic basket?"

Was it his imagination or did her voice sound deeper, huskier? "Unless you have any objections, I thought we could hike around the lake, eat lunch, and go for a dip," he explained.

"Poppa promised he'd teach me how to swim today."

"Well, tell me about what you've packed and maybe you'll sell me on this hike," Bree said teasingly, returning to her food.

"It's a secret."

She pointed her fork at Sydney. "Now, that makes me want to know even more, young lady."

"You'll just have to trust us." Nick swore her neck cracked from the speed she'd twisted to face him.

All signs of amusement evaporated. Sober now, she frowned. "Trust you, hmm? Can you do the same so easily if I asked you?"

He heard, as well as felt, the tension, stretched to unbearable lengths. She'd thrown down a challenge she knew he couldn't, wouldn't accept. He had to diffuse the strained situation fast. "Okay, you can pack the next surprise picnic basket."

He witnessed the momentary hurt that slashed across her expression. It disappeared just as quickly as it had shown itself, making him wonder for a second if he'd seen it at all. The steel band tightened another notch around his chest, telling him he had without a doubt.

"I'll help," Sydney offered. "I'm real good at picking stuff for the basket. Right, Poppa?"

He smiled at his beaming granddaughter, her lips shiny from maple syrup. "Right, Princess."

"Well now, it sounds like I'll have to scavenger the cupboards to outdo you." Bree directed the last at Nick, obviously playing along for Sydney's sake.

"You've got plenty to choose from. My caretakers stocked up for me, so much so I doubt we'll get through half of it before we leave in two weeks."

"Don't be too certain about that, Carletti, Sydney and I love to eat."

Chuckling, he looked at the empty platter in the center of the round pine table. "You don't have to tell me."

A comfortable silence settled over him as Nick sipped his rich black coffee. The pungent liquid hit the spot, the perfect way to end a good meal.

"Can I have a baby?" Sydney asked.

# Chapter 9

Nick choked as he set down his mug. He grabbed for his napkin, coughing into the stiff paper. "Wh...what did you say?" He barely managed the words through his raspy throat.

Bree's fork clattered to her plate. The noise resounded in the now taut atmosphere. "A baby? Don't you mean a puppy?"

"Nope." Sydney gulped down the last of her milk, and then set the glass near the edge of the table. A big white mustache remained which she promptly scrubbed off with the back of her hand.

"A baby doll?" Bree's tone sounded hopeful as she moved the precariously placed glass to a safer spot.

"Uh uh. A _baby_ baby. Sherrie's mommy and her new daddy gave her one. It's a boy."

Somewhat under control once again, Nick crumpled the paper napkin in his hand as he gazed at Sydney. Her innocent expression told him she was dead serious. "Just because your best friend has a baby brother doesn't mean you have to have one."

"Oh no, I don't want a _boy._ I want a girl."

"A baby," Bree whispered.

The mention of a child stroked memories in Nick, mingling grief and joy. A long ago buried dream to have a large family rose to the forefront of his mind and poked at the bruised part of his heart.

Deep-seated sorrow slashed through his gut, razor-sharp and just as painful. Dorthea's lies robbed him of any more children; she'd been using birth control behind his back.

But it was the last ultimate betrayal that lacerated the thin thread left of his blinded view of their hideous marriage; she'd died with another man's baby in her womb.

Slowly, he turned to Bree. A dreamy look clouded her eyes and a smile played around her rosy lips. A fistful of longing slammed into him.

An image of Bree, round with his baby, stole his breath away. Instantly, fear for her health overshadowed his poignant musings. She'd nearly lost Sydney several times while carrying her. And Bree's own life had teetered in the balance. How could he ever place a dried up illusion ahead of Bree, jeopardizing her?

He came back to Earth, focusing on a list of valid excuses. "I'm too old to be raising babies, Bree. I'm forty-two and have twenty-plus years on the force. By all accounts, I could retire right now." With each lame reason he gave she withdrew by degrees, until she closed herself off to him.

"Of course," she said stiffly, wringing his heart in the process.

He couldn't yank away all her hope. "We can always talk more about this. Later. Nothing's definite yet."

"Sure." She pushed back from the table, her chair scraping along the hardwood floor, grating along his nerves. "Well, if we're ever to get on with that hike, then I better get changed. Finish your breakfast, sweetpea, I'll be down in a few minutes."

"'kay, but I still want a baby." Sydney stuffed a crispy piece of bacon into her mouth.

Nick rose. Throwing down his napkin, he realized he needed to make some attempt to gain Bree's forgiveness at his abrupt, uncensored, selfish remarks. As she walked away, he made one last bid to patch up the damage. He caught up with her at the end of the stairway.

"Bree," he called softly.

She stopped, twisting back to him with a puzzled look on her face.

"I never took a baby into account." He groaned inwardly as she sank deeper into herself.

"I know that, if you had you'd have put it in our prenuptial agreement." The brittle tone cracked his composure.

Nick advanced. Bree took a step in retreat, stopping when her back collided with the wall. Crowding her, Nick halted less than six inches away.

Awareness tingled in his abdomen, tightening the knot. He bit back on the bubbling desire. "Damn it, Bree." He expelled a heated breath, praying for control. "I'm thinking of you."

"Me? You didn't even ask. You didn't consider my side of things."

"Like hell." He clenched his jaw. "I relived every damned moment of you carrying Sydney. All the problems, the worries, the pain, the blood..." he trailed off, shying away from that awful time when he and Nana found Bree bleeding on her bathroom floor, too weak to get to a phone. "I can't put you through that kind of hell again."

"Nick," she said, raising a hand to his face, and then caressing his cheek. Grabbing her soft hand, he turned his head, kissing her palm. He held fast to her. "Why didn't you ever tell me how much you suffered?"

He drank in every detail on her lovely face, noting the pain shared memories brought. "And scare you even more than you already were? I couldn't do that to you, not with everything else you had to handle."

She blinked back the moisture clinging to the tips of her long lashes. "My Rock of Gibraltar."

The way she said it, the way she gazed at him, made Nick feel ten-feet tall as if he were some special man and not the flawed one he actually was.

Warmth crept into the tiny crevices in his fractured heart, sweeping away the chill that resided there. "Don't give me too much credit, sweetness. Believe me, I was shaking in my boots more than once."

That drew a trembling smile from her. "You coulda fooled me."

"My motto is: Never let them see you sweat."

"It worked. I never suspected for a minute you were just a mound of mush inside."

"Damn, you found me out."

She chuckled softly, sending delightful little tingles tripping along his nerve endings. "Nick, about the baby..."

He brushed his knuckles over her soft cheek. He'd never gamble with her health, never take the risk of losing her. For Sydney's sake, he tacked on quickly. "Yeah, a baby." He couldn't stop the wistfulness from coloring his words.

"I'm older, stronger, healthier, and I've been through it once already. Plus, by letting Tessa and Jewel buy into the beauty shop I won't be working so hard anymore. Maybe it won't be that bad the second time around."

Hope teased his battered soul. Would creating a baby heal them, mend their broken parts? The cynical side of him doubted it very much, doubted the deep, jagged scars could ever be buffed out of his core.

He pulled back, capturing her eager gaze. _How can I even consider having a baby with a woman I don't even trust? I did it with Dorthea and look where that landed me?_ "It's probably too much of a chance to take," he said as much in response to her as to his own inner musings.

Raw hurt flashed in her eyes and she wrestled her hand away from his. She quickly extinguished the telltale emotion, carefully schooling her expression. "I'll go see a specialist when we get back home. I'll submit to every test known to mankind if it will convince you of the outcome." Her stubborn streak emerged full force.

Nick smiled inwardly; this was his Bree, feisty, determined, never a quitter. Sobering, he thought the result of a medical exam couldn't offer him the answer he needed, the ironclad assurance to believe in Bree. Only she could give him what he wanted, but he sensed her reluctance to reveal her soul, her secrets.

A vision of his son rose in his mind, clear and sharp, poking at his age-old guilt. How could Nick even toy with the idea of conceiving a child with his late son's wife? Wouldn't continuing on as if Vinnie never existed be the ultimate betrayal?

"I don't think I can even consider having a baby with you, Bree."

All the color drained from her face, leaving her a ghostly shade of white. "Am I so terrible? Am I such a horrible mother?"

His middle clenched. Nick swallowed back his self-disgust. He hated himself for hurting her. "No one can replace Vinnie."

She winced visibly. Shrugging, she whispered, "For a moment that did cross my mind. I mean, giving you back what you'd lost." She sucked in a deep breath, and then said, "I guess that's just my guilt talking. I can't even begin to imagine what losing Sydney would do to me. But I do...did want to have more children. And I know how much you value family. I thought it might be a way to bring us together." Hugging her arms tightly, she waited for him to reply.

"The only thing that will ever do that is if you come clean with me. There's still so much about you I don't know, still too many hidden parts."

She swallowed hard and avoided his direct stare. "I'm not the only one who does that, Nick. How much longer can you keep all that grief bottled up inside you? And for how much longer will you take it out on me?"

He cursed under his breath, feeling the truth of her words as if she'd sprayed him with bullets. Avoiding a full blown argument, he said, "If I remember correctly, the subject was about babies. We'll shelf that crazy idea for the time being, all right? Let's focus on us, for now."

"Fine." Her voice croaked, and then she cleared her throat. "You, me, and Sydney, a real family, right? Isn't that why we got married in the first place? And isn't that why we should strive for a _real_ marriage, in every sense of the word?"

With that said, she nudged him away, and then turned toward the stairs.

Dawning hit him hard. He heard her barely concealed meaning. He'd demanded husbandly rights, yet refused to initiate his own rules.

_Always build a strong foundation first_ , Nana's words on long lasting relationships haunted him now, reminding him of his resolve to form a union with Bree based on honesty and mutual respect.

Bree brushed past him. Mesmerized, he watched as she climbed the stairs. Her round bottom stretched the fabric of his sweatshirt, hiking up the material to give him a tantalizing view of her shapely thighs and fantasies of what little remained covered.

_Lord, she's testing all my good intentions_ , Nick figured as a tornado of impure thoughts whipped him into a frenzy.

Halting in mid-step, she twisted around. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

He cocked an eyebrow, sending her a half smile. "Nope. Not a thing." He paused, scanning her slowly from head to toe, then back again. His blood pressure rose to dangerous heights. "I sure hope you didn't forget to pack that sexy little red bikini of yours."

***

Golden sunlight basked Bree's bikini-clad body as she lay face down on the soft blanket. Delicious heat replaced every cold fiber in her being, spreading warmth.

The coconut scent of sunscreen mingled with pungent pine and an array of blossoming flowers. The combined sounds of Nick's deep laughter, Sydney's giggles, and splashing water nearby sent a surge of joy straight to Bree's heart.

Five days of married life brought similar sensations to her. The last days of the dying summer created unlimited opportunities to swim, fish, hike, and picnic for her new family. Nothing but fun and happiness ruled the sunlight hours.

Over the last four nights however, with Sydney tucked safely in bed, the tension between Nick and Bree grew steadily. The strain rose to unbearable heights with each passing night.

Bree heaved a sigh, thinking the daytime kindness, concern, and sometimes tenderness Nick displayed toward her were only an apparition.

And the nighttime remoteness, distance, taut silence, and sporadic heated discussions were more true to his natural instincts toward her.

You should be used to that by now, she scolded herself. Hadn't her first husband stayed away? Financially Vinnie had provided for her, although she'd been too independent to rely completely on any man.

But, physically and emotionally, he'd abandoned her. Somehow, she'd never suffered at the absence of the essential components of marriage. Maybe because she'd never loved him like a wife should love a husband.

She'd dismissed it, thinking of a union based on friendship and caring could sustain a relationship. But it hadn't for her first one. And for her second, she had much less than that to depend on.

Awareness, attraction, desire, her mind ticked off what she and Nick did possess. It seemed strange to Bree she had lacked all these fundamental ingredients with Vinnie and still assumed the marriage would survive anything. How wrong she'd been.

"Use what you have to work with," she murmured, triggering a tantalizing thought. Could she seduce her own husband? Could Nick remain immune to her enticements? Did she have the nerve to try? And would that be the answer to her dilemma?

One thing Bree acknowledged. She must do everything in her power to halt Nick from burrowing into her past, something he'd attempted on far too many occasions in the last few days.

"Hey, don't nod off or you'll burn to a crisp," Nick said as he bent to grab a towel at her side.

Turning slightly, she held a hand to her brow and looked up at him. Her heart kicked in her chest at the long expanse of damp, bare flesh. Whorls of dark matted hair peppered his tall, broad body, causing her to fantasize on how he'd feel against her. In nothing but navy swim trunks, he stole the breath from her lungs.

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.

She'd changed into jeans and a white shirt. For most women the simple unisex attire would make them seem almost boyish. But for Bree, with the collar turned up, rolled up sleeves, and the tails knotted just above her cute little navel, she appeared sexier than all the high fashion models combined into one.

He glanced at her feet. One rested on its side, while the other sat atop the first with two toes split and hugging the big toe. _A sign of insecurity._

He held out a half-filled wine glass. "Here, I think we're going to need this."

She sent him a grateful smile, the corner of her mouth twitching. With a shaky hand, she accepted the fortification, gulping it greedily.

He took a quick swallow of his pungent ruby-red wine, praying that they'd both survive the attack of nervousness and the coming battle.

The stillness stretched to an uncomfortable waiting.

Nick took a stab at conversation. "I don't know what to say."

She sucked in a deep breath, and then expelled it on a wobbly laugh. "I don't either."

Silently, he berated himself, thinking he'd botched it once again. "Maybe, I just don't know where to start." He dragged a hand over his face. "Lord, how did we get so complicated?"

"We began that way, Nick."

His heart squeezed at the catch in her voice. His preconceived judgments condemned her long before he'd ever met her, he realized now. "I'm sorry, sweetness."

She jerked her gaze to his, allowing him to observe the change from green to the telltale blue behind the gathering moisture. Something twisted deep inside him.

Nick dropped down onto the stone hearth. The coolness of the stones penetrated his jeans, seeping into him. A trace of her haunting scent drifted to him, making him slightly dizzy.

She swallowed hard. "Things never work out the way you figure they will."

"No, they don't," he said softly, sensing the shared pain at loved ones taken too soon, at shattered relationships, at opportunities lost with each other. "I thought you were just like her."

"Her?" She frowned, clearly puzzled.

"Vinnie's mother."

He witnessed the shock ripple through her, causing one long shiver. An ache rushed through him, crying out to her.

Pale now, she bolted down the rest of her wine. With a shaky hand, she placed the goblet on a nearby table. Between gasps, she said, "I had no idea."

"Nana made the connection long before I ever did. She urged me to look at you with different eyes."

"But you couldn't."

"No, I _wouldn't_." Self-disgust crowded his middle. He pressed onward. "In the beginning, I loved Dorthea, as much as a young kid can love someone. I thought she felt the same, but she didn't. Not really. She did what was expected of her, marry and have a family. I guess you could call it a lop-sided marriage."

"Oh, Nick." Pain etched her words, tugging at him. "That's what you saw with Vinnie and me, a lop-sided marriage, too, wasn't it?"

"Yes," he dragged it out, grudgingly admiring her for speaking the obvious. He lifted his glass, taking another sip. The rich potent liquid flooded his taste buds, drowning out the bitterness. "At first I figured you cared little for him if you could kiss me like you did."

"What do you mean at first?" It seemed as if she held her breath for him to answer.

"He deserted you. Oh, I know he still lived with you, but he wasn't really there when you needed him the most."

"No, you were," she said gently. "I think he resented both of us for that."

"Resented us?"

"Yes, because he saw it as a weakness in himself."

Nick cupped his hand over his mouth, rubbing his forefinger over his lip in concentration. He dragged the past up, poking at the images until they turned around and stared him straight in the face. "He hated weakness of any kind."

"Once, when he'd had too much to drink, he told me about his mother. A part of him loved her, ached for her even, but he despised her for being weak, for needing another man."

Desolation consumed him. "I wished I'd known. Maybe I could have done something, helped him somehow."

"No one could help him in the end. He was so different. He thought he was invincible."

"The Teflon Man," Nick recalled the nickname their fellow officers had given Vinnie. "Nothing stuck to him. Except... The bullet."

She sucked in a shaky breath, gaining his attention. Sympathy radiated from her to him like warm tentacles, erasing the chill in his bones.

"I wish I could bring him back for you, ease your misery. You've lost so much, Nick." Her voice croaked on his name, tearing him up inside.

"I've lost everyone I ever cared about, sweetness. My parents, Dorthea, Vinnie, Nana..." He warred with the rest he longed to tell her. His heart skipped a beat, and then he cleared his throat, pushing onward, "I thought I'd lost you and Sydney. The only way I could get you two back was to file for custody of her."

She gave a tiny cry as she obviously sensed something in his demeanor. "But...you still think in some ways I'm like... _her._ "

"Yes." It felt as if he'd ripped the word from his center.

She swiped at the falling droplets from the corners of her eyes. "Because I needed another man, a man other than my husband. Even if that man was you."

"And because she was pregnant when she left me. With his baby."

All the color drained from Bree's face. "What are you talking about?" she whispered hoarsely.

"She did it deliberately. Call it revenge, or desperation to get away from me, but she planned it with cold calculation."

"So, how does that make me like her?"

"I thought you got pregnant on purpose to trick Vinnie into marrying you. The same way Dorthea trapped her boyfriend into running away with her."

Bree squeezed her hands in a white-knuckled grip in her lap. "You've got to believe me, Nick, I swear it was all Vinnie's idea. He pressed for the marriage when he found out I was expecting. He had to talk me into it." Her voice caught, and then broke.

He frowned. "I don't know what to believe about you two anymore."

She moaned as if in pain. "It's my word against a dead man's."

"And I'm inclined to see things my son's way." He hated himself for it, but he refused to deny how he felt. How could he turn his back on Vinnie now? How could he betray his son by believing Bree?

"Loyalty above all else, right, Nick?" The question throbbed with emotion.

"That's who I am." He offered no apology, no excuses.

"You live your life by the book. We broke a cardinal rule not even an hour after we met; we kissed. That has haunted us for all these years."

She paused for a moment, apparently trying to compose herself. "But the one thing you don't know is Vinnie saw us."

# Chapter 12

Naked, Nick sliced through the inky black, chilly water of the lake, leaving barely a ripple in his wake. He prayed, that with time, the numbness slowly invading his body would seep into his brain.

Chaos ricocheted in his head. One damning phrase echoed repeatedly, giving him no peace. _Vinnie knew._

Guilt, heavy and burdensome, gnawed at him.

Rack up another betrayal to my beloved son.

All these years, Nick had tried to hide his growing feelings for Bree, masking them under a huge veil of distrust and animosity. All that time Vinnie had known.

Nick mentally added this new piece of knowledge to all the other times and situations when he'd let his son down. The festering pool of churning remorse widened to allow another pail full of self-recriminations to enter, adding to his overtaxed conscience.

Tucking it away, in that deep-seated troubled spot of his soul, Nick came to face the cold, hard truth: Nothing could erase the terrible disloyalty he'd inflicted on his son.

He'd live with the disgrace for the rest of his life. All that was required of him now was to accept his punishment and try to move on to form some sort of life with Bree and Sydney.

The irony of the situation didn't fail him. He'd gotten what he wanted at the exorbitant price of losing his son.

A rustling sound and a twig snapping on shore halted Nick's progress. Treading water, he twisted.

He watched Bree settle on a patch of grass illuminated by the moonlight, her white shirt like a beacon in the night. A sinking sensation swamped his middle.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to finish our conversation," she said between chattering teeth.

At hearing her quivering response, the rampage smoldering in Nick, at himself and partly at Bree, slowly seeped out until only waves of aching pain remained, grief he'd tried to hold at bay.

_It hurts so damn much_.

Kicking out, Nick propelled himself toward her. He rotated his shoulders, one smooth stroke after another. Nearing land, he stood in waist deep water.

Only a few feet separated him from his clothes, but he hesitated, wondering if he should stay in the lake for Bree's sake or stride onto land without a stitch on.

The pine-scented breeze sent goose bumps skittering along his flesh, deciding for him.

He headed for his pile of clothing.

Bree's gasp stopped his forward movement for a moment.

She averted her eyes, and then cleared her throat. "I remembered how you like to work off steam by swimming, so I brought you this."

Leaning close, he snagged the large towel she offered him. He covered himself with half of it, and then began to rub himself dry. Her perfume clung to the soft fabric. A rush of yearning filled him.

He longed to hold her, but denied himself the pleasure. "Thanks." Her discomfort puzzled him. "What's wrong? Why can't you look at me?"

"Contrary to what you may think, Nick, I'm not used to seeing a naked man."

He frowned and tucked that little telling piece of information away. He sighed heavily, not caring to go into any more details of the ugly past. "What else can we say? Don't you think we've hurt each other enough for one night?"

"There's more." It came out on a moan.

Nick stilled. Dropping the towel as if it were on fire, he grabbed for his clothes, yanking them on with barely controlled desperation.

He needed protection to ward off any flinging arrows, words or otherwise. "Go on, say your peace. Then you can go back to the cabin. I don't know how much more I'll be able to take."

She sucked in a breath, and then released it in a rush. "Vinnie didn't have to witness that kiss to know there was something between us. He knew I wanted you. He suspected you felt the same way about me."

Waves of shock crashed down on Nick. He dragged an unsteady hand through his wet hair. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"He didn't tell me all of it until near the end. He said you and I were meant for each other." She hesitated for a moment. "We were going to end the marriage, Nick."

Darts of stunned wonder rained down on Nick, piercing his pristine image of his son, cracking the glass shell Nick had erected around Vinnie's memory.

Bitter disappointment flooded him, leaving a vile taste in its wake. "Divorce? My son knew I wouldn't abide by that. He knew cutting out on his responsibilities wasn't acceptable to me."

"I know. It goes against your hard and fast rules. Vinnie knew that, too. That's why he never told you, never confided in you. He wasn't up to a confrontation or a lecture."

"Sweet Jesus, what else don't I know?"

"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_.

# Chapter 13

"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."

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!"

# Chapter 14

"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."

"You're kidding?"

"I swear. It's the God's honest truth."

Throwing up her hands, Bree asked, "You think this miracle worker can do the same for us?"

Sobering, Nick said, "I don't think anything can erase the horrific times we've both been through in hospitals."

"Yeah, I know."

Bree reached out automatically, yearning to be close to him. _How much time do we have together? A week, a month, a year?_ Dread flooded her middle. It would be even less if he found out her secret.

Touching his wide solid chest, the soft springy hair tickled her palm and she longed to caress him freely, without restrictions, without guilt.

_Will I ever feel comfortable expressing my desires to Nick?_ Realizing how intimate the gesture seemed, she yanked her hand back and fidgeted with her hair, combing her fingers through the short strands. "Um...your shirt is still undone."

Nick glanced down, and then back at her as he redid the buttons. Heat crawled up her neck and she broke the stare. The air clogged with suppressed tension, setting her on edge.

_We're both probably thinking the same thing. If Sydney hadn't have been hurt we'd be making love right now._ The image flashed through her mind, sending a delicious buzz to her toes. The banked fire flared to life, shooting sparks of desire.

The magnetic pull of his gaze drew her eyes back to his, not allowing her to break the fragile link that connected them. "I'm not going to apologize for what happened, Bree."

"I never expected it, since there's no need for one."

He stepped closer, crowding her. With his thumb, he traced her lips. The rough texture of his skin created a flurry of tingles. "They're still swollen from our kisses."

Daringly, she darted out her tongue and touched his skin, savoring the tangy taste of him. _Will he taste the same all over or different in each and every spot?_ She wished to learn the answer.

He hissed and his eyes grew even darker. He pulled back slowly. "We'll continue this later." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.

A tiny thrill of excitement raced down Bree's spine. She swallowed hard, imagining what was to come.

_Should I tell him now? Would he believe me if I did?_ Clearing her throat, she ventured, "About Vinnie..."

Straightening as if bracing himself, he asked, "Yeah, can you imagine what Sydney's been carrying around with her all this time? It seems so logical for a kid to think that way now, but I had no idea, did you?"

She shook her head, failing to correct his misconception on what she'd wished to talk about. For just a little while longer she'd let him assume she'd led a normal life with his son. _He'll find out soon enough anyway._

# Chapter 15

Nick witnessed the guarded look drop into place, like a shutter closing off the real Bree. Brick by brick, she erected a wall between them, keeping him firmly on the other side.

Bitterness filled his mouth. For every one thing she'd confided, he suspected she held back at least ten. Would she ever let him in? Would he ever learn all the mysteries?

She'd been open and honest these last few hours. Now, she'd shut down completely, holding him at bay.

How could he smash it to pieces? How could he draw out the warm, loving woman who he'd held in his arms? He wished to have that person back, the lady who bared her soul, the woman who eased his guilty conscience and set him free of the burdens he carried for so long.

_I want to do the same for her, to ease all her troubles. But what is she hiding?_ She averted her eyes and a stab of age-old distrust poked him in the gut.

Would being vulnerable create the same in her? Nick sucked in a sharp breath, and then plunged forward, revealing a piece of himself he'd rarely ever done before. "I guess I only have myself to blame."

Confusion chased across her features. "What do you mean?"

"Sydney. I was so caught up in how I felt, how much I hurt, that I figured she'd worked everything out."

Bree squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and then focused on him. The haunted look in her troubled gaze nearly knocked him over. "I thought the same. She doesn't talk about him to me at all. I think she's trying to protect me, at least that's what the child psychologist said when we went to her right after he died."

He dragged a hand down his face. "Maybe it's because we don't talk about Vinnie unless we're angry or guilty or God knows what, but it's not out of loving memories."

She bit her lip and Nick yearned to nibble on it once again, to slowly draw out her hidden passionate nature. But he stomped down on that reaction and paid attention to her emotional needs.

"Oh, Bree, isn't there anything I did right by you and her?"

She gasped, clearly stunned by his question. "Don't do this, Nick, you've suffered enough as it is. Don't heap anymore on your plate."

"Maybe I deserve it." _Maybe it's God's way of saying I haven't been punished enough_.

"No." A horror-filled expression transformed her face. "Don't you dare do this to yourself. I won't allow you to."

Unable to look at her a moment longer, Nick turned his head away, seeing nurses and doctors at the end of the long corridor bustling to do their jobs. But the image of anger and empathy clouding Bree's features stayed, branding itself in his mind.

Reluctantly, he twisted back to her. "When I got to Vinnie's side I knew right then and there he was dead. It cut me in half and ripped out my heart." He halted, drawing in great gulps of air as he relived the most horrific night of his life. "I could barely function. Then, after the numbness faded, these knife-like pains stabbed me all over."

"Especially your heart," she whispered brokenly.

Nick frowned, wondering how she knew. _Had she felt the same way?_

"I went through it with my father, Nick. He died so unexpectedly. For the longest time I'd have these little power surges of sorrow whenever I thought about him. Sometimes I still do."

Stunned, Nick stared at her. _She does know._

Bree took a tentative step forward. She hesitated. He held open his arms and she went into them.

Clutching her tightly to his chest, Nick savored the feel of her softness against his hard body. Her sweet perfume filled his nostrils and he inhaled deeply, welcoming the sensations flooding him.

A sense of kinship beamed brightest. They'd experienced so many things together, yet never really shared any. For the first time in his life, Nick felt truly close to someone _. And I never want to give up this feeling._

Turning his head toward her, he brushed his cheek against the silky softness of her hair. A hint of green apple tickled his nose and he pressed his face fully into her neck.

Nick caressed her back, highly aware of the warmth and strength emitting from her to him _. She cared._

"He loved you so much, Nick," she whispered. "And he admired and respected you as a man."

Tears pricked Nick's eyes and he tried to blink them away. "It may not have been enough."

Bree pulled back so she could look up at him. Still encircled in his arms, she scowled. "It was more than some of us get. You taught him right from wrong, values, principles, compassion and so much more. But he still couldn't shake the link he had to Dorthea. He tried, but he couldn't run away from that part of himself. He hated it. And he hated her."

Stunned, Nick gawked at Bree. "He never said a word to me about it."

"He didn't want to hurt you by bringing up her name or the ugly past."

Nick squeezed his eyes shut, deluged with new information to explain his son's erratic behavior. "He tried to prove to me, himself, and everyone else he wasn't like her."

"But he was."

Like a creaky old door being pushed open and allowing light to shed where only darkness once lived, Nick saw it all so clearly. An icy hand clenched his heart, squeezing it painfully at what Bree had had to endure.

_Vinnie tried to prove he wasn't like Dorthea by marrying you, by trying to be a family man. And you, dear Bree, suffered greatly for it. I should know; I endured the same terrible treatment, the same manipulative mind games at the hands of his mother_.

# Chapter 16

Nick dragged his feet up the cabin stairs. He'd stalled long enough.

A half hour ago, he'd carried Sydney upstairs with Bree right behind him. Then he'd retreated quickly to clean up the splintered glass fragments and little pools of blood on the kitchen floor. He'd scrubbed the speckles of rusty-colored spots until long after they disappeared, hoping to erase the horrible memory of finding Sydney hurt and crying.

Now, with the sharp, pungent cleaning fluid still filling his nostrils, he gained the top stair, rounded the corner, and then stood in the doorway.

Bree, cradling a sleepy Sydney in her arms, rocked her daughter gently, singing a lullaby. He sucked in his breath, awed by the touching sight. _Mother and child._

The large rocking chair nearly swallowed them whole, but Bree displayed all the strength, courage, and love a mother bestowed on a child. A well of emotion choked Nick and he swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the huge lump in his throat.

Gratitude flowed through his veins for being allowed the chance to be a father figure to Sydney and, if truth be told, a husband to Bree. He realized he was more than adequate for the first job, but the second sent doubts chasing after one another.

Can I be the man Bree needs? Will she let me?

"Nick, I didn't know you were there," Bree said sheepishly. In the arch of the dim light, he noticed her cheeks pinken.

"I just got here." He shrugged, hating that he'd been the cause of her to stop singing in that soft, lilting voice of hers, one that soothed the broken pieces in his heart _. She obviously didn't give herself enough credit when it came to carrying a tune._

"Poppa, will you say my prayers with me tonight?" Sydney blinked up at him, her big blue, heavy-lidded eyes tearing him apart.

He stiffened, afraid she'd ask this once again. She'd requested him to assist her every night since they were here. He'd skillfully dodged the bullet, but not tonight. His earlier resistance at coming to her room burst forth.

_You should have stayed away, Carletti, and done everyone a favor_.

"I'm not very good at it, Princess." He stalled, looking to Bree for support.

"That's s'okay, I'll teach you how," Sydney offered, and then yawned loudly.

Inwardly, he groaned. _Now what?_

Bree took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. "Do you know you didn't like hospitals because you thought they only hurt people?" Bree paused for her daughter to nod in understanding. "Well, your poppa feels the same way about God."

Stunned, Nick could only stare at Bree. She'd summed up his lack of faith in two short sentences, putting words to the jumble in his soul, clarifying the chaos he'd lived with for months.

"Oooohhhh, now I get it." Sydney turned to him, smiling that angelic way of hers. "It's s'okay, Poppa, I was mad at Him too for a long time, but Mommy made it all better. We'll do the same for you, too, won't we, Mommy?" She faced Bree once again, scrubbing her eyes to dislodge the sleep in them.

"Only if he wants us to. What do you say, Nick, are you willing?"

A tangle of nerves churned in his middle. "You can always try." Heavy skepticism filled his tone, the doubt of her success evident.

She smiled sadly at him. "That's all we can ask, isn't it?"

A minute later, Nick knelt beside Sydney as she murmured her prayers. Looking over the top of the little girl's head, he encountered Bree's warm gaze as she too prayed with her daughter. The appeal in those sparkling hazel eyes had his heart turning over in his chest.

Sydney twisted, looking up at him with one eye open, saying, "You gotta say this part with me, Poppa. But first you do this." Her tiny hands fitted his palms together.

He grinned down at her. "What happens if I don't hold my hands like this? Won't He still be able to hear?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Of course." She leaned close and whispered, "He can hear _everything._ "

"Is that right?" He wished he believed the same, but knew He'd been deaf when it came to Nick's pitiful pleas one night eighteen months ago. Nick had never forgiven Him since.

"Uh huh, but we do this to help things along. See you point your fingers upward like you're sending them straight to heaven."

Suppressing a belly laugh, Nick bit the inside of his cheek.

"Say the same thing I do. You, too, Mommy," Sydney coached.

"Go ahead, honey," Bree said softly.

"God bless Mommy and Poppa and Nana and me."

Nick, along with Bree, repeated the prayer, touched that he'd been included in Sydney's nightly blessings.

"And God, especially bless my daddy while he's taking care of all the little boys and girls in heaven for their mommies and daddies."

Nick blinked back tears, too choked up to continue. _Where had she come up with that one?_ He chanced a peek at Bree and the answer dawned on him. Bree had made up this one. But why?

"Poppa..."

"It's all right, sweetpea, your poppa can say that one in his heart and not out loud since it might hurt too much." Bree copied the prayer word for word, and then explained to Nick, "Sydney and I talked it over and we decided that since Vinnie loved playing with kids that's what God needed him for in heaven."

She shrugged helplessly. Obviously she'd tried to find a purpose out of a senseless act and alleviate the unanswerable questions Sydney had surely asked.

Stunned, Nick stared at her. Vinnie had loved to play games with Sydney, sometimes to the exclusion of all else for hours on end. But being a playmate hardly qualified him for father of the year.

The discipline, hard work, daily chores, thankless duties, and endless lessons in how to behave fell onto Bree's small, overtaxed shoulders.

Nick cleared his throat. "He couldn't have gotten a better man for the job."

"That's funny, that's what Mommy said, too." Sydney beamed a megawatt smile at him, and then did the same to her mother. "Oops, we almost forgot to say Amen." She smacked her hand against her forehead and shook her head, saying, "Oh, brother."

Nick chuckled, releasing some of his pent-up emotions. A weight lifted from his middle, shifting the darkness to a dull gray. Maybe if he continued to view things through Sydney and Bree's perspective, their unusual perception of events, he'd become reacquainted with light and life once again.

***

"She's asleep," Bree whispered to him as she shut the door. The soft click sounded deafening in the ensuing silence.

Nick faced her as he stood on the landing. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he waited, unsure of what to do or say next.

She halted a few feet away, hugging her arms. The shadowed space concealed her usually expressive eyes so much so that Nick was at a lost on how to gauge her feelings.

She fidgeted with the wisps of hair caressing her neck, sending a need surging through Nick to do the same. "It's been some night, hasn't it?" she asked avoiding his stare.

"You can say that again."

She giggled, an obvious escape of nerves.

Part relief, part empathy flowed through Nick's middle. "Look, sweetness, let's just forget about our earlier...ah... plans. We've been to heaven, to hell, then back again in only a few hours. We'll pick up where we left off another time."

"Heaven?"

He gulped hard. "Holding you in my arms and kissing you felt like it."

She gasped, taking a tentative step toward him. "Me, too. But I thought I was the only one."

He saw the sparkle of her eyes in the dim light. His heart beat picked up speed. He inched forward, and then halted, uncertain of his reception. "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this," he said, his voice taking on a deeper edge.

"You're probably right. It's a big mistake." Her tone sounded breathy and he felt little darts of desire prick his core. But she drew closer, another small step.

"We should stop," he mumbled as he too advanced.

She nodded. "Now." With one last movement she stood toe to toe with him, only a few centimeters separated them.

Hesitantly, Nick lifted his hand and cupped her face. Her soft skin lured him and he rubbed his thumb over her cheek. "This is all wrong. The time, the atmosphere... Nothing is romantic or perfect the way it should be for you."

She leaned close. "For _us._ "

Her heady scent filled his nostrils, stirring the tangle in his center. He lowered his head, his lips scant inches from hers. "We should wait."

"You're absolutely right." She spoke the words against his lips. The hot, feathery strokes were his undoing.

Capturing her soft luscious lips, Nick brushed his back and forth against hers, eliciting whimpers from the back of her throat. The highly erotic sounds sent liquid warmth flooding Nick's blood. His abdomen tightened, curling like a hot coil.

Bree melted into him as Nick licked open her lips with his tongue, finding hers. The warning bells in her head vanished. Only a lightheadedness remained.

She inhaled, detecting the clean masculine scent of him. The slightly rough texture of his fingertips on her skin caused a longing to burst forth. She wished for him to touch every part of her with his big warm hands, to bring her alive.

As he deepened the embrace, Bree's knees buckled. She grabbed for him, hanging onto his solid strength. With one arm wrapped securely around her waist, Nick crushed her to him.

"Delicious," he whispered when he ended the kiss, only to trail his lips along her jaw to her ear. Nick nibbled gently, and then slowly suckled the lobe.

Bree clung to his broad shoulders. Warmth surrounded her. His mouth tugged once again and a dagger of desire shot through her body like a lightning bolt. She quivered in response.

"Stop me now, sweetness, or I won't be able to in a few minutes." His hot breath on her neck fanned embers of a fire banked years ago.

Pressing her face into the curve where his neck and shoulder met, Bree whispered brokenly, "I've wanted this for so long, Nick. Please, don't stop now."

She absorbed the tremor that racked him, catching his sharp, indrawn breath. The rapid increase in his heart beat thumped erratically against her full breasts, and the sudden leap in his pulse strummed in the vein on his neck where her lips lay.

One moment she was on her feet, the next in Nick's arms as he picked her up and strode to their bedroom, cradling her close to his wide chest. He kicked the door shut, the click resounding in her head, creating an even higher degree of intimacy in the dark room.

Gently, he placed her in the middle of the big bed, and then quickly joined her. She welcomed the weight of him pressing her into the mattress.

Shrouded in darkness, Bree's other senses took over, heightening and anticipating his every move.

His hot, ragged breath fanned her face as he propped himself on his elbow. With his free hand, he caressed her hair, his thick fingers tunneling through the short length over and over again.

His tall, hard frame melded to hers. She inhaled sharply at his arousal pulsing against her thigh. His potent sandalwood scent heightened her senses, enticing her even more. She licked her lips, tasting him and longed for more.

"I'm shaking, Bree. Just being this close to you, with so few barriers, I'm a mass of nerves."

His confession twisted her heart and gave her the courage to move forward. Blindly, she sought his face. She traced his features and smoothed away the tension.

"Me, too," she confessed in a tight, breathy voice. "We do pretty good at kissing, don't we? Why don't we just start there and see what happens."

He sucked in a breath. "You come up with some of the best ideas, sweetness."

A smile pulled one corner of her mouth upward. He bent down and nibbled on her lips. The little bites only increased her desire to taste him fully. She put action to her thoughts and held his head firmly in her hands while deepening the embrace.

The slow, deep, wet kiss went on and on. Bree, lost in him, released all hold to reality. She welcomed the surrender to the magic, to the sensations coursing through her body.

Liquid heat mushroomed from her core and spread its heavenly tentacles to the far regions of her body. She relished the feel of Nick surrounding her, cradling her in his big protective arms. _Warmth. Safety._

Wanting him closer, Bree spanned his shoulders with her hands, drawing him nearer. Still not completely satisfied, she hugged him tightly, wishing to merge with the strength and breadth of this incredible man.

He moved his hands down her back. The hot imprint seared through the thin material of her blouse. His fingertips skimmed the space where hem and waist band parted, awakening nerve endings she didn't know she'd possessed. She quivered, and then noted the answering tremble shoot through him.

When his slightly roughened thumb found her navel, she gasped and stilled. Breaking the long kiss, he repeated the gesture. She shook uncontrollably, clutching at his shoulders.

"Nick."

"You're so damn beautiful."

The declaration, along with his husky voice, sent a thrill arrowing through her. No one had ever meant it as much as she sensed Nick did at this moment.

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and the desire, mingled with a well of caring, encompassed her heart and soul. _Oh, to be cared for by this man._

The hungry desperation building inside her a moment ago, twisted and took on a new direction. Longing, sweet and aching, suffused her from head to toe like a tidal wave. Overwhelming emotion nearly choked off her reply, but she managed to swallow past it, saying, "I'm so lucky, Nick, to have you in my life."

Tenderly, she kissed him, attempting to show him with actions rather than just words. He must have tuned into the change in her, because he gentled his own response. He stroked the entire length of her body, softly, slowly drawing out the hidden pockets of her passion.

Bree reveled in his adoration, soaking up the poignant caresses and murmurs. The constant neediness inside her finally quieted, getting a heavy dose of devotion to quell the ever present pebble gnawing at her middle.

Like exquisite torture, Nick carefully peeled her blouse and jeans from her, discarding them in a pile near the bed. He shrugged out of his shirt and rejoined her.

She gasped as his hair-covered chest brushed against her. Even with the scraps of silk and lace of her bra and panty set separating them, Bree felt every hot inch of his torso pressed into hers.

Heat rolled off of his body, drawing Bree closer to the fire within. Tentatively, as if she'd soon disappear, Nick touched her, sending tingles coursing through her veins. The reverent way he trailed his fingertips over her caused Bree to shake.

"So delicate," Nick murmured in awe. "I've wanted to touch you like this since forever, sweetness."

She shivered. The coil of yearning in her center curled a little tighter. "Can I...feel you, too?"

"God, yes." It came out on a groan.

With a shaky hand, Bree reached up and felt his rock solid upper arm. "So much strength."

"I'd never hurt you, you've got to believe that."

A current of confidence took hold and she caressed him freely, delighting in the sheer magnificence of her husband. "I know."

He trembled beneath her seeking fingers and a flare of feminine power surged through her like a thunder bolt. "Kiss me, Nick, and please don't ever stop."

"Never?" She heard the smile in his voice.

He captured her lips in a searing embrace, robbing her of rhyme or reason. An ache, low and deep, tugged at Bree's center. The heat billowing inside of her grew to a fever pitch. But it was the flowering of her heart that stole the breath from her lungs and caused her to whimper.

Something inside her expanded, unfurling like a butterfly's wings. A sense of being lifted higher and higher, taking over as if she soared.

Spellbound by the sensations coursing through her, Bree suddenly found herself nude beneath Nick's naked body. Instead of being frightened by this, she delighted in the exquisite feel of his long, wide body sliding sensuously along her smaller, smoother one.

The tangy taste of his flesh as she brushed kisses over his face made her even more hungry for him. He was hot to the touch, the flame within burning as brightly as hers.

His purely masculine scent filled her senses, spiraling her upward. And his hands, so big and so powerful, stroked and teased every inch of her body to life.

Rapture sang in her middle, spreading out in rivers of utter bliss. His moans of pleasure and his steamy, ragged breaths in her ear sent shivers down her spine.

When he entered her, filling her completely, Bree gasped at the welcome intrusion and flew higher still. Clutching at his broad shoulders, she urged him to join her there. The ache increased, winding itself tighter in her core.

Being one with Nick, being the center of his sensual attention, nearly overwhelmed her. She basked in his unlimited supply of tenderness. His unqualified patience, uncanny sensitivity, and total consideration tugged at her heart, filling it to overflowing. No one had ever taken such great care of her, treasured her, as Nick did. She gloried in the way he cherished her.

The constriction inside of her intensified to almost painful degrees. She clung to Nick, to his rock-solid strength and reassuring presence, unsure of this new and scary sensation suffusing her.

Then suddenly, the coil sprung open, bursting into daggers of light, shooting stars, and unbearable ecstasy. She rode the wave of astonishing elation, marveling in Nick's similar reaction.

As Bree floated slowly back to Earth, still enfolded in her husband's comforting arms, she knew she'd never get enough of Nicholas Carletti's brand of loving.

Nick stirred. Surrounded by Bree he longed to stay wrapped in her arms forever. But, for her sake, he forced himself to withdraw his weight and roll over onto his back beside her. Panting, he gazed unseeingly up at the ceiling. Reality nudged his conscience.

He cursed under his breath, sat up quickly, and then swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Nick, what's wrong?" She touched his back in a feather- light caress, making him shiver with desire. He yanked away from any further enticement.

As he stood and faced her, he raked a hand through his damp hair, saying, "I hope you're using some kind of birth control, because I sure the hell didn't have any presence of mind to wear protection."

Her hurt gasp tore a hole right through him.

# Chapter 17

"Hey, Bree, wait a minute," Nick called as he rushed out of the cabin. He had to get her to accept his apology or he wouldn't be able to live with himself another moment.

Nick squinted against the harsh glare of morning sunlight. With only his jeans on, he ran after her as she headed to his SUV. The sharp edge of a stone bit into the tender part of his foot. He cursed, and then hobbled the rest of the way to her.

"Didn't you read my note?"

Her cool, controlled voice put him on alert. She averted her eyes, looking anywhere but at him as he halted in front of her, the vehicle at her back.

He dragged in a breath, painfully aware he'd forced himself to spend what little had remained of the night on the sofa. He longed to take her in his arms and recreate the magic they'd shared. _I want you_. But he held himself in check, trying to make amends first.

Highly attuned to every move she made, every breath she took, he rubbed the back of his neck, saying, "Listen, I owe you an apology. I was a jerk for snapping at you last night."

She visibly relaxed, her stiff shoulders dropping slightly. "I thought you were going to accuse me of...trying to get pregnant."

Something inside him twisted at the hurt lacing her words. He sighed heavily, admitting, "That did cross my mind."

She hissed as if injured. His middle clenched in agony, but he had to be straight with her; that's the only way he thought she'd open up to him.

For long, drawn out moments he surveyed her attire. Her denim skirt revealed her shapely legs and he recalled touching her there. _So silky._

His heart skipped a beat. And the simple pink T-shirt she wore showed off her ample cleavage. He blew out a hot breath. But the one thing he focused on turned the flare of desire to something else entirely.

_She's wearing my locket. Maybe there's still hope left after all_.

"Were you?" he asked softly, praying she'd say she wasn't trying to deceive him.

She jerked her head up, for the first time meeting his gaze. The tell-tale teary blue of her eyes sucked the wind from his sails. Dark circles lined the bottoms, proving she'd slept as little as he did.

Her paper-white skin lent credence to the strain he'd put her under. He winced, mentally kicking himself for the harm he'd inflicted.

"You'd believe me? However I answered?"

"All I want is the truth." Hesitantly, he raised his hand to her, stroking a knuckle down her smooth cheek. Nick longed to take her in his arms and get lost in her comforting embrace, to blot out the ever present pain and welcome her acceptance of him.

"I swear, Nick, I wasn't even thinking along those lines. I just wanted to be close to you." Her voice broke, but she pressed on. "When you're near me I can't seem to think straight. And when we kiss, well, it's even worse." Pink crept up her neck and flooded her cheeks.

He frowned, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Worse?"

She chuckled, lightly jabbing him in the stomach. "You know what I mean."

He grabbed her fist before she could withdraw completely. Uncurling her fingers slowly, he flattened her palm against his chest, knowing she'd detect his hammering heart. "And how about when you touch me?"

Her tiny gasp sent tingles skipping through his blood and joy surging in his soul. "Yeah, me, too," he whispered hoarsely.

Yanking back her hand as if it were on fire, Bree rubbed her palm. "The timing is off, so I doubt if there's any need for you to worry about a...baby." A little chunk of his heart tore off at the catch in her voice. "Well, I should be going to town." He heard the forced determination in her tone. "We've been here a week and I haven't even called once about my beauty shop. I promised to check in with Jewel and Tessa long before now."

"And you want to try and hurry so you'll be back before Sydney wakes up, right? I did read your note."

She fidgeted with her hair and shot him a half smile. "I'm not good at this, Nick."

"What, driving? I know you've got a lead foot," he teased her. He read volumes in the glare she sent him from under her lashes: Don't start with me on that again.

"Not that. Us. The morning after, isn't that what people call it?"

A tightness constricted around his chest, squeezing. "Hell, I don't even do _right_ after well, what makes you think I can do this at all." Silence blanketed him, heavy and suffocating.

Tentatively, he closed the small gap between them. Framing her delicate face with his palms, he tilted her chin upward so now he locked gazes with her. "Bree, I'm sorry I hurt you. If I could, I'd drag it back. But I can't, so I'm asking for your forgiveness." He ran a thumb over her lips as they parted. "Wait, I need to finish while I've still got the courage—"

"But you're the most courageous person I know."

His heart hitched. He dropped a light kiss on her forehead, her silky bangs brushing his lips. "Ah, sweetness, you see me like no one else does."

"I see you as you really are, someone you think you lost a year and a half ago. But you didn't, you know. You've done your damnest to bury him right along with Vinnie, but you can't because that good guy keeps shining through, in spite of your best efforts."

Awe snatched the breath from his lungs _. How did she know so much?_ He squeezed his eyes shut, like a drowning man holding onto the fragile lifeline she threw him. Opening his eyes, he searched her face. "I don't know if I can live up to all your expectations, honey."

"I only want you to be who you are, Nick, no one else."

"I've let you down so much already. And it doesn't look like there's an end in sight. Last night is the perfect reminder. I don't want to hurt you anymore. I never really did in the first place. But I guess I've been doing it unintentionally for so long that it seems almost second nature to me now." He paused for a moment, measuring his words. "It's just not _you_ I can't trust, it's...everyone."

Dawning entered her expressive eyes. "Especially yourself, right? You can't trust your own judgment, about God, about life, about me. And you hate yourself for it," she whispered softly.

A hollow ache behind his chest throbbed. Swallowing hard, he washed away the lump in his throat. He pulled away from her, and then dragged his hands through his hair. He choked out, "Pretty pathetic, huh?"

"No." She shook her head and grabbed at his arms, lowering them to his sides. "We all fight the demon attacks in our own way, Nick. You've just turned yours inward...and at me."

He watched hurt flash in the depths of her eyes and a corresponding pain ripped through his gut. "I wish it were different, I wish _I_ were different. Lord, I'm surprised you even wanted to marry me, knowing half the stuff you did about me."

She averted her face and hugged herself tightly. "It was the best choice for Sydney."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "And what about you?" Holding his breath, he waited for her response.

She took her time in answering. "I get all the fringe benefits."

He smiled tightly; it wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear. "And are they worth it?"

Taking a step backward, she bumped up against the SUV. "What do you mean?"

"I think you know what I'm asking." He sighed heavily. "We both know I'm not exactly the best husband—"

"For me you are."

Startled at her hasty, candid response, he stilled. She dropped her gaze to the ground and scuffed a sandaled foot in the dirt.

"Does that mean you forgive me for last night?" he asked softly, afraid she'd answer in the negative.

If it were possible Nick swore her chin sank deeper into her chest. He glanced at her bowed head, the sun lighting the beautiful blonde hair to an even brighter shade of spun gold. An ache shot through him at her remoteness, at the protective barrier she once again erected between them.

Please, don't lie to me, he prayed.

When she remained silent, Nick pressed on, hoping to repair some of the damage he'd inflicted. "I could make a whole list of excuses for pinning the blame on you last night for not making sure about birth control. I won't. We're supposed to be a team now, a family... Hell, I even brought a box of condoms along."

Bree jerked her head up, meeting Nick's dark stare. The self-recriminations he privately heaped on himself were written all over his features. "What?"

He winced and dragged a hand over his face, and then through his hair. Twin flags of red dotted his cheeks. "That's right, I got so carried away I forgot."

Stunned wonder rained down on Bree. The tight ball of anxiety resting in her middle shifted, and then melted away. _He'd said the same thing I'd heard after the only other time I'd ever made love, the night Sydney was conceived. Now, he regretted his part in the lack of birth control and putting her at risk, while Sydney's father hadn't one bit_.

Thinking quickly to cover the awkwardness, Bree said the first thing that popped into her dazed mind, "Is that a compliment or a complaint, Carletti?"

He shot her a devilish smile. "Guess."

Her heart tripped over itself, thundering wildly in her chest. Tiny thrills danced down her spine, leaving a tingling sensation in its place. Breathing in deeply, she detected his wonderful male scent. His bare torso drew her attention and she longed to trail her fingertips over the soft, springy dusting of hair that arrowed below his waistband.

Licking her suddenly dry lips, she swore she tasted his tangy flesh. Fire leapt in Nick's dark eyes, sending a surge of desire, so fierce and so strong, straight to her core.

"Nick."

"Bree." He stepped nearer.

Bree closed her eyes, savoring his body heat. The cool metal of his truck ran the length of her back, yet it did nothing to extinguish the fire within.

Nick feathered kisses across her temple. The wave of desire growing inside her expanded to a need bigger than she ever realized before. She longed for a little piece of heaven back when Nick cherished her with every gentle kiss, every heated breath, and every delicate touch.

He offered her physical pleasure, but she yearned for his special brand of caring, that unique combination of tenderness and concern that only he could deliver to her hungry soul.

The ache swamping her heart was for the emptiness that plagued her life. Bree lived the lonely existence of a woman who had too much to hide, too much to protect. _Sydney._

"Before we start something we can't finish, sweetness, we need to settle things between us, make peace."

"I know. But..." She bit her lip, knowing her complete honesty would create a wide chasm between them that she knew she needed yet did not want any longer.

"Please, tell me." His voice sounded rough with emotion.

She drew in a sharp, painful breath. "You hurt me, your words, and your assumptions."

He moaned as if he too was in pain. Rubbing his cheek against her hair, he said, "The moment I said it I realized how much words can wound a person, how much I hurt you."

Bracing herself for the coming withdrawal, Bree nudged him, pushing Nick away, shoving aside the potent temptation for her daughter's sake.

When he stepped back, she nearly crumbled at what she saw. There was a vulnerability in Nick's eyes she had never witnessed before. Cold stark clarity hit her. He craved the same emotional connection that she did.

Putting Sydney first, Bree looked away from the magnetic plea. She'd allow him his pardon plus a whole lot more. "Apology accepted, Nick."

"Thank you, Bree."

She tried to blot out his earnest response and create the required distance between them. Self-disgust filled her for having to do what was necessary. A mother would do anything to protect her child, including driving a wedge between herself and the man she was unmistakably falling for.

"But, you need to know, Nick, your honesty is cutting at times and your total lack of trust is wounding. You refuse to see who I really am now."

He remained silent. Deep grooves etched on either side of his mouth spoke the words of regret he surely felt.

She sucked in a breath, preparing herself for the outcome of what she'd say next; she'd issue the one ultimatum that Nick would never be able to grant her. "Until you can do that and learn to trust me, then there's really not much hope for us at all." _There never was, was there? Not with Sydney's life at stake._

With that said, Bree turned blindly to the truck, yanked open the door, and then climbed in. He placed a staying hand on her as she tried to slam the door shut. Bree looked at his big, long-fingered hand curled around her wrist, felt the band of heat circling her flesh. One half of her longed to pull away and break all contact. But the other half, the weaker half, won, so she remained captured in the alluring touch of her husband.

"I deserved that."

She chanced a glance at his face. Wincing inwardly, Bree berated herself for the pained expression clouding his strong features. "Yes, you did, but I could have delivered it a little less harshly."

"Why? Have I ever done the same to you?" He didn't wait for a reply. Dragging the shoulder harness across her and clicking it into place, he said gruffly, "Drive careful."

A few minutes later as Bree drove out of the yard, she peeked in the rearview mirror. Nick, dejected and forlorn, watched her leave with his hands jammed into his front pockets.

Her heart clenched. At this moment, Bree realized what Nick had endured with his son. Any loving parent would have done the same. The choice was simple. A child always came before a parent's own happiness, above their growing feelings for the man she married or the woman your son had wed. For the first time, Bree truly understood Nick's dilemma; now it was her own.

She knew the closer she allowed herself to get to Nicholas Carletti the more she had to lose.

First your heart, next your common sense, after that your secret, and then your little girl.

"I can't let that happen."

# Chapter 18

Depositing change in the old pay phone in front of the only grocery store in town, Bree registered the clanking of each coin as it dropped down the metal slot. She grimaced at her pale, ghastly reflection in the mirrored surface as two shrill rings peeled in the receiver before a loud click sounded.

"Curl up and Dye, may I help you?"

Bree swore it was one of her new business partners speaking in her sugary sweet telephone voice, but the name of the business didn't match theirs at all. "Tessa, is that you?"

A loud shriek pierced Bree's ear drum. "Bree! It's so good to hear your voice. We were just talking about you. How's the hunky hubby of yours doing? And how's my little dancer—"

"Wait a minute, Tessa, I need to switch ears since you just ruined the hearing in my left one." Making the quick adjustment, Bree leaned against the brick building and asked, "What's with this name you're using? I thought we'd make a final decision on a new one for the beauty shop once I got back."

"We are. I'm just trying it out, that's all. Isn't it cute? It was on one of those old police shows my granny loves to watch."

Bree rolled her eyes, wishing Tessa could see her. "Yeah, real cute." Focusing on the big yellow banner in the large window announcing this week's special, Bree bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop herself from laughing as she delivered the next line. "But we might get mistaken for a funeral parlor."

"Hey, I never thought about that..."

Unable to contain it any longer, Bree chuckled. "How's business? Are you two handling it all right?"

"It's _so_ slow. Jewel and I are twiddling our thumbs today. I guess everyone's on vacation being it's right before school starts up again. But the week you come back we're booked solid. Feast or famine, right?"

"It's like that every August."

"Well, with all this free time on our hands we're making arrangements for your party. You wouldn't believe all the customers that want to join us when we take you to see the male dancers."

Bree groaned inwardly. "Not that again. I thought I'd convinced the two of you I didn't need or want a bridal shower, before or after the wedding."

"Oh, come on now, Bree, we want to do something special for you. It'll be fun."

Pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead, Bree didn't know what she'd do if Nick ever found out about this planned excursion. Vinnie had mentioned how his mother had frequented bars for the sole purpose of picking up men. To Nick this outing would certainly dredge up painful, jealous memories. "We'll discuss other options when I get back. Can I speak to Jewel for a second?"

"Sure, she's right here. I guess you want to talk to her about the letter I sent you. I didn't mean to upset you or anything."

Bree frowned. "What letter?"

"Ah...here's Jewel. Bye, have a great honeymoon."

There was a rustling sound, and then a loud clunk. Bree jerked the receiver away, but it was too late. She switched it back to her other ear. "Lord, that girl is going to make me deaf yet."

"Bree? Hey, how's it going?" Jewel's calm, unshakable voice reassured Bree.

"Fine," Bree lied, knowing her whole world could explode at any moment. "Tessa said she sent me a letter. We never even thought about picking up the mail at the post office so I guess it's just been sitting there. How did you get Nick's address for his cabin anyway?"

"Gil Lambert gave it to Tessa when she told him everything."

At the sound of his name, Bree grew uneasy. She liked the man, but he _was_ Nick's lawyer. "Everything? That sounds ominous to me." What had happened now?

"Oh, you know how dramatic our friend is. I'm...sure she's blowing it all out of proportion." The hesitancy in Jewel's normally clear, cool tone put Bree on alert.

A slither of panic snaked its way to her middle. She straightened away from the rough brick exterior. "What's going on down there?" Alarm rang in her question, betraying her growing concern.

A passing older couple eyed her curiously, obviously having overheard the sharp climb in her voice. She smiled weakly, hoping they'd just continue on into the store. Thankfully, they did.

"Well...there's been some strange calls," Jewel hesitated, "Someone's asking a lot of questions."

"What kind of questions?"

"About you."

A wave of fear washed over Bree, her nerveless fingers dropping the receiver. It banged against the cement wall of the store, and then danced on the end of its short wire.

"Bree? Bree? Are you still there?" Jewel's worried, high- pitched voice came to her, dragging Bree out of her numb state.

Snatching up the dangling black phone, Bree used two hands to steady it while she stammered in a near whisper, "Wh...who?"

"They won't leave their name. And we're not giving out any information. Bree, is everything all right?"

"Of course," she said too brightly. "It's just a little odd that's all. Uh, do you happen to know anything else? I mean, if it's a woman or a man calling."

"Tessa wrote it all down in the letter. I think she said it was a woman, but it sounded like a man was coaching her in the background. Gil is checking on it."

A hand squeezed her throat. "Gil?" she squeaked. "Why him?"

"Well, making a phone call and asking questions about someone isn't a crime. And, with all the connections Gil has, Tessa thought she should get him involved until Nick comes back and can take over. Gil is going to clue Nick in on all that he digs up. You're not mad at her, are you?"

Mad didn't describe how she felt. Fear, cold and clammy, breathed down her neck. "Tell Tessa I'm not angry at her." She didn't want the sweet, highly excitable girl to be crushed by her reaction. "In fact, tell her I appreciate how much she cares about me. If you guys are doing all right, then I've got to get back home to Sydney. She cut her foot and I don't want to be away from her too long."

"Is it bad?"

"Just a few stitches, but she'll be fine. Got to go, bye." Shaking uncontrollably, Bree hung up quickly.

Ten minutes later, she dashed into the tiny, empty post office foyer and, using Nick's key, retrieved the pile of mail jammed into the small box.

Bree flipped through the junk mail, searching for Tessa's letter. She found it nestled between a contest and an advertisement. She grabbed for it, upsetting the handful of papers. The multi-colored pack rained down on the floor.

She groaned, kneeling to collect the runaway mail. The cream colored business envelope, bearing the familiar bold black print in the upper left hand corner and addressed to Nick wedged beneath her knee, drew her undivided attention. Gil Lambert, Attorney at Law.

A ripple of shock shot through her _. This is the beginning of the end._

# Chapter 19

The envelope felt like a hot iron in Bree's hands, burning a hole right through her palm as she walked into the cabin a half-hour later.

The muffled voices of Nick and Sydney floated down to her from upstairs. Nick's unmistakable deep tones created a wealth of heady emotions from tenderness to a sore spot on her troubled soul.

"What am I going to do?"

Glancing down at the hateful reminder that they'd have to face reality soon enough, Bree nearly wept. She felt torn between doing what Nick would want her to do, be honest, truthful, and what every mother's instinct screamed at her to do, lie, tear Gil's letter to pieces, and then throw it away.

In a daze, she walked to a nearby chair and dumped all the other mail on the seat. It scattered with some landing on the floor. Stooping automatically to retrieve the wayward missives, she halted as an idea formed, taking shape and bursting in her head.

"It might just work," she whispered, thinking that she wouldn't exactly be lying at all, just stalling things, buying some time. "Yeah, then you'll be living on borrowed time."

Her fear for what Gil had uncovered, and then presented to Nick in the enclosed letter, prompted her actions. Taking a deep shaky breath, Bree shoved Gil's envelope under the chair and left all but Tessa's already read note where they had landed. She folded her friend's envelope and shoved it in her back pocket.

The words flashed through her mind. To anyone else, Tessa's flare for drama would be easily tossed aside. But not for Bree; there was always the danger of being found out, of someone from her past storming back into her life and ripping it to shreds.

"Oh, Nick, why did you have to put our wedding announcement in the paper," she asked softly, knowing as Tessa and Gil suspected that's what drew this person to Bree.

A chill ran down her spine. It could only be _him._

***

Five minutes later, gathering her self-control, Bree pinned a smile on her face and tip-toed the last few steps to stand in Sydney's doorway.

Awed at what she saw, Bree stilled in her tracks. Sydney, dressed in her white tulle and pink roses wedding finery, sat opposite Nick at the tiny wooden table and chair set he had built for her.

He was clad in his wedding suit with his knees jammed against the table edge. His large frame overwhelmed the miniature chair and Bree wondered if it would collapse under him.

She nearly laughed out loud when she noticed neither her daughter nor her husband wore any shoes. Sydney's bandaged foot lay nestled on a pillow under the table.

Unobserved and filling with tenderness, Bree watched their easy exchange as they proceeded with their tea party.

"Don't drink all the tea, Poppa." Her daughter reached out, halting Nick's hand from making it to his mouth. He replaced the thimble-sized porcelain teacup to its matching flowered saucer. "We gotta save some for mommy when she gets home. Here, have a cookie instead." Sydney handed him a chocolate chip cookie with a huge bite taken out of it.

The smile he sent her little girl lit up his face and stole Bree's breath away. "Leftovers? You know I hate leftovers."

"Just for today, Poppa, please."

"Oh, all right." He nibbled on the half-eaten treat.

Sydney leaned her elbows on the table, propped her chin in her hands, and then looked up at Nick adoringly. "I love you, Poppa."

"I love you, too, Princess." His voice sounded gruff and clogged with emotion. Bree's heart turned over in her chest.

"Always?" Sydney asked with a little catch.

"Always," Nick answered without hesitation.

"Pinkie promise, Poppa." She reached out, her little finger crooked in invitation.

He hooked his with her daughter's. "Pinkie promise."

Sydney let out a great big sigh. "Now I feel better."

And so did Bree. Relief tripped along her jumpy nerves, soothing them. Nick always kept his word.

Over the last few hours she'd tried to harden her heart where Nick was concerned. Now she realized how badly she failed that mission.

Witnessing his playful interaction with Sydney, watching his gentle care of her little girl, and hearing his undying love for her daughter, Bree faced the undeniable truth: She was hopelessly in love with Nick Carletti.

Tears smarted her eyes and wonder flooded her middle. She'd always loved him. But only now could she face the revelation.

So many years lost, so much heartache, and there was more to come before the end.

Her heart hitched. She must have made a noise; Nick twisted to look at her, capturing her gaze. "Hey, you're back." He smiled, slowly and sensually.

Bree sucked in a breath, dazzled by the welcoming. Turning away from his hypnotic stare, she looked to her beaming child, blinking back the stinging in her eyes. "I see you two have been busy. You must be feeling better this morning, sweetpea."

"Lots better. Oh, Mommy, I'm so happy you're here. Now we can have our party."

"Hey," Nick said, "aren't you forgetting something?" He waved his hand to her attire, and then at his. "It's formal wear."

Sydney slapped a hand to her forehead, and then shook her head. "I forgot."

"Give me a minute and I'll join you two." Chuckling, Bree began to leave, but twisted back instead. "But first let me have a good morning kiss." Going to her daughter, Bree bent low and dropped a noisy kiss on Sydney's cheek. "I missed you so much."

"How 'bout Poppa, don't he get one, too?"

Bree arched her brows at him. "If he wants one."

"He wants, all right," Nick said in a husky whisper, his eyelids heavy with unspoken desire.

Warmth flooded her. She took two steps, and then stood in front of him. Cupping his face between her palms, Bree searched his endearing features, memorizing each and every one.

_I'm going to love you 'til the day I die, Nicholas Carletti_.

Leaning close, she pressed her lips against his firm, masculine ones, imprinting the soft feel and chocolate taste of them on her mind forever. "Mmmm, very sweet," she said as she pulled away, and then winked at Sydney.

Giggles erupted. "Oh, Mommy, you're so funny. Of course he is; he just had a cookie."

"Of course, how silly of me," Bree joked. "Now, I must go and make myself beautiful for my family." Her voice cracked on the last word, painfully aware she might not have one for very long.

Nick grasped her hand, halting her. The slightly rough texture of his flesh had her yearning for more contact. "You already are beautiful, sweetness."

Heat crawled up her neck at the male appreciation shining in his dark eyes. Images of being in his big, comforting arms flashed through her mind. The constant ache in her soul strummed to life, making its presence known once again.

_Take what he was to offer, if only for the short time remaining of your honeymoon, if only for today, if only for an hour. Grab the little piece of happiness granted to you, a tiny slice of heaven_.

Making up her mind to seize the joy right in front of her, Bree leaned down and kissed Nick again. She clung to his lips for a moment, savoring the unrestricted access. Reluctantly parting from him, she whispered, "I'll be right back."

"I'll be waiting."

His statement held a world of promise. A tiny thrill raced down her spine.

***

Hours later, Nick stretched out in the Adirondack chair on the back porch. The sweet scent of grass floated to him and the sharp cry of a blue jay pierced the tranquil air. Crossing his bare feet at the ankles, he propped his elbow on the wooden arm. He rubbed a finger over his lips as he contemplated the touching scene before him.

Nearby, Bree cuddled with Sydney in the net hammock with their two blonde heads close and matching contented smiles on their radiant faces.

The slight afternoon breeze stirred wisps of their hair and rocked them to sleep. His granddaughter's favorite Dr. Suess book lay half-read on Bree's stomach. They'd both changed into large T-shirts he'd scavenged for in his closet.

Scanning the long expanse of Bree's bare legs, Nick sucked in a heated breath. A swirling sensation began in his abdomen, growing in intensity and sweeping the ache to unbearable degrees.

A craving throbbed inside him, bigger and stronger than any he'd ever had to fight. He easily dismissed it as just sexual. This was far deeper than anything a mere physical union could appease. No matter how spectacular making love to Bree had been, he sensed this desperate hunger coincided with how starved he was for a family to care for, to protect.

Probing the corners of his mind, he uncovered the essence of who he was, a man he thought he'd lost, but who Bree directed him to after a long denial. He _needed_ to be needed.

Sydney needed a father figure, a challenge he welcomed, longed for, in fact.

Being useful, being of service was so ingrained in his make up that he took it in stride and for granted. His work afforded him those rewards. But, in his personal life, he'd missed it terribly.

Once, a long time ago, Bree had allowed him to help. But after Sydney's birth, Bree had withdrawn. Now, after discovering some disturbing information, he figured that had had a lot to do with Vinnie's vile words and accusations.

And Nana, strong and independent, had taken care of him more than he of her until a few months ago when she had fallen and broken her hip. Then she'd gotten pneumonia. She rapidly deteriorated, withering away, leaving him alone, his world empty.

Now, he stared at the picture perfect image, his wife and his granddaughter.

Mother and child.

A mixture of awe and stunned wonder swept through him.

By marrying him, Bree had gifted his life with a sweet richness like none he'd ever experienced before.

An invisible hand squeezed his heart, wringing out the incredible amount of affection he held hidden there.

What have I ever done without them? What would I ever do if I lost them?

A fear, like no other, gripped him hard, stealing away his breath _. No! Never!_ He sat up straight. The chair creaked at the shift in weight.

Perspiration dotted his brow and he swiped at it, hoping to erase the horrible thoughts careening like a speeding freight train through his brain.

Suddenly, as if a bolt of lightning ripped through the sky and struck him, Nick made an earth shattering discovery: _I'm in love with Bree!_

Panic ballooned in his middle. His heartbeat thundered wildly. He felt like he'd just taken a giant step off a very high cliff and he was now free falling in air.

Nick leaned forward. Propping his elbows on his thighs, he dragged his hands through his hair, and then rubbed the back of his neck.

Dear God, help me! What am I going to do?

***

"I'm tired of playing games," Sydney said, shoving aside the board game on the kitchen table. She looked up at Bree with pleading eyes. "Can't we have a party or somethin'? It's our last night here. We could always dance."

Bree's heart turned over. How could she deny that soulful gaze? For a week now she and Nick had had to keep her little girl occupied and off her injured foot. Weariness settled on Bree's shoulders at the constant feat of entertaining one very active child. She didn't know what she would have done without Nick here to help her.

Standing near Sydney, Bree reached out and stroked back the silky soft bangs, and then bent to press a kiss on Sydney's forehead.

Her little girl smelled of strawberry bubble bath she'd insisted on filling the tub with for her bath a half-hour earlier. With her foot wrapped in plastic and sticking out of the tub, Sydney had loved finally being able to take a bubble bath again.

Nick entered from the living room as Bree straightened. His presence seemed to light up the room for her. Ever since she realized she loved him last week, a bubbling sensation erupted in her middle every time he drew near.

She'd cherished every second with him, storing away the precious moments and keeping her feelings hidden.

Now she had two very important, very fragile secrets to protect.

"What's this I hear? Princess, you know even though you're healing you still need to be careful."

"I know, but I can watch you two. And mommy can put on her red dress and I can coree-o-graft it."

"Choreograph, sweetpea," Bree corrected automatically, holding back a chuckle.

"Well..." He appeared to mull it over. A smile tugged one corner of his mouth upward and Bree had to grab ahold of the chair to steady her weak knees. "Red _is_ my favorite color. And I am partial to that dress of yours..." He sent Bree a wicked wink, causing delicious heat to chase along her nerve endings. "Sure, why not?"

Sydney clapped loudly. "Oh, Poppa, you're the best. Can I help pick out the music, too?"

He rounded the other side of the table and scooped up Sydney. Seeing her daughter in his big, strong arms strummed the tender spot inside Bree. "It needs an expert's touch, right? So, you're the perfect one for the job. Come on we'll get it all set up while your mom changes, okay?"

"Oh, goodie. I know just what I want." Sydney whispered in his ear. His eyebrows arched.

"What are you two up to?" Bree asked, growing curious.

"You'll see," Nick said mysteriously. But, he did give her another wink.

Fifteen minutes later, Bree presented herself to her family. She twirled around, the flared edges of the dress lifting and fanning out. "How's this?"

Nick gulped hard, his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down. The flash in his dark eyes lent credence to his approval. She suspected he'd glimpsed her lacy red panties. "Perfect," he murmured huskily.

Sydney, from her perch on the sofa, directed Bree. "Come over here, Mommy, so I can see you, too." As Bree drew near, her daughter exclaimed, "Oh, you're the most beau-tee-fullest mommy in the whole wide world, right, Poppa?"

"Absolutely." Nick's voice rang with conviction, causing Bree to swivel to face him.

She nearly gasped at the long, lazy perusal he gave her. A warmth stole over her. "Thank you," she choked out, too overcome to say anything more.

Holding out his hand, he said in a low, seductive voice, "May I have this dance, Mrs. Carletti?"

Bree closed the gap between them as the soft, dreamy music began. Going into his outstretched arms, she tucked her head in the small space between his neck and shoulder.

Inhaling, she detected his sandalwood after-shave. His large, warm hands, splayed on her back, cradled her to his wide chest.

The lyrics caused her to close her eyes for a long moment, wishing she could ask Nick to love her that long.

"Nick." His name escaped her lips on a breath of pleasure.

"Bree," he whispered, rubbing his cheek against her hair.

Following his lead, Bree matched her steps to his. The slow waltz brought her whole body in tantalizing contact with him. Her hips grazed his, her thighs brushing his.

_Heaven. Pure heaven._ In his comforting embrace, she knew only safety, security, protection. Nothing could harm her here. He kept everything at bay, refusing to allow any of the harsh, cold reality to filter through.

And he filled the emptiness, the loneliness that plagued her mind, body, and soul. _I could get lost in your arms, Nick. Lost in you._

Pressing her lips to his neck, she tasted the slightly salty flesh. She felt the shiver that racked his body, a shiver she'd become accustomed to over the last week of making long, lingering love with him every night.

_If only the world would stay away_.

"Yeah, that was great." Sydney clapped.

Bree came back to reality with a thud as the song ended.

"Play the next one, Poppa." Her little girl rubbed her hands together. "This one is my favorite." Breaking away from Nick, Bree blushed. "Do you two have the rest of the night all mapped out?"

He smiled slyly. "Oh, yeah."

There was no doubt in her mind what he referred to and more heat stole over her neck and face. He chuckled wickedly in her ear as he passed her in route to the stereo system, his one allowance at outside interference in the quiet countryside.

"Get ready for this one, Mommy, you're gonna love it."

Turning to her daughter, Bree raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really, and what do you have planned, young lady?

"You'll see." Sydney smiled impishly.

She glanced from her little girl to Nick. Both wore Cheshire cat grins. Her heart tripped over itself. And she made a startling discovery: She'd never seen either one happier. No evidence of pain, fear, grief, guilt, or distrust existed. Only infectious joy abounded. She'd pay anything, do anything to make it last forever.

Jubilation tickled somewhere deep inside. "All right, if you want to keep it a surprise, then I'm game."

"Oh goodie, mommy!"

Suddenly a popular song from the fifties blared out of the speakers.

Nick strode to her side, and then grasped her hand in his warm, large one.

She laughed as he twirled her around, and then tugged her to and fro. Easily following the familiar dance routine she and Sydney often practiced to, Bree threw all her energy into creating a special time for the two people she loved dearly.

"Uh oh, watch out!" Sydney cried.

Bree nicked a chair, the impact stinging her calf. Nick steadied her.

Stopping for a moment, he said, "Here, let me shove this thing out of the way."

An invisible hand choked the breath from her lungs. An icy sensation whooshed through her body when she realized which chair he shifted.

The muffled scraping ripped through her scrambling brain, obliterating the snappy music. "Wait!" _Too late._

He frowned, and then bent to retrieve the cream colored envelope. "What's this?" Flipping it over, he read the front. "Why would Gil be sending me a letter and how did it get under here?"

He jerked his head up, capturing her stare. Suspicion clouded his dark gaze.

Her heart jumped to her throat, lodging itself there. She shrugged helplessly, feeling as if the rug had just been yanked from under her feet.

"You've gone deathly white." His lips thinned and tension lines bracketed his mouth. Ripping the missive open, Nick scanned the contents, his eyes shifting back and forth quickly.

She couldn't wait a moment longer to hear her fate. With her voice a mere squeak, she asked, "Wh...what does it say?"

# Chapter 20

A sense of disquiet loomed over Nick as he gazed into the guilt ridden features of his wife.

Over the last few days he'd been living in a dream land, a magical place and time where laughter and joy blossomed. He'd fooled himself, thinking it had been an answer to a prayer.

Now, the real world intruded like a dark threatening rain cloud, ready to shower him with cold, stinging reality.

_She'd lied_.

That's what he'd gotten by following his heart and not listening to his head. He'd never make that mistake again.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" he demanded.

She gulped noisily, and then averted her eyes. "About what?"

A thread of alarm laced her question.

Sydney hobbled over to him and tugged on his pant leg. "What's wrong, Poppa?"

Staring down into the large, distressed cobalt blue eyes, he bit back on a rush of words. He tempered his answer, along with his growing anger.

But the distrust he'd felt burst anew, relighting the flame to burn brighter than ever before. "Your mother _forgot_ to tell me that Tessa's been fielding some interesting phone calls."

A deep frown carved lines between Sydney's brows. "What's fieldin'?"

Bree jumped in, saying, "Tessa's just been taking my messages, that's all."

He gritted his teeth, halting himself from calling her on that oversimplified answer.

"But he's mad, Mommy. I can tell." She backed away. Standing between him and Bree, she spread her arms wide as if she were a shield, protecting her mother. "You're not gonna start yelling really loud, are you, Poppa? Daddy used to scare me and Mommy like that all the time." Her little chin quivered, tearing Nick apart.

Wincing inwardly, Nick figured she'd seen too much, heard too much in her short lifetime. Yet, here she stood ready to do battle if he so much as raised his voice to Bree.

At times like this, when he discovered Vinnie's legacy to his wife and daughter, Nick would love to bring his son back just so he could shake him.

Nick squatted. On eye level with Sydney now, he held her unwavering stare. "You're right, I'm mad at your mom and I did want to say some pretty awful things. But I won't, because it's wrong to hurt someone you care about whether it's with nasty words or any other way."

Her arms came back to her sides and she took a tentative step toward him. Wariness still clouded her eyes. "Promise you won't yell and slam the door, Poppa."

Something wrapped around his chest and squeezed until he hurt. "I promise, Princess. I just want to talk grown up stuff with your mom. Can you give us a few minutes alone to do that?"

She sent him a trembling smile and nodded her agreement. Turning to Bree, she said, "But I'll be right here if you need me, Mommy."

Bree bent down and gathered Sydney close. "Thank you, sweetie, but you know that's my job, taking care of us both."

He locked gazes with Bree. "It's mine now."

***

Nick sighed loudly, watching Bree's stiff back as he leaned against the kitchen counter. He still couldn't shake the knowledge of reading surprise and a touch of gratitude in her gaze when he'd declared he'd claimed the family job of caretaker.

"I swear, Nick, the calls are nothing to worry about. It's probably some old school friend trying to get in touch with me after seeing our wedding announcement in the newspaper." She waved a hand in dismissal, briefly stopping in her task of picking up the little game pieces littering the table.

"So, if you believe that, why didn't you tell me this after you called the beauty shop and found all this out?" _And why did you hide Gil's letter? Explain that one, if you can._

"Tessa makes a big deal out of almost anything. I'm afraid she doesn't have much of an exciting life taking care of her granny, so she zeros in on any little thing and exaggerates it. Isn't that what Gil implied in his letter?"

"Since you've just read it, you know exactly what it says." He sensed her underlying tension even from five feet away. "You could have mentioned it to me." He wished he could yank back the hurt in his words.

She stopped fidgeting with the tiny objects and slowly turned to him. "I guess I was being selfish."

He frowned. "Selfish? I don't understand."

Crossing the room, she halted in front of him. He longed to reach out and take her in his arms, but he stomped down on the impulse. A waft of her strawberry bubble bath tickled his senses and he had a difficult time in restraining himself from whisking Bree up in his embrace, inhaling deeply and tasting her.

Staring at his chin, she explained, "I...we're in our own little world up here. In a good place at the moment. I didn't want anything to ruin it. And I knew if I told you about this you'd go tearing off into town to call Gil and get the skinny."

Nick rubbed his neck, trying to work the kinks out. "And he didn't even think it was worth writing me about except Tessa practically twisted his arm into doing it."

"Plus, I didn't want to upset Sydney."

He stared at her hard, noting the way she avoided looking directly at him and hearing the little hesitations in her voice. "Is that why you hid Gil's letter?"

She jerked back as if hit with the icy truth. Shrugging, Bree said, "You figured that out, did you?"

"It wasn't difficult." Nick tried desperately to keep a rein on his anger. "Why? Just tell me that."

This time she was the one to frown. "But I told you, Nick, I...wanted to keep the world away from us."

"Or the truth. Was that it? I told you once before how much I dislike liars."

She blanched. "I didn't exactly _lie_ to you."

"Oh no? Well, it might not rank up there in the same category by your standards, but, to me, hiding something from me is just as bad as lying to my face." _And I hate that part of myself just as much as you do._

She seemed to be frozen in place, her skin taking on a ghostly pallor. "I'll remember that next time." Her lips barely moved as she spoke.

His middle dipped at her distress, but he issued her one final warning, "There had better not be a next time, Bree."

***

An ax hung over her as Nick drove them back to Connecticut. A guillotine waited, with one person ready to pull the rope, to snap off her head.

Despite the warm sunny morning, Bree felt chilled to the bone. Ever since Nick discovered Gil's letter, she hadn't been able to shake the cold dread rooted in her core.

What will we find once we return home?

Sydney's soft contented snoring, coming from the back seat, assured Bree at least one of them wasn't even a tiny bit concerned at the outcome. Thankfully, the slow steady motions of the truck had rocked her daughter to dream land as usual.

Bree glanced at Nick under her lashes. His strong right hand, curled around the steering wheel, guided the SUV down the narrow country roads. He leaned his left elbow on the window ledge and rubbed his top lip with his index finger, deep in concentration.

Surveying his endearing profile, she lingered over each hard plane and sharp angle, committing them to memory. She halted when she came to his firm, masculine mouth, wishing she could replace the finger with her lips; she longed to taste him once again.

She'd missed being held by Nick last night, missed his tender love making she'd become addicted to. A hollow ache behind her ribs sprang to life.

How much longer will he punish us both like this, with this tension-filled silence? Can I make him understand why I do the things I do? Should I even try? Would it even make a difference?

He turned to her quickly, catching her staring at him. Flushing, Bree jerked her head in the opposite direction, gazing unseeingly at the swiftly passing fields and woods.

"What were you thinking of just then?" Nick asked softly.

"My mother." She sneaked a peek at him as he faced forward again. Deciding to take a big chance and explain a few things to him, she said, "If you'd known her, I think you'd get a good idea about me."

"Were you two that much alike?"

She smiled sadly. "No, just the opposite."

He frowned deeply. "I don't understand."

Dragging in a painful breath, she pressed onward. "She was...fragile, for want of a better word."

"Her health?"

"Her nature."

Confusion clouded his strong features as he glimpsed at her, and then back at the road. "Go on. I'm listening."

Memories, painful and haunting, flashed through her mind. Bree swore she smelled the cloying scent of gardenias her mother had doused herself with to ward off the death scent.

Bree bit her lip. "She didn't like anything unpleasant. My father catered to her wishes and built this invisible barrier around her to hold the real world at bay. Then, after he died..."

"You picked up where he left off, or am I way off base?"

She chuckled. It came out raw and strangled. "You're right on target, Carletti, as usual."

He sighed heavily as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. "Tell me."

Twisting her hands in her lap, Bree continued, "She hated the word cancer, so the doctors and I changed it to the little inconvenience. Her hospital stays were described as rests. The ungodly amount of medicine was altered to vitamin treatments."

Groaning, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "So you were taught, from how old, to smooth the way."

"From the beginning." Her voice cracked. "I always felt like the only adult in the family, the only one that knew what a sham everything was."

"Why didn't you stop going along with the insanity?"

"The way I saw things I had two choices. One, be a party to it and help my mother cope with life in the only way she knew how. Or, two, shout the ugly truth in her face and destroy her fantasy world where she survived, in essence kill her. Life or death, it was as simple as that for a child to comprehend."

A blanket of silence shrouded Bree, thick and unnerving. Her heart hammered in her chest. A bubble of anxiety rose to the surface, cutting off her air supply. _Does he despise me now?_

"So, what you're telling me is, you've learned to protect the people you care about in the only way you know how, by lying, hiding, or fabricating..."

The roar of her blood sounded in her ears. She swallowed hard. "Put like that, I guess I can't argue with it."

He looked her square in the eye. "And you'd do the same for Sydney."

"In a heartbeat."

# Chapter 21

Nick switched off the ignition, and then leaned back wearily. The heady scent of roses filled his cruiser. Glancing to the dozen long stem, red roses laying on the passenger seat, he wondered if he'd done the right thing.

He'd been back to work three days now and still had difficulty in processing all Bree had described to him about her childhood.

The distance troubled him. The absence of any kind of communication other than the normal everyday stuff hurt more than he'd cared to admit. He longed for the closeness they'd had at the cabin. _The tenderness._

The strain wore on all of them. Living in the same house where Vinnie had grown up couldn't be easy for Bree. And lying in bed at night side by side, sleepless, not touching, created a wider chasm.

She'd apologized profusely over the last few days. He'd brushed it off, still hard pressed to accept that side of her, the untruthful side. Now, Nick realized, it was up to him to make amends, to patch things up; he was the one with the tolerance problem, not her.

He checked out her beauty shop in his rearview mirror. _Bree's Beauty Salon._

Cars littered the small parking lot and customers, some dragging protesting kids, entered and exited the blue and white building attached to the side of a grocery store with a Laundromat on one side and a sandwich shop on the other.

"I had to pick the busiest day to extend my olive branch," he muttered under his breath as he climbed out of his car with the roses firmly in his grip.

He hitched up his heavy gun belt, and then slammed the door shut. Taking a couple of slow steps, he halted, leaning a hip against his dark blue patrol car.

"Just march in there and get it over with, Carletti." But something held him back. A thought nagged at him, one he'd been trying to shove aside since Bree's eye opening disclosure.

She lied to protect people, not to hurt or manipulate them. There was nothing sinister in her motives. Only love and concern guided her actions. Wonder filled him at the simple, heart-tugging knowledge.

_I did the same for Vinnie. When he was little I had to keep the horrible truth about his mother and her cheating ways hidden so it wouldn't destroy him. Eventually I told him, but not before he was ready. And I did it with Nana when she was dying. I couldn't bring myself to tell her the doctors had given her a death sentence_.

Stunned awareness flooded Nick, causing him to see Bree's lies in an entirely different light. "How can I condemn Bree for doing just as I've done? For caring about someone so damn much that we wanted to shield them?"

So we're really not that different after all.

Pushing away from his vehicle, Nick crossed the short distance with determination in every step. He'd make it right with her somehow. He still hated liars, still hated that part of himself. But the difference was now he understood her reasons behind them, understood they both bore the same flaw.

As long as she didn't follow Dorthea's route in fabricating every little thing where it benefitted her and not others, he could adjust and cope, he figured.

Well, at least I can give it a shot.

The bell jangled when Nick yanked open the door. A myriad of scents assaulted him: the coconut shampoo the shop specialized in, the potent permanent solution, the distinctive smell of hair spray, and the hint of hot wax melting in its burner.

The blue carpet in the reception area muffled his footsteps. Silence descended, enveloping him. Only the whirring of the bank of dryers broke the eerie human hush. Several curious pairs of eyes turned to him as he hooked an arm of his mirrored sunglasses in his uniform shirt pocket.

Frowning, he searched for Bree in the five chair salon. He dipped his head in greeting to Bree's business partners.

"Jewel." The dark-haired, young woman glared at him, her violet eyes snapping. Her look spoke volumes: She hated men. He couldn't very well blame her after the father of her son skipped town twelve years ago.

"Tessa. Good to see you." Tessa, with her mass of red curly hair and deep green eyes, gawked at the roses, and then back at him. She obviously wasn't used to a man bringing a lady flowers. At twenty-seven, single, and virtually dateless she looked down both barrels of spinsterhood.

He should still be angry with her for making a big deal about the phone calls, which hadn't panned out. They had stopped just as Gil predicted. There had never been anything to be concerned about. He couldn't remain mad at something that didn't amount to anything.

Finally, his gaze landed on Sydney, with a head full of rollers, tucked under a hair dryer. A smile inched across his mouth at the sight.

When she spotted him, her face lit up with a huge grin. A river of warmth spread through him at the mixture of joy and love on her face. He laid a finger against his lips to keep her quiet, and then pointed to the back room where he suspected Bree resided at the moment.

At Sydney's nod, he winked at her. She scrunched up her cheek and returned the favor. He was hard pressed to keep from laughing at her attempt.Her eyes were wide and she rubbed her hands together when she saw the roses.

With long, sure strides, Nick walked across the white linoleum flooring, past the many scrutinizing female looks, to the supply room doorway. It seemed as if the weight of the bouquet grew heavier as the gap closed. His palm became sweaty as he wondered how Bree would receive his peace offering.

Halting in the doorframe, Nick watched mesmerized by the wonderful sight of the woman he loved. Bree, bent over a see through squeeze bottle, frowned in concentration as she poured first the peroxide, then the dye so they met and rose to the top.

His breath stuck in his chest as he watched her closely. Pure absorption etched itself in her delicate features. He knew she never did anything by half measures.

Perfection was embedded in her so deeply that she berated herself for any errors, living with the burden of her mistakes.

I've only made it worse by harping on the lies, by holding her up to my high standards that even I didn't live by. What was fair and just in that?

Swallowing hard, he knew he'd do anything to set things right with her. He didn't want to lose her or the feelings that erupted in him every time he thought about her. For the first time in years, if ever, he was alive, really alive. And he'd fight to his death before he gave up all that he'd dreamed of for so long: Bree, Sydney, a family.

"Hello, Bree," he whispered hoarsely.

Bree whipped around at the unexpected voice. Delight washed over her as she stared into her husband's smiling face. "Nick!"

For a moment, she couldn't get anything else out. Surprise robbed her of any sensible thought she once possessed. And seeing the breadth of his shoulders and the width of his chest in his uniform always stole the breath from her lungs.

Along with the instant attraction came a knot of fear in her belly at the painful reminder that this uniform, and what it stood for, could snatch him away from her in one fell swoop.

"I brought you these." Flags of crimson slashed the tops of his cheeks. He lifted a bouquet of red roses, offering them to her.

His embarrassment touched a tender spot deep inside her. Tears smarted the backs of her eyes as she cradled them to her, inhaling the sweet perfume. "Oh, they're so beautiful."

Impulsively, she hugged him, mindful of moving the flowers out of the way first. She kissed his cheek, then his jaw, and then his neck. She absorbed the shiver that racked his body and caught a whiff of his sandalwood after-shave. "Thank you, Nick."

He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer. The slight pressure of his hands on the small of her back made her sigh with pleasure. His warm, strong arms gave her a sense of rightness, of belonging, of home like none she'd ever experienced with any other man.

_Oh, how I've missed you, Nick_.

Pulling back slightly, she gazed up into his dark, magnetic eyes. She bit her lip, and then admitted, "You know, you're the only man who's ever given my flowers."

He scowled. "You should be showered with lilacs and roses."

She gasped. "You remembered the lilacs."

"How could I forget?" His voice grew husky. "It should have been me you married back then."

A bubble of joy erupted. Just as quickly shame at how right he was rained down on her. She dropped her head and closed her eyes. She'd made such a horrible mistake by marrying Vinnie, nearly ruining her life as well as Sydney's and Nick's.

He kissed her gently on the forehead. With his index finger, he lifted her chin so now she was held captive by his rich brown eyes. "I've tried to deny that fact for years. We both have. And look where it's gotten us. I still feel guilty and disloyal to my son. I may never get over that. But I can't go on pretending any more, sweetness."

Lowering his mouth, he settled his firm, masculine lips on hers, slowing drawing out a response.

Bree melted into him, into the warmth and love only he could provide her.

The agony of the past days of not knowing if he'd come back to her, would accept her flaws and all, washed away like a quick summer shower. She'd make the most of this second chance.

"Ahem!" Tessa said rather loudly, causing Bree to jump back from Nick's comforting embrace. "Sorry to break things up especially when it's just getting interesting back here, but I need that dye you were mixing up for me, Bree."

Flushing deeply, Bree deposited the roses on the counter. She twisted the cap on the bottle, and then picked it up and handed her friend the concoction. "Don't forget to shake it up before you apply it."

"Sure thing." Tessa turned to leave, and then halted and looked at Nick. "You buy her roses _and_ you're babysitting tonight. Geez, you sure you don't have any brothers hidden away somewhere?"

Frowning, he said, "No, not a one. What's this about tonight?" He turned to Bree and she experienced a sinking sensation in her middle. Dread filled her.

"Didn't Bree tell you? Girl, you're losing it or the chemicals are definitely affecting some brain cells." Tessa gently jabbed Bree's arm, and then said to Nick, "A bunch of us are kidnaping your wife for a bachelorette party to go see those sexy male dancers take it all off." She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively, and then waltzed away.

He dragged a hand down his face, muttering, "Tell me she isn't serious."

Swallowing hard, Bree squeaked out, "She's not kidding."

He gritted his teeth. "When did you see fit in telling me this, huh?" He didn't wait for an answer. Lowering his voice, he asked, "Or were you just going to feed me another lie? Damn it, Bree, I'm not a sick woman needing to be coddled. Nor am I a little girl that needs the sharp edge of reality blunted. I thought we'd gotten beyond lying to each other. I thought _we_ were better than that."

A chill seized her heart at the wounded look he directed her way.

_I've ruined everything_.

# Chapter 22

With a ball of anxiety sitting in her belly and a heart full of hurt, Bree rushed after Nick as he stormed out of the shop.

"Uh oh, trouble in paradise." Bree caught Tessa's muttered words as she raced by.

Outside, Bree cried out, "Nick, wait up!"

Thankfully, he halted at the side of his cruiser. She noted his strong, stiff back and knew she had everything to lose. He was such a difficult man to convince of anything. But how could she explain her behavior this time? She had to try.

Walking around Nick so now she faced him, she sucked in her breath at the hard, uncompromising lines carved into his granite-like features.

He placed his hands on his hips. "Well?"

She looked away from the intensity of his shrewd, piercing gaze. "Why does everything have to be so complicated between us?" she asked more to herself than him.

"We started out that way, remember?"

She smiled sadly, recalling she'd answered him the same only a few weeks ago.

"You want me to trust you, but when you act like this it only makes me more suspicious of you than ever," Nick pointed out the obvious.

She gritted her teeth, longing to scream at him, at the injustice of it all. How could she change the way she was? She had to learn or jam a wedge between them that not even a stick of dynamite could shake free.

But she'd never risk Sydney, not even for Nick. Could she skirt the touchy issue of her secret and still live by his code of ethics?

_I'll start turning over a new leaf right now and pray for guidance all the way._ "I knew the girls were cooking up something. In fact, it was supposed to have happened before the wedding, but with such short notice they postponed it until I got back."

"And you're more than willing to go along with all this, right? For crying out loud, Bree, you could have said something, warned me at least."

She cringed at the warranted reprimand. "I couldn't do that to you," she said softly, lightly touching his stomach.

He jerked back slightly and grabbed her hand. "Vinnie told you, didn't he?"

The weariness mixed with sadness in his voice nearly had her in tears. Still clasping his large, warm hand, she nodded, unable to say anything.

He blew out a breath. "I guess I shouldn't have overreacted back there, but it still gnaws at me sometimes."

Looking up at him, she read the old hurt and jealousy in his demeanor. "I'm not her. I don't pick up guys at bars. And I won't go skipping out on you with some guy that shows up after the male dancers are through." She shivered in revulsion. "Call me crazy, but those desperate types gives me the willies."

He shot her a lop-sided grin that sent tingles through her blood. Just as swiftly, he sobered and let go of her hand. "So, why go?"

Bereft at the loss of contact, she hugged herself tightly. "Guilt, I guess."

He scowled deeply.

Reaching out tentatively, she brushed his sides with her fingertips, feeling the answering tremble that raced through him. She closed her eyes and leaned forward so now her forehead pressed against his strong, solid chest. "I owe it to Jewel and Tessa and the women customers they've roped into this."

Sighing heavily, she continued, "I left them high and dry for two weeks. The paperwork is a total wreck. The more they worked on it the worse it got. And I'm still trying to figure out how Tessa confused the supply order so we got two cases of perms we don't need instead of the new towels we're desperate for. This little excursion is more for them than me."

Slowly, he put his arms around her, lightly stroking her back. "Let them go alone."

She chuckled. It came out ragged. "If only I could."

"You can if you want to bad enough." His tone held a hard edge, one she took a hasty disliking to.

She stiffened. Pulling away from him, she said, "I'm going if only to prove to you I'm not your first wife."

He practically snarled at that. "Well, I'm on call tonight, the department is shorthanded. In all likelihood I'll be working a double shift."

She crossed her arms over her chest in mutiny. "I'll ask Tilly to babysit then. She'd love to keep Sydney overnight. She misses her."

"Fine, you do that. But don't expect me to welcome you with open arms when you get home." He circled her, yanked open the car door, and then climbed inside, slamming the door behind him.

Bree's bravado nearly crumbled. But she kept a stiff upper lip, wondering why she just didn't do as she wished and stay home with her daughter tonight. Why did she feel she had to prove anything to Nick?

She moved so he could back up. Without sparing her a glance, he sped away. With a sinking heart, she murmured, "That's another fine mess you've gotten us into, Ollie."

***

Driving down the dark, nearly desolate highway, Bree glanced at the time displayed on her dashboard clock. She groaned. "Eleven! What a waste of a fine night."

She'd been bored to tears with the strutting male peacocks and the screaming gaggle of women ranging in age from eighteen to seventy.

"Well, at least Jewel and Tessa had a good time," she mumbled under her breath, shaking her head at the uncharacteristic forward behavior of her partners. Even their customers had surprised her at their boldness with the dancers.

Misery surrounded her as she realized the precious time she'd lost with her daughter this evening. After all, wasn't that one of the reasons she'd given Nick for marrying him? "No wonder why he distrusts you so, you ninny. You gotta make an effort, tell him how you feel while keeping the past tucked in the little hide-away place inside."

Bree shivered at what she had to embark on. Laying herself emotionally bare to Nick frightened the wits out of her. How would he react? Would he even believe her?

The seat belt cut across her diagonally from chest to hip as she strained to see if anyone else happened to be driving on the darkened highway at this late hour on a weekday night. No other car appeared. An another shiver shot down her spine.

Was it from the thought she was the only person alive or for the great mountain of courage she'd have to tap into when she faced Nick again?

She pressed her foot down harder on the accelerator as the combination of the eerie isolation and overwhelming task ahead gripped her middle.

The car ate up the miles. Just a few more to go and she'd be home again. Out of nowhere, she heard the sirens. The high pitch noise jolted her heart into her throat. Blue and red lights flashed in her rearview mirror, making her curse low and long.

Pulling over reluctantly, Bree waited for the cop to approach. She drummed her fingernails on the black steering wheel and twisted her mouth in resignation as her heartbeat settled into a steady rhythm once again.

After what seemed like hours, he tapped on her window. She rolled it down, shivering as the nippy nighttime air tripped along her skin. The Smoky the Bear hat, as Sydney referred to it, nearly obscured the policeman's features. But, in the beam of head lights coming from his cruiser, Bree detected the unmistakable jaw line of her husband. "Nick," she said on a puff of air, her hopes spiraling upward.

When he tilted his hat back his grim features filled her view. His dark eyes, like bright shiny peebles, bore into her. His scowl beetled his brow and thinned his lips. "Do you know how fast you were going?"

Her spirits plummeted to her knees. He played by the book, following the rules to the letter. He'd never let her off the hook. "Yes, but I'm sure you'll remind me."

"Step out of the car." His words, sharp and clipped, cut like a knife.

Stunned wonder seized her. The man she'd given her heart to, had been intimate with, was now treating her as if she was no more than a stranger. "I don't believe this is happening. You've got some nerve doing this," she said tightly.

She undid the seat belt, reached for the door handle, and then popped it open. Getting out, she slammed the door with enough force to shake the car and make her cringe at the loud bang.

Nick stood close, confronting her. "Talk to me."

"What? First you stop me, and then you demand I get out of my car, now all you want to do is talk."

Leaning nearer, he spoke through gritted teeth. "Would you rather I put you through a field test?"

Dawning hit her square between the eyes. "You think I might have been drinking?"

He nodded curtly.

She read the tension etched into every one of his facial muscles. "Oh, brother," she muttered, borrowing her daughter's favorite phrase these days. "Of course I haven't been. I'm not a fool."

"Besides doing my job, Bree, I wasn't going to let anything happen to you if you were driving under the influence."

_He cared, really cared_.

"Couldn't you have just asked me instead of treating me like some criminal?"

"And would you have told me the truth this time?"

Raw hurt slashed through her heart. "That's a low blow, Carletti."

Grimacing, he rubbed a hand over his face and said, "You're right. I'm sorry. Just get back in your car and drive slow the rest of the way home, all right?"

"No." Crossing her arms and tapping her foot, she grinned inwardly at the stunned look on his face. Two could play at this game. "What, no ticket for going five miles faster than the speed limit? Aren't you even going to try to frisk me? You never know, I might just be packing some heat."

"Don't push it, Bree."

She ignored the warning. Baiting him, she offered, "I got a couple of 38 specials."

He lifted his eyebrow, obviously intrigued. A hint of a smile inched up one corner of his mouth, distracting her as warmth flooded her core. "Concealed weapons?"

Bree spread her arms wide. "It's difficult to hide them." It came out huskier than she'd intended.

His gaze drifted slowly downward, lingering on her swelling breasts in the form fitting blue dress. Tension of another kind kicked in, clogging the air. "Might have to take you in for that." His voice took on a deeper, richer quality, one she'd become accustomed to while making love to him, causing a tingle to zip through her. "All depends on what kind of ammo you've got there."

"You're the cop, you figure it out," she teased, liking the game and the obvious effect it had on him.

He grinned, a sly, wicked grin that made her middle clutch. "C." At her gasp, he explained, "I did your laundry yesterday, remember?"

Nick smiled widely as he turned, and then made his way back to his car. He welcomed the little interplay with Bree. She'd turned his fear into seeing her barreling down the highway to enjoyment and desire, blunting the sharp edge of his anger, thus making him go easier on her.

_And I ended up bending my unbreakable rules for her_.

Over the noise of both car engines, the unmistakable light clicking of her high heels on the asphalt alerted him to her approach.

Uh oh, what now?

"I'm not through with you, Carletti."

# Chapter 23

Twisting around, he sensed the well of frustration radiating from her as his lights highlighted her tenacious features. His heart sank. "Listen, I'm not up to another fight today, understand?"

She hugged herself tight as a shiver racked her body. "Oh, gr...great, you get to call them when you want them."

Giving up any chance of postponing the confrontation, Nick shrugged off his lightweight jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. A part of him regretted hiding any part of her in the sexy dress.

"Mmmm, nice and warm," she murmured, nestling deeper in his coat. "Thanks."

"I can give you five minutes, and then I've got to get back to work."

"It's not as if you're busy or anything."

As if the fates defied her, a car with a rowdy group of what looked like teenaged boys whizzed by Nick, yelling out the window and honking the horn. The gust of wind the racing car created kicked up surrounding litter, swirling it into a tunneled frenzy.

Nick guided Bree out of harm's way, cocooning her between the back of her car and the front of his.

"Damn kids." The itch to chase after them took hold of him. "Can't this wait, Bree? I need to stop them before they harm someone or themselves." He needed to get them off the road as soon as possible.

She grabbed his forearm, stalling him and sending a shower of awareness straight to his toes. He sucked in his breath and inhaled the wonderful heady scent of her.

A longing, so fierce and so sharp, attacked his heart. His concerns in chasing down the teenagers faded for a moment and only Bree stood out.

"I just want to know if this has anything to do with getting back at me for going out with the girls tonight."

Bowled over, he asked, "How can you even suggest such a thing like that?"

"You have to admit you weren't pleased earlier."

He advanced a step, closing the small gap between them. "No, I certainly wasn't. And, as much as I'd like to, I realize that I can't control everything or anyone the way I want things to go. But I'm not so small-minded that I'd pull you over on a bogus stop. How can you even think that of me?"

She groaned as if in pain. Releasing her grasp on him, she threw up her hands in defeat. "Of course _you_ wouldn't. What in the world was I thinking of anyway?" She shook her head. "Forget I ever said anything, all right? It's just been a miserable night all the way around for me."

Something inside Nick cracked and shifted at her distress. "Come here, sweetness," he said softly, gathering her close in his arms.

The large coat nearly swallowed her whole, but he reveled in cradling her to his chest. The outline of her locket dug into him, but the imprint of her wearing it left an indelible mark on his heart. Pressing his lips against her green apple-scented hair, he said, "I guess we both jumped to conclusions today, didn't we?"

She nodded. "I didn't really want to go tonight. In fact, I was going to cancel out." Sighing heavily, her hot breath tickled his neck and sparked a fire in his blood. "But, I'm ashamed to say, your reaction to it all was like a bull seeing red. I charged ahead not caring about anything except trying to show you I wasn't anything like your first wife."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Nick experienced a mixture of happiness and remorse all rolled into one. "I shouldn't be holding you up to inspection like that. But I swear I got damned scared when I saw you speeding by. I had visions of finding you all mangled and twisted and burnt." His voice broke and he tried to shun the horrible image of finding Bree dead.

"Like how you discovered Dorthea?"

Nodding, he said, "But you're not like her, not really." He pulled back and gazed into her beautiful eyes as he framed her face with his palms. "You're good and kind and a great mother and a terrific lover..." Kissing her slowly, he felt the heat enter her cheeks. "And I can't stop thinking about you..." Parting her lips with his tongue, Nick delved in, savoring the delicious taste of her.

Bree gasped for air when he broke the incredible, intoxicating embrace. "Oh, Nick, why are we doing this to each other?" She searched his gaze for an answer.

He chuckled. "Hell if I know. I've got another hour to go on my shift and I'm supposed to be coherent and capable. Lord, you're like sweet, heady wine, making me dizzy and out of control."

She nudged him in the middle, flushing with both pleasure and embarrassment. "Not _that._ I was talking about the accusations, the mistrust. Why can't we just let it all go?"

As if a cold bucket of water doused him, Nick jerked away, leaving Bree confused and bereft. "I can't." Even as the headlights surrounded him, throwing him into silhouette, she detected the regret chiseled on his face. "I can't change who I am and what I believe overnight."

"When Vinnie died you did." She hated pointing it out, but she had to try to make him see reason.

"That's different. I lost my son." His tone roughened with emotion, tearing her apart inside.

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. "We both discovered this isn't a perfect world, Nick, and there are no perfect people. All I'm asking is for you to let go of some misconceptions about me, about life."

"You're talking about having a wealth of faith and trust. You've forgotten I don't have either one to give you or anyone else."

She picked up on the last. "What about Sydney? You still have it with her, don't you? Hasn't having her in your life taught you that children give you both, plus love, unconditionally? You're her poppa, her hero."

"Don't do this, Bree. I've got a job to get back to."

He turned away, and then walked a few steps before she caught up with him. Whipping off his coat, she thrust it into his arms. A cold chill invaded her bones, one she couldn't just pinpoint on the loss of his sandalwood-scented jacket still warm from his body.

"Keep it, you're trembling."

Shaking her head, she refused his generous offer. "You need it more than I do."

She made to leave, but stopped. Gazing up into his troubled dark eyes, her chest tightened, squeezing her heart until it hurt.

"You're wrong, Nick. About faith and trust. You still have some. Oh, not in people...well, Sydney's probably your only exception and I'm grateful for that."

She tapped his badge with her index finger. "If you still didn't have faith and trust in the judicial system you'd have escaped long ago, especially when Vinnie's killer will be out on parole in less than seven years with good behavior. You can't convince me that you'd stay in that kind of environment if you abhorred everything about it, now can you?"

***

Bree woke with a start. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Sitting up in Nana's favorite chair, she gasped for breath as she listened for the bang that had shaken her from her terrifying nightmare.

"Nick," she whispered, recalling the sharp, painful feeling of losing him.

Visions of him bloodied and beaten sprang to the forefront of her mind once again. She forced the dream out, trying to erase the horrifying image.

Breaking out in a cold sweat, she shivered in the thin, black nightie. Shoving the blanket off of her and bolting out of the chair, she stumbled in the darkness on her way to the kitchen.

The hum of the refrigerator lent a reassuring quality to the stillness. And the blue numbers on the microwave beamed through the fuzzy blackness. She did a double take, reading the time. "Two twenty! Nick, where are you?"

Panic sliced through her middle.

What would I do if anything happened to him?

A hollow ache swamped her; she knew she'd be lost without him.

"Dear God, please let Nick be all right. It's just not for me, it's for Sydney, too. Please, don't hurt her any more than she's already been." Her voice broke on the last, knowing she'd bargain with anything she had to have her prayer answered.

A metallic scraping noise pierced the air. She froze. With all her senses alert, she waited as footsteps came through the mud room. The kitchen door was thrust open, revealing a large, looming frame.

"Nick?" Her voice wobbled, half in fear, half in hope.

"Bree, what are you still doing up?" She heard the concern in Nick's husky tone.

Sweet relief rushed through her like a shot of whiskey, hot and quick. The click of a switch sounded. Light flooded the room, making her squint at the sudden harshness.

When she focused on him, she blinked several times at his disheveled appearance. She zeroed in on a bruise darkening his jaw. Her heart jumped.

She scanned the rest of him. His torn uniform shirt sent a coldness straight to her toes. Behind the ripped material, she spotted the long red scratches on his shoulder and chest. But it was the blotch of crimson blood slashed across his middle that careened her back in time.

End over end, she toppled into the past. The night Vinnie was murdered rushed up, strangling the very breath from her lungs. When Nick had arrived at her door her first thought had been of him being seriously wounded or worse dying.

History repeats itself.

Shockwaves reverberated through her now just as it had then. She felt the color drain from her face, felt her knees buckle.

# Chapter 24

With his heart in his throat, Nick raced around the breakfast bar to Bree's side, catching her. He cradled her close. "Bree, are you all right? Speak to me, sweetness."

"Just hold me," she murmured into his chest, clinging to him.

Relieved she hadn't fainted, he gave in to her request. He elbowed the back of the breakfast stool, twisting it around.

Easing his battered and bruised body down onto the cushion, Nick sighed. He tugged her to him, welcoming her warmth. It felt so good to hold her, so good to feel her again. And, he couldn't deny how much he needed this, needed her.

She roused herself to ask, "Am I hurting you?" Pulling back, she searched him with a swift, quizzical gaze. "Where are you hurt? How bad is it?"

"Nothing to write home about." He deliberately played down the fiasco arresting those drunken, rowdy teenagers who had come back to taunt him.

"But the blood."

Absorbing the shiver of revulsion that racked her body, Nick squeezed her tighter. "It looks worse than it is."

Relaxing, she sank into his embrace. "Thank you, God."

Nick chuckled. "What am I, an answer to a prayer?"

"Definitely." She smiled up at him, stealing all his breath away. Shrugging, she continued, "When I was a little girl I asked God for a very special man to marry me. He brought me you."

Growing uncomfortable with all the talk about Him, Nick dropped a light kiss on her forehead. He helped her onto the seat beside him.

The moment he let go, he regretted losing the intimate contact and the silky feel of her in the sexy nightwear. Clearing his throat, he said, "I'll get you some water."

"What's wrong?"

Filling a glass at the stainless steel sink, Nick turned to her, catching the deep frown marring her brow. "Did you ever think Vinnie was the result of that particular prayer and not me?"

"Never."

The quick, definite reply surprised him. "No doubts, no questions?" He turned the cold water knob off, and then walked to the opposite side of the breakfast bar where she sat. He handed her the glass.

She took a sip. Nick longed to lick the wetness away from her soft, sweet lips with his tongue. Heat stole through his blood.

Trying to cram the thought of tasting her and a whole host of other impure thoughts to the back of his mind, he focused on her trembling hand. Reaching over, he guided the glass to the counter top.

"I...I have to tell you something that you may find hard to believe." She avoided looking directly at him.

"Now what?" he muttered under his breath. He eased onto the seat beside hers once again. He cupped her icy hands, rubbing the warmth back into them. "It can't be all that bad, can it?" His attempt at getting her to crack a smile failed. A bubble of anxiety rose in his belly.

"I'm just not used to being so candid with you. But I promised myself I'd try to open up more." She paused for a moment. "You already know Vinnie and I didn't really love each other." Her voice was so low he strained to hear her. "But...what you don't know is, we weren't going to file for a divorce, in the true sense."

Confusion clouded his brain. He dragged a hand over his face. "But you said—"

"I know," she interrupted. "That's the story we were going to tell everyone."

A pinprick of temper jabbed his gut. "Including me, right? It makes no sense when both you and Vinnie knew I couldn't accept a divorce. So why say so when it wasn't true? And what the hell does 'in the true sense' mean anyhow? Were you two getting a divorce or not?" He cringed at the mixture of frustration and annoyance in his tone.

Bree sucked in a quivering breath and locked gazes with him. "We were getting an annulment."

Denial beamed bright inside him. "Now that's funny. Just how were you two going to pull that off?"

"We never consummated the marriage, Nick," she barely whispered.

Shockwaves crashed over him, shaking him to the core. He grasped for straws. "But Sydney..."

Turning frightfully pale, she closed her eyes. "I got pregnant before the wedding. Vinnie insisted..." Opening her eyes, she said, "But I've already told you all that, right?"

Slowly, things began to add up for Nick. "So you and he never _really_ loved each other after all. That's why you never took his name. That's why you were hardly ever together when either one of you visited. That's why you rarely spoke of the other. That's why you slept in separate rooms."

Nodding, she said, "It was never a real marriage at all. We were roommates raising a child, not husband and wife." A red flush darkened her chalky cheeks. "I'm ashamed to say I took the easy way out. If only I'd waited before I went to bed with..."

"Shhh, now, don't beat yourself up, sweetness." He traced the hot color with a fingertip. "We've all given into temptation. Look at me, I kissed you right after your wedding to my son. I knew better, been taught better, but still I couldn't resist."

She shot him a tremulous smile. "I couldn't resist you either."

"How could we have not seen this until now? We didn't want to go there," he answered his own question.

Suddenly a dawning light entered her eyes. "The more I think about it the more I truly believe Vinnie kept us apart beforehand because he sensed just how right we'd be together. I know that if I had met you before that day I'd have backed out of the wedding. How could I not when I had all these strange feelings coursing through me at the sight of you? I felt pressured into the marriage as it was and that day was even worse."

The distance that she'd been keeping him at bay with narrowed at her unvarnished honesty. Hope ballooned in his chest at this incredible, insightful side to her, one he'd only occasionally glimpsed. Now, she opened up to him, allowing him to unload his own burden at his part in it all.

"Right before the ceremony, I pulled him aside. I begged him not to go through with it. He accused me of wanting you for myself. I couldn't deny it. This smirk came over his face, and then he left me there, guilty and ashamed. Now I wonder if he did it all on purpose, too."

Bree sighed heavily. "He wanted to live up to your expectations to settle down and start a family. All he ever wanted was Tina and when he couldn't have her he turned to me, his friend." She bit her bottom lip, and then pressed onward. "I guess the more he talked about you, the more I gave myself away. He must have sensed my...my curiosity about you; I usually prompted him to tell me stories."

"And, of course, he knew you well, knew how many of the same things we both held dear: children, family, work ethic, responsibilities, and religion."

_"Faith_ ," she corrected, capturing his gaze and holding steady.

This time Nick was the one to look away momentarily. "He told us nothing of you, not even a hint. I think he wanted to keep you hidden, all to himself. After knowing you I really can't blame him for that at all." He sent her a sly grin.

She actually blushed and dipped her head.

With his thumb and forefinger, he lifted her chin up so now he stared into her shimmering eyes. He sucked in a breath, unsure if he'd read what he thought he did. _Is that love?_ Fighting a ripple of panic, Nick cleared his throat, saying, "I better go get cleaned up."

She stopped him. Gingerly, she touched him, first his shoulders, next the tear in his uniform, and then his stomach. Her delicate strokes broadcast her concern, her caring, more than any other gesture could have.

"I was so scared seeing you hurt when you first came home. I thought...I'd lost you, just like the night you came to tell me Vinnie had died. I was more concerned about you than about my own husband." She bowed her head, weeping silently.

Hot droplets plopped on the back of his hand, wringing his heart. Her shoulders shook, yet not a sound escaped her tormented soul. A sharp lance of pain ripped through his middle. No woman had ever cared that much about him before, no woman had _loved_ him like that before.

She loves me, there's no mistaking it now.

Hesitantly, Nick reached out. With just his fingertips he caressed her soft bare arms, trying to offer comfort. "Please, don't cry, Bree, you know it tears me up inside to see you like this." It hurt to talk, to acknowledge even that much to her.

She jerked her head up, taking him by surprise. He sucked in an aching breath at the now teary, blue eyes laced with more love than he'd ever experienced before in his life.

God, what did I do to deserve this woman? Do I deserve her?

"You want the truth, Nick? Well, I'll give it to you. I can't live without you." She stopped on a sob. "I tried, I really did. But I was punishing both of us, and Sydney too, when I stayed away after Vinnie died. I denied how I felt and it was easier living in denial if I didn't have to see you, hear you, touch you. I was only surviving."

He cupped her shoulders, hoping to warm the stark bleakness invading her features now, hoping to release the pent-up emotions swirling inside him at her disclosure. Tongue-tied, he couldn't force anything past his numb lips.

"I don't have any pride when it comes to you anymore," she whispered hoarsely.

His middle clenched. "Don't, sweetness, don't lose your self-respect for me."

She shot him a watery smile. "Oh, but you see, Nick, I'm finally getting rid of the shame and self-disgust I've lived with for so long and getting my self-respect back. I used to think talking about my feelings would make me weak and vulnerable, but I realize it makes me stronger." Taking a deep, shaky breath, she said, "I love you, Nicholas Carletti. I _think_ I always have, but I _know_ I always will."

With a heart that swelled to overflowing, Nick savored the precious words. Her declaration sounded like music to his ears.

Clamping his eyes shut, Nick yearned to scoop her up in his arms, whisk her away, and make sweet love to her all night long. But he focused once again, knowing one of them had to be sensible and not be swept away in the heady moment.

In an emotion-roughened voice, he said, "If love was the answer to all our problems then we wouldn't be battling with each other at every turn."

He stopped short of confessing his own feelings, knowing he couldn't trust her with them. He'd had his heart bruised beyond repair by one woman after he'd told her. And he sensed it would shatter in tiny little pieces if Bree ever tossed his love back in his face, just as Dorthea had done.

I can't trust Bree with my heart. I can't guarantee she wouldn't break it; I've never loved like this before. It's just too damn risky.

Swiping at her fast falling tears, Bree said, "You're right. Even when we're together, we're apart. But there's one thing I do know: We're better as a family than we ever were on our own. We just have to learn to work as a team instead of against each other. Otherwise we're going to rip this family in two, smash the best of who and what we are to where we can never repair it."

Something in her words, her tone, jolted him. Fear clawed at him, leaving great gapping slash marks in its wake. "We—I can't do that to Sydney. I can't destroy her or you. But there's still a part of me that won't let go of my son."

She framed his face with her small, soft palms. "I'm not asking you to."

Grabbing her wrists, he held on, feeling her strong, steady pulse pick up speed. "Aren't you?"

"Of course not."

Dragging her hands away from his cheeks, he clung to them with his own, squeezing tightly. "Don't you see, every day that I'm living my dream it's like a slap in the face to his memory."

"Just because he died doesn't mean you have to die right along with him, Nick." The fierceness in her tone took him by surprise.

"I should have."

"Why? So the guilt of surviving wouldn't gnaw at your insides every minute of every day, so you didn't have to live with the pain of knowing on some subconscious level you wished him gone so we could be together?"

Shock raced through his veins. "How...how did you know?"

"Because I felt the same way!"

# Chapter 25

"Noooo," he said, dragging it out on a moan of shared pain. He'd never wish this agony on anyone, especially not the woman he loved.

She nodded abruptly. "It took me a long time to find solace."

Envy poked him in the gut. "Got any pointers for me?"

"My faith got me through the worst of it. And the realization that Vinnie's death brought him a peace he couldn't find in life and wouldn't have even if I'd never been his wife. He couldn't have what he truly wanted most: Tina."

"But he had Sydney. Wasn't his daughter enough?"

"No." Her voice broke, fracturing his heart.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, and then dragging his hand down his face, he admitted, "I don't think I've had a moment's peace myself since he died. I used to believe in the rightness of the world, that a son would outlive his father. I even used to believe in forevers. But I don't anymore, sweetness."

"The pre-nup. Was that one of the reasons? You wanted a forever?"

"Yes," he dragged the word out. "It's legal and binding. Not like...life."

"How can I help you get your faith back?"

"I wish I knew that myself." _I've been lost for so long._

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. He returned the tight hold, burying his face in the warm space between her throat and shoulder. Inhaling, he detected the sweetness of her flesh, of his wife.

"You're a fighter, Nick, fight for what you want, fight for us, for your family," she whispered.

Melting into her, he clung to the acceptance she freely gave to him and his tormented soul. He stroked the long expanse of her back, reveling in the solid strength beneath the surface beckoning to him to lean on her, to follow her lead.

"Vinnie was your gift from God. He needed you to raise him and love him with all your heart. When the job was through, when you had prepared Vinnie enough, He took him back for bigger and better things to come."

Through the emotion that clogged his throat, Nick choked out, "So, what you're telling me is, God is an Indian giver."

Her body shook with a strangled chuckle. "Something like that."

Hot, salty tears ran down his cheeks and wet her neck. But she didn't flinch or cringe. She held tight, her arms warm bands of love cocooning him close to her heart.

"It's not fair, Bree. He didn't tell me the rules beforehand. He didn't tell me there would come a time when He'd take my son away from me."

"Even if you had known, would you have turned that kind of love away, turned Vinnie away?"

"Never, sweetness, never." It came out so fierce, so strong that the force of it cracked the last block of ice buried in Nick's core, releasing him from his self-imposed prison so he could find his way home again.

She sighed, her hot breath fanning his skin. "Take a leap of faith with me, Nick. With me and Sydney. Will you do that?"

***

Hot, sharp needles of water beat down on Nick's aching body. Billowing clouds of steam rose up, enveloping him in a gossamer mist.

Closing his eyes, he tilted his head down so the stinging spray of the shower pelted the sore muscles along his neck and shoulders.

For the first time in a long time, his mind seemed clear and focused. And his heart expanded as he finally let go of the overwhelming grief and the misplaced blaming.

Bree had begged him to fight, but he knew that's what he'd been doing all these months: fighting himself, fighting the unfairness of it all, fighting the demons.

She'd given him the key to unlocking the tortured part of his soul without even realizing it. She'd given him a chance to accept the wonderful role he'd played in loving and raising Vinnie.

_I did my job, and a pretty good one at that. And no one can ever take that away from me_.

A swift rush of relief zipped through him at the knowledge he'd never really betrayed his son at all. How could he when there hadn't been anything but friendship between Bree and Vinnie?

_Well, they had shared Sydney_.

In this unburdened state, Nick forgave his son for all Vinnie had inflicted on him and Bree, all the needless shame and guilt. For some strange reason, maybe jealousy, his son had kept them apart on purpose.

_If I can't have what I want then you can't have what you want,_ the words Vinnie taunted kids with as a child echoed through Nick's mind as if his son stood beside him saying them today.

The venom behind the statement had concerned Nick more than anything.

The stunning realization made perfect sense to Nick now. There had been a vindictive streak in Vinnie that he'd tried to blunt, even eradicate. And, for a time, Nick thought he'd succeeded. But how did you wipe it clean with a motherless boy angry at the world?

Vinnie hadn't been all bad or all good, Nick figured. Flashes of sweet memories zigzagged through his mind, bringing a soft smile to his lips.

As a child his son's dark brown eyes, so like his own, had sparkled bright and filled with mischief whenever Vinnie had a surprise.

Oh how he'd adored his Nana, cooking her breakfast and serving it to her in bed. Vinnie would crawl in beside her, snuggle close, and then proceed to eat half of it himself. He'd done it more for the affection and the special time with her than anything else.

Nick's heart squeezed as another memory surfaced. Holding Vinnie tight, Nick had absorbed the sobs of his son when Tina, his true love, had left him after three years of being school sweethearts. Vinnie had never been the same after that.

Raising his head, Nick let the water massage his scalp. He moaned in pleasure, savoring the delicious feel of washing the tenseness away, of cleansing the ugly, distorted past so it made sense.

And with the new outlook, Nick poked at the lack of faith he'd adopted. He'd stopped believing in everything, except the badge, as Bree so eloquently pointed out a few hours ago.

"But why? Why hold onto that?" Just as quickly as he asked that, he found the answer. Justice was more concrete in a lot of ways. It had guidelines to follow, set rules and regulations to obey.

Honor. Integrity.

The courts, and the people that influenced the decision making, didn't always mete out a just sentence or sometimes none at all.

But life had a funny way of equaling the score. That's what he believed and trusted in all his life and would go on doing so until the day he died. And he'd clung to that, like a beacon, like a lifeline. _My saving grace._

He smiled slightly, thinking he'd never turned his back completely on his faith after all. A thin thread had connected him all along.

_Thin, yet strong as the steel badge I proudly wore and still do_.

Assuming He had shunned him, Nick had acted hurt and angry, but still could not dispense with believing all together. There was always something that kept him tethered, a fragile bond, that he held onto to and that held onto him.

Nick had redirected his lost soul to the strict standards of his job, assured in some deep part of him that goodness, rightness would prevail in the end. He'd lived by it.

Now Bree wanted him to put some faith in her. Could he do that? Could he ever trust her with his heart? A few minutes ago he'd have flat out said no. But now, with this new insight on his life, he wondered if he could at least try. The mere thought caused a ripple of panic to snake through him.

Suddenly, he heard a click, and then felt a draft. Twisting to the open shower door, he opened his eyes wide when he spotted a very sexy, very naked Bree.

Poised on the other side of the threshold, she shot him a trembling smile. "May I join you?"

# Chapter 26

Bree shivered as the blast of steamy fog coming from the shower stall emphasized the rather sharp difference in temperature where she remained.

The pungent scent of the golden bar of soap assaulted her senses as she waited for his reply. Would he turn her away?

Speechless, he stared at her, scanning her nude body in a long, lazy perusal. She trembled again, this time from a bolt of desire zinging from her center to her toes.

Still she didn't go to him; he'd have to give her some sign, some kind of gesture or spoken ascent.

Why doesn't he do something, say something?

As time ticked slowly by, frozen terror rooted her in place.

What if he doesn't accept me?

Heat crawled up her neck and flooded her cheeks at the real possibility of him rejecting her.

_You wanted me to be honest_.

Earlier she'd let loose with a stream of truths that had even shocked her; she'd come mighty close to her buried secret. Did he hate her for it now? Is that why he wouldn't or couldn't welcome her?

She watched as he swallowed hard, his Adams apple bobbing along the column of his neck. "Come here, sweetness." His husky command was like a balm to her battered insides, whisking away her doubts.

In an instant, she was in his arms, relishing the solid strength of his water-slick body as the spray plummeted her. Burying her face in the damp whorls of hair on his chest, she peppered kisses over the scratches marring his perfect flesh.

_Oh, how I love you, Nick_.

He caressed her with tenderness and a reverence he'd never shown her before. Dropping a kiss on the top of her head, he said, "So many times I've wanted to touch you like this over the last few days."

Surprised at his confession, Bree pulled back and stared up into his shining, dark eyes. "When? We were so distant."

Gently, he brushed back her wet hair and cupped her head in his hands. "When I saw you laughing while playing with Sydney, or deep in concentration as you bowed your head over the sewing machine as you made that new dress for her, or when that secret little smile comes over your lips whenever you watch your daughter."

She gasped. "I didn't think you even noticed me. I didn't think you cared."

"I care."

If his words didn't totally convince her, then his emotion roughened voice did, cementing it. "Why didn't you touch me then?"

"I needed time, time to accept you and all you'd told me about your childhood. I still need time to accept you into my home and...heart."

Quivering inside, she tread lightly, whispering, "Well, there's no need to rush, is there? After all I've got a lifetime left."

She must have given him the response he needed; he leaned forward and gingerly kissed her. One brush of his lips caused her knees to buckle. Nick dragged her close, so close she felt every sinewy muscle and hard plane of his large frame.

"Nick," she said softly against his mouth, delighting in the sensations coursing through her veins.

"You kiss like a dream and you taste so good," he murmured, reclaiming her mouth in a long, wet embrace.

Tiny thrills danced along her spine where his hands stroked. He dipped lower, his fingertips grazing the sensitive indentation in the small of her back. She sucked in a sharp breath.

"You like that?" He repeated the gesture, making her shiver.

Planting light kisses on his bruised jaw, she murmured, "I like everything you do."

His deep, lustful chuckle sent a flare of heat straight to her core. Wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, Bree snuggled into him as a desperate need to get even closer to her husband took hold.

_He's here. He's safe_.

Treasuring each caress of his big hands, each brush of his fingers, she lost her former reservations about telling him that she loved him.

Honesty had set her free in this instance. It was scary and foreign to her, but it had been what they both needed to move forward.

Hopefully, when he was ready he could return the same feelings. Until that day came, she'd cherish what she did have right here in her arms, in her life.

Water cascaded over her head as she lifted her mouth for more of his intoxicating embraces. Just before he lowered his lips to hers again, she halted him for a brief moment. Gazing directly into his eyes, she whispered hoarsely, "I love you. I'll never stop."

He growled low in his chest. Feeling the rumble against her breasts set a fire of feminine power glowing in her middle. "Say it again," he whispered against her lips.

Headiness filled her senses. Love guided her. Time seemed as if it stood still. Nothing mattered but this moment and giving him what he wanted; it was exactly what she wanted, too. "I love you, Nick."

Capturing her lips, he deposited the gentlest kiss she'd ever received. The sweetness of it brought tears to her eyes. Her heart lost the hollow ache behind it.

The hungry neediness she'd fought with for so long now was happily fed, completely satisfied by this big man who told her more with actions than with words.

She'd moved him, immeasurably, Bree realized as the salty taste of their mingled tears intruded on their kiss. A sense of awe blossomed in her middle.

He broke the embrace, gathering her close. Strong arms circled her with warmth and security. "Lord, please don't let me regret what I'm about to say." His words tugged at her mind, causing her to envision almost anything. "God help me, Bree, but I love you."

The fierce, hoarsely whispered declaration sent shockwaves crashing down on her and a bubbling joy to her heart.

She gazed up into his eyes, reading the mixture of hope and love. A shadow blotted some of the light. Doubt, was it? Or distrust?

_He doesn't want to love me. He doesn't want to be vulnerable_.

A niggling fear reared its ugly head, causing an icy ripple to wash over her.

But does he love me enough?

He'd said love didn't solve all their problems. It certainly wouldn't help her if he dug up her past. There was no way he'd forgive her for lying to him all these years.

An ache, raw and hollow, shot straight to her core.

_Dear God, please don't ever let me hurt this man. He doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve any more pain_.

She prayed that Nick never found out her secret, not just for Sydney's sake any longer, but for his own. Bree shuddered inwardly at the torment he'd suffer if he did.

***

The loud persistent blare of the radio alarm jolted Nick awake. Reaching out blindly, he slammed a hand down on the button. Blissful silence followed.

Keeping his eyes closed, he reran the events of a few hours ago through his mind. He'd gambled, risking everything inside him by declaring his love for his wife.

The odds were stacked up against him, but he'd finally realized he had to jump in the game or lose it all. He only hoped he'd bet on the winning team: Bree and him. Otherwise, the loss would destroy him in the end.

Forcing himself to shun that devastating outcome, Nick held fast to the belief that whatever chance he'd taken had been worth it and would in turn point Bree to the road where only truth prevailed.

_It's our one chance to make it work_.

He prayed she realized that.

Tossing off those dreary thoughts, he stretched in his king-sized bed, feeling the delicious tingles where Bree had showered him with attention. Rolling onto his side, he adjusted the sheet, and then cradled Bree's back to his front, enjoying her low moan of pleasure and the silky feel of her bare flesh.

Feeling devilish, he nibbled on her earlobe, earning himself a giggle for his troubles. "Mmmmm, you taste good, Mrs. Carletti."

"Tell me more. I like the sound of your sleep husky voice first thing in the morning."

"Do you like this, sweetness?" He trailed a hand over her flat middle. She sucked in a sharp breath. "I guess that means yes."

She murmured her agreement, and then guided his hand upward to cup the fullness of her breast. It was his turn to groan.

"So soft..."

After loving her most of the night she'd claimed he was a considerate, yet demanding lover. He'd demanded her full participation, drawing out every ounce of her passion and not stopping until he'd completely satisfied her and himself.

This morning he was happy to find she was more than willing to engage in more of the same.

"Well, I have news to tell you, Mr. Carletti, you're not soft at all." He heard the smile in her voice as she pressed her bottom into him.

He growled low, grabbing her hips to stop her from rubbing against him. "You don't play fair sometimes."

She twisted in his arms, and then propelled him to his back. Propping herself up on his chest, she smiled lazily down at him. "Why, haven't you ever heard the saying, all's fair in love and war?"

With that she traced a fingertip downward, dipping it into his belly button, straight down the long line of hair arrowing below the sheet, and then over the length of his arousal. Heat burned a fiery path through him, bursting into flames as she followed the same route with her lips.

***

Through the large plate glass window, Bree waved good-bye to Natalie as she skipped alongside her mother to their car. The little girl's newly cut bob swung to and fro.

Bree tried to tune Tessa out, but her business partner's excited chatter carried clear across the expanse of the late afternoon, sun streaked beauty salon.

"I can't begin to tell you, Mrs. Timmons, how surprised I was when he walked in here yesterday with a dozen roses."

Twisting around, Bree watched Tessa tease the older woman's gray hair as she rattled on. "And don't you know he's going to make dinner for her and bring it here since it's her late night. I know that because he left her a note along with one of the roses on his pillow just before he rushed off to work this morning while she was getting ready to pick up Sydney from the babysitters."

"My, my," Jewel put her two cents worth in as she swept away the pile of platinum blonde hair Bree had just clipped from her departing patron. "Don't we all just _dream_ of a romantic man like that?" Sarcasm dripped like icicles from her every word.

Bree wrinkled her nose at the shop's official man hater, and then stuck her tongue out. "Jealous?"

"Hah! Tessa is though."

The unusual sparkle in the violet eyes caught Bree off guard and she smiled at the lighthearted atmosphere in the salon even if it happened to be at her expense.

She'd heard plenty of gossip about her and Nick since their engagement, some catty, some good.

Was there any way out of it in a small town?

"What's row-man-tick, Mommy?" Sydney, seated at the receptionist desk, tapped Bree on the arm when she drew near.

Scooping her up in her arms, Bree settled in the black swivel chair with her daughter nestled in her lap. " _Romantic,_ " she corrected automatically. "Well, sweetpea, it's an expression of love and caring."

Jewel, having discarded the hair, plopped down in Bree's salon chair near the desk. "It's all that kissy, mushy stuff, sweetie."

"Oh, brother," Sydney said, smacking her hand on her forehead and shaking her head. "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

Bree laughed. Jewel barely smiled.

The familiar sound of a car halting in front of the building drew Bree's full attention. Her breath caught in the back of her throat when she realized it was Nick's cruiser. Warmth crawled up her neck and into her cheeks as she replayed her bold, adventurous wanderings this morning.

What had come over me?

"Your poppa's here, honey," she said softly to her daughter, trying to gain some composure before he entered.

Sydney whipped around and shrieked with joy. Hopping down, she rounded the desk, and then launched herself into his arms as he stepped through the door.

"Hey, Princess. I sure missed you. How are my girls doing? Did you dye anyone's hair pink today?" He lifted her easily. Hugging her, he kissed her on the cheek, causing Sydney to giggle.

"Oh, Poppa, you're so funny. I only did it once and to my dollie, not to a real live lady."

Nick grinned and winked as he captured Bree's gaze. The wide, sexy smile stole her senses away and spread the heat throughout her body, making her toes curl.

"Oh, brother," Jewel murmured Sydney's favorite phrase, clearly disgusted with the overt attraction.

Reaching out with a short, stubby digit Sydney gently touched Nick's bruised jaw, now a dark purplish hue. She frowned with obvious concern. "Does it hurt, Poppa? Mommy told me how you 'rested someone and they got real mad at you."

"She did, huh? Well, it doesn't hurt much at all now. No real harm done, so don't worry about it, okay?" He deposited a quick kiss on the tip of her button nose.

Her daughter nodded happily. Bree breathed a sigh of relief; she didn't want Sydney to harbor any of the deep, troubling thoughts she had about Nick's profession.

_But how can't she when Vinnie died doing the same work?_ Jewel hefted herself to her feet and held out a hand. "Come on, Sydney, I'll help you gather up your gear from the back room so you can go home with your poppa."

When he lowered Sydney to the floor, she said to him, "Now, don't leave without me, 'kay?"

"I wouldn't dream of it, Princess."

As Sydney bounded to the back room with Jewel, Bree gathered her courage and rose. "Hi." She cringed at the breathy quality to her voice.

"Hi, yourself, sweetness," he whispered huskily, leaning his elbows on the tall-backed desk and coming close.

Provocative sandalwood after-shave assaulted her senses. Closing her eyes for a moment, she inhaled deeply, savoring his scent. When she focused on him once again it was to find Nick staring at her with such love, such longing in his dark eyes. Blinking rapidly, she tried to brush away the sudden wave of dizziness.

"How...how was your day?"

He sent her a lop-sided grin. "The wakeup call was fantastic."

She flushed deeply at his veiled reference to her ministrations. "I wasn't talking about _that_ and you know it, Carletti," she admonished him, but glowed inwardly.

His chuckle, rich and deep, sent tingles scattering along her nerve endings.

"See, I told you, Mrs. Timmons, whenever they're together they have no idea anyone else is around," Tessa's loudly whispered words yanked Bree from the intoxicating affect her husband had on her.

Bree rolled her eyes at Nick, and then laughed. He joined her, sharing a special intimacy.

Winking again at her, he raised his voice, saying, "Maybe it's high time we find Tessa a boyfriend."

"I heard that, Sarge," Tessa said, looking into the mirrored reflection to him. "Got any friends like you?"

Mrs. Timmons peeped up in her sing-song voice, "Oh, I heard he's one of a kind, isn't that right, Bree?"

Bree looked first from the lively little old lady, and then to Nick. A sly smile inched up the corners of her mouth. "You're definitely one of a kind, Mr. Carletti."

A flare flashed in the depths of his eyes, one she'd become accustomed to whenever she tapped into his passionate nature. "You keep smiling at me like that, sweetness, and I'll take you home and ravish you."

The velvety, low timber of his voice sent a blaze of heat trailing through her bloodstream. She leaned close, whispering seductively, "Promises, promises."

# Chapter 27

Three hours later, Nick still couldn't shake the delicious effects of his wife's flirtations as he reentered the beauty salon carrying a piping hot pan of lasagna.

Sydney, dragging the plastic bag that held the bowl of salad, breadsticks, dessert, paper plates, and silverware, scooted in ahead of him.

"We're here, Mommy, and boy do we have a s'prise for you!"

Jewel popped her head out of the supply room. "Hey, you guys, she's brewing a batch of java. Come on back. Perfect timing. We're taking a quick break before the rush starts all over again in a few minutes."

As Nick rounded the corner to the back room, he spotted Bree instantly. Replacing the lid on the coffee can, she sent him a soft, heartwarming look that caused his middle to dip.

"You didn't have to go to all this trouble just for me, Nick." A wealth of appreciation shone in her gaze and she blinked a few times.

A pinprick of tenderness jabbed his chest. The crusty barnacles that had clung to his heart for years had been scrubbed off the moment he revealed his love for Bree.

Now all that remained seemed to be a fresh newness that felt every little emotion. And it scared the hell out of him; he didn't know how to deal with the raw, potent feelings coursing through him at every twist and turn.

Clearing his throat, he shrugged. "It's the least we could do for you hard working ladies." He purposely included Jewel.

On one hand, he wanted to take the spotlight off of himself. And on the other, he hoped Jewel would take the dinner invitation and olive branch he extended. He sensed how much it meant to Bree for her friends and him to get along.

The violet-eyed woman shook her head. "Oh, no, I couldn't intrude on your family outing. And, anyway, I'm waiting for my son to call me, so I'll just leave you guys alone."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Bree's frown and read the silent plea in her eyes. Nick blocked the doorway, preventing Jewel from escaping. "Now, you're going to hurt Sydney's feelings if you refuse. Isn't that right, Princess?" He checked on his granddaughter as she knelt on a stool, unloading her bag of goodies.

"Uh huh. Please have some lazy-on-ah, Auntie Jewel. I'll even keep you comp-knee while you wait for Sean to call." Her wide smile revealed the dimple near her mouth. "I just _love_ Sean. I'm going to marry him when I grow up, but he don't know it yet."

Her bold statement brought laughter gurgling up from the depths of Nick. "Is that right? Well, Jewel, I guess you've got to accept since your son and my granddaughter are practically engaged."

He caught the twitch in the woman's lips, but she refrained from smiling, something she seldom gave in to. "Well, since we're almost in-laws I'll be happy to have some lazy-on-ah."

Ten minutes later, Nick settled on the stool Sydney had vacated, facing his wife on a matching one. He tilted his head toward the front of the shop where Jewel and Sydney's low garbled tones came from. "I'm surprised she accepted. She's a tough one, isn't she?"

Nodding, Bree agreed. "Thanks for including her."

"No problem." _If it makes you happy, I'll do anything you want_.

Having just taken a bite of the cheesy concoction, Bree moaned in pleasure. "This is so good. You've outdone yourself once again, Carletti."

"I'm glad you like it. Your daughter and I had quite a time making it." He paused, wondering if he should pursue the subject he and Sydney had stumbled on while preparing dinner.

Will Bree be receptive to my adopting her daughter?

Doubts snaked their way into his mind, stalling him.

The shrill ring of the phone sounded from the front of the shop. It stopped suddenly and Jewel's muffled voice could be heard.

Digging in for another fork full, Bree peeked at him from under her long lashes, stealing his senses away. "I can't wait to see what you've made for dessert. If I'm not mistaken, I think you've got something chocolate hiding in that bag."

At her provocative, beguiling glance, he coughed. "Ah...if you keep that up I'm liable to spill it. You wouldn't want me to spoil your daughter's secret, now would you?"

This time Bree coughed, nearly choking on her dinner.

Frowning, he shoved a can of soda into her hand and helped her take a sip. "You all right?"

In a raspy voice, she managed, "I think so. Must have gone down the wrong way." Tipping the can for a bigger swallow, she gulped greedily. She placed the drink on the counter producing a slight tinging sound as metal and wood connected. "All better."

Concern crowded in his middle when she avoided looking directly at him, shutting him out. Her appetite seemed to have all but disappeared as she fiddled with her food.

_What did I say to cause such a reaction? I didn't even bring up the adoption_.

Tucking it away for a later time, he tried to make light of the suddenly tense situation. "You're not going to try to worm it out of me, are you? Because, I have to tell you, I can only take so much of those delicious kisses of yours. Not to mention the way you touch me with your soft hands. And then there's always the way—"

Blushing a delicate pink, she put her hand over his mouth to halt him in mid-stream. "Stop or I won't be responsible for throwing myself at you right here and now."

Wiggling his eyebrows at her, he mumbled behind her hand, "Oh really? I kinda like how that sounds."

On an impish impulse, he stroked his tongue across her palm.

She hissed, pulling away and rubbing the wet spot. "You have the devil himself inside you, Nicholas Carletti."

Hearty laughter burst out of him. "You sound just like Nana whenever I used to go peering in her simmering pots on the stove or poking around for my hidden Christmas presents. Or, better yet, Father Tom, whenever he caught my friends and me on Halloween night doing something I shouldn't have been doing."

With sparkling hazel eyes, Bree leaned close, so close her heady fragrance sent all his thoughts scattering in the wind. "Oh, tell me more."

Talking was the last thing he longed to do right at the moment. Her lips drew all his attention _._

"Ahem! I hope I'm not disturbing the two of you." Jewel's voice from the doorway caused Bree to jump away from him.

Disappointment shafted through Nick. Looking over his shoulder to glare at the intrusion, he asked, "What made you think that?" He was hard pressed to cover the sarcastic edge in his tone.

Jewel actually giggled. _Probably at my sour expression_ , he thought grimly. But as he twisted back to Bree, his mood altered; she was the picture of surprised amusement. The dark thoughts evaporated and enchantment forged a path to his heart.

"How'd you do that?" Bree asked on a whisper.

"Oh, I have my moments," Jewel assured them both. "Forget that for now. My son and your granddaughter have a favor to ask you, Nick."

He raised his eyebrows. "It sounds ominous."

Bree rose too, saying, "Oh, brother, I've got to see what those two have cooked up this time."

Grinning, Nick made his way to the reception area with Bree by his side. Jewel trailed behind them. His smile widened even more as he noted Sydney cradling the receiver between her shoulder and neck the same way her mother often did. "Okay, Princess, what's this about a favor?"

"Can Sean come over tonight? He's trying out for football and he needs you to help him with the throwing part. Could you please help him, Poppa?"

If her pleading voice didn't twist his heart, then her woeful expression certainly did the trick. But a bubble of anxiety made it out of the pit of his belly, gurgling up to clog his throat.

The last time he'd tossed a football around was when Vinnie was a boy, alive and happy.

He'd purposely stayed away from any male child that reminded him of his dead son these last eighteen months. A trickle of sweat inched its way down the back of his neck.

Swallowing hard, he wondered if he could jump this hurdle without falling apart. Could he help this eleven-year-old boy without sticking a knife straight through himself? Did he dare take the chance?

A hushed silence hung over the little cluster of people gazing expectantly at him. Seeking out Bree, Nick read sympathy and understanding.

_She won't hold it against me if I say no_.

That one realization eased his conscience and set him free to take a giant step forward.

He turned to Sydney and said, "Sure, Princess, why not?"

"Oh, Poppa, you're the bestest in the whole wide world. Sean says he'll ride his bike up here to meet us."

Nick frowned at that. "No way. It will be dark in a little while and I don't want him riding after dark, understand? We'll go pick him up. Ask him if he's had his dinner yet. If not, we'll bring him some."

As she relayed his message, Nick caught the incredulous look on Jewel's face. "Well, what did you think I was, an ogre, or something?"

She shot him the first genuine smile he'd ever witnessed from her. "I guess I have to adjust my opinion of you, Sergeant Carletti."

"Call me Nick. After all we are going to be related someday if my granddaughter has her way."

Bree chuckled, gaining his full attention. The happiness dancing in her sparkling eyes told him more than words could ever say: She was proud of him.

He'd taken a leap of faith, faith that he'd work through the hurt and find solace in teaching Sean while remembering Vinnie.

With a few short steps, she was in front of him. Hugging him close, she whispered in his ear, "You _are_ the bestest in the whole wide world."

Closing his eyes, he buried his face in her neck. He savored the welcoming feel and intoxicating scent of her. Cradling her whisked away his earlier, anxious thoughts. In her warm, loving embrace he knew he'd found his sanctuary.

The simultaneous clunky sound of the phone receiver being replaced and bells above the door ringing jarred him, bringing him back to the moment. Reluctantly, he pulled away from Bree. But before he released her completely, he dropped a kiss on her soft, sweet lips.

"Well, well, now, what do we have here?" Father Tom's question jerked Nick from the hazy layer of love he'd willingly succumbed to.

Feeling all of ten again, Nick nervously shook the priest's outstretched hand.

The strong, firm clasp of the elderly man always gained Nick's notice. That and his keen, piercing blue gaze beneath his bushy eyebrows that knew so much. "Father Tom, what brings you here?"

He tunneled his fingers through his wind-tossed gray hair. "I was hoping Bree could squeeze me in for a haircut tomorrow morning."

Bree stepped to the desk, and then flipped a page in the appointment book. "Is eight-thirty too early for you, Father?" "That's perfect, just perfect. I'd love to stay around and chat but I have a pre-marital counseling session in twenty minutes. Ah...Nick, can you walk me out to my car, son? There's something I've been wanting to discuss with you."

Sydney piped up, "Is it about the Red Sox, Father Tom? Poppa and I are gonna watch the game in this many days." She held up two fingers.

He winked at her. "I only wish it was about the ball game."

Concern replaced Nick's nervousness at being caught kissing his wife in front of the all-seeing, all-knowing priest. As he walked out the door behind Father Tom, he grew worried at the unusual somber mood hovering over the man.

Nick halted on the sidewalk with the elderly man beside him. "What's this all about, Father? You seem so serious."

"I'm afraid the subject is serious, Nick." He paused, rubbing his chin, seemingly deep in thought. "We've received some phone calls at the rectory. At first I just thought it was curiosity about Bree's wedding to you since the person mentioned reading that I had officiated at your ceremony."

A gnawing sensation began deep in Nick's belly. Age-old cop instincts held him in a fierce grip. Suspicions burst like fireworks through his head. _More phone calls!_ "You said, at first..."

With a furrowed brow, he tapped a finger against his lips, and then said, "Yes, yes, now I'm not so sure they were as innocent as I assumed." He cleared his throat. "They've increased in frequency and it seems as if the woman on the line is getting the information for someone else. Of course, we're not saying anything at all. But I thought you should know they're asking a lot of questions about Bree's past."

Looking through the glass door, Nick sought out Bree. Her teasing, carefree expression from earlier was absent. In its place was a troubled, pensive look that nudged a warning signal into life. With big, soulful eyes, she locked gazes with him, sounding off alarm bells in his head.

She's either one popular lady or someone's hunting her down. I'd bet good money on the latter. And I'd bet she knows it, too!

# Chapter 28

Bone weary, Bree trudged up the last few steps of Nick's side stairs. A few weeks ago she'd done the same thing only she'd climbed up to her lonely apartment. A smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.

_My life has changed so much for the better since then_.

A sobering thought poked at her conscience.

_Well, some things didn't seem all right_.

Icy reason grabbed her. What had Father Tom talked to Nick about? The hard, probing stare Nick had shot her could only mean it concerned one thing: Her.

She tried to shake off the memory of Nick's intent, questioning look from a few hours ago. A coldness had invaded her heart at that moment and hadn't left her since.

Entering the house, she sucked in a deep, shaky breath. "It's time to face the music," she murmured. As she walked into the softly lit kitchen, she said, "I'm home, Nick."

"In here." The rich quality of his voice always sent a delicious warmth to her center.

Following the buttery puddle of light to the living room, she stopped in the archway. He sat on the delicate chintz sofa hunched over the coffee table, gazing at some sort of book. Holding back a chuckle at how out of place such a big man looked in the flowery room, she drew near, and then dropped down beside him.

"Thanks for the chocolate cupcakes. They were delicious. What do you have there?"

As if coming out of a trance, he did a double take at seeing her less than six inches away. He frowned, saying, "Ah...photo albums and Nana's scrapbooks. The kids were interested in them."

With her index finger, she traced the line etched near his mouth. "Hey, you okay?"

The muscles beneath her questing digit shifted and he shot her a lop-sided grin. "I guess I'm still stuck in a time warp after checking these out." He tapped his hand on the pile of books stacked to his right. "I've avoided them for so long."

"Does this nostalgic trip have anything to do with you taking Sean under your wing and allowing him to sleep over in Vinnie's old room?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he nodded. "It's like clearing out the cobwebs on a shrine, sweetness. It stirs up a lot of dust."

An ache behind her rib cage arrowed through her heart. On one hand she realized what a good strong influence he'd be in the fatherless boy's life. But, on the other hand, she also knew how this encounter had ripped the scab off of Nick's wounded soul. Leaning forward, she dropped a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Oh, Nick, how can I help you?"

Turning to her, he searched her face. His long, lingering gaze filled her with such warmth, such caring. "You have already, by being in my life, by forcing me to take off the blinders and see what happened for what it really was." He paused for a moment. "But there is something you have in your power that could point us all in the direction of recovering totally."

Confusion washed over her. "All? I don't understand."

"Let me adopt Sydney." His plea, filled with rough emotion, tugged at her core.

She pulled away, feeling the color drain from her face. Standing abruptly, she moved to the fireplace, keeping her back to him. With her eyes tightly shut, her mind screamed, _Noooo!_ "Adopt?" she managed to ask on a puff of air.

Why haven't I prepared myself for this? Of course he'd want to claim Sydney. How stupid of me not to think this far ahead.

"Is it so absurd to you to even consider it?" His voice rang with restrained anger. "The only way we'll be a real family is if I take Sydney for my own. Your daughter is worried about going to school next week and not having a daddy when most of the other kids will."

Stunned wonder raced through her; she had no idea the lack of a father bothered Sydney. With one hand she grabbed hold of the wooden mantel, and then twisted to look at him. "She told you that?" At his curt nod, she asked, "When? She never once said anything to me about it."

He smiled grimly. "You'd be surprised at what goes on in that little head of hers." Dragging a hand over his face, he let out a sigh. "It seems Sherrie's stepfather is petitioning to adopt her, so it's been a frequent topic of conversation for the two best friends lately."

A frigid hand squeezed Bree's heart until it hurt. "She's got you," she croaked.

He locked gazes with her. "What if something happens to you? Can you guarantee that the courts will give her to me?"

"I left you custody of Sydney in my will."

It was his turn to look taken aback. "Wh...when did you do that?"

Should she lie through her teeth? She dug her fingertips into the hard wood, welcoming the anchor. Swallowing hard, she knew what she had to do. "The day she was born."

His wide, dazed expression seemed more in agreement with someone who had just witnessed an explosion. The atmosphere rang with eerie stillness. She watched as he tried to form words, but nothing escaped his mouth.

"I—" She cleared her suddenly clogged throat, dropped her arm, and then wrung her hands together. "I couldn't trust Vinnie to do the best job. You were always there for me, Nick, even when we were barely speaking. I hoped you'd always be there for my daughter. For Sydney's sake."

_Please, God, let him be there for Sydney even if he ever finds out my secret. Don't let her life suffer because of my mistakes_.

"You know I will?"

Do I? Do I really?

Rising, he came toward her, stopping only a few scant inches away. "So you shouldn't have any objections to me adopting her now."

Avoiding his penetrating dark eyes, she stared at the design and lettering on his favorite Boston Red Sox T-shirt. She shrugged. "There's really no reason to, is there? I mean, she does have your last name and everything."

"There's every reason to," he said between gritted teeth. "Put yourself in her shoes, Bree. She wants to fit in when she goes to kindergarten. It's going to be pretty bad when she has to explain how her mother ended up being married to her grandfather."

When she went to speak, to defend herself, he held up a hand, saying, "Wait, before you say it I will. She's heard the gossip already just by being exposed while at your beauty shop. It hurt her when she learned some people think we're different, odd even."

A mother's rage bolted through her, firing her blood. She balled her hands into fists. "Damn those people!"

"That's mild compared to what I thought," he grumbled. "Now do you see how important this is? For your daughter's sake put aside your own misgivings, your own feelings."

_I've done that since the day I discovered I was pregnant with her, but no one knows it. Sydney always comes first_.

As he waited expectantly for her reply, she felt the walls closing in on her. Her thundering heartbeat filled her eardrums. The air became hot and stuffy. The scent of his sandalwood after-shave seemed to intensify, almost overwhelming her.

And her mind swam, keeping any coherent excuse at bay. "I...I don't know what to say."

"Yes, would be a good answer right about now."

Could she go through with it? Did she dare?

_Think of Sydney's future happiness, think of her wellbeing if the truth ever came out. What would Nick's lawyer dig up when he researched her past for the court documents? He'd find out, I just know he would. Then Nick would know, too_.

Shuddering inwardly at the horror of that outcome and the ensuing damage, she grabbed at a tiny thread spinning through her scattering thoughts. "You once said you couldn't be the father of my baby when you couldn't trust me, Nick. What makes this any different?"

He froze. "It just is."

Grasping for her daughter's life and peace of mind, she said, "I don't think it is."

The grim look on his face told her more than words. "Is this some type of emotional blackmail, Bree? Until I can learn to trust you, then you won't agree to the adoption."

A sinking sensation flooded her middle. "I wouldn't call it that."

"Well, I will." Taking a step closer, he settled his big hands on her shoulders. "How am I supposed to trust you when we both know you're still keeping things from me?"

A band constricted around her chest. "I don't know what you mean."

"Somehow I doubt that."

It even hurt her to take a small breath. "What exactly are you accusing me of, Nick?"

"There's someone out there looking for you."

Panic infringed on her mind, blurring the edges of her sanity. She tried to shrug off his assumption, but the weight of his hand prevented her from budging her shoulder one bit. "Oh, you're talking about the phone calls again—"

"Father Tom told me that they've received some at the rectory asking about your past."

A cold sheen of perspiration bathed her body.

_So that's what that little talk was all about_.

Frantically, she shifted through her numb brain for an answer. "You know, I think I figured out what they're all about. My high school reunion always comes up about this time of year. I haven't kept in touch with them since I moved here when I married Vinnie. I bet you it's just someone from the alumni committee who saw the announcement in the paper and wants to send me an invitation."

She waited with baited breath for his response. The pressure on her shoulders eased and he ran his hands down the length of her arms. Her tumbling insides settled down as his features relaxed into smooth lines.

"I suppose that could explain it," he said more to himself than to her. "I'll check into it for you."

A tightness grabbed her throat and she almost choked. "I'll take care of it, since I have to hunt through a bunch of packed boxes to find the lady's name that runs these things."

He frowned down at her. "But you will tell me how it turns out, won't you?"

The lump lodged in her throat seemed to grow to mammoth proportions. She smiled weakly. "Of course, why wouldn't I?"

_Your number will be up soon, Bree, my girl, if you don't stop him from destroying your life...and your little girl_.

# Chapter 29

"Well, Princess, that's the last of them," Nick said as he taped the final cardboard box shut. Over the last week he'd rummaged through all of Vinnie's things, disposing of the useless, giving away clothes to the needy, and storing some treasure for Sydney when she grew up.

For himself, Nick had kept a half dozen items that captured the essence of his son: the half inflated football they'd spent endless hours passing back and forth while talking about life; a worn out photo of a toothless Vinnie and the first fish he'd caught; his favorite childhood toy, a red metal fire truck; the battered Boston Red Sox baseball cap Nick had bought Vinnie at the very first game he'd taken his son to at Fenway Park; the gold pocket watch passed from each Carletti policeman to the next generation carrying a torch for justice; and the badge Vinnie had loved so much he'd died for.

As Nick looked at the bare walls with outlines where pictures and posters hung only a short time ago, he said a silent good-bye to the little boy, and then the young man.

He'd thought the parting would be unbearably painful. But, in fact, he experienced a lightheartedness and a sense of peace that had alluded him for years.

How could he have ever known facing the painful past, what hurt the most, would finally give him solace?

His gaze came to rest on the sleeping form of his pink pajama-clad granddaughter curled up under the crumpled bedspread on the twin bed. A sweet ache tugged at him.

_Lord, I love that little girl_.

In a few short strides, he drew near, and then bent to tenderly scoop her up in his arms. She mumbled in her sleep and snuggled close. "It's all right, Princess, I'm just taking you to your own bed."

Dropping a gentle kiss on the top of her hair, he caught the fragrant green apple scent of the shampoo she and Bree used.

As he made his way down the hall to her bedroom, he marveled at the wondrous little things Bree had brought into his life since their marriage.

Living with her heady scent, strawberry bubble bath, and green apple hair products stirred his senses to life. The softness of her touch eased a hungry ache deep in his soul. The feel of her cradled in his arms appeased his battered heart.

But the sight of her in his house brought boundless joy and a fierce rightness to his world.

Halting at the side of Sydney's bed, Nick smiled at the pretty pink and white room Bree had reconstructed in his home. Every detail spoke of her love for her child.

"Hey, you forgot to say your prayers tonight," Nick said softly to her.

"'Gether, Poppa."

He chuckled. One time, not too long ago, that would have struck a chord of fear in him, but he'd faced so many demons lately that praying no longer was one. "How about if you just say, God bless everyone, will that due?"

"I'd say that covers it all," Bree said from the doorway.

He whipped his head around. The sight of her warmed him. "You know you shouldn't sneak up on people like that. It's liable to get you in trouble someday." He couldn't keep the smile out of his voice.

She walked to him. Standing on tip-toe, she brushed a sweet kiss across his lips. When she pulled away he longed for more. "I'll remember that, Sarge."

She caressed her daughter's rosy cheek, gaining a sigh and a murmured, "Mommy."

"How's my little sweetpea?"

Nick gently placed Sydney on the bed, and then tucked the covers around her little shoulders. "Worn out from all the packing she's helped me with while you were working tonight."

Putting his arm around Bree, he pulled her close, savoring the feel of her pressed to his side. When she dropped her head to his chest and pressed a hand to his middle, he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. Standing like that, Nick stared at the little girl.

"She's so beautiful," Bree whispered.

"Like her mother." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Come on, let's go have some coffee and leave her to dreamland."

"Wine would be better."

"You've got it."

A few minutes later, Nick brought a glass of red wine to Bree as she reclined in Nana's favorite peach armchair in the sun room. Her fingers brushed his as she took the crystal stemware. A river of warmth flooded his bloodstream at the light caress.

"Thanks, Nick." Her voice sounded breathy. She sipped at the ruby red liquid.

A restlessness invaded his middle at the matter he longed to broach. Normally, he'd work off the antsy sensation by lifting weights. But tonight he knew he must settle this here and now.

Discarding his own glass on the nearby table, he went from one wilting hanging potted plant to another. The fragrant bunch of flowers brought a rush of memories of his grandmother lovingly nurturing them.

A pang of remorse at his lack of attention to her beauties nudged him in his gut. Maybe with Bree's help they could work to make them flourish again, but first... "I guess without Nana's TLC these things won't last too much longer."

"Why is it I have a feeling you're really not talking about her plants?" There seemed to be an anxious quality to her question as she placed her wine beside his untouched goblet.

He stopped fiddling with the long arm of an Ivy, and then turned to her. Smiling sheepishly because he'd been so transparent, he said, "Your instincts are pretty good, sweetness. I don't want to poison what's good between us, killing what we have because I've neglected digging deep inside myself for some answers."

"And the lack of TLC relates to us not tending to the weeds in our hearts, is that it?"

"Man, you're good!" Sighing, he made his way to the ottoman in front of her chair. Dropping down onto it, he faced her with his hands cupped between his knees and just inches from her legs. Her inquisitive expression prompted him to explain the one thing he still wrestled with. "I can't stop thinking about what you said last week about the adoption."

Not a muscle moved on her face, her expression remaining curious. But he swore she flinched inwardly. He didn't know how he knew it. He just did.

"Go on." Those two tightly spoken words said it all.

"I don't know why I assumed you would hand over your daughter to me so I could have legal joint custody. In your shoes, I know I wouldn't either."

She took a deep, shaky breath. "So you understand my position then?"

Nodding, he said, "You're not the only one holding back in this relationship, Bree. Based on my experiences with Dorthea I can't trust any woman completely."

She sat forward, clearly anxious to hear more. "Completely?"

Mere inches separated her from him now. He noted the change in her eye color form hazel to gray, telling him how concerned she was about the subject matter.

Raking a hand over his face, he measured his words. "Admittedly, on a fundamental level, there's a thin element of mutual trust running between us." At her skeptical look, he continued, "For you, you allow me, even welcome it on occasion, to influence the direction of Sydney's life with my values, principles, and whatever else you see in me that you wish your daughter to learn."

"You're a good, decent man, Nick, of course I want you to teach her what you know, the difference between right and wrong, love...and everything else that makes you you." She paused.

He held his breath.

"If I didn't admire you as a man then why, on our honeymoon, would I have even brought up the subject of my wanting to have your baby, to give us both that precious gift?"

Shaken at her candor at her undying faith in him, Nick just stared at her for long, drawn out moments. "Wow! You sure know how to take me by surprise."

Clearing the haze of heady emotion her words evoked, he went on trying to make his point. "Even when we were at out lowest points after Vinnie died, you still turned to me. When Sydney had to undergo a tonsillectomy last year I was the first one you called. And I know how much it cost you to ask me."

"Beg you, is more like it," she corrected, blinking back the moisture gathering at the corners of her now bluish gray eyes.

He allowed her that, sending her a lop-sided grin. "All right, when you begged me to come be with her the day she had to go into the hospital."

Gently, she caressed his cheek with her silky soft palm. "You were so sweet, Nick. You insisted on picking us up and driving us there. You spent all morning holding her hand and talking through her fears. Then you stayed with me waiting anxiously for word. You don't know how much that meant to me."

Scowling at her, he asked, "What, did you think I'd just let you go through that silent torture by yourself?"

She shook her head vehemently. "Never! I guess I never doubted you'd be there even when she had to be admitted for observation after she threw up all that blood."

Grabbing her hands in his, he absorbed the shiver of revulsion racking her at the horrible memory. Trying to release the fierce grip the past held, he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, "Hey, technically, that was the first night we ever spent together."

Her chuckle warmed the cold regions that had gathered in his center. Sobering, she picked up on something he'd said a short time ago. "Between us? You mean you do trust me on some level?"

Withdrawing from her, he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out the knotted muscles. "This is going to be hard to explain. I'm not even sure I understand it fully myself."

"Try."

Sucking in a breath, he gathered his courage. "Part of trusting someone is if they keep their word. You do that. Call it honor or integrity, I don't know, but a promise means something to you."

"Thank you."

He sucked in a deep, cleansing breath.

Stumbling over the swiftly forming thoughts tumbling through his head, Nick pressed on. "In my own way I depend on you, your presence in my life, believing that you won't let me down."

She swallowed hard. "I'm doing the best I can in that department."

Was that a trace of fear he detected in her quivering voice? Sweeping it aside, he continued, "When Nana broke her hip, I automatically called you. All I had to say was, 'I need your help', and you dropped everything, rearranged your hours and appointments, and you were right by my side nursing Nana."

"I loved her, too, Nick." Tears clogged her voice and she sniffed them away.

Taking her hands in his once again, he raised them to his lips, depositing a kiss on the back of each one. "I know, sweetness. But you could have just come by to visit when time allowed instead of living through the worst of it: bathing her, helping her to the bathroom when she had too much dignity to use a bedpan, holding her as the pneumonia robbed her of breath, the way her body stopped working in slow degrees and you never waived, you never quit on her, talking to her into the wee hours of the morning when she had trouble sleeping, respecting her and Sydney enough to let them both come to terms with Nana's impending death..."

This time when he looked at her, he watched the tears fall. His middle clenched. Gingerly, he wiped the trail of moisture away. "And after Nana died, you stepped in to help with the details of her funeral, alleviating the terrible burden of all the duties from my shoulders. I'd known, with an unshakable certainty, you would guide me through, and that I could depend on you." He stopped, too filled with emotion to finish all that he'd hoped to share with her.

"You give me too much credit. I only did what I could to help her and you." She locked gazes with him, a strong determination shone bright among the brilliant sparkle of tears. "You can depend on me, Nick. Whatever I do for you is strictly out of love. Trust me."

_Can I?_ A small nugget of distrust still lingered. The repeated mysterious phone calls still unsettled him. He had the impression she knew more than she was letting on.

Last week her explanation had made perfect sense. But he'd held onto his lingering reservations, hoping Bree would exonerate herself.

Had she even contacted that woman yet?

A niggling doubt poked its way through his scrambling thoughts. If he asked her, would she be able to pass his final test? Or would she lie once again? "The phone calls still bother me, Bree."

She dragged her hands away from his, sat back and hugged herself tightly. "Has there been more that I don't know about?"

"None." He swore the tension seeped out of her in one long, slow sigh. "Have you called the woman on the alumni committee?"

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, a tiny droplet escaped to roll down her pale cheek. When she focused on him, a bleakness seemed to have taken up residence in her eyes, turning them dark and unfathomable. "I guess I've been avoiding telling you this since I came home. She returned my call tonight at the shop."

The tension filled silence hung between them, stretching Nick's nerves to unbearable lengths. The lack of Bree's quick acknowledgment that this woman, or someone on her committee, had been the one making inquiries gave him two very opposite deductions and reactions. On one hand, the mystery still continued, making him more concerned. On the other hand, Bree wasn't going to feed him lies; he could read it in her troubled expression. This last observation allowed hope to stir in his chest.

Softly, he asked, "She didn't make them, right?"

Pressing her lips together, she shook her head. "In fact, some people on the committee have been subjected to the calls, too."

Gently, he probed deeper. "Who do you suppose is trying to find you, sweetness?"

She buried her face in her hands for a long moment. When she finally dragged them to her mouth, cupping them there in a prayer like fashion, she searched his steady gaze. He ached for her tormented, frantic look. Fear crowded his gut.

Was someone trying to harm her?

# Chapter 30

The hairs on the back of Nick's neck stood on end as he waited for her to respond. A ribbon of common sense slithered its way through his reeling mind. "You've suspected someone all along, haven't you?"

"Yes," she choked out.

All his muscles tightened involuntarily, ready to burst. "Who the hell is it, Bree?"

She took a ragged breath. "I think it could be an old...boyfriend."

A knot formed in his gut, part jealousy, part disquiet. "Has he done this before? Is that why you think it's him?"

With a trembling hand, she reached for her wine glass, and then drank deeply. After lowering the goblet, she swallowed hard several times before she looked at him. "I'm sorry, Nick. I know I should have told you before now but I'd hoped it was my high school trying to get in touch with me."

"Tell me about this guy."

She replaced the glass on the table, avoiding his stare and his demand. A shiver racked her body. "I can't. It was so horrible. I don't want to talk about him or anything else. Please, Nick, just hold me."

Her woeful plea tore a hole through his heart. Standing, he pulled her into his arms. Gathering her close, he stroked her back as she trembled uncontrollably. Closing his eyes, he whispered into her hair, "It's all right, sweetness, I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

_Dear God, what had this bastard done to her? I'm going to find out and keep him away from my wife_.

Her hot tears seeped through his shirt as she buried her face in his chest. "I feel so safe in your arms."

"Because that's where you belong. We're a family, Bree, don't ever forget that."

_And I finally know you'll tell me the truth_.

Inwardly, Nick sensed a fracture shafting through the hard core of distrust he'd held onto for so long, cracking it wide open.

The broken shards ripped away, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.

He felt as if he'd just catapulted from a plane, free falling through air. A mixture of excitement and trepidation tingled in his veins.

He'd just taken the biggest risk of his entire life. Nick hoped he'd never regret it.

***

Bree plopped down onto the chair at the reception desk in the beauty salon. For days now, she lived in dread of Nick discovering her secret.

Longing for his trust, for an honest relationship with him, she'd nearly spilled everything last week, coming so damn close it wasn't funny. She had to keep the rest bottled up inside her, even if she invented excuses just to keep Nick off the track.

Tessa shoved a can of soda at her. "Here, you look like you could use this. I'm afraid Jewel and I went through all the coffee we brewed this morning or else that's what you'd get instead."

Gratefully, Bree accepted, drinking the cold, refreshing bubbly cola. "Thanks, buddy, ol' pal of mine."

"Don't mention it. I know when you come in here on your day off that something's the matter. Is it Sydney being in kindergarten? You know, you haven't been the same since her first day of school."

Something tugged behind Bree's heart. She missed her daughter, missed the time they spent together. The morning hours seemed to drag by without her smile, giggle, or even her funny little sayings.

Placing the metal can on the wooden desk produced a slight ping. "I suppose that's why I'm a little down," she admitted, refusing to go into details on her worries about Nick and her.

Her red-haired friend smiled triumphantly, her green eyes dancing merrily. "We thought so. We've got a good cure for that. How about another all girls night?"

Bree groaned. "No way. The last time I did I nearly got a traffic ticket for my troubles."

A peel of giggles erupted, so fast and so hard, that Tessa had to grab hold of the desk to keep steady.

Enjoying her friend's delight put Bree in a better mood. "Oh, you think that's funny, do you?"

"Uh huh."

Searching the empty beauty salon, Bree grew curious. "Where's your cohort?"

"Jewel? It was so slow. I talked her into going up to the Surplus store to buy Sean those expensive sneakers he's had his eye on."

Frowning, she asked, "But I thought he told her to forget it since she didn't have the extra money."

"He did, great kid that he is and all." She shrugged, saying, "She dipped into her savings to buy them for him."

"I'll chip in. I've got extra now that I moved out of my apartment and in with Nick. Business is good, too."

"My tips are up. I'll pitch in, too. Sean deserves it. And she needs the help."

The sudden shrill ring of the phone startled Bree, making her jump. She winced at her edginess; whenever she heard a phone ring these days she expected it to be _him._

"Want me to get if for you?" Tessa asked, clearly picking up on Bree's discomfort.

Shaking her head, Bree rounded up the last of her dying courage. On the third ring, she lifted the receiver, automatically saying the shop's name and tacking on, "May I help you?"

"Oh, thank God, it's you, Bree!"

Worry formed a knot in her middle at the panicky tone. "Jewel, is that you?"

"I tried your house, but there was no answer. I'm so glad you were at the shop or I wouldn't know what I'd have done." The usually unflappable Jewel seemed totally out of sorts.

Bree pushed Tessa's hand away as she tried to yank at the phone. "Let me talk to Jewel."

"Wait, Tessa." Returning the receiver near her mouth once again, Bree asked, "What's wrong? Is it Sean?"

"No, no, not him."

"You, then? Are you hurt? Were you in an accident?"

Tessa piped up, "An accident? Is she at the hospital?"

Gripping the phone, Bree felt a sliver of alarm snake its way down her spine. "Jewel, answer me!"

"Oh, Bree, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this. I was shopping at the Surplus, that's where I'm at now. And these people came in talking about something that went on at the police barracks."

"Jewel, just tell me!"

She sucked in a shaky breath. "There's been a shooting. Nick's involved."

The phone slipped through her nerveless fingers, cracking when it made contact with the desk.

***

Flying down the highway a few minutes later, Bree clung to the steering wheel. A paralyzing fear squeezed her insides, forcing the queasiness residing there to rise to her throat as she prayed, "Dear God, please let Nick be all right. I'll do anything, promise anything, if you only keep him safe."

A wave of emptiness crashed over her. She blinked back the sudden moisture gathering in her eyes. A whimper escaped as she imagined having to tell her daughter Nick was hurt, or worse, dead. "Oh no! Don't do this to Sydney. Please, not her."

As she honked at the slow moving car in front of her, and then skillfully weaved around it, she recalled the short span of time she and Nick had had together. Both sweet and painful memories collided in her mind.

"So much wasted time with all the mistrust, lies, arguments, distance..."

_All because of me and my damn pride_.

"Just give me one more chance, God, and I'll set things straight with Nick. I swear I'll tell him the truth, I'll tell him everything."

Worry at his reaction stabbed her middle, but she thrust it aside. Nick had given so much, had tried so hard to find his way back to his faith, to trusting people, to her, that Bree knew she had to be the one to come the rest of the way in order to set them both free.

_I'll come clean with Nick, then, in time, we'll tell Sydney together_.

"Please, let Nick be unharmed, then please let him understand why I've lied for so many years."

A few minutes later, Bree swung her car into the police parking lot. Braking hard, she shoved the car into park. She raced to a waiting Jewel. All the while her heart hammered in her chest and bile threatened to erupt from her belly.

The serene parking area seemed at odds with what she'd learned. Grabbing her friend by the shoulders and shaking her, she asked, "Have you seen him? Have you heard anything?"

Her stony expression frustrated Bree even more. "I'm sorry, Bree, I was waiting for you to get here. I was too scared to find out by myself."

"Yo, Bree!" The sweetest sound she'd ever heard came from the direction of the brick building.

She whipped around, catching sight of Nick jogging toward her. A cry caught and broke in the back of her throat as she ran to him. "Oh, Nick."

He scooped her up the moment she reached him. His arms never felt so good to her.

He's safe!

"You're all right!" She silently sent up a prayer of thankfulness to the powers that be.

"The minute I could I got to a phone and finally hooked up with Tessa. She told me how bad you were shaking and how you'd floored the car out of there. Lord, I had visions of you wrapped around a metal post."

Pulling back from the warm welcoming embrace, she just had to look at him, touch him, smell him, and taste him. She kissed him urgently at first, with a hunger born of desperation. Then, she slowed and gentled her lips, savoring his firm, masculine ones.

He broke away. "Ah...sweetness, I'm still on duty." The reluctance in his voice brought a smile to her mouth and a joy to her core.

Running her hands over him, she demanded, "Tell me what happened. Jewel said you were involved in a shooting."

Just then, he seemed to notice her friend. Bree heard the light footsteps approach from behind. Hesitantly, Bree loosened her hold on him, and then released him all together.

When Jewel drew near, she cuffed him on the shoulder. Tears swam in her violet eyes, stunning Bree at the uncharacteristic display of emotion. "Don't you die on us, you big lug," Jewel choked out.

"Us?" he asked.

"Yeah, Bree and Sydney. And my son. He's gone and got a bad case of hero worship."

"What about Tessa and you, if I keel over you two won't have anyone to gossip about anymore, is that it?" The underlying roughness in his tone alerted Bree to how Jewel's concern had deeply affected her husband.

Jewel sniffed loudly, swiping at her fast falling tears. "Of course, why else would I care about your sorry butt, Carletti?"

"Yeah, why else?" He grinned boyishly.

"Well, now that you've gone and scared me half to death, you've ruined my day." Her no-nonsense attitude returned in full force. "I'm going back to the shop now. I have an afternoon perm to do."

She made to leave, but turned back suddenly and hugged Bree, squeezing her so tight that Bree thought her ribs would crack. Then Jewel cuffed Nick again, saying, "Don't let it happen again."

Five minutes later, Bree giggled as Nick stole kisses as they sat in her now correctly parked car. The small cramped space added to the air of sacred intimacy. "You still haven't explained anything to me."

"Didn't I tell you I love you a million times already?" His wicked grin melted the last of the iciness from her veins.

Sighing happily, she said, "A million and one, but who's counting."

Sobering, he said, "They were bringing in a disorderly drunk. His hands were cuffed in front of him, those plastic cuffs. He bucked and twisted, then grabbed one of the officers' guns right out of his holster. I was right there. Everything happened so fast, my instincts just kicked in. When he lifted the gun up to aim, I shot the drunk in the hand. He dropped the weapon and lunged at me like a raving lunatic. He never made it, because he had ten cops wrestling him to the ground before I could ever blink."

Aftershocks set in. Bree quaked with the overabundance of unused adrenaline. The tears she'd so successfully held at bay until now began to cloud her vision.

He'd saved a fellow officer. How like Nick!

"I thought..." She couldn't even voice her concerns.

Pulling back slightly, he rubbed his thumb along a long, wet trail a tear had just taken. "Shhh, now. I'm fine. Still in one piece."

Her chin quivered. "I thought my worst nightmare had come true. You don't know how many prayers I say for you when you walk out the door to go to work."

A deep rumble vibrated in his chest. It sounded like part moan, part cry of a wounded animal to Bree. "Why didn't you ever tell me how much you suffered?"

"I didn't want to concern you with my problems."

His curse, loud and fierce, shocked her. Framing her face between his palms, he forced her to look directly into his eyes. "You look at me when I say this because it's the last time I'm going to waste my breath on this, understand?"

She nodded slightly, restrained by the weight of his hands.

"I love you with everything that's in me, Bree Hansen Carletti. All your problems are _mine_ , however big or small. If you hurt, I hurt. If you cry, know that I'm crying on the inside, too."

Stunned wonder rained down on her as she gazed into fiery dark brown eyes filled with a wealth of love. Should she risk telling him her fears?

Taking a deep, shaky breath she tried to put her worries into words. "I'm so scared, Nick. Losing Vinnie hurt me. Partly because I'd lost a friend long before the bullet took him away. A lot of what I felt were self-recriminations for not trying hard enough, not going the extra mile to repair the damage that I helped inflict. But..." Her voice broke. "But it's not even close to the pain I'd endure if you died. I love with all my heart."

Placing a quick, hard kiss on her lips, he dropped his hands, and then set back in the driver's seat, still facing her with a hand gripping the back of her seat. "Are you asking me to quit, Bree?"

A part of her longed to say yes, but she refused to give in to the weak side of herself. "It's who you are, Nicholas Carletti. I could no more ask you to leave the force than to ask you to cut off your right arm."

The tension leaked out of him like the air from a shredded tire. "Thank you, sweetness, because I sure didn't have an answer for that one if you had said yes."

She smiled at his unvarnished honesty. "You love it. It's in your blood, otherwise you'd have taken early retirement or stop refusing the promotions because you'd never be happy sitting behind a desk. I guess I'll just have to learn to live with your job."

A line formed between his brows. "You once asked me to take a leap of faith, remember?"

"How could I forget?"

"Well, now I'm asking you to have faith in me. What happened today is unusual. In fact, in all my twenty plus years on the force that's the first time I've ever pulled the trigger in the line of duty."

The more she discussed this with him, the better she felt. She'd never be fully at ease with what he did, but there were signs of improvement already. "And you rely on common sense, strong hunches, and gut instincts," she pointed out, recalling his words of wisdom he'd imparted on his son many a time.

He winked at her, stealing her breath away. "Works every time, sweetness."

"And having faith helps, too, right?"

He made her wait for long seconds as he searched her features. Finally, he turned his attention to her stare. "I never realized how much blind faith is connected to what I do. That, and trust in people, in my fellow officers. You helped me see that. I've got to admit, I still have some problems with figuring out the reasons why things happen, but I do believe, _really_ believe, in something bigger and better than all this. Call it trust, faith, or love." He tapped his chest. "Whatever it is I feel it right here and I've got you to thank for it, sweetness."

A well of joy filled her. She yearned for this wondrous revelation to see him through his darkest days. But somehow she wondered if he'd feel so magnanimous when he learned the hidden truth about her.

***

Waiting for Bree to return from grocery shopping as her note explained, Nick wondered at the rest of his wife's missive.

What more do we have to talk about?

"I'll find out all in good time," he figured, shrugging it off as he plucked a few more withered leaves free from Nana's potted plant.

The crinkly sound only confirmed how dry the rest of the drooping flowers had become. Giving them a healthy dose of water, he shook his head, hoping he'd found the solution to reviving the room full of once blooming buds.

"Why didn't you leave me some kind of advice or something on taking care of all this," he asked his dead grandmother. "And, while you were at it, you could have left an instruction booklet about life."

Grinning, he could almost hear her wise reply, _Now, Nicholas, you can't always know the answers, you've got to learn these things for yourself_.

He acknowledged that fact, along with the unshakable certainty that after discussing the last of their problems earlier today Bree and he would start on a new path tonight. A path he knew he was filled with love and honesty.

_A new beginning_.

Finishing his task, he cleaned up the litter and went to dispose of it in the trash bin. He passed the dining room table, his eyes landing on the note Bree had left him.

Relief surged inside him; Sydney had a play date at the park with her best friend Sherrie and two little girls from school. Clearly his granddaughter hadn't been shunned for not having a father.

Hopefully, with their differences finally settled, Bree would agree to his adopting her daughter and sealing his desire to have a loving family.

Smiling widely, Nick said, "That's it! Bree wants to talk to me about adopting Sydney."

The shrill peel of the doorbell had him redirecting his footsteps. Dropping the debris on the table top, he moved to the front door, saying, "What did you do, buy the whole store out and tried to carry everything in at once, Bree?"

He chuckled as he opened the door, but stopped once he spotted the back of a tall, well-dressed man on his front door stoop. The blond man turned quickly. Sunglasses shaded his eyes and cast shadows half way down his cheeks.

"May I help you?" Nick's curiosity peaked; he realized this was no ordinary salesman by the cut of his expensive business suit and expertly styled hair.

The man whipped off his protective eye wear, causing Nick's heart to stop beating.

An invisible cannon ball ripped through his chest, leaving a great big gaping hole in its wake.

He watched the man's lips move, but the roar resounding in Nick's ears blotted out the words the man uttered.

Nick's world tilted, careening off its axis as he gazed into cobalt blue eyes; he'd only seen that particular shade once before.

# Chapter 31

As Bree lugged the bulky grocery bags into the house, she rehearsed her speech over and over in her head. She stopped short of predicting Nick's reaction to her secret, afraid of the worst, yet hoping for the best or even somewhere in between.

She deposited the paper sacks on the kitchen counter. The eerie stillness closed in on her, making her wonder who owned the new black Cadillac parked in the driveway and where were her husband and his guest. "Nick?"

A faint, muffled sound came from the sun room and she walked around the breakfast bar counter to investigate. Like a statue Nick faced her. His granite-like features made her frown in consternation. "Is everything all right?"

"Hello, Bree. It's been a long time." The familiar voice from yesteryear sent shockwaves crashing down on her.

Jerking her head to the right, she spotted _him._ She felt the color drain from her face. Bitterness filled her.

Noooo! Not here, not now.

Taking a few, unsteady steps forward, she grabbed the archway frame, holding on for dear life. Pressing her other hand to her chest, she felt the cool metal of her locket, and then clutched it in the cradle of her palm as if it were a lifeline, as if holding onto it kept the link between her and the man that gave it to her alive.

She twisted back to Nick, searching his stony expression. He didn't flinch or cringe, giving nothing away. But when she gazed into his eyes, she witnessed the raw pain and betrayal in their depths. An invisible hand wrung her heart.

The silence unnerved her. Nick most certainly waited for her to say something, to lie maybe. But she was through with lying; she sensed it had just cost her the best thing that ever happened to her.

She swallowed hard, gathering her courage to reveal her deeply buried secret. "I see you've met Sydney's father," she managed to whisper past parched lips.

A flicker of admiration slashed across Nick's eyes, and then died just as quickly. She'd passed this test, but failed the course.

"Sydney? What kind of name is that?" Gerald Pommelroy demanded.

Looking at him now, she wondered how she'd ever fallen for him. What once seemed to her as a handsome face now revealed itself to be boyish. His permanent pout added to the immature, soft look about him.

To the outside world his wealth and position in the community gave him an air of power, but Bree knew beneath the polished surface lay weakness, not strength.

The fear and panic she'd lived with for years no longer held her in their grip. She felt nothing but pity for this person; he missed out on raising his precious little girl.

Collecting her dignity around her, she said, "It's the name I chose for _my_ child."

He snorted at that.

"What do you want?" She winced at the quiver that shot through her voice as new fears swirled through her mind.

A smirk twisted his features. "Well, I didn't come here for you and we both know that."

"You can't have her." She barely kept her voice controlled and even.

Nick cut in, "I'm sure the courts would agree since you abandoned her."

Tears pricked the backs of Bree's eyes at Nick's staunch defense. At least he'd support her in the role of Sydney's mother. Bree refused to look in his direction or she was certain she'd lose it right then and there.

A frown furrowed Gerald's brow. "You said _her._ So it _was_ a girl." He shrugged, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "I predicted it, but couldn't be sure until I found you."

Puzzled, she asked, "What's this all about? You've never tried to find me before, so why now?"

He dragged a hand through his neatly styled hair, mussing it up. "My son..." His voice broke, and then he coughed. "He's only a few months old. He's sick and frail."

Concern shafted through Bree for the child. "Will he be all right?"

He grimaced. "By the doctor's standards he'll survive after several surgeries, but he'll never be like a normal little boy."

Suddenly, the reason why he was here struck her with horrifying clarity. "By _your_ standards, don't you mean? My God, what were you going to do, try to replace your son with my child?"

His mouth thinned into a straight line that nearly disappeared. "I need a strong, healthy first born son to take over the family's export business in the future. It's a condition of my grandfather's will and my ongoing inheritance. The first born son of each generation..."

Outrage curled into a ball low in her belly. "And you once called me pathetic. Go! And don't come back!"

"Don't worry you've got nothing I want."

As he made to leave, a brilliant plan formed in the back of her mind. She rushed to him, grabbing his slender arm in a vise-like grip. A waft of his cloying, minty aftershave assaulted her, making her queasy. "Wait! I want you to release any legal claim you have on my daughter."

"Or what?"

She detected the tickle of anxiety in his question, placing her on firm ground. Bree struck where she knew it hurt him the most. "Or I'll fight for her share of your thriving family business."

"You wouldn't dare!" His voice rose in pitch and volume. "You don't have it in you."

"I'd do anything for my daughter's peace of mind and well-being. I have for years now."

"My family doesn't even know about her. It would scandalize them!"

And it would devastate Sydney to be shunned by relatives, but Bree wouldn't tell him that, wouldn't let him know she'd never put her daughter through that painful debacle. "Sign off on any rights to her and I won't touch one red cent of yours."

He yanked his arm away, and then adjusted his suit jacket. "All right. I don't want her anyway."

"You made that perfectly clear more than five years ago."

As he stalked out, he threw over his shoulder, "I'll have my personal lawyer contact you. She's the only one who knows the truth."

The banging of the screen door sounded like gunfire, loud and deadly. But Bree breathed a sigh of relief at his departing back. She'd never have to fear anything from Gerald again. The fear she experienced now involved the man waiting expectantly behind her.

_Why didn't I tell Nick sooner? A few hours earlier would have made all the difference_.

Slowly, she turned to face Nick. What she observed sent a chill down her spine. Waves of pain rolled off of him, reaching out to consume her. A hollow ache thumped behind her rib cage.

"Why, Bree? Why didn't you tell me?" Raw emotion colored his question, stabbing at her like a dagger.

Tentatively, she stepped into the sun room, and then sought the back of Nana's favorite chair, clutching it for support. "I'm so sorry, Nick."

"Sorry? Is that all you've got to say for yourself?"

A hot tear trickled out of the corner of her eye and he looked away quickly. She swiped at it. "I don't know what else to say."

He rubbed the back of his neck, and then pinned her with those dark probing, all-seeing eyes. "It's a fine time to suddenly clam up. Just tell me, did Vinnie know about this or did you trick him into thinking Sydney was his?"

Digging her fingers into the cool fabric and spongy cushion, she returned his unwavering stare. "He knew."

Deep grooves surrounded his mouth. He seemed to have aged years in only a few minutes. "Are you saying he lied to me?"

She detected a faint ring of skepticism. "Yes. It was his idea to tell no one that he wasn't Sydney's real father. I went along with it, knowing it would be the best for her."

Disbelief transformed his features and he turned chalky. "He lied."

"Nick, he and I were never...close like that. Never intimate."

He sank down onto the ottoman, looking dazed and confused. "Never?"

On numb legs, she made her way around the chair and slipped past him to drop onto the seat. His profile confronted her and she longed to reach out a hand to soothe away his suffering. "We became friends while in a study group. When I didn't show up for a couple of classes we had together he came around to my tiny apartment and refused to leave until I opened the door for him. That's when he saw the bruises—"

Nick jerked his head around to face her. Realization entered his eyes. "Pommelroy hit you!" He balled his hands into fists on his thighs. The string of curses he issued made her blush. "He's damn lucky I didn't know that a few minutes ago or he'd have never left on his own power."

She bowed her head, recalling the ugly past. "Gerald seemed like the perfect gentleman. I was so naive. I was bowled over by his charm and sophistication. No one like that had ever paid that kind of attention to me before. He pressured me into going to bed with him."

"Did he force you?"

The air pulsed with tension; she could feel it beating down on her bent head. Haltingly, she explained, "Not technically. At first, I agreed since he convinced me we'd be married soon. But he was so rough-" Her voice cracked. Clearing her throat, she continued, "I tried to slow him down, but he overpowered me and finished. When he got off of me, he called me such awful names."

Moisture gathered in her eyes and she shrank inwardly as the taunts rang in her head as if he were standing right beside her hurling them at her again.

"Sweet Jesus," Nick whispered brokenly.

Suddenly, she was aware of hot tears plopping onto her tightly clasped hands. Scrubbing them away, she went on, "He never called me after that. A few weeks later, when I found out I was pregnant, I contacted him. I told him and he went crazy when I refused to get rid of the baby. He slapped me several times, and then tossed me out of the car, leaving me to walk more than five miles back to my place."

"And Vinnie came to the rescue, right?"

"I was so worried about having an illegitimate child. I didn't want her to be ostracized by the church, by society, because of my mistake. I knew then that I would protect my baby no matter what."

"Even if that meant lying."

"Yes, Nick, lying to the world, lying to you."

His gaze drilled holes into her.

She gulped hard.

"And you had a lot of practice all your life, didn't you? You're a good teacher, Bree; you taught my son well."

If he'd had a knife and stabbed her it wouldn't have hurt as bad as his words did. Dawning hit her then; she realized it wouldn't have made any difference if she'd told Nick weeks, days, or hours earlier. His condemnation rained down on her, with his looks, with his words. "You're never going to forgive me, are you?"

"How can you even expect me to? For Christ's sake, Bree, you just took away everything I hold dear. You ripped away Sydney. She's not mine anymore. She's not a part of me anymore."

She scanned his tormented features. Numb with shock, she tried to grasp ahold of the situation, the end of Nick and her. She'd suspected all along that forever with Nick was an impossible dream. Now, she knew it to be true. "I guess there's nothing more for me to say then," she said in a dull, flat voice.

Standing on shaky legs, she skirted around him, walked a few steps, and then stopped, suddenly remembering something. Carefully, she undid the fastening on the gold chain, removing the beloved locket. With the comforting treasure missing, she felt naked, barren. The emptiness echoed through her soul.

She dangled the wedding gift in front of him until he opened his hand. With a great deal of difficulty, she dropped the symbol of who they were into his large palm, watching as he wrapped his long fingers around the golden heart. Her own heart twisted in agony. With leaden feet, she moved away from him.

"Where are you going?"

Halting, she turned her head, catching a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. Bree refused to face him fully, refused to look at the man she had lost.

Sharp darts of pain shafted through her as she realized she'd never kiss him again, never touch him, and would never feel his warm, strong arms comfort her again.

Fighting back a well of fresh tears, she said, "I'm going to pick up my daughter from her play group. Don't worry, I won't bring her back here. We'll stay with Jewel tonight. You see, I'm still protecting Sydney, this time from you and how hurt she's going to be once she realizes everything. I intend to contact that child psychologist she saw after Vinnie was killed and together we'll figure out the best way to tell her the truth about who she is and why her father and poppa don't want her." She paused. "Good-bye, Nick."

_I love you_.

With her heart shattering into tiny pieces, Bree walked out, fighting back the flood of tears threatening to cascade down her face.

Telling the truth had set her free from the chains of the past, but it had also robbed her of the love of her life.

# Chapter 32

Silence echoed all around Nick as he hung his head. He clutched the locket, longing to contain the warmth from her skin still clinging to the gold, yearning to hang onto a part of Bree.

She'd exited only moments ago, but it seemed like years already. The emptiness closed in on him, suffocating him. When she walked out, she took all the hope, all the life, all the love out of the house and out of him.

There's nothing left. Nothing!

Conflicting emotions churned inside him. More than five years of lies crashed down on him. Everything he'd thought to be true had turned into dust, now whisked away in one clean sweep.

Crystal clear images of Sydney flashed through his mind: the tiny dimple near the corner of her mouth whenever she smiled; leaning against him as she batted her beautiful, blue eyes at him at the pizza parlor; singing her heart out beside him as they prepared breakfast for Bree; scrunching up one side of her face to try to copy his wink; the way she smacked her head, shook it, then said, "Oh, brother"; the concerned look clouding her round features as she gingerly touched his bruised jaw; and when they shared tea at the cabin. The way she propped her little chin on her hand and said with such feeling, "I love you, Poppa."

His chest throbbed with mingled love and grief. How could that precious little girl _not_ be his?

He squeezed his eyes shut against the well of moisture threatening to break loose.

_It can't be right. It feels wrong_.

In his heart, she'd _always_ be his, no matter what the court, or any legal document, or DNA test proved otherwise.

Dragging a free hand over his face, he sucked in a sharp breath. Stabs of pain jabbed at his soul and a steel band constricted around his chest.

In a sense, it reminded him of losing Vinnie, and then Nana. But this was different; he didn't have Bree for solace.

Something poked his mind and he yanked it to the forefront to examine it. He'd been afraid of getting close to her since the beginning. He'd been afraid of getting all he ever wanted, all he ever cared for: Bree.

Deep down, he sensed that loving her totally and completely would destroy him if he'd ever lost her. Now he knew how true that was.

His future, gray and desolate, yawned in front of him. He had nowhere to turn to, no one to ask advice, and no one to help him sort it all out.

Or did he?

***

With his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans and the precious locket tucked in the front left pocket of his denim jacket, Nick stood on the sidewalk across from the church. He gazed up at the tall, gold steeple majestically pointing heavenward. Cars whizzed by, kicking up dirt and litter.

He nearly turned around to go back home. But something held him there.

_Divine intervention_.

Checking both ways, he stepped off the cement walkway, and then headed for salvation. The door creaked as he tugged it open, making him smile in remembrance at the familiar sound that used to put trepidation in him.

Upon entering, the heavy scent of burning candles assaulted him immediately. The suffocating interior didn't bother him as much as he'd assumed it would. Nor did the stone statues perched on the raised church altar.

The rays of sunshine streaming in through the tall, stained glass windows cast brilliant beams of color across the empty dark wood pews.

From somewhere deep inside him something stirred, seeking solace, seeking answers only He could give.

_I've come home_.

Halting at the last row of seats, Nick automatically knelt and made the sign of the cross. As he rose, he fixated on his one and only destination.

His footsteps resounded in the high ceilinged religious sanctuary, marking his progress down the long, side aisle. With his heart in his throat, Nick opened the door to the confessional booth. The click seemed to slice through the quiet church, jarring the peaceful serenity.

Stepping inside the tiny, cramped cubicle brought back a wealth of memories. Echoes of childhood shame mingled with words of wisdom. A bitter taste flooded his mouth, prompting him to wonder at this foolhardy decision.

What am I doing here?

He made to leave, but something held him back, yanked him back from losing faith once again.

Seating himself gingerly on the wooden seat, Nick said a silent prayer, hoping he'd find the answers here, trusting that there _were_ answers to his pile of problems.

The partition slid open, wood scraping wood. The sound heightened his anxiety. A cold sheen of perspiration bathed his body as he recalled other times, other situations when he'd come to bare his soul.

"Yes." Father Tom's soothing voice reached out to him, enveloping him in a certain grace.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been...it's been...well, a long time."

"Yes, my son. What's troubling you?"

Nick tried to form the words, but they failed him, sticking in the back of his throat. Deafening stillness reigned, increasing his nervousness. He dragged a hand through his hair.

Blowing out a heavy breath, he hissed, "Heck, Father Tom, it would be a whole lot easier if we could do this over a beer."

"From your lips to God's ears," the priest muttered with a great deal of feeling.

Nick chuckled, releasing some of his anxiety. "Ah...what I thought was the truth turns out it wasn't all along. I've been lied to."

"Well, now. This is obviously either someone you care a great deal about or an issue that deeply concerns you or it wouldn't trouble you so much. Why don't you tell me more?"

At a loss, he blurted out, "It's me, Father Tom, Nick Carletti—"

"I know, son. I'm glad to see you've realized God never left you at all, even though you thought he wasn't there for you when you needed Him the most."

The wisdom of his words struck Nick in the deepest part of him.

_He'd_ turned his back on God, not vice versa.

Still haunted over what had unfolded a short time ago, he explained, "I'm here because of Bree. She lied to me, to everyone, about who Sydney's real father is. It wasn't my son."

"I know that, too."

Shock robbed him of his reason. "Did she tell you that?"

The soft chuckle of the priest came through the barrier. "Now, you know if she did, I couldn't say." He sighed heavily, and then went on, "I've known your family since before you were born. The ones I didn't personally meet, I saw pictures of. All I had to do was look at the child. Have you ever seen a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, very distinctive blue eyes at that, Carletti? All of you are dark-eyed and dark-haired."

Wonder filled him at such an easy deduction. "I put it down to Bree's side of the family." His cop instincts kicked in. "But you didn't arrive at this conclusion by yourself, did you? Nana told you. I'd bet everything on it."

"I can't tell you that." The way he bristled confirmed Nick's assumption.

"Lord, I miss her. I wish she was here to help me."

"She is. In your heart you know the path you must take." The cryptic message offered Nick nothing to go on.

"Did she know about Bree and me? Our feelings for each other?" That was the one thing he'd never talked to Nana about. The shame and guilt he heaped on himself kept him from confiding in anyone about Bree.

"She was a wise woman. I always thought she..."

"What, Father Tom?"

"Now, now, it's only my thoughts, mind you. I can't divulge anything, you understand?" He cleared his throat. "I think she would have approved of the two of you."

His answer gave Nick a small measure of comfort in knowing his grandmother's view of the situation, even if Father Tom couldn't confirm her confessions on the matter.

As his mind raced with all he'd learned today, Nick began to talk it out his lingering doubts. "She loved Bree and adored Sydney. If Nana did know about Vinnie not being Sydney's father, she never let on. Why..." He paused, shifting uncomfortably. "Because I'd have never accepted it, because I was so rigid, so judgmental that I couldn't bring myself to look past the lie itself to the reason why. I wouldn't have forgiven either Vinnie or Bree. They didn't deserve that, not from me or anyone else."

"You're doing very well, son. Are you sure you need me?"

That brought a smile to Nick's face, easing his earlier worries on coming here. "Hang on for a minute, Father, I still have to hash things out, okay?"

"Fine with me."

"I always put such stock in family ties..."

"Maybe in doing so you excluded others," the priest pointed out.

Nick nodded. "Legally I'm still bound to Bree. But, to some, it's just a piece of paper." A bubble of panic rose to the surface, cutting off his air supply. "Maybe even to her."

"What about the child, son? How do you feel about her now that you know she's not a part of you?" he probed gently.

"I love her. I'll never stop. How could I? I can't imagine my life without her."

"Ah...that's what I like to hear. The greatest lesson of all is loving someone unconditionally no matter where their origins are from or what they have done."

Nick grimaced. "You should be telling that to the father. He's a cold, heartless bastard— Ah...forgive me, Father Tom."

"Sometimes strong words are justified, son." Nick saw the shadow of the priest enlarge as if the man leaned closer. "Is he really that bad?" he asked conspiratorially.

"Worse." Renewed rage burst inside Nick. "He hit Bree when he found out about Sydney, and then left her high and dry. He's the one who's been behind all those phone calls about Bree. Seems as if his newborn son is _defective_ so he wanted to replace him with a healthy one." Even saying it felt vile. He thought he could take whatever he wanted and not be accountable. Thank God Bree had kept Sydney safe all these years.

"Oh, my. Is he trying to take the little girl away?" An unmistakable hardness entered Father Tom's voice and Nick could picture the dark frown marring his brow.

"No, he doesn't want anything to do with her now that he found out she's a girl. _" What a fool!_

A gusty sigh escaped Father Tom. "Thank the Lord for that. And bless that poor, innocent child."

"Amen to that," Nick muttered under his breath.

"You've told me you still care for the girl, so that doesn't seem to be a problem. Now, what about the mother?"

His heart clenched. "That's a touchy subject, Father."

"Do you love her?"

"From the first time I saw her." His voice rang with unwavering conviction.

"But?"

Nick tunneled his hands through his hair. "She lied!"

"And why do you suppose she did that, Nick? You just said you have to look past the lie itself to the reason why? Did she do it for selfish reasons?"

"Bree doesn't have a selfish bone in her entire body." As he recognized the truth of that statement, he hit upon what had eluded him until now. "She did if for Sydney. She did it to _protect_ her daughter."

Bree told me that, but I dismissed it too easily.

"In her position would you have done any different, son?"

An image of Vinnie, laughing as a little boy, popped into his head. Suddenly his son was ten. Vinnie curled himself in a ball and cried himself to sleep, thinking his mother hadn't loved him enough.

"Nick, if you had the chance to do it all over again would you have protected Vinnie any way you could have, even if that meant lying to him?"

Presented with that startling vision, Nick bent his head and confessed, "God, forgive me, but I would. Anything just to take away his pain and suffering."

The ensuing silence closed in on Nick, on one hand comforting him like a balmy summer's breeze whisking away the remnants of a storm. And, on the other hand, he sensed the stark bleakness of a world without Bree, the stillness, the loneliness.

"Now that you know you're human like the rest of us, Nick, don't you think you need to stop holding this over her head?"

He'd missed the priest's seldom used, dead-on, no-holds- barred approach to confessions.

Nick knew Father Tom only executed the unique style when he felt the situation warranted such plain talk, when there seemed no other way to reach a person in dire straits. This time it was his turn.

He tried to laugh. It came out raw and strained. "You're not condoning lying, Bree's or anyone else's now, are you, Father?"

"Sometimes you have to follow your heart, instead of the rules, son."

***

Ten minutes later, Nick got out of his SUV. With hesitant steps, he walked to where Bree sat under a tree in the park, hugging her knees. A wealth of admiration bubbled up inside him.

Bree had such courage, strength, and determination. She'd had so much to overcome in her life. He had no doubt that she'd survive without him. But would he without her?

Childish giggling dragged his attention away from his wife for a moment to see Sydney chasing her best friend around the playground area.

An involuntary smile inched up the corners of his mouth as joy bounced inside him. Lord, he loved that little girl. Nothing would ever change that feeling.

Only a few feet separated Bree and him. A shiver racked her body. Shrugging out of his denim jacket, he went to place it around her trembling shoulders. He stopped, unsure of his reception. "Hello, Bree."

She whipped her head around, staring wide-eyed at him. "Wh...what are you doing here?" she asked stiffly.

Instinctively, he approached and wrapped his coat snugly about her. "I came to talk, sweetness."

"But I thought you hated me."

"Never." The fierceness of his response must have shocked her; she straightened her back, gripping the corners of his jacket in a white-knuckled grasp.

Her chin quivered and his heart wrenched in his chest. Bittersweet memories of the first day he'd met her rushed back, nearly choking him in the process.

He eased himself to the ground near her. "Do you remember when the justice of the peace was taking pictures right after the ceremony?"

She frowned in obvious confusion. "Yes."

"You looked so unhappy and your chin quivered like it did just now. He joked about it."

"I burst into tears and ran from the room, down the hallway, then into..."

"My bedroom," he finished for her.

"Of all the places I could have gone." She shook her head. "Your bedroom."

"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

If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review.

# About the author:

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:

<https://twitter.com/LeClairbooks>

<https://facebook.com/laurieleclair.75>

# Other books by Laurie LeClair

The Heart Series:

Secrets Of The Heart – Book 1

Crimes Of The Heart – Book 2

Lies Of The Heart – Book 3

***

Once Upon A Romance Series:

If The Shoes Fits – Book 1

Waking Sleeping Beauty – Book 2

Taming McGruff – Book 3

***

The Long Journey Home

***

The Bounty Hunter Series:

Murphy's Law – Book 1

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

# Crimes Of The Heart

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."

Gil paused, obviously collecting his thoughts. "You came storming back into town when you found out this property was on the auction block."

"I'm entitled to it."

His lawyer held up his hands palm side out. "Whoa, now! There's no denying the Marshalls owned this place long before the Wainwrights did."

"You mean _stole_ , don't you?"

"Old man Wainwright and your father were partners. All right, even twenty years later there are still some gray areas about how Wainwright got his mitts on the place after your father died, but..."

Devon balled his hands into fists. "Say it! But no one gives a damn because my father was married to another woman when he got my mother pregnant with me and supposedly embezzled a hundred thousand dollars from his partnership with Wainwright."

He received a curt nod. "Then there's your relationship with his daughter."

"Jewel? How...how did anyone find out about us?" _Did they know it all? The forbidden affair?_ He blocked the rest of that thought, unwilling to delve too deep.

"Put you two in the same room together back then and people were bound to suspect something. You gave away more with just one look than most couples do in years. They figured it out."

"Gossiped about is more like it," Devon muttered under his breath. "Even if they did know, what does that have to do with my buying back what's rightfully mine?"

"She stills lives in town."

His heart lurched in his chest. He'd speculated, but never really imagined it. As nonchalantly as he could, he asked, "How's she doing?"

"Fine, considering."

The paper crinkled in protest as he tightened his grip on the envelope. "What's that supposed to mean? Is she all right? Is she seeing someone—" He cut himself off, feeling like a fool for giving an inkling away about how interested he was in her life and what had become of her.

"As far as I can tell she never even dated."

Two opposing reactions swirled inside Devon as he eased his firm grasp on the paperwork. One part of him cheered at the thought; he refused to picture her with another man, not after their passionate, forbidden affair. But, the other half of him, the part of him that recognized the lonely existence they had unknowingly shared these last twelve years, throbbed in a tender spot in his core.

Confusion took hold of Devon. "Then why isn't she running the place? You never did explain to me why she let the property be taken away from her family."

Gil's razor-sharp, blue gaze sliced through him, clearly trying to convey a message Devon wasn't receiving. "She didn't have a choice in the matter."

Frowning, he said, "Of course she did. All she had to do was pay the back taxes on it when the son-of-a-bitch left it to her after he croaked last year." A deafening silence ensued, alerting Devon to the simmering anger just below the surface of the usually self-contained attorney. Alarm bells rang in Devon's head. "He did leave it to her, didn't he?"

"No." The short, clipped answer lent credence to the man's bottled up emotions.

A current of shock raced through him. "You're joking, right?"

Gil shook his head abruptly, and then tunneled his hands through his hair, causing it to stand on end even more.

Trying to make light of it, Devon said, "So, she just took the money and ran..."

The dark look the lawyer shot him made the hairs on the back of Devon's neck stand on end.

_Dear God, what had happened to Jewel after I was tossed out of here?_ He braced himself as he demanded, "Tell me."

"He disowned her."
Chapter 2

Jewel sat ramrod-straight in a folding chair among a sea of frenzied antique hunters. Awaiting the arrival of her mother's things as the auctioneer proceeded to sell off the family heirlooms proved torturous to her. The numbered biding paddle clutched in her hands was her way of reminding herself not to break down and cry in a public place. Cool, calm, collected.

She'd adopted the persona years ago as the small town's gossipers had dug their fangs into her. Eventually the talk died down, but not before a lot of scars had formed inside her. And now with Devon back they would start all over again. She cringed inwardly at that piece of knowledge.

Suddenly, she became aware of the hushed whispers all around her and several heads turning to look at the back of the outdoor assembled group. Devon. It could only be him, she figured as a few nearby attendees shot sideway glances at her.

Outwardly she remained focused on the balding, heavyset auctioneer who had just announced the next lot of items to be sold, her mother's personal things. _Just a few minutes more than I can buy the set and be gone._

But inside all her senses became attuned to Devon. She felt his heated stare on the back of her neck, like a laser finding its target and zapping it. In the slight afternoon breeze, she could imagine it carried the clean, soapy scent of him to her. And surely that was the cadence of his rich, honeyed voice floating above the others...

Devon jammed his hands into his pockets, having deposited the packet of papers in his car minutes earlier. A burning sensation began in his belly and moved to his chest as he grew aware of the audience's fascination with him being here _. Don't they have anything better to do than speculate about me?_ he wondered as he overheard several snide remarks.

He should be used to being treated like this; he'd been a topic of ridicule all the years he lived in this place. It hadn't come easy to let it roll off his back then, and it appeared nothing had changed in that regard.

Within seconds of arriving, Devon had easily picked out Jewel, being drawn to her like a magnet. _Maybe she had been in the house, leaving the scent of roses behind._

Now he stared at the back of her head, silently begging her to turn around and face him. He longed to see the changes time had wrought, to read her expressive violet eyes, and to witness her reaction to seeing him again. Would she be happy or upset?

But first, he had some things he needed to find out. What had she supposedly done in order for her old man to eliminate her from his will? "Why not just tell me the rest? Why all the mystery, Gil?"

The attorney's presence at his side was both annoying and comforting. At least Devon had one ally in town.

Gil nodded to the object of their conversation. "It's up to her to tell you, not me."

_She's cut her hair._ He noticed the shoulder blade skimming length and mourned the absence of the waist long strands. Oh, how he enjoyed sliding his hands through the silky mass.

Shaking off the highly erotic memory, Devon glanced at Gil, saying, "You're my lawyer, aren't you? If you want more money than all you have to do is say so. But I expect to get some answers when I ask a question."

A smile transformed the somber features of the man, clearly not taking offense at the command. "You sounded like your father just then. And I'll tell you what I told him years ago, I'll take on all the legal aspects for you, but no more. If you've got a personal agenda with someone, then you've got to do your own leg work, especially if I consider the other person a friend."

Removing his hands from his pockets, Devon folded his arms over his chest. "Is that why you didn't investigate Wainwright back then?"

Visibly bristling at that accusation, Gil nearly bellowed, "Good God, no! I handled the paperwork for the partnership as a favor to your father. Legally, I was bound to represent them both. I didn't like it, but I did it."

"That's why you dropped Wainwright right after my father died, isn't it?"

"I gave you more credit than to have to ask that question."

Devon grinned. "Oh, I knew it already, otherwise I wouldn't have hired you myself. I just wanted to hear someone else hated the bastard as much as I did."

"I don't think anyone could hate him more than you do, Devon."

With that statement hanging in the air, Devon tuned in to the furious commotion taking place. Suddenly the bidding had reached its zenith and a tall, elderly woman smiled triumphantly as the dainty writing desk became hers.

Several objects came and went just as quickly and with just as much fervor. Jewel remained motionless. "Christ, how can she stand it?" Devon wondered out loud as he raked a hand through his hair, shuddering inwardly at the callous way her mother's possessions were disposed of.

"If you look close enough, you'll see she can't."

Narrowing his eyes, Devon sought out any sign in her demeanor that gave away her emotions. There, he'd seen her flinch and stiffen her shoulders ever so slightly as if shoring up her reserves for the next grave insult to her dead mother.

The announcement for the next item boomed over the squealing microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a lovely silver antique hair, comb, mirror and tray set. Who'll start the bidding at fifty dollars?"

Jewel's hand shot up, the numbered paddle firmly grasped in her white-knuckled grip. Her abrupt action startled Devon. _She wants this one bad. So, why should I care? But I do._

"Fifty dollars from number forty on my right to start us off," the auctioneer cried. "Do I have sixty?" At the middle-aged man in the corner who raised his paddle, the announcer pointed, and then said, "I've got sixty. Can I have seventy?" The woman who had bought the desk bid. "Seventy. How about eighty?"

Devon grew dizzy as the frantic bidding war bounced back and forth at an accelerated pace. The man dropped out at two hundred dollars, but the white-haired lady challenged Jewel at every turn.

Silent until now, Gil said in an aside, "She's from out of town or she'd have refused to bid against Jewel."

Half-hearing the muttered words, Devon asked, "Huh?"

"Everyone who lives in town hasn't bid at all on this item. The only reason I can figure is because they want Jewel to have it. They may not say it or show it, but they know the raw deal she got from the son-of-a-bitch. And they truly like her."

Stunned wonder filled Devon. No one had ever done anything like that for him before. Well, Jewel... He stopped that thought as quickly as it formed. He jerked his head to the other woman. "And her?"

"Probably a regular auction goer who saw the notice in the papers. Looks like she may win this one, too."

The man conducting the event yelled out, "We've got four hundred from the lady to my left. What about you, number forty, do I have four twenty five?"

Slowly, Jewel shook her head and dropped her hand to her lap. Dejection was in every line of her slumped shoulders. Something twisted inside Devon. The majority of the crowd moaned as if they shared Jewel's pain.

"Well, now, four hundred going once...going twice..." He dragged it out.

Devon stepped forward, saying, "Five hundred dollars!"

A collective gasp rose up from the attendees.

He ignored them all, all except Jewel as she whipped her head around to face him. It felt as if a mule had kicked him in his gut, robbing him of air. He read the suffering in her eyes at the proceedings taking place and the shock of his boldness. But her beauty shook him to his core. She'd far exceeded his dreams of how she'd look when he saw her again, ripping him in two and propelling him back in time when he'd had the privilege of holding her close and making her his. _I wish I could do the same right now._

Loud coughing over the microphone jarred him back to the present. "Sir, do you have a number? Did you register to bid today?"

He couldn't take his gaze off of Jewel. "No."

"Then I'm sorry, but you can't participate—"

"The hell I can't!" That earned Devon more flabbergasted noises and several protests to boot.

A hand descended on his shoulder, squeezing hard with a warning. "Let me handle this, Devon."

Twisting back briefly to look at his lawyer, Devon said under his breath, "I thought you said as my attorney you only took care of my legal concerns."

"Ah...I'll make an exception this one time."

"Forget it, Gil. I'll do it my way."

"You always did, so why should I expect different now?" He heard the smile in Gil's voice, then felt the pressure of the lawyer's hand slip away.

To the head honcho, Devon directed his next words. "I'm bidding on behalf of the lady here." He nodded to Jewel and she paled considerably. "I'm prepared to go as high as necessary in order to buy the set for her. Any more questions?"

The flustered man cleared his throat. "No, none at all. We've got five hundred going once, going twice, sold," he rushed out, bringing the gavel down hard and ending any further discussion from the clearly stunned audience.

Heat burned in Jewel's cheeks as she rose, leaving the numbered paddle in her seat. Making mumbled pardons to the people in her aisle, she quickly stepped over their feet, nearly tripping twice in her haste. Finally, she gained her freedom and walked with determined strides to her car parked among a group of others on the lawn. _Don't let anyone suspect how upset you are._

"Jewel, wait up." Devon's rich voice strummed along her nerve endings.

Halting at her rundown blue car, she turned slowly as she cursed herself for coming here today, for wanting to preserve a piece of her mother and her past. He stopped a foot away, jamming his hands in his pockets, something she recalled him doing numerous times while growing up. Maybe the Devon she once knew hadn't completely vanished after all.

She couldn't help but take in the man he had become. Tanned, powerfully built, sophisticated, ruthless. She read the last hard quality in his cold, penetrating gaze. A sinking sensation rippled through her. _He's come back to play out his revenge._

Gulping hard, she shook off the acute awareness that buzzed between them. Jewel broke the charged silence by calling up her anger. "If you intended to humiliate me, you did a good job."

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