Secrets Of The Heart (Book 1, The Heart Romance Series)

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