Second Harmony

by Barbara Bretton

  She felt painfully aware of his presence, the faint citrusy smell of his skin--the way she longed to run her hands through his thick, silky hair. Get a grip on yourself, Sunny. This isn't a date. This is your ex-husband. Ex-husbands didn't make your hands tremble or your pulse beat faster. And they certainly didn't make a woman dream of slow kisses in the moonlight.

  Or of second chances.

  "There's a beautiful view of the river from my back porch," she said after taking a sip of wine for courage. "Why don't we take our drinks outside?" Space and fresh air would help her recover her equilibrium.

  But sitting outside didn't help. The scent of orange blossoms followed Robert and the world itself seemed too small to contain the emotions in Sunny's heart. For an endless time neither one spoke. Sunny made no effort to excuse herself to prepare the lunch she'd promised him. Robert made no attempt to leave. After a while he reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. They'd held hands like that back in high school, enraptured by the way their fingers meshed so perfectly. Everything had seemed miraculous back then, as if a benevolent God watched over them, making sure no harm could ever come their way.

  They watched as the sun began to disappear behind the trees, blushing the sky with the pink and orange flames of evening.

  But it was always you, Robby. From the very beginning, it was you and you alone, she thought.

  I loved Christine, but no woman ever touched my soul the way you did, he thought in return.

  The night breeze off the river grew chilly.

  Still holding hands, they rose and went back inside.

  The house seemed to reach out and embrace Robert.

  To Sunny it felt like a home for the very first time.

  He built a fire in the hearth while she prepared a simple dinner. The domestic intimacy between them felt simultaneously familiar and terrifying--a wild combination of emotions that charged the cottage with electricity. There was a sense of destiny about them, as if the fates had conspired to bring them together once again, to give them one last chance at happiness.

  Robert pulled a folding table close to the fireplace in the living room, and Sunny set the table with cherry red water glasses shaped like tulips and plates she had painted to resemble giant cabbage leaves.

  "Chopsticks?" he asked as she laid the ivory utensils across the lime green linen napkins.

  "Live dangerously." She took her seat opposite him. "Chopsticks improve the taste of everything."

  "Of potato salad?"

  "You'd be surprised."

  "You haven't changed," he said, refilling their wineglasses from the half-empty bottle of Chardonnay on the red lacquer butler's table. "Still taking the road less-travelled."

  She took a sip of wine. "That's where you find the best scenery."

  He started to say something flip about the scenery being just fine from where he sat, but the words stayed locked inside his throat. This was the real thing. Not dinner with some friend-of-a-friend-who's-dying-to-meet-you. Not just a way to pass a lonely spring evening while the kids were out of town.

  This was Sunny.

  "It looks great," he said, gesturing toward the food on his plate, "but I'm not hungry."

  She pushed her own plate away. "Neither am I."

  The look in his eyes was as hot and dangerous as the fire burning in the hearth. "Do you still believe in love at first sight?"

  Her eyes fluttered closed for an instant as the impact of his words ignited an answering flame deep inside. "Robert, I--"

  Her words ended abruptly as he pushed back his chair and stood up. He reached for her and, as if in a dream, she placed her hand in his and rose from her chair. She felt his touch in every part of her body and she wondered how it was she had managed to live without the other half of her heart. The feeling was dangerous and mad and totally irresistible.

  Slowly, deliberately, he drew her into his arms, pulling her so close that her body seemed to melt against his.

  "Put your arms around me, Sunny."

  Lifting her chin, she met his eyes. The look in them was smoky. Unmistakable. The boy she had married years ago was gone. He was a man now in every way. Taller. Broader. More self-confident. She shivered with pleasure as he threaded his fingers through her hair. More demanding. She placed her hands on his shoulders.

  "You've been lifting weights," she murmured. He ran his thumb over the swell of her lower lip. "I always imagined you'd play squash or something. Don't all successful lawyers play squash?"

  He placed his hand beneath her chin and tilted her face up toward him. "I don't want to talk about sports, Sunny."

  "You don't?"

  "And I don't want to talk about the law firm."

  Her laughter was low, her excitement deeply female. "What do you want to talk about?"

  "Nothing," he said, dipping his head toward hers. "Not one damn thing."

  And then he drew her closer still until the last of the emotional barriers between them incinerated before the primal rush of passion their first kiss brought to life. His mouth was hard and demanding; her lips, soft and yielding. She answered his need with a fierce need of her own and he didn't leave her wanting.

  All that they had shared was in that kiss and in the dozen kisses that followed.

  "Robby...oh God...." Her voice drifted away on a wave of pleasure. "This is crazy."

  "Yes," he said, his lips hot against the curve of her breast. "Crazy."

  "The sofa," she said as her knees grew weak. That soft and welcoming sofa before the fireplace where she'd watched Top Model reruns alone.

  Moments later they lay together, greedy for the feel of skin against skin. He cupped her breasts beneath her t-shirt, letting his palms tease her nipples until they grew taut and hard. She felt that touch in the deepest, most secret part of her body. She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Robert moved her hands away then ripped it open, scattering buttons across the floor. In the space of a heartbeat he stripped her of her t-shirt, then eased her jeans and panties over her hips and legs. The night breeze rippled over her heated skin. He devoured her with his eyes, as if he owned her, body and soul.

  She reached for his belt buckle and he laughed deep in his throat. Moments later they were both naked, so ravenous for the sight and sound and smell of each other that they had no time for preliminaries.

  Only a raw and primitive mating could satisfy their need.

  Their lovemaking was sweet and savage, as swift as the river flowing beyond the open window and when it was over and she lay in his arms with her cheek resting against his chest, Robert knew without a doubt that he'd never let her go.

  "Sunny."

  She burrowed closer to him. "Hmm?"

  "We're getting married."

  ~~end of excerpt~~

  At Last - a contemporary romance

  Idle Point - Book #1

  She was his anchor.

  He was her home.

  Gracie Taylor fell in love with Noah Chase, Idle Point's golden boy, on the first day of kindergarten. Gracie was the girl from the wrong side of town. But when they were together, nothing else mattered.

  Then, on their wedding day, Gracie discovered a secret that sent her running from Idle Point, leaving Noah with a broken heart to match her own.

  Now, eight years later, Gracie returns to Maine for her father's wedding. When she discovers Noah has come home to Idle Point to save the family business—and that he has a little daughter named Sophie—Gracie also discovers that nothing has changed. Their love for each other is stronger than ever, but the secrets that drove them apart still hold the power to ruin their lives.

  Will past mistakes destroy their love or will they finally find happiness together... at last?

  Awards:

  4 stars ~ The Romance Reader

  Romantic Times Top Pick

  Reviews:

  "Very few romance writers create characters as well developed and realistic as Bretton's. Her books pull you in and don't let you leave until the
last word is read." ~Booklist (starred review)

  "...a richly textured book"~ All About Romance

  "...an emotional contemporary tale that hits the guts and heart with force." ~Painted Rock

  "A beautifully crafted variation on the plot of Romeo and Juliet that transforms tragedy into romance." ~ Booklist

  #

  ~~Prologue~~

  The last person to actually see Graciela Taylor on the day she left Idle Point, Maine forever was old Eb at the Stop & Pump. Maybe if she'd planned her getaway a little better – or had any idea at all that she was going to leave her fiance standing at the altar – she would have seen to it that her gas tank was full. As it happened, the needle on her fuel gauge hovered over the E and she was forced to make a right into Stop & Pump and pray Old Eb wasn't in a talkative mood. She might have taken her chances that she'd make it to Portland before the engine sputtered then shut down, but that was too risky. The last thing she wanted was to run out of gas on Main Street and bump into Noah on his way home from the wedding that wasn't.

  Old Eb peered out from his office, then did a double-take which didn't bode well for her speedy getaway. He'd been around since long before Gracie was born and he'd seen everything there was worth seeing around Idle Point and a few things he'd rather forget. He was the one who'd found Gracie's mother dead at the bottom of the ravine, trapped in that old Chevy with the horn blaring . He was the one who'd found Gracie, thrown clear from the wreck and crying to beat the band. He was the one who wrapped her in blankets and held her close while they waited for her father to identify his wife's body. She and Eb had a history. If he had any idea what she was up to, it would be all over.

  "You forgetting where you're supposed to be?" he asked as he ambled over to where she stood next to the old Mustang she'd bought four years ago with the money she'd saved working in the kennels for Doctor Jim. "They're down at the cove waitin' for you, Gracie. I'd be there myself if I didn't have to earn a living."

  She smiled, wishing she'd taken time to exchange her short lacy white dress for the pair of jeans and a sweater. She looked like exactly what she was: a runaway bride. "I'm on my way," she said, carefully not specifying her destination. She was too fond of Eb to lie to him.

  Eb checked his pocket watch. "Thought the clambake began at two o'clock," he said. There was a sharp note of curiosity in his voice as his faded blue eyes took in her outfit. "It's near to half-past. You can't be late for your own goodbye party."

  Eb knew that she was due to leave for Philadelphia the next morning to begin her first year of veterinary school at the University, the goal she'd been striving for since she was barely old enough to walk.

  "I know," she said, "but I'm running on fumes and . . . " She shrugged. "You know how it is. There was so much to do." He was a native New Englander, same as she. Didn't he know New Englanders were famous for minding their own business?

  Eb checked her oil and cleaned her windshield while the tank guzzled down the gallons. If he wondered why Sam the Cat was grooming herself on the passenger's seat, he never said. Gracie peered nervously over her shoulder every time she heard a car approach. A clean getaway, that was all she wanted. When the dust cleared and the hurt feelings mended, maybe then they could talk. She'd left a note for Noah on the kitchen table. She told him that she was sorry, that she hadn't planned on any of this, but wasn't it better to put an end to it now before it was too late?

  Besides, how did you explain to the boy you'd loved since kindergarten that leaving him was the best thing you could ever do for him.

  Eb screwed the gas cap back on good and tight.

  "What do I owe you?" she asked as she reached for her purse through the open car window.

  Eb plunged his gnarled hands deep into the pockets of his overalls. "Just get yourself a good education, girlie, then come back home to us where you belong. I've waited a long time to dance at your wedding. I want to see you all set up with a job and a husband and a few babies."

  He didn't have any idea what he was saying.

  You don't understand, Eb. There was supposed to be a wedding today but I backed out. We were going to throw aside all of our plans and run away to Paris together. Can you imagine, Eb? I love him and he loves me but we don't have a chance in the world of being happy together. His father has seen to that. That's why I'm going to get behind the wheel of my car and get away from here before I start believing in fairy tales.

  Noah had been part of her life for as long as she could remember and he had owned her heart almost as long. Even during those years when he was away at boarding school, he was never far from her mind. Not that he'd known she existed until he came back to Idle Point after his father's first heart attack and everything fell into place. Loving him seemed as right and natural as breathing; marrying him was simply the next step.

  Noah and Gracie had been together since senior year of high school and they had stayed together despite the best efforts of their families to break them up. You wouldn't think their fathers' paths would have crossed very often, not even in a small town like Idle Point, but the hatred between the two men was legendary and the poison spilled over onto their children. They had learned through experience to keep their love hidden away from their families. When they went off to college – Noah to B.U., Gracie to the University of Pennsylvania – everyone was sure distance would put an end to their teenage love affair. Nobody but Noah and Gracie knew of the weekends spent sharing pretzels on the steps of the museum in Philadelphia or strolling near Independence Hall, talking about the home they would build together, the family they would raise. Gracie would join Doctor Jim's veterinary practice while Noah wrote the Great American Novel.

  She'd heard the whispers from some of her so-called friends, the ones who wondered how a plain girl like Gracie who lived over by the docks managed to land someone like Noah. Gracie was serious and ambitious and poor. Noah was a rich man's son who thought life was his for the taking. He'd flunked out of B.U. and if he had some game plan for his life, he wasn't sharing it. He wasn't serious about anything, didn't Gracie know that? One day he'd call her up and say, "You know there'll never be anyone else like you, Gracie, but I've met someone else and . . . "

  Everyone but Gracie knew that was going to happen one day. Why couldn't she get it through her head that she was fooling herself? Their poison-tipped words hurt but a long time ago Gramma Del had taught herself how to deflect the sting and hold her head high. They never knew how good their aim was. Noah loved her for who she was inside, not for how she looked, not for what she owned. He didn't care that she was tall and skinny and blessed with brains, not beauty; with a heart, but not a bank account. They loved each other and up until last night she had believed that was all they needed.

  Whoever thought it would be Gracie who broke Noah's heart?

  She had Simon Chase to thank for ruining their lives. He'd shown up at her father's house an hour ago. Sixty minutes was all it took to shatter her dreams. Her future father-in-law was an imposing man, tall and white-haired and blessed with the natural arrogance of the born Yankee aristocrat. His bad heart had slowed him down but the fierceness of his gaze when he looked at Gracie hadn't softened a bit. She had always suspected that Simon didn't like her but she'd never imagined the depth of it until that afternoon.

  Simon had connections up and down the coast of Maine and right across into lake country. Noah and Gracie had slipped down to Portland last week to apply for their wedding license, figuring nobody in the city office would pay any attention to them. They were wrong. A clerk recognized the Chase name and mentioned it to his superior who happened to mention it over lunch to a friend and an hour later Simon's office phone was ringing with the news.

  "You'll do the right thing," Simon had said as he rose to leave. "If you love my son the way you say you do, I know you'll do what's best for him. There's really no other way, is there, Graciela?"

  It wasn't until Simon and his late model Lincoln disappeared down the road that she found t
he envelope propped up on the kitchen table between the sugar bowl and the salt and pepper shakers. Ten thousand dollars to leave his son alone. Ten thousand dollars to keep her from ruining Noah's life. Apparently that was the going rate for betrayal in Idle Point.

  "I mean it, girlie," Eb was saying. "Save your gas money for when you're filling your tank in New Jersey. Nobody gives anything away in New Jersey."

  "I can't let you do that," she said. "You already gave me that beautiful silver mirror that belonged to Sarah when I started college."

  His eyes glistened with tears. "Sarah loved you like one of her own grandbabies. You know she always prayed you and Noah would end up together one day."

  Oh, God, can this get any worse? Let me get out of here before what's left of my heart breaks in two.

  She knew when she'd been bested and kissed Eb on a weathered cheek. "Thank you," she said. "You're very dear to me."

  Eb turned red beneath his grey whiskers. "You make us proud, Gracie. Understand?"

  "I'm doing the right thing," she said as she climbed behind the wheel. "This is the best thing for both of us." Simon Chase had proved that beyond a doubt less than an hour ago.

  "What did you say?" Eb asked but she only smiled at him. She'd said too much as it was.

  She gunned the engine and reached into the glove box and withdrew an envelope thick with bills. "Here," she said, handing it to Eb through the open window. "Now you can take yourself that vacation you and Sarah always talked about."

  Her wheels spun on the gravel as she roared out of the gas station.

  "Hold your horses!" Eb's voice floated after her. "There's money in this envelope! What do you –"

  The last thing Gracie saw in her rear-view mirror was old Eb standing in the middle of the road with Simon Chase's blood money dangling from his fingers like a flag of surrender.