Hearts in Harmony

by Gemma Brocato

  Mia’s ponytail bobbed as she nodded. “Okay.”

  Pippa watched the pair race to the swing set, then swiveled her head toward Clay.

  His hungry gaze created a burning sear through her whole body, pooling heat low in her stomach.

  Clay leaned close enough that she could smell his familiar faint pine and wood smoke scent, and breathed into her ear. “You look so fucking amazing.”

  Her comment about his language died when his warm breath fanned her cheek. She’d rarely been at a loss for words before she met him. How easy would it be to turn her head just a smidge and capture his lips? That thought, and the waning light settling in her yard, mesmerized her. The long shadows from the fiery maple by the fence cloaked them, hiding them in plain sight of the rest of the yard. He ran a finger under her chin and down her arm before he stepped back, glancing toward the kids playing on the jungle gym, his expression regretful.

  Thank heavens she could breathe again. Shaking her head slightly, she cleared away the longing that had swamped her senses at the first brush of his breath on her face. Her mouth was dry and she ran her tongue over her lips, firing the spark in Clay’s green eyes.

  “Um, thanks. You, um—you look yummy too.”

  Clay’s teeth flashed in the twilight. “Yummy?”

  She groaned, then laughed, his spell finally cleared. “Yeah, yummy. Do you want a beer or something while I finish getting dinner ready?”

  “Or something, please.”

  Her breath stuttered at the cocky, suggestive grin on his face. She knew, without hesitation, he meant sex. And she was equally sure he now thought her thoughts raced around the topic too. It warmed her, but hearing childish laughter from the swings dropped a cold, wet blanket around her shoulders. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  “Can’t blame me for trying. I’d better take the ‘or something,’ though. I never drink when I’m riding the bike. It’s even dumber than riding it in the rain.” The memory of the first time they’d met, when she’d felt the initial spark of interest for this magnetic man, hopped, like an exploding kernel of popcorn, into her brain. “But it can wait. I’ll just hang with the kiddos, unless you need me to help in the kitchen.”

  “No, go ahead. I’ll let you know when you have five minutes.”

  * * * *

  Pippa had just cut tomatoes for the salad when the screen door squealed open and slammed loudly behind Mason.

  “Mommy, Mr. Clay asked if you had a crossed screwdriver.”

  “A what?”

  Mason held his crossed fingers up together to demonstrate.

  “Why does he want a screwdriver?”

  “He said we have screws loose and he can teach me how to fix them. Do we have one?”

  She looked out the window to see Clay squatting next to Mia, pointing to a crossbar on the play set. It did have a loose joint she’d been meaning to repair, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Clay had noticed and without hesitation, offered to fix it.

  She walked to the pantry, pulled her kitchen toolkit from the shelf and handed it to Mason. As he scurried back to the play set, she admired the picture painted by Clay and her kids. If she squinted, she could pretend for a moment that they could be a family. A sudden, stinging pang of guilt made her inhale sharply.

  A family…without Mark.

  But Mark had been gone a long time, and he’d have wanted her to stop mourning way before now. To build a happy life for their children. And she had. She’d never seriously thought that she’d want any man to replace Mark. Unable to relinquish the loyalty she had toward her husband, she’d ended the few relationships she’d had with other men before they turned serious. Men who couldn’t measure up to the man Mark had been.

  Until Clay had burst relentlessly into her life.

  She watched Clay guide the screwdriver in Mason’s little hand into the screw and help him tighten the loose bolt. The sight of Mason holding up his hand in a high five against Clay’s large palm looked like a father and son moment. When Clay beckoned Mia forward to show her how it was done, the wall she’d built around her heart splintered like a windshield hit by a rock.

  Mark would approve.

  The trio walked toward the side of the house and disappeared from view for a moment. She leaned forward, her forehead connecting with the window over the sink, curious about where they’d gone. She heard the water come on from the outside spigot and they reappeared, dragging the garden hose like a snake behind them toward the newly planted trees. Laughter floated back to her through the open screen door as they splashed water all around. Hopefully those weren’t Clay’s favorite boots. His deep, sexy voice, gently teasing her kids, snaked around her chest and tickled her heart.

  This was what romance was all about. The little things, like noticing a swing set that needed attention, or encouraging Mason to wait his turn while Mia watered her tree. For her, it wasn’t in the grand gestures, but in the simple, ordinary details of life. And Clay scored a solid ten.

  But this, she argued with herself as she finished dressing the salad, would get complicated. Getting involved with Clay, being with him in every sense of the word, but keeping her children in the dark, might be a logistical nightmare.

  She paused as she realized she was considering—no, looking forward to—sleeping with him. Not sure when she’d made that particular decision, she nevertheless felt right about it. She was a healthy young woman, no different than her friends who all enjoyed sexual relationships with husbands and boyfriends. Sex had been an important part of her life with Mark, and she longed for physical intimacy. With the right man. She’d only been with two other men in the six years since her husband died, and neither one had inspired the kind of deep, consuming passion she and Mark had shared.

  Knowing she’d made her decision to be involved intimately with him left a yawning, giddy pit where her stomach should be. Taking what she wanted, knowing he’d leave soon, would be hard enough. Worrying about how such a relationship would affect Mason and Mia transformed the pit to an abyss. She’d take it one day at a time and live in the moment, shielding them, as best she could. They’d never have to know that she was finally willing to allow another man who was not their father into her life.

  13

  The screen door squeaked open and Pippa called from the porch they had five minutes until dinner. Clay raised his hand, acknowledging the alert.

  He regarded the two expectant faces turned in his direction, amazed that the thirty minutes Pippa had given him had passed already. Playing with her children had been…enjoyable.

  “I guess we better put the hose away and go wash up.”

  Mia’s brow furrowed. “Did the tree get enough to drink?”

  He leaned down and stuck a finger in the wet soil, then waved the muddy mess in front of her face, chuckling at the girl’s horrified giggle. “I think we did fine.” He wiped the dirt away on the grass, picked up the hose and rinsed off the rest of the mud before twisting the nozzle to slow the flow of water. “Mia, will you run and turn the water off? Mason, you hold the nozzle open while you walk to the house. I’ll show you how to leave the hose ready for tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” The twins echoed one another.

  “Sure. The trees need to be watered every day for a while, unless it rains. They might be magical, but they still have to have the basic necessities.”

  Mia titled her head to the side, reminding him of a curious little bird. “Oh, like wine, women and song?”

  Laughter burst from him at the absurdity of her question. “Where the he—heck did you hear that?”

  “Uncle Sam. He says the basic ’nessities are wine, women…”

  “And song.” Mason warbled, finishing for his sister, a ridiculous, cheesy grin on his small face.

  “I see. I don’t think Uncle Sam was talking about plants. What I meant was food and water. The trees get their nourishment from the sunshine and water.” He gestured to the trees and smiled. “I don’t think wine, women and song wi
ll help these guys grow. Now, let’s get this hose put away and go in for dinner.”

  Mia raced to the outside faucet and Mason walked behind her squirting water over everything in his path. Clay trailed after them, still grinning about their parroting of Uncle Sam.

  He helped them wind the hose up, then went inside to wash up for dinner. They all stood together at the sink in the small powder room to rinse their hands. Mason and Mia each held an end of the towel to dry theirs before handing it to Clay to finish up. The warmth in the house felt welcome after the cool evening air.

  Following his nose to the kitchen, he paused in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the jamb to watch while Pip put dinner on the table.

  He’d seen her vulnerable in the cemetery, seething in anger at his farm, and professional, encouraging and warm with his mother during their therapy sessions. But watching her interact with her children shed new light on this intriguing, desirable woman.

  She was a tactile, affectionate person. Her hands were in constant motion with her children, touching and stroking fingers through their dark curls. The smiles she shared with them were quick and genuine. It was clear that Pippa didn’t just love her children…she really liked them.

  Mason said something that made her throw her head back in laughter, exposing the supple skin of her neck. The evolution from sweet mom into a red-hot mama hit with the swiftness of a heat-seeking missile. Clay bit the inside of his cheek, holding back a groan as his eyes riveted to Pippa’s throat and the pulse throbbing there. Desire to lick to the tender spot rose like a cresting wave.

  Holy shit! He needed to stop thinking like that. There were kids in the room. Stepping up to the table with his khakis tented at a child’s eye level wouldn’t be wise.

  Pippa looked up at that moment. Emotions flitted across her face—surprise, uncertainty, desire. She finally settled on warmth, smiled and gestured to a seat at the table.

  He cleared the frog from his throat as he crossed the room, pulled out a chair and sat. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Baked teriyaki chicken, green beans, steamed rice and salad. Lemon bars for dessert. My future sister-in-law would be proud of me. I’m not really much of a cook. The twins haven’t been picky about what they eat so I’m lucky.”

  “I guess I’m the lucky one, because this smells delicious.” He grinned and dug in to the mound of food on his plate, savoring the first bite, then smacking his lips, drawing laughter from his dinner companions. “And tastes even better.”

  They ate in silence for a minute before the twins started to barrage him with questions.

  “Do you have a dog?”

  “Mr. Clay, what’s your favorite kind of pizza?”

  “Do you know my Uncle Jack?”

  “Have you ever been to a hockey game?”

  “Do you like to sing?”

  “Hey, kids. Hang on,” Pippa said, holding her hands up for silence. “I’m sure Mr. Clay doesn’t mind answering your questions, but let’s ask them one at a time. He’s going to think you don’t know how to behave around adults, if you keep bombarding him.”

  “It’s okay.” He felt his eyes crinkle as he grinned. The questions had come fast, furious and comically. Such variety. He put down his fork and leaned back in his chair. “I’m not really sure where to start. Let’s see. I don’t have a dog, but my mom does.” He ticked off the questions on his fingers. “I love pepperoni pizza. I have met your Uncle Jack. I love to watch hockey on TV but I’ve never been to a game. And I do like to sing. It makes me happy.”

  He glanced at Pippa. An indulgent smile lit her whole face, adding a new dimension for him to catalog, along with all the other looks he’d subconsciously stored.

  She offered him the plate of chicken for a second helping and set it aside when he shook his head. “I’ve always said music is what emotions sound like.”

  “I’ve never thought about it that way, but you’re right. We use music in every part of our lives, at each celebration, every death…even to make our days go faster.” He leaned forward in his chair, pushing aside his water glass. “Pippa, I’ve read some of the articles you suggested. I never recognized the extent of how much sound fills our world. I’m hopeful that the therapy you’re doing with my mom will work.”

  Pippa’s eyes glowed, softly confident. “It will take time, but she’s showing remarkable progress. You missed the last session, but she managed to keep her hand flat on the drum on her own. Steve said he didn’t even help open her fist. She did it all by herself.”

  “Is your mommy sick, Mr. Clay?”

  Mia’s question stopped him from reaching across the table to lay his hand on top of Pippa’s. He’d been so lost in the sexy confident look in Pippa’s eyes he’d almost forgotten the kids. He picked up his fork and pushed the remaining rice around on his plate instead.

  “Yes, she is, Mia. She had a bad accident when she was water-skiing this summer and had a stroke…a brain attack.”

  “That sounds scary. Is she going to be okay?” Mason asked when his sister made a distressed sound.

  “I think so. I hope she’ll be well enough to be back home before long. She’d hate to miss a Christmas at the farm. It’s her favorite time of the year.”

  “Ours too,” Mason said.

  Mia nodded vigorously before adding, “But Mom likes autumn best. Don’t you, Mom?”

  Pippa smiled and Clay couldn’t pull his gaze away from those damn dimples that creased her cheeks attractively.

  “Everything is so vibrant. I love the colors, the first fire of the year in the fireplace, the piles of leaves along the roadside. I know it’s silly. Everything is dying for the year, but I just feel so alive. That’s sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

  He grabbed the chair to keep from rising up and going around the table to capture Pippa’s lips with his. Fall had always been his most productive season, when his work as a military strategist wound down and he could focus on the work he loved, researching and writing his books. He felt a seismic shift in his chest, as if his heart moved toward this woman.

  Mason and Mia rolled their eyes at Pippa and grinned, dimples bracketing the cupid bows of their identical lips. Color washed into Pippa’s cheeks and he identified her smile as self-deprecating. He tried to disguise his chuckle by clearing his throat and hiding his mouth behind a clenched fist. Pippa narrowed her eyes to look at him just before she giggled, a rich, musical sound that lassoed his heart. Clay joined in, indulging in a belly laugh, while Mason and Mia just looked at the adults as if they’d lost their minds.

  “Okay, enough,” Pippa said as she wiped tears away and caught her breath. She pointed at the twins. “Time for you two to get ready for bed.”

  They gasped. “Mommy, it’s still early!”

  “And you’re still six, so I get to tell you what to do. Come on. Take your plates to the sink, then head upstairs.”

  The twins exchanged a glance that seemed to speak. Mia picked up their plates while Mason sidled next to Pippa .

  “Can we come back to say good night to Mr. Clay?” He lowered his voice, whispering loudly, “I think Mia kinda likes him.”

  “Mason, you’ve always gotta work an angle, don’t you? I can see I’m going to have to start monitoring your time with Uncle Sam. He’s teaching you bad habits.”

  “But can we? Please?” Mason grasped Pippa’s cheeks in his small hands.

  Clay remained silent, sensing Pippa might consider any comment or suggestion he made unwelcome. These were her children, and no one had the right to suggest how she raised them. Remembering how she had reacted when he’d frowned at them at the farm made him think about the seconds just before he scowled. When he’d almost kissed her.

  Good God, what was with his desire to kiss her all the time? He shook his head and caught her eye, easily reading the question in them. Would he stay a little longer?

  Hell, yeah! According to her brother Jack, these kids were the way to her heart. And they were damn nice kids. Spend
ing more time with them wouldn’t be any kind of problem if it got him closer to their beautiful mother. He cringed inwardly at how calculating that thought sounded. But dammit, anything that would allow him to get to know her better was worth pursuing.

  Pippa put her hands over Mason’s and pressed a kiss to the boy’s lips. “Here’s the deal. You and Mia get your jammies on, brush your teeth and then come back down for one final good night. Then you head back upstairs without arguing. Agreed?”

  “Yay!” Mia threw her arms around her brother and mother, then grabbed Mason to drag him out of the kitchen, in a hurry to do what they were supposed to and get back.

  Clay watched their retreating backs before he flicked a look at Pippa. “I couldn’t tell, did they agree to your conditions?”

  She laughed and stood, picking up her plate. “Not exactly. I hope you don’t mind. You’ll end up driving home on your bike in the dark.”

  He stood to help her clear the rest of the table. “I’ll be okay. Your kids are pretty great. I don’t mind spending time with them. Or you.”

  Pippa’s gaze flashed toward him and she smiled softly. “Thanks. Sit down. You don’t have to help.”

  “I don’t mind. Why don’t you take a seat? You cooked, I’ll clean.”

  “You clean, I’ll make coffee.” She hesitated. “If you have time to stay. It’ll be at least twenty minutes before the kids get back down, then count on another ten for them to say good night.”

  He paused from scraping the plates into the garbage pail and glanced over his shoulder. She’d invited him to stay a little longer. And she’d just told him they’d be alone for the next twenty minutes. Damn straight he’d take a cup of coffee, and hope for another in the morning.

  He stacked the plates neatly on the side of the sink and grinned. “Sure, I’d like that.”

  Pippa grabbed the pot from the coffee maker, walked to his side at the sink and turned on the water to fill it. A sense of belonging in this domestic scene stole over him, warming his insides. He reached for the faucet and turned the water off. When she lifted her face to his, confusion mixed with desire in her eyes. Mimicking Mason, he put his hands on her cheeks and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, then pulled back to stare at her. “Thank you for inviting me for dinner tonight.” He watched as Pippa’s gaze dropped to his mouth, and groaned quietly as she caught her lip with her teeth. “Good God, spitfire! You’re killing me here.”