and slid it over her arms.
Thomas finally caught up to her and immediately bent
over with his hands on his knees.
Carissa laughed. “I thought you could run.”
“So did I. Sophia never ran that fast.”
“Then she was taking it easy on you.” She tightened
the tail of hair at the back of her head. “Stand up.” “I can’t.” He panted as his vision went blurry and all
he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.
She walked to him and pulled on his arms until she had
them cuffed at the wrists and lifted over his head. “There. It
lets in more air. You’re just cutting off your oxygen by
bending over.”
He couldn’t say anything. He just stood there staring at
her glistening face and trying his damndest to suck in
oxygen.
She was watching him carefully and when his
breathing began to settle she smiled at him.
“Feel better?” When he nodded, she tugged open the
door of the diner. “Good, I’m hungry.”
Thomas took in the atmosphere of the small diner. No
one there seemed out of place. Some people were in suits,
most of them were in relaxed casual Saturday wear. A few
looked like they hadn’t seen a pillow yet. Others waved to
the staff and other patrons as they headed out to a long,
hard day of manual labor. The air filled with their voices
and the smells of bacon and coffee. He’d missed such a
place. Carissa waved to the woman behind the counter and
found a booth for them to sit in. He followed, sitting across
from her.
“This place is great.”
“This was always one of my favorite places to come to
with my dad when I was growing up.” She tossed her head
from side to side and he watched as she worked the tension
from her neck.
“A hangout, huh?”
“Well it was one of his favorite places because he
always came here with Sophia. He didn’t tell me that until after I fell in love with her myself or I would have protested
and never have wanted to come here again.”
She threw a menu his way and he opened it, glancing
at the options.
“Didn’t you always love Sophia? How could you not?
She’s amazing.”
“Because when you’re little and someone feeds you
lines of BS about why your dad left, you tend to hate the
person he’s living with.” She said it so matter-of-factly he
only nodded in agreement.
The waitress arrived at the table and Carissa looked up
at her with a smile.
“Good morning, Betsy.”
“Good mornin’, honey. Got a new beau?” Thomas
wiggled in his seat as she scanned her eyes over him.
“Kinda skinny.”
“You can fix that, right?”
Thomas grinned as he watched the two women banter. “That would be my job.” She winked.
They ordered and Thomas tucked his menu back
behind the napkin dispenser as Betsy walked away. “What time is your first student?”
“Not until ten.”
“But you dragged my butt out of the house at seven?” “You run to breakfast, you take a nice stroll back.”
Yes, that did make sense. “Then home for a shower and off
to work.”
Suddenly his head filled with images of her in the
shower. When he got home, his would have to be a cold
one.
“I was giving some thought to the design of the school
last night.”
“You were?” Her brows knit and he worried she
wasn’t open to criticism. But it would be better to add his
opinion before all the interior walls were complete. “I was thinking that back room is going to be awfully
big. Don’t you think you could put some tables in and room
to do book work?”
“Book work?”
“Theory.”
Carissa’s beautiful pouty lips thinned and she shifted
her glance out the window and then back toward him. “Theory goes home in a book and comes back for me
to look over and put a sticker on. It’s part of every lesson,
but not meant for a class of its own. We want the kids to
enjoy their classes, not dread them.”
“I don’t see why you don’t—” Betsy interrupted with a
plate of food and the conversation on theory came to a halt.
He watched as she doctored her breakfast with condiments,
keeping her thoughts to herself.
Perhaps the discussion over theory would be best for
another time. But time would soon be running out. He had
opinions and he damn well thought she should listen. They ate their breakfast and managed to fill an hour
with small talk, which did not include the curriculum of the
school.
Thomas found Carissa intoxicating, once she’d stopped
snarling at him. She was witty, funny, smart, and a little
mouthy. What amazed him was how much she was like
Sophia though they’d never spent her childhood together
for her to have adopted those traits and qualities. “Well look what the cat dragged in.” A hand fell onto
his shoulder and he froze at the sound of David’s voice. “Daddy.” Carissa jumped up to kiss her father on the
cheek. “Where’s Mom?”
“She headed over to Katie’s to pick her up for her hair
appointment. You know Katie. She won’t miss it.” Hope sat next to Thomas, bouncing on the cushion of
the booth. David gave her a look of warning and she settled
in even closer to Thomas.
David draped his arm over Carissa’s shoulders. “So
what are you two up to?”
Thomas felt the need to speak up. He’d done nothing
but sit and have a meal with Carissa, but suddenly he felt as
though he’d been caught doing something illicit. Carissa spoke before he could begin to babble. “I made
him go for a run before my first student.”
“Yep, she’s just like her mother,” David confirmed. “Not quite.” Thomas shook his head as he looked at
Carissa. “She runs faster.”
Carissa threw her napkin at him. “We have to go. Want
the booth?”
“Sure.” David moved into the spot Carissa vacated. “It
was nice to see you again, Thomas.” He held his hand out
as Thomas stood.
Thomas shook his hand. “Likewise. Good-bye, Hope.
Enjoy your Saturday.”
Carissa zipped up her sweatshirt as they walked away from the diner.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I feel like I just got caught.”
“Caught doing what?”
“I don’t know. You run into someone’s dad after you’ve just crawled out of bed with his daughter . . .” His eyes flew open and he looked at her. “Wait that’s not what I meant. I meant separately. I mean . . .”
“Stop.” She was laughing at him. Tears were forming in her eyes. “I got it.” She laid her hand on his chest as she laughed. “Oh, Thomas, even if we’d crawled out of the same bed he wouldn’t have treated you any differently.”
He wasn’t too sure of that.
Carissa stepped closer to him until he could feel her body almost pressed to his. “You are too cute when you get flustered.”
He reached for her hands before she could back away. “You’re a forward one, aren’t you?”
“Does it bother you?”
“No, I’m just not used to it. I’m a classical musician. I don’t attract women’s attention too often.”
“I’m a classical musician and I’m a woman. And when I see something I like I go after it.” She seductively bit her lip. “And I like you.”
She moved up closer to him and his entire body stiffened as if to put up the wall he so desperately needed between them. “What is it you want, Carissa Kendal?”
“I don’t know yet. Does that scare you?”
“Scares the hell out of me.”
Her smile widened. “Well, by the pace of your heart . . .” She looked down at her hands that rested on his chest. “I’d say there’s a mutual attraction.”
“I’ll go with that.”
“And as I’m very selective with whom I share myself, don’t think I’ll be racing into your bed.”
“Carissa, I didn’t mean to assume that . . .”
She raised her finger to his lips. “But I’m certainly not one to take too much time either. You forget I watched a man wait ten years for the woman he loves. One thing I’m not is patient.” Her lashes fluttered and his heart skipped another beat.
Thank, God, he thought.
She stepped back and winked. “Well, we’ve come a long way in a few days. I guess above all we need to realize we still have to work with each other.”
“True.” Though he wondered how well it could go when she wouldn’t even listen to his ideas.
“My business is too important to me to have something like a relationship with a coworker ruin it. My life is here in Kansas City, and my family, and now my business. I may not like to wait for things I want, but I don’t like change much either.”
Thomas swallowed the lump of fear that lodged in his throat by her words. No matter what happened between them there would be change.
“Let’s start by walking.” She grabbed his hand and interlaced their fingers. “And talking.”
“Talking?”
“Tell me who you are, Thomas Samuel.” She turned her head toward him and narrowed her eyes. “And don’t leave anything out.”
If her forwardness hadn’t ramped up his heart rate, her words would have. Where did he start? Did he start by telling her he was knocked around by his father until he was sixteen? That his father was an abusive drunk bastard that finally killed one of his children in the fury of anger? Or did she want to hear how, after Pablo came out of the closet and he didn’t have a job, he’d become an alcoholic like his father. That he’d almost killed himself and Pablo’s lover Pierre one night in Paris? Is that what she wanted to know?
She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
“It’s pretty simple, isn’t it?”
He wished it were.
“Do you want the basics like my birthday is January fourth? I’m thirty-three years old. You already know I’ve played the piano since I was three. Before moving here, which you also know I did only Thursday,” he joked, trying to keep the conversation as light as possible, “I resided in a dinky apartment just outside of Rome.” He took his free hand and ran it through his hair. He really needed a haircut. “I didn’t stick around to graduate high school. Not traditionally at least. But Pablo made sure I had a high school diploma.”
“You graduated high school in Italy?” He nodded. “Pretty cool.”
He snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Where were you born?”
“Maryland.”
“First teacher’s name?”
“Mrs. Norton.”
“Color of your first bike.”
“Fire engine red.”
“Name of your first pet.”
“Didn’t have one.”
She stopped and faced him. “Neither did I.”
It was as if that was their connection. He squeezed his eyes shut. It was going to get too complicated too quickly, he could tell. Perhaps he should talk to Sophia about everything. He needed to make some decisions on how he wanted to handle Carissa Kendal. No matter what Carissa expected of him, he wasn’t the marrying type or a family man. He couldn’t risk her losing her heart over him.
As they neared the house, he looked over at her. What if he lost his heart to her?
“I had a wonderful time.” Carissa swung their hands between them as they walked up the front steps.
“So did I. I could get used to that every Saturday morning.”
“Well, at least you’re thinking about staying, then.” His jaw dropped when she said that. For not wanting to make commitments, he sure was doing it.
Carissa unlocked the front door and walked inside the house. She kicked off her shoes, unzipped her sweatshirt, and shrugged out of it. With two fingers she picked up her shoes and laid her sweatshirt over her arm. He noticed her routine. This was what she did every week and now it included him.
“Time to get ready for work.” She stepped closer to him. “How do we end our date?”
Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He took a step closer to her and touched her cheek. He drew her toward him and gently laid a kiss on those full lips he’d been aching to caress with his own.
As he pulled back, her eyes remained closed. When she opened them, he was looking right into them.
“That was nice,” she said on a sigh. “I’m guessing you’re a great kisser.”
“Maybe tonight we’ll go on another date and you can find out.” He slid his hand from her cheek down her throat and lingered it there.
She raised her hand to his face, and it caught on his stubble. It was then he realized he needed to buy a razor.
As she pulled her hand away, it caught his attention. Quickly he grabbed her arm and turned it over, her inner wrist up.
“Holy cow.” She pulled her arm away from him. “That had to hurt like hell.”
Carissa’s eyes flew open and he knew defensiveness when he saw it. “Yeah, it did.”
“What did you get it caught in?”
Her head tilted and her expression softened. “What?”
“I said what did you get your arm caught in?” He reached for it and ran his fingers over her scar.
“I, um, I fell off my bike going down a hill.”
“Got your arm stuck in the spokes?” She nodded. “Damn.” He raised her wrist to his lips and kissed the scar.
“I have to get ready. I’ll find you when I’m done and we can make plans for tonight.”
She broke free from him and ran up the stairs to her room.
As soon as the door shut Carissa paced the room and let tears that had filled her eyes fall. Every emotion that could possibly be felt surged through her body. She was happy, sad, angry, and smitten to tie it all together. She sat down on the bed and rested her head in her hands.
In all the years she’d had that scar no one had asked her what had happened in such a way. No, instead they had looked at it and made their own conclusions. Which still to this day made her angry. Anyone who’d been around her biological mother assumed they were the same. She’d tried to slit her wrists, so her daughter must have done the same damn thing. Then there was that school counselor. Carissa almost couldn’t breathe.
She’d called her a liar and her father one as well. Convinced that he was covering for her, she’d threatened to take Carissa from her father. All because of the stupid scar on her wrist from a bicycle accident.
Sophia had scars and they had bonded over them. They’d declared themselves warriors and never hid them again under necklaces, scarves, bracelets, or long sleeves. But pride in showing her scars didn’t stop people from assuming she’d tried to end it all.
She let out a long, steady breath and let the sadness she felt from people not believing her drain away.
Then there was Thomas who assumed nothing. She’d known Thomas Samuel going on three days and already she was shedding tears over him, after having been fairly suggestive toward him. What had her mother done by bringing him into their lives?
Carissa sat up. Oh, dear God! She’d been set up. She set her jaw. What was Sophia thinking? Matchmaking was Katie and her Aunt Millie’s game, not her mother’s. Why would she think she needed to be set up?
At twenty-five she was far from being a spinster. She’d had her share of relationships. Okay, so at the best she’d dated. But to call in a stranger . . .
Carissa stood and paced the room again.
She’d heard stories about Thomas, sure. Not that she’d ever paid too much attention. Sophia only spoke to Carissa of the legendary Pablo and those who toured with him when they would sit and play their cellos together. Carissa knew it was Sophia’s way of not bringing it up in front of her father. After all, for years he’d thought Sophia had left him for Pablo. It was a sore subject.
When Carissa had approached her mother about the school, her eyes lit up.
“You’ll need help,” she’d said.
“I thought you’d help me.”
“I’m busy with Hope. But I know someone who could use some roots and he’s one hell of a musician.” In no time Thomas Samuel was on his way back to the States to live.
What kind of power did Sophia Kendal have over this man?
And now, what kind of power did he have over Carissa?
She certainly wasn’t a winner in the relationship department. The last thing she wanted was a broken heart and she’d been fairly successful in avoiding them. If things needed to be ended she ended them. She wasn’t about to pine for a man that didn’t want her. However, she was fairly sure that Thomas Samuel wanted her. And likewise, she couldn’t stop thinking she wanted much more from him than just to be smitten.
Carissa started pulling off her running clothes and throwing them into the laundry basket. She caught sight of the scar on her wrist. Damn, it had hurt. She ran her fingers over it. How she hadn’t broken her arm, she’d never know. A smile slipped across her lips. Thomas had noticed the scar, but it had taken three days and when he saw it, he didn’t assume. He didn’t think she’d done something so horrible to scar herself. She sucked in a breath to steady herself. Things were going to be different with Thomas Samuel around.
Grateful that Carissa had loaned him her car keys, Thomas drove through town in search of a haircut.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in Kansas City. Maybe he’d never been. He laughed at himself. He was alone in a car and he was laughing at himself. A year ago that would have been a sure sign he needed a drink. Even thinking about that now made his palms sweat.
ENCORE PERFORMANCE (THE MATCHMAKER TRILOGY) Page 4