By three fifteen Carissa had moved her few items into the living room to begin her lesson. Thomas walked into the room with a bouquet of daises in his hands and a smile crossed her lips when she saw him.
“Mr. Samuel, what are you doing?”
“Well, Ms. Kendal, it appeared to me that you could use a little pick-me-up. My mother always liked daises for that.” He moved toward her and she stood, taking the daises in her arms.
“They’re beautiful, Thomas.” She shifted her eyes to his.
He brought his hand to her cheek and caressed it gently. “You deserve to always be happy.”
She wanted to speak. She wanted to say something witty and charming, but all of her words were stuck behind the lump in her throat and the tears that were stinging her eyes.
He lingered his gaze and then shifted it to the window.
“Well, I see your student just pulled up. Let me put those in water and they’ll be waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Thomas.” Her words finally found their way out.
He stared out of the room and then turned back to her. “Oh, I wanted to ask, does this student of mine have any playing experience?”
She tucked her lips between her teeth to keep her smile from taking over. “She just chose her instrument, but she does have a lot of theory under her belt. That should please you.” He smiled with a nod. “I think you’ll be amazed at what she knows when she gets here.”
He nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.
Thomas made quick work of the lesson plans that Carissa kept for the piano. He knew where he would start and he knew just how to proceed. He could hear the sharp and flat notes of a whining violin from the other room. Normally the sound would’ve made him wince. But knowing Carissa was just out of view, sharing her love of music with a child gave the unmelodious tones a poignancy that made him smile.
He heard tapping at the door and hurried to answer it before it disrupted Carissa and her young student.
A little face, framed in blonde hair, smiled up at him. He chuckled. “Miss Hope Kendal, are you my student?”
“Yep. Mom let me choose the piano as my
instrument,” she said, holding Sophia’s hand and absolutely beaming.
“Okay, then. Go wash your hands and dry them well. Then meet me in the study,” he instructed.
“Wash my hands?” She was on her way to the bathroom as she looked back at him.
“You never touch a beautiful piano with dirty hands.” He watched Sophia turn to compose herself as she coughed back a laugh.
“Thank you, Thomas. I don’t know why she changed her mind. She kept telling me she was going to play the cello too, but then you arrived and now it’s the piano.”
“She might change her mind again,” he assured her in a whisper as he closed the door.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll stay during her lesson, but in Katie’s room. I need to pack up some of her things to take to the center so she feels more at home.”
He touched her arm gently. “I think that would mean a lot to her.”
Hope bounded back down the hall. “Okay, I’m ready.” She flexed her fingers, causing Thomas to laugh as he laid a finger to his lips to remind her to be quiet while Carissa was teaching.
Hope nodded. “Are you staying, Mom?” she whispered.
“I’ll be in Katie’s room. I know the rules. No parents allowed.”
She gave them a wave and walked toward the kitchen to get a glass of water before diving into her grandmother’s things.
When Sophia walked into the kitchen, she saw the daisies and smiled. He was falling in love with her daughter. She could feel it. Warmth spread through her. She’d known when she’d called him that it was the right choice. Thomas Samuel would never hurt someone he loved. He’d fight every battle to keep her safe and happy. Carissa still needed that. She needed someone to make her feel welcome, wanted, and loved. She’d been hopeful that someone would be Thomas.
Sophia filled her glass and sipped slowly. Even after all the years she’d been blessed to be Carissa’s mother, she knew her daughter still strived to keep hold of everything and everyone she held dear. Sophia shook her head, thinking about what the first seven years of her life must have been like while Mandy still had custody of her. She was in and out of strangers’ houses while her mother was stoned and passed out somewhere. To not know where your mother was half the time and to have her lie to you about your own father was unconceivable to Sophia.
It hadn’t been easy to win Carissa’s love. She was a threat to Carissa and always had been. There were so many times she’d wished she’d stayed and asked questions, but her damn pride had kept her away for ten years—missing the man she loved and losing out on Carissa’s childhood.
But, she decided, had she not run, she’d never met Thomas. And it seemed to be Thomas who might actually capture her daughter’s heart. Thomas who might make her realize that love is strong and with it, she would never have to be alone again.
The first faint notes from the study snapped her from her daze. Hope was making music. Thomas was impressed with Hope’s musical knowledge. She knew her bass clef from her treble clef. She knew the notes of the scales. She was familiar with a half note, whole note, and even knew what a rest was. She could put her fingers in the right place at middle C and even humored him with her rendition of “Hot Crossed Buns.” In half an hour she’d flown through what would have been a beginner’s first four lessons. However, he could see he’d have his work cut out for him with Hope.
She couldn’t stay focused and she kept looking up from the keys to him and not the music. When he’d catch her doing it, her cheeks would turn red and she’d turn back to the keys and notes.
“Well, Hope, I’m very impressed,” he complimented when his timer chimed indicating their lesson was over.
“I’m going to be as good as you,” she said with optimism.
“Thank you. And yes, I think you will.” He marked her lesson sheet and handed her a worksheet. “Here is your theory lesson for the week. Bring this back and . . .” His eyes went wide. Then what?
“Then you’ll give me a sticker.”
“I will?”
“Uh-huh. Carissa gives you stickers on your paper and when you get ten stickers you get to choose a toy from the chest.” She pointed to a small cardboard treasure chest in the corner. He was sure the trinkets inside were the kind that a mother would probably throw away the moment the child wasn’t looking, but he also knew they’d play their hearts out to get one of those silly little trinkets.
“Okay, then. You do your assignment and I’ll give you a sticker next week.”
Hope was satisfied. She jumped up from the bench and headed for the door. She turned back around and hugged Thomas and smiled as her mother walked down the hall toward them.
“That was fun.”
“I guess she didn’t beat you down too much.”
Thomas put his arm around Sophia’s shoulders and walked them out to the front porch. “I seem to have survived.”
The air had cooled considerably and it nipped at him, but the bright ray of light that was Hope Kendal still beamed as she ran through the yard.
Sophia turned to him.
“The flowers you gave Carissa were beautiful. I saw them in the kitchen.”
“Oh, yeah, I thought she could use them. She was worked up about Katie, though she wouldn’t say so.”
Sophia nodded. “She’s afraid of being alone.”
Thomas turned his eyes to her. “She has her family. She’s very lucky.” He knew what he spoke of. Family was so important and he realized that even more, now that he was surrounded by one.
“Yes, but she didn’t always have her family.” She took a deep breath and hollered for Hope to climb into the car. “Thank you, Thomas.” She held her hand out for him to shake.
He shook it professionally then pulled her into a hug. “It was my pleasure.”
He watched them drive away then turned
to head back inside.
“It’s not professional to make out with the students’ mothers on the front porch.” Carissa was in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest and a smirk on her lips.
Thomas wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her to him. “What about making out with the teacher on the porch?”
“I have ten minutes till my next student.” She reached for his lapel. “I haven’t thanked you for the flowers yet.” Her eyelashes fluttered up at him.
“Ten minutes isn’t enough time to thank me properly,” he said as she pulled him through the front door and shut it behind her.
“No, but there’s enough time for this.” She lifted herself up on her toes and covered his mouth with hers.
The warmth overtook him and sank into his gut. His hand cupped her neck. He slid the other down her back, and a moan escaped her lips. His heart beat harder.
“Thank you for the flowers.” Her forehead pressed to his.
“I’ll buy you more tomorrow if this is the thank-you.”
She let her eyes wander up to his again. “Oh, this was just the promise that I would thank you properly.” The smile on her lips was as seductive as the suggestion.
“I could definitely get used to this.” The doorbell rang and Thomas sighed.
“You might want to withhold your judgment for a few minutes.” She nipped his nose with a kiss, fixed her blouse, straightened her skirt, and opened the door.
“Clair! How very nice to see you this afternoon.” Carissa stood aside as a chubby little blonde girl managed to maneuver herself and a cello case through the door. Her cheeks were cherry red and her pigtails pulled her skin tight, adding to her downright miserable look. Thomas snuck through the kitchen door as he heard the little girl begin to tell Carissa how much she hated cello lessons.
It was past six when her last student left. She hadn’t seen Thomas in hours, but she knew he was in the next room. The thought comforted her as she finished putting away her music and lesson cards then wiped down her cello. She felt him. When she turned around, he was standing in the doorway.
He’d leaned up against the doorjamb, his thumbs tucked into the pockets of the loose jeans. He had on a crisp white T-shirt that fit snug to his body, and she bit her lip remembering what was under it. He was barefoot and his hair was tousled, no doubt from his long fingers having been raked through it many times. He was at home, she thought.
He gave her a long, slow smile.
“Are you all done?”
“Yes, last student just left.” She walked toward him.
“You’ve had six calls while you were working.”
“I have?” She stood before him and lifted her hand to his chest. He didn’t shift; he let her touch him and looked straight into her eyes.
“Six new families who are interested in starting lessons before your school opens its doors.”
“I’ll give them all a call later.” She kept her voice calm, but excitement was bubbling over inside her.
“I told them you were with students all afternoon, but would be happy to give them a call back in the morning.” He picked up a strand of her hair. “Perhaps you should fill me in on enrollment procedures so I could help them.”
“I should do that.”
His face was more intriguing than a new piece of sheet music. His jaw showed a shadow of whiskers and she longed to rub her face against his cheek. His lips were pale in the shadows of the evening, a pleasant contrast to his blue eyes.
Her attention diverted to other things in the house. “What is that smell?”
“Your dinner.”
“My dinner?” She shifted her eyes back to his.
Thomas nodded, finally standing up straight and burying his fingers in her hair. “I have one meal I know how to cook well.” He let his hands slide over her shoulders and down her arms until their fingers interlocked. “C’mon, darling,” he teased, tugging her down the hall.
Candles flickered in the center of the table set for two. There were two wineglasses, hers filled with wine, and his filled with ice water. He guided her to her chair and pulled it out for her. She smiled warmly.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re most welcome.”
Thomas dished out spaghetti and meatballs and Carissa laughed. “Is this you’re special meal?”
“Yes.” He sat down next to her. “In all my years in Italy this is what I became good at.”
“Oh, you’re good at so many things,” she said, leaning on the table and looking at him seductively.
“Would you like to embellish on that?”
She moistened her lips with her tongue. “Words will never do it justice.”
“Our dinner is going to get cold.” He inched toward her.
“We can warm it up later.” She ran her hand up his arm and she could feel him quiver.
Thomas stood and pulled her to her feet so quickly that she fell against him. Taking advantage of the close proximity, she nibbled his throat. He groaned and towed her through the house and up the stairs with her following in laughter.
“I would have taken you in the kitchen, but it still seems to be public domain,” he said, leading her through the hallway. “Your bed this time.” He pushed open her bedroom door.
Carissa caught the door behind her and gave it a shove before they tumbled onto the bed. Before she caught her breath, Thomas moved his body atop hers and covered her mouth with his, smoldering her senses. Everything she felt, tasted, wanted, and saw was him. He pushed up her skirt and she surrendered to him. A moment later, she felt him inside her. There was no calm control from him. He was taking her and she was letting him.
He moved against her in a hunger that surprised even him. He wanted her. He wanted her fast. He wanted all of her.
He took. Her panting breaths and her muffled moans of passion fueled him. Every taste, every sound, every movement breathed another beat of life into him.
Carissa’s body molded beneath his, around his, until he was sure they were one entity.
Her skin grew damp under his lips and her fingernails raked up his skin beneath his shirt. They moved in a symphonic rhythm until the pounding of his heart filled his entire body and he released as she pulled him to her tighter. Together their bodies became limp, still molded to one another.
He let his body rest against hers. Feeling her heart race beneath his.
“God, you drive me mad,” he whispered against her neck.
She lifted her hand to his hair and ran her fingers through it. Her breath was easing. “Thomas?”
“Hmmm?”
“Don’t leave me.”
He heard her words and took a moment to contemplate them. He shifted his weight off her and rested beside her. “Where do you think I’m going?”
She shrugged. “I like you. I really like you.” She adjusted her skirt to cover her legs. “I’d like to think this isn’t a fling.”
“Fling?”
“Yeah.” She raised herself onto her elbow to meet his eyes. “I don’t want to be just one of your women, Thomas. I want to be your woman.”
He touched her face and gave thought to what he would say. “I don’t come from the kind of family that’s good at relationships. I haven’t spoken to my mother in sixteen years.”
She bit down on her lip and her eyebrows drew together. “What is that supposed to mean? You won’t consider an us?”
“Us? Is that what you think you want, Carissa?” What had he expected? She wasn’t the kind of woman who stood by the back door and waited for him to share her bed. She was the kind of woman you waited to take to bed and kept her there forever. It was a vile and disgusting thought that he’d even had that experience and it made it even more poignant that he get that across to her. “You don’t know me very well.”
Carissa sat up and fisted her hands in her lap. “Thomas, I wouldn’t give myself to you like this if I didn’t want more. I’m not some easy ride.”
“I didn’t say y
ou were.” He sat up next to her and reached for his discarded pants, pulling them on. “I want you to know I’ve never been around love like you have.”
“Well, let me tell you the love I’ve been around has been amazing.” She looked up into his eyes. “And I was seventeen before I ever saw it. I didn’t imagine for a long time it could even exist.”
He reached for her hand and interlaced their fingers. “Didn’t your birth mother and father . . .”
“What, love each other?”
“Well, yeah.” He shrugged, realizing he didn’t know anything about her parents really, except what Sophia had shared with him over the years. Then again, she had run away without knowing the entire story. So all he knew was the man Sophia loved had a daughter, and her mother . . . whatever that had meant.
Carissa laughed. “Oh, that was purely sex.”
“Oh.” He didn’t see David as that kind a man.
“I don’t mean when I was young. I mean when I was conceived.”
He nodded. “They were young?”
“My mother was. She was seventeen when she got pregnant with me. She’d lied to my dad about her age. They had a quick affair. She got pregnant.”
“Wasn’t your mother around most of your life?”
“Ten years.” She huffed out a breath and shook her head. “Ten miserable years.”
He watched as her forehead creased and she drew her brows together. He imagined it was how he looked to those who asked him about his father.
“You don’t sound like you have very many fond memories of her.”
“Well . . .” She took a deep breath. "You're right. I don’t. The only decent thing she ever did was give us Hope.”
ENCORE PERFORMANCE (THE MATCHMAKER TRILOGY) Page 10