Matchmakers Box Set: Matchmakers, Encore, Finding Hope (33 page)

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 Carissa’s 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 his 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 your 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 felt 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 prior kind of 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 you 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. For a long time, I didn’t imagine 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.”

That statement confused him, but she was continuing without giving him an opportunity to clarify. “I want what my dad and Sophia have. I want that kind of relationship. I want that kind of love.”

“I’ve never seen love like that,” he admitted. “I’m not sure I’ve ever believed in it.”

“I guess we’re back to what I said earlier.” She turned to him, their fingers still interlaced. “Please don’t leave me.”

He thought about what Sophia had said to him about Carissa having a fear of people leaving. He didn’t really know what to say to her. He was a runner. He’d run from his past and what he’d started to become. How long could he really stay in her arms before he got scared and ran again? He didn’t want to leave her, but he couldn’t promise her forever. He was, after all, his father’s child. The child of a man who hated, lied, abused, and killed.

He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks, the sweat bead on the back of his neck, and his heart quicken its pace. He was glad the room was growing darker around them. If she could see his eyes clearly, she’d know the truth.

“I won’t leave you, Carissa.” He tried to keep his voice even, but he was sure he’d just lied.

Carissa woke many times during the night just to check that Thomas was still next to her. He’d said he wouldn’t leave her, but she’d heard the quiver in his voice. She still didn’t know the man she was falling in love with. The man whose arms she now slept in. But she wanted to, so desperately wanted to, know him.

She’d felt a shift in the air during the night. Snow was coming and so was Halloween, as Hope had already reminded her. In no time at all, construction on the school would be finished, Thanksgiving would be upon them, and the holidays would settle in. Would Thomas still be there?

He stirred in his sleep. The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepened as he slept like a child with his hands folded beneath his cheek. His blond hair was tousled, and his leg peeked out from under the sheet. A smile crossed Carissa’s lips. She was so in love with the man, her heart was pounding just from watching him sleep. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. How was she going to make him fall in love with her if he couldn’t even promise not to leave and mean it?

By the time Thomas made it down the stairs, the pot of coffee was cold, the scent of toast lingered in the air, and a note waited for him on the table. She’d taken a run to the school to let in the contractor and to drop off more flyers at the grocery store and elementary school. He laughed aloud at the postscript: “Please get the car and meet me at The Spot. I’ll need a ride home.” He ran back to her room, pulled on his jeans and T-shirt, and found his shoes in his own room. He hurried down the stairs, pulled the keys from the drawer, and headed out the back of the house. Just as quickly, he retreated to his room for a coat. Was she crazy? It was getting much too cold out to be running miles and miles through town.