ENCORE PERFORMANCE (THE MATCHMAKER TRILOGY) (12 page)

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.

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 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. 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.”
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, 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?