Authors: Susan R. Hughes
Tags: #Romance, #General, #Arts & Entertainment, #Fiction
Divided Hearts (10 page)
Chapter Seven
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Faye said. In the sudden silence the heavenly arrangement of notes continued in her head, her body still vibrating with them.
“Hannah woke up while you were in the shower,” Simon explained, “so I thought a little music might lull her back to sleep. It worked. I checked on her a few minutes ago and she was out like a light.”
Faye smiled. “I’m impressed. See, you are getting the hang of this daddy business.”
“So far, so good.” He looked mildly embarrassed to have been caught unawares, just as Faye had when he spied her sketching by the window earlier in the day. “Would you like to have a go?”
She laughed. “I doubt I could remember how to pick out a single tune.”
“Try. I’ll help you.”
“If you insist.” In truth, Faye had been dying to get her hands on the gorgeous piano. Simon slid over on the bench, letting her sit next to him; as she did so, the fantasy she’d formulated in the bathroom flashed through her mind, making her face flush.
Focus,
she told herself, setting her hands lightly on the keys. She thought she might remember
Fur Elise
; slowly, she tried out a few notes, but Simon’s close observation caused her thoughts to scatter and she stumbled over the keys, not managing to find many of the right ones.
As he leaned closer to watch her hands, she became suddenly aware of the scanty nightgown she was wearing, the neckline scooping low to skim the swells of her breasts. Oh, why hadn’t she thought to throw on her robe before coming upstairs?
“It’s no use,” Faye said, throwing her hands down onto her lap, her face burning. “I haven’t got an ounce of musical talent.”
“Nonsense, you’re just rusty,” Simon asserted. “First of all, you have to position your hands properly. Keep your wrists up for starters, and relax your fingers, they’re too rigid. Keep them in their natural, curled position.”
He demonstrated by positioning his own hands on the keyboard, then played a snatch of
Fur Elise
for her at the proper tempo, his fingers moving over the keys with such ease and accuracy that Faye could only stare in amazement.
“You’ve spent more time practicing than you let on.”
“You try telling my mother you’d rather watch
Doctor Who
than practice piano and see where that gets you.” Simon smiled encouragingly. “You only need to start from the beginning. Imagine you’re holding an apple in each hand.” Taking her right hand in both of his, he gently curved her fingers into the correct position. She found to her annoyance that she could not contain a peal of girlish giggles as he placed her hand onto the keyboard.
“All right, let me try it again,” she said, embarrassed and still laughing.
But Simon did not release her hand. Instead, his fingers closed around hers, gently caressing. A rush of panic mingled with longing washed over Faye in a dizzying wave. She had meant to go to bed; why hadn’t she heeded her own good sense and done just that?
She turned to him to ask him to stop, but as her gaze caught his, the words fell away from her lips. Their faces were nearly close enough to touch, and for lingering seconds, she couldn’t bear to look away, mesmerized by the
deepening hunger in
his warm blue eyes.
Faye tried turning back to face the piano, hoping to somehow resume her lesson as though nothing unusual were occurring. But before she could move, Simon’s head bent toward her neck, his lips grazing her skin with a string of slow, scalding kisses that
ignited her blood with sudden fire
. She bit down hard on her lip as his arms encircled her waist, drawing her against him.
“Faye, I have to admit something,” he murmured close to her ear. “I’ve wanted to hold you like this ever since I first caught a glimpse of you in that hospital waiting room.” His warm breath skimmed her cheek as he laughed softly. “You were so incensed, thinking I was this cad who had abandoned your friend and my own child. Even then, I was drawn to you. Even through the shock of what you told me about Hannah, I couldn’t get your soft brown eyes out of my mind.”
Surprised by this admission, she eased away from him to look into his face, still unable to find words to express the heady torrent flooding her own mind and body.
Acting on impulse more than conscious though, Faye pressed her mouth to his, letting her eyes fall closed, and Simon responded with matching ardour. She succumbed fully to the pleasure of the kiss, allowing a tidal wave of desire to engulf her senses. Wrapping her arms over his shoulders, she molded her body to his, delighting in the broad, solid warmth of his chest against her breasts.
She felt his hands stroke the back of her nightgown, caressing and seeking, moving slowly down to where the fabric had slipped half-way up her thigh. His fingers found their way under the satin fabric, sliding the gown further up her thigh until they had reached her waist.
Faye blocked their path with her own trembling hand. As much as she yearned for him, panic began to well inside her. His touch stirred a spiraling need in her more vivid and exhilarating than her imagination could ever have supplied, and it took a great deal of resolve to resist it. But she shouldn’t have kissed him in the first place; acting on instinct, she was no longer following her common sense.
“Simon, please stop,” she told him breathlessly.
“Do you really want me to?” His gaze met hers, his azure eyes glazed with passion. His hand released her gown and moved up to stroke her nape as he continued to assail her mouth with deepening kisses, halting her halfhearted protest. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as her whole body quivered under his touch.
The fingers of his other hand skimmed the ridge of her collarbone, slowly sliding the slender strap of her nightgown off her shoulder. “Come with me to my room.”
Faye stiffened, as a fresh wave of panic claimed her, washing away the passion as it left her lightheaded and dazed. She inched away from him.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” he asked thickly. “Don’t tell me you’re not going as mad with desire as I am.”
“It’s not that.” Quickly she slid the strap back over her shoulder. Her mouth felt parched as she struggled to explain, and she licked her lips, still tasting him there. “I came here to help you build a relationship with your daughter, not to get involved with you. Like I said, it’s too complicated.”
“It’s not all that complicated, Faye.” He tightened his arms around her to draw her back to him. “Things are going great with Hannah. And I’ve grown very fond of you. You don’t have to come to my bed, but at least admit that a part of you would like to.”
All of me would like to.
But that wasn’t the point. “It doesn’t feel right, Simon. Here I am in your arms, and here I’ve been staying at your house, meeting your family, making plans with you for Hannah’s future, while Jenna’s still unaware we’ve even met—”
“That isn’t your fault, or mine,” Simon reminded her fervently. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”
Knowing he was right didn’t help to ease the sense of betrayal that gripped Faye’s belly. “I don’t want to do anything that could hurt either of them.”
“I wouldn’t either. But do you ever think of your own desires, Faye? What is it
you
want?”
“I don’t know,” she replied meekly. He’d asked her the same question that afternoon on the boat, and the answer she’d given at the time seemed less satisfactory now.
This time he pressed her further. “You want
me
, don’t you? Is it so hard for you to admit?”
She
did
want him. His shoulders had felt taut and powerful under her palms, and she longed to tear the buttons from his pajamas and slide the fabric away to explore the smooth, warm expanse concealed beneath. She would study with her hands and lips every arc of muscle and hot skin, and feel the quickening pulse of his veins and the thump of his heart reverberating through her own flesh.
“What I want scares the hell out of me,” she muttered under her breath.
“Faye—”
A wail from downstairs made them both jump. Starting as a low moan, it quickly soared in pitch and desperation. Faye recognized it as a cry that meant Hannah had woken and needed reassurance in order to go back to sleep.
“I’d better go see what’s wrong,” Faye said, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in.
“I suppose so.” Reluctantly Simon loosened his hold and she slipped out of his grasp and got to her feet.
Faye glanced back at him only briefly, before hurrying toward the stairs, her legs wobbling under her.
* * *
She found Simon standing in the kitchen, one had placed casually in the pocket of his robe, the other holding a mug of coffee.
Faye stopped in the doorway, offering an uneasy smile. Lord, what would she say to him now?
“Morning,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Sleep well?”
“Yes, thanks.” It was a perfunctory answer, and not entirely true. “Simon, about last night. I—”
“Morning, Faye,” chimed a cheerful voice behind her.
Faye turned in surprise. “Mary, you’re back already.”
“I’m an early riser.” The older woman strode past her on her way to the stove. “Thought I’d join you for breakfast. Is Hannah still sleeping?”
Faye nodded. “She must be worn out from all the fun she’s been having here.”
“Must be. I’m making pancakes,” Mary said, lifting a frying pan out of the cupboard.
“Great, I’m starving.” This was true; Faye could feel her stomach gnawing with hunger. But she wanted to get dressed first, and was about to excuse herself when Simon handed her a cup of coffee. She nodded her thanks, taking a quick sip to appease her impatient stomach. She could see below the hem of his robe that he was still wearing his pajama bottoms—but on top, where the collar of his robe draped open, revealing a triangle of smooth golden skin, it was obvious he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
“Have you decided when you’ll head back home?” Mary asked, and Faye’s attention snapped up abruptly.
“I think this morning—” she began, before Simon broke in.
“Surely you can stay at least until lunch time.” His gaze was fixed on hers, his lips curving enticingly upward, and the glance between them felt uncomfortably intimate with his mother standing nearby.
“I suppose, as long as we leave right after,” Faye said, disinclined to argue over such a small request.
Before long the pancakes were ready and the three of them sat down to eat. Faye tried to keep her eyes on her plate, but she couldn’t help losing track of the mundane conversation as her mind wandered back to her encounter with Simon at the piano, and she felt her stomach flutter annoyingly, chasing away her hunger.
In the midst of her musings Faye found herself imagining what Simon and Jenna’s first kiss might have been like. Jenna had told her nothing about it. What words of enticement had he used to lure her to his bed? Or had she been the one to seduce him? Jenna wasn’t one to sit by and wait for something she wanted to come to her.
Stop thinking about things like that!
Faye couldn’t help it. Her desire for Simon invariably led to a guilty conscience. Of course Jenna had no claim on him; she’d dismissed him, deceived him. Still, to insert herself between her best friend and the father of her child felt disloyal and ill-advised to Faye. Were Jenna well, the story would be different, but to think of her friend grievously injured in the hospital cast an uneasy pall over the tender feelings growing in Faye’s heart.
And how exactly
do
you feel about him
? she asked herself, taking a moment to examine Simon across the table as he sliced through the pancake on his plate. He was right, of course; she did want him. His physical pull on her too strong to deny, but it wasn’t only his body she craved. She longed to know his heart, and to look into his eyes and see her affection reflected there.
Simon glanced up then, catching her gaze on him, and he smiled softly. Faye felt her heart trip and then land with a heavy thud, unleashing a fresh swarm of butterflies in her belly.
Glancing away, she saw Mary observing her son as well. She then turned her eyes on Faye, her brows lifted slightly in query. Feeling warmth rise in her face, Faye imagined that Mary was able to sense the attraction between her son and Faye crackling across the table like an electric current. Dropping her gaze, she attempted to hide her scorched cheeks behind her coffee mug.
From the direction of the guest room came a low, sleepy-sounding wail.
“Sounds like Hannah’s awake,” Simon said cheerfully, abruptly rising from his chair. “I’ll get her. I trust she likes pancakes?”
Faye nodded, grateful for the interruption. “I can guarantee you they won’t end up tossed on the floor.”
* * *
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
Squealing, Hannah sprinted across the living room and into the kitchen, before spinning around and charging back to propel herself against the sofa. Grasping one of the leather cushions, with considerable effort she managed to clamber onto it, a look of triumph lighting her small, round face.
“Are you sure you didn’t sneak some coffee into her milk?” Simon inquired dryly, placing syrupy plates into the sink as he watched the little girl totter across the sofa cushions.
“She’s going to fall and get hurt,” Mary worried, hurrying to scoop up Hannah and place her safely on the carpet. Undaunted, the child scurried over to the patio door and began slapping her palms on the glass.
