“I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

They stared at each other. Tension filled the room. The wanting returned and with it, Wyatt’s temper. Rather than walk around with a hard-on, or snap at someone who didn’t deserve it, he stood.

“I’m going to grab Amy so we can get home.”

“I’ll go get her.”

He watched Claire walk out of the room.

She moved with an easy, graceful stride, he thought, then wanted to hit himself in the head. He had it bad. More than bad. He was also going to have to find a way to get over it and her. She might not be as awful as he’d first thought, but there was no way he was getting involved with her. She was a complication he didn’t need, even if she was a woman he desperately wanted.

NICOLE SHIFTED in the chair. Sitting up was the next step in her healing. She had muscles that had to be retrained. So far she was making excellent progress, although it felt incredibly slow to her. The pain was less, she wasn’t as tired and the doctor had pulled out the stitches the day before—a wildly painful moment she didn’t want to have repeated. She should be pleased.

Yet what she felt was restless. She hated that the bakery was doing so well without her. Logically she knew her business could survive without her for a couple of weeks, but emotionally she hated that everything hadn’t fallen apart.The phone rang and she grabbed it. “Hello?”

“It’s me.”

Nicole recognized Jesse’s voice and hung up.

The phone rang again. Nicole picked it up. “Go to hell,” she said, her voice low and angry.

“Wait. You have to talk to me.”

“Actually, I don’t.”

Jesse began to cry. “I want to know how you’re doing.”

Nicole was unmoved by the tears. Jesse could turn it on like a faucet when it suited her.

“I’m recovering from the surgery, if that’s what you’re asking. Of course, having my heart ripped out by my sister and my husband is going to take longer to fix, so I don’t have an update on that.”

Jesse winced. “You’re still mad.”

“Um, yes. You must be stunned to realize I haven’t gotten over the fact that after everything I’ve done for you, how I’ve supported you, taken care of you, tried to do everything I could to make your life better, you still wanted to stab me in the back. I’ll give you credit, you did a hell of a job.”

She refused to actually feel any of the emotions swirling inside her. Better to stay in her head, be sarcastic, because anything else would rip her open so far, she would never recover.

“You hate me,” Jesse said with a sob.

“With every fiber of my being.” Nicole hung up.

Her heart pounded in her chest and she hurt all over.

She hated this…all of this. Hated what Jesse had done, hated Drew, hated her body for betraying her and hated herself for giving a damn about her baby sister.

Nicole turned her attention back to her book. She wasn’t actually reading the words, but she was willing to pretend. It was better than facing the emotional devastation of her life.

The house was silent and she was alone. Solitude pressed down on her, stealing her breath. She closed her eyes against the pain, but that didn’t stop the tears from running down her cheeks.

CLAIRE PARKED in front of Wyatt’s house. As she took in the two-story building, the big windows and wraparound porch, she tried to tell herself she was excited about spending time with Amy, nothing more. That the weird sensations flitting in and out of her body didn’t have anything to do with seeing Wyatt.

He’d called an hour ago and asked her if she could watch Amy while he ran off to an unexpected meeting. She’d agreed, then had been surprised to find herself looking forward to seeing him.“It’s only for a few minutes,” she told herself as she locked the car and walked up the path. “Then he’ll be gone and I won’t have to think about him.”

She wasn’t sure why he was on her mind at all. Okay, yeah, he was good-looking, in a rough, manly sort of way. She liked how he was with his daughter and how he’d gotten over judging her based on all the stuff Nicole had said. But it was more than that.

Right now, standing on his porch, she felt a flutter in her stomach. It was almost like the nerves she felt before she performed, but different. There was a different level of excitement. Something that—

The front door opened and Wyatt motioned for her to enter.

“That was fast,” he said. “Thanks for doing this. I would have dropped Amy off, but it’s her bedtime in an hour and I don’t like to mess up her schedule on a school night. I have this client who’s driving me crazy. I’d tell her to forget it, but I took the job, so I’m going to get it done right. Damn work ethic. It gets me in trouble every time.”

He was smiling as he spoke. There was humor in his dark brown eyes. She found herself staring into them, as if she could…What? Get lost there? How weird was that?

“She’s fed and she doesn’t get much homework yet, so that’s not anything you have to deal with.” He glanced at his watch. “Let her watch TV another thirty minutes, then she can get ready for bed. She’ll get changed and brush her teeth by herself. Maybe you could read a story with her, if that’s not too much trouble.”

“I would love to,” she said honestly. Spending time with Amy was easy. She’d always wanted kids and being around Wyatt’s daughter helped fill that empty part of her.

“Great. Thanks. I really owe you.”

He was smiling again. Had he always been so tall? He was much taller than her, and more muscled than most of the men she knew. He also dressed differently, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt rather than a suit or anything designer.

“Claire?”

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

She blinked and looked away. “Sorry. I was thinking about something. I’m fine. Go meet with your client. I’ll take care of Amy.”

“Thanks.”

He touched her arm. It was nothing—a light brush of his fingers. But she felt the contact all the way down to her toes. It made her want to lean in to him and…And…

Then he was gone. Before she could even figure out what she wanted. A kiss? What would a kiss with him be like? He was probably the kind of guy who liked to be in charge, which was okay with her. It wasn’t as if she had a ton of experience and someone needed to know what he or she was doing. Better him than her.

She heard running footsteps on the hardwood, turned and saw Amy racing toward her.

“Hi!” she said, then braced for impact as Amy threw herself into her arms.

“You’re here,” Amy said, looking up at her and smiling. “I’m glad.”

“Me, too. Your dad left instructions.”

Amy wrinkled her nose.

Claire laughed. “Hey, they’re not bad. You can watch TV until you have to get ready for bed. Then we’ll read a story together. I think that sounds like fun.”

Amy signed, “Okay,” then asked, “Do you want to see my room?”

“Sure.”

The eight-year-old took her hand and led her through the house.

Claire had a first impression of large rooms filled with light. Hardwood floors stretched throughout the house. She saw a big dining room, a study that she would guess Wyatt used for working at home, a huge kitchen, a downstairs bath and a media room that had more equipment than she’d ever seen at a theater.

A wide curving staircase led to the second story. Amy’s room was the first bedroom on the left—a bright, open space with a window seat, a bed covered with pillows and stuffed animals, a child-size desk and a big bookshelf.

The walls were pale lavender, the comforter a floral fabric of various shades of purple. A big dark purple rug covered most of the hardwood floor.

Claire turned in a slow circle. “Hmm. I wonder what your favorite color is.”

Amy laughed, then took her hand and pulled her onto the window seat.

Claire was shown favorite dolls and stuffed bears, several board games and a dozen or so books that all looked well-read. Then Amy opened her nightstand drawer and pulled out a framed picture.

“My mom,” she said, handing it to Claire.

Claire wasn’t all that excited about seeing the former Mrs. Wyatt, but didn’t know how to politely decline. So she took the picture and braced herself for someone extraordinary.

Shanna Knight was beautiful. A stunning blond with short, layered hair and a smile that could sell toothpaste. She had pretty features, a perfect mouth and a gleam of mischief in her eyes. No wonder Wyatt had fallen for her. But why had he let her go?

“She’s very pretty,” Claire said.

Amy took back the picture. “She’s in Thailand.”

Claire couldn’t have heard that right. “Where?”

Amy finger spelled the word. It was Thailand.

“What is she doing there?”

Amy shrugged. “I don’t know. She left when I was a baby. Daddy says it’s not because I’m deaf, but maybe it is.”

Amy both spoke and signed, so Claire wasn’t sure she understood everything the girl said, but she caught most of it.

What was she supposed to say? That it was all right? It wasn’t. She couldn’t imagine someone simply abandoning her husband and newborn daughter, yet that is what had happened. Even if Shanna and Wyatt had come to hate each other, wouldn’t the other woman still want to be closer to her child?

It was a sad situation. Families shouldn’t be torn apart. She knew that from firsthand experience.

“Nicole said her mom died,” Amy said. “Your mom, too?”

Claire nodded. “Nicole and I are twins.”

Amy’s eyes widened. She signed, “For real?”

“Uh-huh. Fraternal.” Claire spelled the word slowly. “We don’t look alike, but we were born on the same day.”

“I want to be a twin,” Amy said with a grin. Her smile faded. “Or have a brother or sister.”

Claire wondered if Wyatt was seeing anyone. At the thought of another woman, she felt instantly edgy. “Your dad could get married again.”

Amy frowned as if she didn’t understand the word, then clasped her hands together in front of her. “Married?”

“Sure. People marry,” Claire made the sign, “again.”

Amy wrinkled her nose. “Daddy does not have girlfriends.”

Wyatt didn’t date? Why was that? Had he been so crushed by losing his wife? Claire didn’t want that to be the reason. Not that there was any really great reason for a man to stay single for all these years. Of course it was possible he saw women that Amy didn’t know about. He could be seeing a dozen right now.

Something else she didn’t want to think about.

“You could date him,” Amy said.

Claire opened her mouth, then closed it.

“Do you like Daddy?”

“He’s, um, very nice.”

Claire was grateful when that seemed to be the right answer. Amy put the picture of the beautiful Shanna back in her drawer, then took Claire’s hand.

“Come on,” she signed.

Claire followed her back downstairs, into a big living room with floor-to-ceiling windows. But what got her attention wasn’t the view or the well-decorated space or the fact that this was obviously one of those rooms people had but never used except when special company came over. What had her heart thudding faster and faster and her chest tightening was the black upright piano in the corner.

Amy signed something that was probably a version of “play it” or “can you play it.” Claire didn’t respond. Instead she moved closer to the piano, staring at it with a combination of fear and longing.

She hadn’t played in nearly four weeks. Not since that disastrous performance where she’d panicked and had been unable to breathe. Where the world had been reduced to her fear and the certain knowledge that whatever talent she had was lost forever.

She touched the smooth surface, then pulled back her hand. Even without sitting at the keys, she could imagine the music. The sound would fill the living room and spill out into the rest of the house. It would grow and bend and surround until it was inside of her, causing her blood to pump and her heart to beat.

She ached to hear the sound, to breathe in the music. She didn’t need sheet music, she knew so much by heart.

There were symphonies inside of her. Movements and choral pieces, light opera, show tunes, concertos. Millions of notes. She could look at a page and know how it was going to sound. She could hear everything without even playing, but she missed the feel of the keys, the music that was able to flow through her.

Blessed and cursed, she thought, trembling as she placed her hand on the shiny black surface. This was her life and without it, she was nothing. At least that’s what she’d always been taught. She was here to find out differently.

She thought of the dozen or so messages from her manager. Lisa was nothing if not persistent. But Claire had ignored every one of them. She didn’t want to get sucked back into that world. Oh, but she missed the music.

Amy gave her a little shove toward the bench, then walked over and stood with her hands on top of the piano.

“Play,” she said.

Claire took another step toward the bench. Immediately she found it difficult to breathe. Her chest tightened until she was sure she was going to have a heart attack. She would die right here, in Wyatt’s living room, scarring his child for life. She couldn’t do that. She should just walk away.

Instead she forced herself to take that last step, to sit on the bench, to open the cover and stare down at the keys.