Divided Hearts

by Susan R. Hughes

  Faye felt a heavy thudding beneath her ribs, his words resonating within her own heart. Could it be that she was the same way? Unlike Jenna, she hadn’t dated much until university, and to this day couldn’t say she’d ever truly been in love.

  “Do you think that’s true?” she asked.

  His shoulders lifted. “I wouldn’t have thought so.” He caught her gaze then, holding it. “But lately, the impulse to submit has been so strong, and I find myself trying to resist it. I’m having great difficulty doing so.”

  The drumming of Faye’s heart persisted, resounding in her ears as she absorbed his words, struggling to decipher their meaning. His eyes locked on hers, their warm depths sending her a silent message, seeking a response she didn’t know how to give.

  Startled by a splash behind them, Faye turned quickly, catching sight of a dark shape moving under the water, mere yards from the boat’s stern. As she watched, the water’s surface swelled and a dorsal fin emerged, followed by a jet of water spattering high into the air.

  Faye spun around on the bench. “Look!” she shouted, as the creature continued to rise, its sleek black back arcing out of the water before angling onto its side, exposing a smooth white belly. With a tremendous splash it sank into the water, its forked tail the last to disappear.

  “Killer whales!” Faye cried out happily, as another dark head bobbed out of the depths. “I’ve only ever seen them at the aquarium.”

  Beside her, Simon grinned. “Fantastic.”

  “Have you seen them before out here?”

  “A few times. Once I came across a large pod of orcas, dozens of them all around the boat.”

  “They must have been what I saw from the house.” Faye couldn’t tear her gaze from the whales; they were so beautiful, brilliantly vibrant in front of her eyes. They skimmed under the water again, and one by one leapt up into a high arc and splashed down, water spraying from their tails in sparkling droplets. Faye laughed giddily, a sudden, intoxicating joy permeating her heart.

  “I wish Jenna could see this,” she heard herself exclaim, guilt sweeping through her as the thought crept into her mind. Why was she thinking of that now? She supposed the sudden elation pulsing through her chest—the pure bliss of being alive and present in this moment—reminded her that Jenna, still and silent in her hospital bed, wasn’t able to enjoy even the simplest pleasures. It felt profoundly unfair.

  Simon replied with a slight lift of his shoulders. “I brought her out here once. She got seasick.”

  “Poor thing.” Faye couldn’t help but picture her friend with her head bowed over the side, her long dark hair streaming outward like a flag captured by the wind. She imagined Simon comforting Jenna, his arms cradling her against his broad chest … and found she preferred not to imagine Jenna and Simon together, on this boat or anywhere else. It only fuelled Faye’s unease—the unnerving contradiction of happiness for herself and sorrow for her friend.

  “Did you love her?” Faye asked Simon, at once needing to know.

  He answered without looking up. “I thought I did, for a short time. But I think it was convenience that brought us together, not much more than that. It didn’t take long to figure out we weren’t well suited to one another.” He met Faye’s gaze, his words measured. “But I do care about her. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, regardless of what she’s done to me.”

  Faye nodded. “I know.”

  They watched the whales in silence until the great animals moved off, disappearing into the distance.

  “When Hannah’s a little older, we’ll have to bring her out here,” Faye said, adding awkwardly, “I mean, you will.”

  “Definitely. It’s meant the world to me having her here.” Simon’s soft mouth broadened into a warm smile. “Despite the few bumps in the road, it’s all beginning to feel more natural to me now. I can’t think only of myself anymore. I used to stay out here for hours, but now I find myself wondering, when will Hannah be up from her nap? What time do I need to be back? Funny thing is, I don’t mind.”

  “It’s important for Hannah, too, to have you in her life.” Faye knew this was true, and felt grateful that she’d run into Simon by happenstance, in spite of the grim circumstances.

  “I’ve enjoyed having you here, as well, Faye. Very much.” Inching closer, Simon captured her hand, and she drew a sharp breath in surprise. “When you’re not around, I find myself wondering, what is Faye doing? Is she smiling that enchanting smile that touches her eyes as well as her lips?” His thumb stroked her palm in a slow circle, sparking delightful whorls of awareness. “Sometimes I smell your scent in the room after you’re gone—a hint of vanilla.”

  “It’s just my lotion,” Faye said absently, her voice sounding far off. The sudden heat in his gaze set her blood afire in an exhilarating instant, spurring her heartbeat to a steady gallop. She watched, mesmerized, as he lifted her hand to his mouth, his lips lightly brushing her knuckles.

  “What about you, Faye? When you look at me, do you see only Hannah’s father, or something more?” Turning her hand, he pressed his mouth softly to the tender skin of her wrist, and she felt her pulse thrum against his lips. Sensation danced along the nerves in her arm, scorching a path to her throbbing heart. Simon’s mouth twitched into a soft smile. “Do you see a man you could care for?”

  At first Faye didn’t reply. She simply stared at him, running his words through her mind, absorbing their confirmation that his attraction to her hadn’t been merely a figment of her own, or Laurel’s, imagination. As exhilarated as she felt to hear those words, she fought to restrain the emotion coursing through her, not allowing herself to succumb to it.

  Finally she managed to nod her head slowly, finding her voice. “I do care for you, Simon. Even though I shouldn’t.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Why not?”

  “It complicates things,” she struggled to explain. “We need to focus on Hannah.”

  “Don’t you think of yourself at all?” His voice hardened as he stared at her, his jaw tightening.

  “Don’t make me out to be a saint,” Faye said, attempting a conciliatory smile. “It’s no sacrifice looking after Hannah. She needs me. So does Jenna.”

  “And that’s all you need?” he asked doubtfully.

  “For now, I suppose so.” Faye lifted her shoulders helplessly, imbedding her teeth in her lower lip as she glanced away.

  Simon didn’t argue further. “Better head back,” he said mildly, releasing her hand. “Hannah will be up soon.”

  As he took the helm, Faye pressed her hands to her thighs to quell their trembling, keeping her gaze on the sparkling surface of the water.

  * * *

  Letting the stream of hot water flow over her, Faye absently lathered her skin, watching steam rise to fill shower. She couldn’t think of much other than Simon’s words of affection on the boat, the vivid memory of his touch making her shiver even in the moist heat of the room. Nothing more had been said about it after they returned to the house, with Mary being around most of the time. But knowing that Simon did have feelings for her—that his desire for her was just as potent as the longing she’d been suffering for him—had altered the atmosphere.

  This knowledge only heightened her confusion. What was she to do with it? She was alone in the house with him now, save for Hannah, sound asleep in her crib. Mary lived an hour away, and having run out of her medication, needed to go home for the night. But Faye had caught the stern look of warning Simon’s mother had given him as she left—she’d clearly considered herself their chaperone, and she fully intended to be back in the morning. For her part, Faye planned to head straight to bed after her shower, and simply avoid any compromising situations.

  She and Hannah were leaving tomorrow anyway; easy enough to get through the night and escape unscathed in the morning.

  Scathed by what? Was it so wrong to want him? She couldn’t help but replay Simon’s words in her head: Don’t you think of yourself at all? Faye realized he was righ
t; she hadn’t thought of her own needs and desires in so long that she barely remembered what they were. The dreams she might have fostered at one time—meeting a man she could fall in love with and marry—were notions she’d locked away after Hannah was born. Now, she was suddenly aware of these desires pulling on her soul with a mighty force. And she had no idea what to do with them.

  Realizing she’d been in the shower far too long, Faye finally turned off the water and stepped out of the tub, bending to grab the towel she’d set on the bath mat.

  She tried to put Simon out of her thoughts but it was a pointless effort. As she rested her foot on the edge of the tub to dry her leg, in her mind’s eye rose an image of deep azure eyes, gilded with sunlight as he observed her over the helm, his sensual mouth forming a soft smile. As the towel slid up her thigh, her movements slowed, the stroke of the fabric against her bare skin sparking a sharp feminine awareness. She closed her eyes, envisioning Simon’s hand in place of hers, gliding leisurely along her flesh, the warm weight of his fingers on her thigh inciting a torrent of delightful sensation. Recalling the heat of his lips against the tender skin of her wrist, she allowed herself to further imagine that mouth skimming her inner thigh; as she savoured the thought she felt a liquid heat invade her limbs, blistering beneath her skin like glowing embers, a flare of searing excitement.

  Honestly, Faye, get ahold of yourself!

  Heeding the admonishment of her more sensible inner voice, Faye let her foot drop to the floor, swiftly toweling off the rest of her body before sliding into her nightgown. Wiping the steam off the mirror so she could see herself, she began vigorously combing through her wet hair. Her refection stared back with wide eyes, her face flushed. Well, it was no wonder, with the lurid thoughts she’d been foolishly entertaining. Once her hair was dry, she’d go straight to bed and dodge temptation altogether.

  Switching off the bathroom fan, Faye became aware of a sound outside the room, swelling in pitch and volume. Music, it sounded like. As she opened the door, the music hit her in a wave. Piano, definitely. At first she assumed someone had turned on a CD—but as she stepped out into the hallway she realized the music was coming from the piano upstairs, the rich tone of it reverberating through the walls and floor. She recognized it as Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, one of her favourite pieces. It was being played gently, flawlessly, with as much emotion as one could invest into a piece of music.

  Faye paused by the door to the guest room, pressing her ear to the door. No sound from Hannah. The music was loud, but Hannah had a talent for sleeping through almost anything.

  She knew she should go straight into the bedroom and slip into bed. But she waited, listening, the music pulling at her.

  Faye crept up the stairs and into Simon’s office, where the music swelled outward from the loft beyond, filling the air around her with the aching beauty of its rising notes. She moved toward it, the hairs on her arms rising as the music reverberated through her, her pulse surging.

  She knew she’d find Simon at the piano. Wearing a robe over pajamas, he sat at the bench, his fingers dancing effortlessly across the keys. His head was bowed, his eyes closed, as though his whole being were immersed in the music he created. As she watched and listened, enraptured, the tenderness and sense of longing with which he played touched her deeply.

  Glancing up from the keyboard, Simon saw her there, and stopped playing abruptly, letting his hands fall away from the keys.

  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.<
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  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.”