Susan Mallery - Sweet Talk

“She’s been gone a long time. You’re dealing with a lot,” he said instead. “Take things slow.”

“I guess.”

She turned to him, stepped into his arms and buried her head in his shoulder.

“Do you think I’m a good person?” she asked.

“Of course! Why?” He rubbed her back.

“It’s possible I’m the biggest bitch on the planet.”

“No way.”

“You weren’t here.”

“I didn’t have to be. I know you. You’re not a bitch. You’re difficult and stubborn, but not mean.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.

He put his arms around her and held her close. She closed her eyes. He paused, hoping to feel something…anything. A flicker. A spark. Even an ember would be welcome. There was nothing.

The fire only happened with Claire, he thought grimly. Just his luck.

“My life sucks,” she muttered as she pulled back and sank into the chair. “And I just made it worse.”

He took the seat across from hers. “I doubt that.”

“Stop defending me. I don’t deserve it. I was mean to Claire.”

He didn’t say anything. He’d learned a long time ago that when a woman wanted to talk, it was best to stay out of the way and listen.

“She made dinner,” Nicole continued. “She cooked a chicken. It was really good. We were getting along, but then she started talking about George Clooney. She’s met him. She’s met all kinds of stars and famous people and hearing about them really pissed me off. I hate that her life has been so great. She spends all her time going from city to city, playing the piano. Oooh, there’s a tough job. She talked about the guys in the orchestra, how they like to party every night. Of course she claimed she didn’t party. Her life was just so hard. I suppose fitting in that extra massage would be a real problem. And counting her money. That has to take days and days.”

Nicole stopped talking and looked at Wyatt. “You want to change your opinion about me now?”

“No. But I do want to know why she pushes all your buttons.”

Nicole hesitated. “It just makes me so angry. She got everything. She’s the one our parents talked about all the time. They were so proud. She was the star and I was stuck home taking care of everything. I hate her.”

“No, you don’t.”

Nicole narrowed her gaze. “I don’t like it when you’re reasonable. Have I mentioned that?”

“Once or twice. You don’t hate your sister. You don’t know her well enough to feel much of anything. You hate what happened to you because of her life and it’s easier to say you hate her than blame your parents or circumstances.”

“Have you been watching Oprah?”

“You’re saying a guy can’t be insightful?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’ve known you a while now. It’s a lot easier for me to see what’s going on in your life than it is for you.”

“I guess, but I like it better when I’m the deep one in our relationship. I just…” She shrugged. “I feel guilty. I hate that I feel guilty. I know she’s fine.” She looked at Wyatt. “Tell me she’s fine.”

“Want me to go check on her?”

“Please. She’s downstairs.”

“In the basement?”

“In the studio.”

Wyatt got up and headed for the basement stairs. He’d forgotten about the enclosed soundproof room built for Claire to practice. She’d gone away when she’d been six or seven, which meant it hadn’t gotten a whole lot of use. As he stepped in the basement, he frowned as he realized Claire had been a couple of years younger than Amy was now when she’d gone off with her grandmother. She must have missed her family a lot.

Especially Nicole, he thought. They were twins.

He knew Nicole had a lot of issues and he didn’t blame her for any of them. She’d had it tough, looking after Jesse, working in the bakery. She’d been the responsible one. But what had Claire been?

He opened the door to the studio and was immediately caught up in the beauty of the music. He didn’t know anything about classical songs or concertos or whatever it was she was playing-only that the piece was incredibly rich and almost…sad.

The piano was situated such that Claire’s back was to him. She swayed as she played, her long, blond hair moving with her, catching the light. She either hadn’t heard the door or didn’t care that he was there. He would guess the former.

She seemed to be almost in a trance of some kind. As if the music transformed her.

He backed out the way he’d come and returned to the kitchen.

Nicole looked at him. “How is she?”

“Fine. Playing the piano.” He walked to the refrigerator, pulled out a beer, then joined her at the table. “Why isn’t she on tour? Isn’t that what she does?”

“I don’t know. I guess. Maybe she’s on vacation.”

“Her time off just happened to be when you needed surgery?”

Nicole scowled. “Don’t try to make me feel guilty about her being here.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re saying she might have had plans, but she dropped them to be with me.”

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.” He knew Jesse had called Claire and that she’d shown up the next day. Had it just been good timing or had she had to cancel events to be here?

“I would guess she probably books up weeks at a time. Is there a concert season?” Nicole asked. “A better time to hear Mozart?”

“You’re asking the wrong person.”

“I know. It’s just I hadn’t thought of that. What you said. About her being here when she might have other stuff to do.” Nicole didn’t sound happy about the fact.

“Does it change anything?”

“Maybe.” She paused. “I’m sure she’s on vacation,” Nicole said firmly.

“If you say so.”

“You don’t agree?”

“You’re not going to get the answer you want regardless. Either she walked away from prior commitments to take care of you or she took her vacation time to come look after you. It’s hard to make her the bad guy in this.”

“Give me time,” Nicole muttered. “I can work the problem. Besides, it’s not as if I hate her. You were right about that.”

He took a drink of the beer.

“I don’t hate her. I don’t like her.” Nicole sighed. “Say something.”

“You’re doing all the talking.”

“Have I mentioned how annoying you are?”

“More than once.”

“What do you think about her?” Nicole asked.

The question caught him off guard. Before he could stop himself, he remembered the last time he’d touched her. How deep the fire had burned. Then he pushed away anything close to an erotic image and shrugged. “I don’t.”

Nicole stared at him. “You are so lying. You like her.”

He suddenly wanted to squirm in his seat. “I don’t know her.”

Nicole’s gaze narrowed. “You think she’s hot. Oh, my God. You’re attracted to her.”

“It’s just chemical. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“You want to sleep with her? That’s so not fair. You don’t want to sleep with me.”

“We’ve been over that material already.”

“But Claire is a pain in the ass, Wyatt. You can’t like her more than me.” She covered her face with her hands. “I’m whining. How horrible is that?”

“You’re allowed to feel what you feel.”

She dropped her hands. “Don’t you dare be sensitive and understanding over this. Besides, she’s my sister, which puts me in the weird position of telling you to back off.”

He looked at her over the beer bottle. “Because she matters to you?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. Just don’t do anything rash.”

“You have my word on that.”

He wasn’t going to do anything at all. Wanting and doing were worlds apart and he had no plans to make an awkward situation any more difficult than it already was.

“COME IN,” Amy signed before getting out of the car. “Come in.”

Claire hesitated, looking at the two-story house, then back at the girl next to her. She didn’t mind going into the house or spending extra time with Amy. What made her hesitate was the big truck parked in the driveway. Wyatt was home and as much as Claire wanted to see him, the thought of seeing him made her feel oddly nervous. Still, she nodded and got out of the car.

They walked up the main path. The front door opened before they could knock and Amy flew toward her father. He caught her hard against him and laughed as he spun her in a circle.

“How’s my best girl?” he asked, looking at her as he spoke so she could read his lips.

“Good,” Amy signed, then looked at her and spoke. “Claire’s driving is getting better.”

Claire laughed. “Gee, thanks for the compliment. I’ve been practicing. The freeway still doesn’t make me happy, but I can manage. And my GPS barely yells at me at all.”

“Come on in,” Wyatt said. He put down his daughter and held open the front door.

Claire walked into the house. She’d been here several times. There was no reason to be nervous. Yet her stomach kept clenching and her skin felt funny. Sort of tingly and tight.

Maybe all this was because she’d been looking over her to-do list and had thought Wyatt would be a great candidate for the “have sex” item.

She looked at him now, from under her lashes, appreciating the way his broad shoulders stretched his shirt. He was strong. What would it be like to have someone to lean on? Someone dependable who could handle anything? Not that his strength was any reason she would want to sleep with him. Or maybe it was. She certainly wasn’t an expert.

Amy signed that she was going to her room, then disappeared down the hallway. Wyatt watched her go, then turned to Claire.

“I really appreciate you looking after her.”

“I’m happy to do it. She’s a lot of fun and very patient with my signing.”

“She’s happy you want to learn.”

Claire frowned. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s how she communicates.”

“A lot of people won’t take the trouble.”