ENCORE PERFORMANCE (THE MATCHMAKER TRILOGY) (5 page)

Carissa zipped up her sweatshirt as they walked away
from the diner.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I feel like I just got caught.”
“Caught doing what?”
“I don’t know. You run into someone’s dad after
you’ve just crawled out of bed with his daughter . . .” His
eyes flew open and he looked at her. “Wait that’s not what
I meant. I meant separately. I mean . . .”
“Stop.” She was laughing at him. Tears were forming
in her eyes. “I got it.” She laid her hand on his chest as she
laughed. “Oh, Thomas, even if we’d crawled out of the
same bed he wouldn’t have treated you any differently.”
He wasn’t too sure of that.
Carissa stepped closer to him until he could feel her
body almost pressed to his. “You are too cute when you get
flustered.”
He reached for her hands before she could back away.
“You’re a forward one, aren’t you?”
“Does it bother you?”
“No, I’m just not used to it. I’m a classical musician. I
don’t attract women’s attention too often.”
“I’m a classical musician
and
I’m a woman. And when
I see something I like I go after it.” She seductively bit her
lip. “And I like you.”
She moved up closer to him and his entire body
stiffened as if to put up the wall he so desperately needed
between them. “What is it you want, Carissa Kendal?”
“I don’t know yet. Does that scare you?”
“Scares the hell out of me.”
Her smile widened. “Well, by the pace of your heart . .
.” She looked down at her hands that rested on his chest.
“I’d say there’s a mutual attraction.”
“I’ll go with that.”
“And as I’m very selective with whom I share myself,
don’t think I’ll be racing into your bed.”
“Carissa, I didn’t mean to assume that . . .”
She raised her finger to his lips. “But I’m certainly not
one to take too much time either. You forget I watched a
man wait ten years for the woman he loves. One thing I’m
not is patient.” Her lashes fluttered and his heart skipped
another beat.
Thank, God,
he thought.
She stepped back and winked. “Well, we’ve come a
long way in a few days. I guess above all we need to realize
we still have to work with each other.”
“True.” Though he wondered how well it could go
when she wouldn’t even listen to his ideas.
“My business is too important to me to have something
like a relationship with a coworker ruin it. My life is here in
Kansas City, and my family, and now my business. I may
not like to wait for things I want, but I don’t like change
much either.”
Thomas swallowed the lump of fear that lodged in his
throat by her words. No matter what happened between
them there would be change.
“Let’s start by walking.” She grabbed his hand and
interlaced their fingers. “And talking.”
“Talking?”
“Tell me who you are, Thomas Samuel.” She turned
her head toward him and narrowed her eyes. “And don’t
leave anything out.”
If her forwardness hadn’t ramped up his heart rate, her
words would have. Where did he start? Did he start by
telling her he was knocked around by his father until he
was sixteen? That his father was an abusive drunk bastard
that finally killed one of his children in the fury of anger?
Or did she want to hear how, after Pablo came out of the
closet and he didn’t have a job, he’d become an alcoholic
like his father. That he’d almost killed himself and Pablo’s
lover Pierre one night in Paris? Is that what she wanted to
know?
She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
“It’s pretty simple, isn’t it?”
He wished it were.
“Do you want the basics like my birthday is January
fourth? I’m thirty-three years old. You already know I’ve
played the piano since I was three. Before moving here,
which you also know I did only Thursday,” he joked, trying
to keep the conversation as light as possible, “I resided in a
dinky apartment just outside of Rome.” He took his free
hand and ran it through his hair. He really needed a haircut.
“I didn’t stick around to graduate high school. Not
traditionally at least. But Pablo made sure I had a high
school diploma.”
“You graduated high school in Italy?” He nodded.
“Pretty cool.”
He snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Where were you born?”
“Maryland.”
“First teacher’s name?”
“Mrs. Norton.”
“Color of your first bike.”
“Fire engine red.”
“Name of your first pet.”
“Didn’t have one.”
She stopped and faced him. “Neither did I.”
It was as if that was their connection. He squeezed his
eyes shut. It was going to get too complicated too quickly,
he could tell. Perhaps he should talk to Sophia about
everything. He needed to make some decisions on how he
wanted to handle Carissa Kendal. No matter what Carissa
expected of him, he wasn’t the marrying type or a family
man. He couldn’t risk her losing her heart over him.
As they neared the house, he looked over at her. What
if
he
lost his heart to her?
“I had a wonderful time.” Carissa swung their hands
between them as they walked up the front steps.
“So did I. I could get used to that every Saturday
morning.”
“Well, at least you’re thinking about staying, then.”
His jaw dropped when she said that. For not wanting to
make commitments, he sure was doing it.
Carissa unlocked the front door and walked inside the
house. She kicked off her shoes, unzipped her sweatshirt,
and shrugged out of it. With two fingers she picked up her
shoes and laid her sweatshirt over her arm. He noticed her
routine. This was what she did every week and now it
included him.
“Time to get ready for work.” She stepped closer to
him. “How do we end our
date
?”
Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He took a
step closer to her and touched her cheek. He drew her
toward him and gently laid a kiss on those full lips he’d
been aching to caress with his own.
As he pulled back, her eyes remained closed. When
she opened them, he was looking right into them.
“That was nice,” she said on a sigh. “I’m guessing
you’re a great kisser.”
“Maybe tonight we’ll go on another
date
and you can
find out.” He slid his hand from her cheek down her throat
and lingered it there.
She raised her hand to his face, and it caught on his
stubble. It was then he realized he needed to buy a razor.
As she pulled her hand away, it caught his attention.
Quickly he grabbed her arm and turned it over, her inner
wrist up.
“Holy cow.” She pulled her arm away from him. “That
had to hurt like hell.”
Carissa’s eyes flew open and he knew defensiveness
when he saw it. “Yeah, it did.”
“What did you get it caught in?”
Her head tilted and her expression softened. “What?”
“I said what did you get your arm caught in?” He
reached for it and ran his fingers over her scar.
“I, um, I fell off my bike going down a hill.”
“Got your arm stuck in the spokes?” She nodded.
“Damn.” He raised her wrist to his lips and kissed the scar.
“I have to get ready. I’ll find you when I’m done and
we can make plans for tonight.”
She broke free from him and ran up the stairs to her
room.

As soon as the door shut Carissa paced the room and
let tears that had filled her eyes fall. Every emotion that
could possibly be felt surged through her body. She was
happy, sad, angry, and smitten to tie it all together. She sat
down on the bed and rested her head in her hands.

In all the years she’d had that scar no one had asked
her what had happened in such a way. No, instead they had
looked at it and made their own conclusions. Which still to
this day made her angry. Anyone who’d been around her
biological mother assumed they were the same. She’d tried
to slit her wrists, so her daughter must have done the same
damn thing. Then there was that school counselor. Carissa
almost couldn’t breathe.

She’d called her a liar and her father one as well.
Convinced that he was covering for her, she’d threatened to
take Carissa from her father. All because of the stupid scar
on her wrist from a bicycle accident.

Sophia had scars and they had bonded over them.
They’d declared themselves warriors and never hid them
again under necklaces, scarves, bracelets, or long sleeves.
But pride in showing her scars didn’t stop people from
assuming she’d tried to end it all.

She let out a long, steady breath and let the sadness she
felt from people not believing her drain away.
Then there was Thomas who assumed nothing. She’d
known Thomas Samuel going on three days and already
she was shedding tears over him, after having been fairly
suggestive toward him. What had her mother done by
bringing him into their lives?
Carissa sat up. Oh, dear God! She’d been set up. She
set her jaw. What was Sophia thinking? Matchmaking was
Katie and her Aunt Millie’s game, not her mother’s. Why
would she think she needed to be set up?
At twenty-five she was far from being a spinster. She’d
had her share of relationships. Okay, so at the best she’d
dated. But to call in a stranger . . .
Carissa stood and paced the room again.
She’d heard stories about Thomas, sure. Not that she’d
ever paid too much attention. Sophia only spoke to Carissa
of the legendary Pablo and those who toured with him
when they would sit and play their cellos together. Carissa
knew it was Sophia’s way of not bringing it up in front of
her father. After all, for years he’d thought Sophia had left
him for Pablo. It was a sore subject.
When Carissa had approached her mother about the
school, her eyes lit up.
“You’ll need help,” she’d said.
“I thought you’d help me.”
“I’m busy with Hope. But I know someone who could
use some roots and he’s one hell of a musician.” In no time
Thomas Samuel was on his way back to the States to live.
What kind of power did Sophia Kendal have over this
man?
And now, what kind of power did
he
have over
Carissa?
She certainly wasn’t a winner in the relationship
department. The last thing she wanted was a broken heart
and she’d been fairly successful in avoiding them. If things
needed to be ended she ended them. She wasn’t about to
pine for a man that didn’t want her. However, she was
fairly sure that Thomas Samuel wanted her. And likewise,
she couldn’t stop thinking she wanted much more from him
than just to be smitten.
Carissa started pulling off her running clothes and
throwing them into the laundry basket. She caught sight of
the scar on her wrist. Damn, it had hurt. She ran her fingers
over it. How she hadn’t broken her arm, she’d never know.
A smile slipped across her lips. Thomas had noticed the
scar, but it had taken three days and when he saw it, he
didn’t assume. He didn’t think she’d done something so
horrible to scar herself. She sucked in a breath to steady
herself. Things were going to be different with Thomas
Samuel around.
Grateful that Carissa had loaned him her car keys,
Thomas drove through town in search of a haircut.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in
Kansas City. Maybe he’d never been. He laughed at
himself. He was alone in a car and he was laughing at
himself. A year ago that would have been a sure sign he
needed a drink. Even thinking about that now made his
palms sweat.
“Keep it together, man,” he warned himself as he came
upon a barbershop. Just the sight of it had him wincing.
The last time he’d been in a barbershop, his father had
dragged him there. He hadn’t approved of the length of
Thomas’s hair and was bound and determined to make his
point.
Thomas parked the car, squared his shoulders, and
went inside.
There was a line of men on a bench and all eyes turned
to him when he walked through the door. He hung his
jacket on the rack near the door. Instructions were called
out to him to sit and wait, and he did.
Men came and went and the line moved down the
bench.
As the next chair opened, Thomas stood and started
toward the space. At the same time the door opened and a
young man, perhaps of fifteen, walked in and toward the
open chair.
“What are you doing here? You have practice,” the
barber said to the boy.
“Didn’t want to go. Thought I’d see if you needed help
here.”
“You think you can just miss practice and the coach
will let you play. Go.” He turned back to Thomas and
nodded with his head for him to sit in the chair. Thomas sat
as the man reached for a cape to drape over him.
“I’m not going back.” The boy moved closer to the
man as if daring him to scold him more. “If you don’t need
my help, fine, but I don’t care about basketball and I’m not
going back.”
The boy turned to walk out, but the barber grabbed his
arm and swung him around.
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”
Thomas sat only inches away. He could see the marks
the man was making on the young boy’s arm. His own arm
began to ache from the memory of having been grabbed
like that.
He swallowed hard and stood from the chair.
“So you play basketball?” His voice cracked as both
sets of eyes turned toward him. “Great sport.”
“No one asked for you to talk to my son.” The barber
stiffened his back but kept his grip on his son.
“No, but I think you could let go of him and have a
discussion rather than hurt him like you are.”
The man let go of his son’s arm and took a step toward
Thomas. His heart began to race and he could feel the
sweat bead on his forehead. It had been a while since he’d
been hit. He braced for it.
The man walked up to him until they were chest to
chest. Thomas saw the fear in the young boy’s face as he
turned and ran from the shop.
“You have something to say?”
Thomas balled his fists at his sides. “I don’t think you
should touch him like that.”
The barber kept his eyes directed on Thomas. He ran
his tongue on the inside of his cheek, moving closer to
Thomas until he nudged him backward.
“Why don’t you get the hell out of here and never, ever
come back.”
Thomas sucked in a breath and stepped to the side,
away from the chair. He noticed all eyes were on him, but
he kept walking.
He released his fists and let the door slam behind him.
Perhaps he hadn’t stopped the young boy from
eventually getting beaten, but for that moment the boy had
gotten away.
He hurried to the car and fell into the seat behind the
wheel. Breathing deeply, he tried to slow his heart rate. No
child, no matter the age, deserved to be treated the way that
man treated that boy or his father had treated him.
Trying to control his anger, he drove toward the mall.
He’d just find one of those franchise places and get his
haircut.