LITMIR.BIZ

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nodded.

      Claire flipped the page. “This is so cool. What else can you teach me?”

      WYATT WALKED into Nicole’s room with coffee and the bagels he’d brought.

      “Hey, sleepy.”

      She opened her eyes and groaned. “Hey, yourself.”

      “How do you feel?”

      “How do I look?”

      “Beautiful.”

      She winced as she pushed into a sitting position, then leaned back against the pillows. “You are such a liar, but thank you for that. I feel awful. I have to tell you, the drugs in the hospital are much better than the stuff you get at the pharmacy. Is that coffee?”

      “Yes, but I wasn’t sure if you were allowed any.”

      “So you brought it to taunt me?” She reached for the mug. “I’m supposed to take it easy and eat what sounds good. Coffee sounds like a miracle, right now.”

      He set the tray on the nightstand, then pulled up a chair. After she’d taken her first sip and sighed with pleasure, he asked, “You doing okay with Claire?”

      Nicole rolled her eyes. “Do I have a choice? She’s staying away, which is my preference. Sid called my cell about a half hour ago.” She motioned to the small phone by the tray. “She went to the bakery this morning, apparently to help. He sent her away. Instead she managed to run into Phil and dump a five-pound bag of salt into a batch of bread dough. It’s totally ruined.”

      “How did that happen?”

      “I have no idea.”

      “She didn’t do it on purpose, did she?”

      Nicole glared at him. “Probably not, but don’t you dare take her side.”

      “Not my plan.”

      “Good, because I’m not sure I could handle that. She’s even more useless than I’d first thought. She actually asked me about a cleaning service for her clothes. Apparently a few things are wrinkled and she doesn’t know how to deal with that. We should all have such problems. I hate her.”

      “You don’t hate her.”

      “I know, but I wish she’d go away.”

      So did Wyatt. As it was, he was keeping his distance. The last thing he needed was another raging fire keeping him up at night … in both senses of the word.

      Why her? Why couldn’t he have chemistry with someone else? Someone normal? Someone like Nicole? His body sure had a sense of humor.

      Nicole glanced at the clock. “Where’s Amy?”

      “Downstairs with your sister.”

      “Check her before you leave. Who knows what Claire might do to her.”

      “I’ll make sure she’s in one piece.” He stood and crossed to the bed, then kissed Nicole on the top of the head. “Call me if you need anything.”

      “I will.”

      “I’ll be back soon.”

      “Come right away if you see smoke rising in the sky.”

      “Promise.”

      He went downstairs. As he entered the living room, he heard laughter. Amy sat next to Claire, watching intently as Nicole’s sister carefully signed the story in the picture book on her lap. Her movements were studied, but she got all the words right. When his daughter signed the word good, Claire laughed again.

      “You’re a good teacher,” she said slowly.

      Amy signed, “Good student.”

      Claire reached out and hugged her.

      Amy went easily into her arms.

      Wyatt was unimpressed. Claire might be able to fool a child, but he knew better. She wasn’t going to be able to suck him in so easily.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      THE FOLLOWING MORNING Claire waited until she was sure Wyatt wasn’t going to show up, then made breakfast herself and carried it upstairs. She found her sister awake, which was a surprise. Every time she’d checked on Nicole the previous day, she’d been asleep, or pretending to sleep.

      “You’re still here, I see,” Nicole said by way of greeting.

      “Are you always this crabby in the morning, or is it me bringing out the worst in you?”

      “You get all the credit.”

      “Lucky me.”

      She set the tray on the nightstand. Nicole looked over the simple meal.

      “Thank you,” she said through obviously gritted teeth.

      Claire was so proud, she could have floated. “The oatmeal is really good. I made it myself.”

      “Two ingredients, including water. Very impressive.”

      Claire refused to let her sister’s sarcasm spoil her happy mood. This was her first real breakfast and it had turned out with only one try. Yay, her. Today oatmeal, tomorrow, a sandwich!

      Nicole reached for the bowl. “I thought maybe you were leaving.”

      “No, sorry. I’m here until you’re back on your feet.” She thought about Jesse’s unexplained absence. “Unless you want me to call Jesse and ask her to come.”

      “No.”

      “Are you sure?”

      Nicole’s gaze turned icy. “Jesse is not welcome here.”

      Okay, so there was a problem. Claire had already guessed as much. “When did you two stop speaking?”

      “I’m not discussing this with you.”

      “What did she do?”

      “What part of my previous statement didn’t you understand? She’s a born liar and a cheat. She lied to you about me wanting you here and she—” Nicole dropped her spoon back into the bowl. “Just go.”

      Claire assumed she meant from the bedroom rather than the house. Either way she stayed in place. “She’s just a kid.”

      “She’s twenty-two and you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      Claire wanted to understand the problem, but she had a feeling that pushing wasn’t going to help. “You need to eat something.You’ll get better faster if you do.”

      “Motivation. That’s good.” She took a small taste of the oatmeal. “Brown sugar?”

      “Uh-huh.”

      Nicole ate a little more while Claire hovered in the doorway. She wanted to go sit down, but that felt too intrusive.

      The whole situation was crazy, she told herself. Why did things have to be so awkward? Although she knew the answer, she wanted it to be different. She wanted them to be different.

      “Why aren’t you on tour?” Nicole asked as she reached for her coffee. “Is that what you do with your day? Play piano for people? Won’t your adoring fans miss you?”

      Claire stiffened. Without wanting to, she remembered her last performance. The heat of the lights, the pressure in her ears, the murmur of the crowd and most of all, the tightness in her chest.

      She’d been unable to catch her breath, and had walked out on stage, feeling as if she was going to have a heart attack and die. She’d been unable to focus on her playing. There had only been the thundering of her heart and the knowledge that she would collapse at any second.

      She’d played badly because of it, she thought, recalling the humiliation. While she might play the same music

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