Whispers in the Heart: Heart to Heart, #2

By Judi Phillips

Nikki Cushman is the new interim President of a small credit union in Portland, Maine. She knows there's bound to be trouble when she discovers Tony D'Angelo is assigned to handle the transition audit. He does not know he is the father of her twelve-year old daughter, Angie, and Nikki wants to keep it that way. Nikki and Tony are forced to work together to investigate some fraudulent accounts and discover who's to blame. When threats are directed at Nikki and Angie, can Nikki keep her secret? Will Tony and Nikki listen to the Whispers in Their Hearts and heal old hurts?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Judi Phillips
• Release date: Sep 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9780986157417

Book preview

MAP OF TIDE ROCK BAY

Where Nikki grew up and met Tony

One

Seated behind the massive mahogany desk that was now hers, Nikki Cushman wanted to do something silly like twirl her chair around, or jump up and down, or yell to the world. Instead, reminding herself of where she was and what she'd accomplished, she controlled her emotions and sat quietly, feet planted firmly on the floor. Her only concession was the big grin she knew was plastered across her face.

President!

Giddy over the interim promotion, she wondered, couldn't she indulge herself for once? After all, it was April first. For a moment, she wished she could act the fool.

Her throat tightened, but she pushed away any doubts that the promotion was provisional. Having gotten this far by a lot of hard work and a little luck, the only hurdle she had left was to make sure the board gave her the final vote. No longer would her father's words be branded on her soul: You'll never amount to anything. The words he’d said to her when she announced she was leaving Tide Rock, Maine, and moving to Portland.

A knock sounded on the door frame, and she looked up. Glynnis O'Kagan stepped into the office. Over the ten or so years that they'd worked together at the credit union, Glynnis and Nikki had become close friends. Top o' the mornin', Madam President.

Nikki couldn't stifle a giggle at the broad Irish brogue Glynnis adopted frequently.

Seriously, though, I've been rooting for you to get this job since we started working here together, how many years ago? Glynnis settled into a seat in front of Nikki’s desk.

Ten. Lord, where did the time go?

It flies when you're having fun.

Glynnis waved one hand, bracelets jingling, in a gesture that encompassed the whole room. I trust you'll do some serious redecorating?

Nikki surveyed the room. The wall opposite her desk was covered with several varieties of stuffed birds, their wings spread to simulate flight, as well as the head of an antlered buck and a swordfish. Some kind of wild cat crouched on the credenza below, hungrily eyeing the game fish mounted above it. What, you don't care for the dead animal motif?

Glynnis shook her head. Stu Cabot certainly loved to hunt. His success with a gun impressed the lobstermen and fishermen who are the majority of our customers. She gestured toward the collection of fur and feathers. However, I'm not sure this decor works for our new president.

Jill, one of the tellers, poked her head through the open door. Glynnis, can you help me a minute?

Sure thing. Glynnis stood and gave Nikki a hug. Have a great first day in your new position. Boss, she added with a saucy grin and closed the door behind her.

Nikki had to agree with Glynnis' assessment of the room. She eyed a bear's pelt, sans head but with feet and claws intact, draped over the back of a small leather couch. The rest of the wildlife decor could wait, but Smokey had to go. He gave her the creeps. No way would she share the couch with a bear.

With time before her first meeting, she strode across the room, bent over and gingerly tried to roll up the pelt. She wrestled with the stiff skin, eventually subduing the critter and manhandling it into the coat closet in the corner of the room and slamming the door shut.

After brushing the dust and stray hairs off her clothes, she straightened her jacket and smoothed her hair. She swiped her hands together, satisfied with her, albeit small, change.

The janitor could pack up the rest of the carcasses, and she'd bring them over to Stu's house herself. He'd left them to ease her transition with the customers who were used to the wildlife display. A personal delivery might assuage any hurt feelings about changing his decorating scheme. It would also be a good excuse to visit him and offer her thanks for his help over the years.

She returned to her desk, sat down and spun her chair to face the view through the sliding glass doors. She stared at the panoramic view of Portland's working waterfront. Clouds obscured the sun, and the waters of Casco Bay had taken on a sullen pewter cast. As if agreeing with her father's judgment of her years ago. Today showed just how wrong he'd been. Turning her back on the scene, she spent the next half hour reorganizing the desk.

When there was a knock on the door, she looked up. Come in. Her ten o'clock appointment was right on time.

The door opened and Nikki stood to greet Gino Bernini, the credit union's auditor. Reaching out to shake his hand, she looked over his shoulder and realized someone had followed him into the room. For a second, her heart stopped. After what seemed forever, it began a pounding rhythm against her ribs.

Tony D'Angelo.

What is he doing here?

As her knees weakened, Nikki schooled her features into a cool mask.

He didn't look all that different from the last time she'd seen him, almost a dozen years ago. The same ebony hair slicked back in an attempt to control the curl. The same eyes the color of dark chocolate, framed with eyelashes every girl had sighed over in high school. The same chiseled features. Only his nose, broken in some long-forgotten fight in junior high, kept him from being too handsome. His strut had turned into a confident stride, but a hint of the old swagger remained.

His bad boy uniform of jeans and black leather motorcycle jacket had been exchanged for casual business. One button, open at the neck of his shirt, tempted her.

She remembered unbuttoning his shirt the last time they'd been together. It seemed like yesterday although it had been almost twelve years.

She had just picked up her wedding dress. On the sidewalk outside Bridal Creations, fumbling with the large, heavy garment bag, she stumbled back as she ran into someone.

Oof. Whoa, there, lady— Nikki?

Tony? What are you doing here?

I'm just walking by, but it appears you're— he gestured at the yards of white, beaded satin visible through the clear plastic.

She nodded. And was appalled by the way her blood pumped harder at the sight of him.

Who's the lucky guy?

Todd Cushman.

Don't think I know him.

Probably not. He's from Tide Rock.

There was a short silence. Tony broke it. Let's have dinner.

I don't think… Her voice trailed off.

For old time's sake. He smiled.

That killer smile, the one that she'd never been able to resist. Her heart kicked into overdrive. Well . . . What could it hurt?

It's just dinner. Here, let me help you. He lifted the bottom of the bag. Which way to your car?

Nothing could happen over dinner, Nikki reassured herself. This way. Only a couple of blocks.

They paraded down the street. Bad luck, one woman cautioned as she passed them.

Tony grinned. I'm the one who got away.

Color heated Nikki's cheeks. She was thankful he'd said the words softly. She was pretty sure only she heard them.

In no time at all, the bag was safely draped across the backseat of her compact car.

How about Antonio's? Tony suggested when she'd locked the doors.

Sounds good. She was committed now.

Ms. Cushman. Gino Bernini's voice shattered the memory and summoned her back to the present. She took a deep breath and hoped her cheeks weren't as flushed as they felt. A futile hope.

She had never expected to see Tony D'Angelo again. Hadn't wanted to. She'd made her decision to go it alone all those years ago and never looked back.

Mr. Bernini. She was pleased her voice sounded normal. No tremor, no breathlessness, nothing to betray her heart pounding as if she had just finished her morning workout.

I'd like you to meet my associate, Anthony D'Angelo.

Nikki considered, then discarded, a dozen possible responses. Should she acknowledge she'd once known Tony? More than known him. Deny it? Admit — No!

Tony spoke before she had to make a choice. Ms. Cushman and I knew each other a long time ago. She didn't miss the slight emphasis he placed on her last name.

Nikki forced a smile to her stiff lips. She had kept her married name after she'd divorced Todd. Ironically, his family had been more supportive of the decision than her own. Which was one of the reasons she no longer considered herself a member of the Welch family.

In another lifetime, she murmured. What had started out to be a delightful day in her position as the mint-new president of the credit union, had turned into an ordeal almost as draining as closing the books at year's end. We went to the same high school.

That makes this even easier. The purr in Bernini's voice was the contented rumble of a lion who had just finished a meal.

She was dead meat. Despite Bernini’s words, Nikki seriously doubted anything about Tony D’Angelo would make her life easier. He had already complicated it beyond belief. She clenched her jaw, determined to control her emotions. Even though Bernini had to be in his late sixties, he exuded charm. She didn't doubt he'd been a real ladies' man in his day. No wonder he and Tony were a team. Some sort of DNA thing. She vowed not to give in to the pull of attraction to Tony. Remaining silent and unmoving, she waited for Gino Bernini to continue.

I got the word from my doctor. My ticker's a little dicey and I need to slow down. Tony here's been working with me for a coupla years now. He knows the ropes.

Panic threatened to overwhelm Nikki. She stomped down the impulse to run screaming from the room. No way could she work closely with Tony. Bernini, yes, Tony, no.

She took a deep breath to marshal her defenses. Our contract was for your services, Mr. Bernini, she argued, hoping she could finesse him into honoring his commitment.

He waved a hand in a gesture of dismissal. He's as good as me. He jerked his thumb toward Tony and lowered his voice. Maybe even better.

Standing a step behind Bernini, Tony smiled ever so slightly. He pushed back the edges of his sport coat and thrust his hands into the pockets of his khakis. As his intent gaze roamed over her, a long-dormant tingling trailed behind, as if his fingers had caressed every inch of her.

Sometime between the last time she'd seen him and now, he'd acquired a thin scar from the end of his left eyebrow to the outer edge of his eye, adding to his air of danger. To her. She forced herself to look away, focusing on the older man. For a moment she forgot who he was and why Bernini was here.

Don't like to admit it to him too often, Bernini continued. Don't want him to get a swelled head.

Not ready to surrender yet, Nikki focused on the present. There had to be a way to get rid of Tony. If Stu were here, he'd back her up. But she was on her own now. I'm sorry, Mr. Bernini, but we chose your company because of your reputation in the industry for providing independent transition audits. We don't want any last-minute substitutions.

The jovial expression on the older man's swarthy features faded as a hard gleam settled in his brown eyes. Look here, Ms. Cushman. His voice lowered to a growl. Your bank contracted with my firm to do the transition audit and root out the slimeball who's been laundering money through here.

Credit union, she corrected him.

He stopped midstream. Huh?

This is a credit union, not a bank. There's a difference.

Not much, Tony said.

Nikki was forced to look directly at him for a moment. There certainly is. A bank is for-profit and has to meet shareholder expectations. A credit union is not-for-profit and is member-owned by its depositors.

Whatever. Bernini flipped one hand, again dismissing her. I don't tell you how to run your bank — credit union. You don't tell me how to catch crooks. Let's keep it that way. Otherwise, you can find yourself another outfit.

Bernini's firm was the best, and the credit union needed his services, no matter the personal cost to her. Nikki pasted a smile on her face, hoping it appeared more real than it felt. Mr. Bernini, please. I didn't mean to imply you don't know your business. It's just that we were looking forward to working with you. She gritted her teeth and continued. If you believe in Mr. D'Angelo, that's good enough for us. She refused to look at Tony, unwilling to see him gloating over her defeat.

Yep, she was dead meat.

Thatagirl. Threatening undertone gone, Bernini was all smiles again. Time we get down to business.

Nikki gritted her teeth but refused to be baited by his pejorative words. She led the men to a round conference table and waited until they were seated. With only the three of them at this meeting, there was no way she could avoid sitting next to Tony, so she edged her chair a bit closer to Bernini's. She wanted no possibility of contact, even accidental, between them.

There's coffee in the carafe, or we have soft drinks, if you prefer.

Coffee's fine. Tony picked up a cup from the wooden serving tray and filled it. How about you, Uncle Gino?

Nikki's brain reeled. No wonder Bernini was adamant about having Tony do the job. It was a family thing.

Sure.

Tony poured a second cup for Bernini. How about you, Nikki? For the first time since he'd entered the room, he addressed her directly.

She flicked a quick glance at him and looked away before she could become ensnared in his gaze, clasping her hands tightly together to keep from revealing her agitation. No way would she let him see how he still affected her. She couldn't afford to get involved with Tony D'Angelo again. The cost had been too high the last time.

And now, she had way more to lose.

Two

The last invitation Nikki had accepted from Tony D'Angelo had led to disaster. No, thanks. Today, even coffee seemed risky.

At Antonio's, Nikki had chosen lasagna and Tony ordered spaghetti and meatballs and a bottle of Chianti.

She'd forgotten how attracted she was — had been — to Tony. How crazy she'd been about him. Dinner passed in a haze of pasta and wine and rising sexual tension.

Tony paid the check and they left. Nikki paused at the door, not sure what to say, torn about what she wanted.

It's pouring down rain, Tony said. My car's just out front. I'll give you a ride.

They dashed through the downpour and scrambled into the shelter of his car. They sat there, laughing like kids. After they shook the rain out of their hair, spraying each other, he turned the key in the ignition. Too soon, they were at her car.

She put her hand on the door handle. Thank you for dinner. Her words were absurdly formal.

One last kiss. His warm gaze melted her.

She leaned toward him and brushed her lips against his. She intended it to be a light caress, nothing more.

But he opened his mouth and deepened the kiss. Without thinking she responded, thrusting her tongue inside as it they'd never broken up. His mouth was warm and familiar. She could smell the spicy aroma of his aftershave, the one she loved best. She could picture him just out of the shower, a towel slung low around his hips, drops of water in his hair. Her tongue tangled with his as if on auto-pilot. She knew she shouldn't be doing this, but she couldn't stop.

He pulled away. Ah, Nik, I want more than a kiss.

Nikki could only nod in agreement. One kiss was not going to satisfy the fire roaring in her blood or the hunger between her legs. This was so wrong. But this was Tony and at the moment, she couldn't remember why they'd broken up. She knew she should save the passion for her fiancé, but Tony was her first love. She needed one last time with him, even if she carried the guilty secret forever.

We need some place a lot less public than this. He started the car and drove down the street. On the edge of town, he turned onto a country road, followed that for a bit, then pulled into an abandoned gravel pit.

Nikki blinked and smoothed her hair back, pulling her thoughts from the precipice. She had to focus on the meeting. She couldn't afford to wander down that particular memory lane. She'd let her emotions rule her head in a moment of bad judgment, and she'd struggled to forgive herself since then.

I'd like to have you both review what we've found so far. Grateful she'd had the foresight to make an extra copy of the data she'd gathered, Nikki handed them each a folder.

Her thoughts were trapped in a maze. No matter which avenue of escape she tried, there was no way out. She was stuck with Tony. She sat quietly while they turned pages, even though what she really wanted to do was let go, have a full-blown temper tantrum and stomp around the room shouting, I can't work with him! I won't!

When Stuart Cabot had resigned as president, he'd recommended the board appoint Nikki in his place. Thanks to Stu, she'd have to work with Tony. It wasn't his fault at all, but that didn’t stop Nikki from being royally pissed at him.

Stu had received a health warning similar to Bernini's and had to slow down. The two of them would probably spend the winter kicking back on some tropical beach, sipping piña coladas when they weren't snorkeling, she thought bitterly. She, on the other hand, had to solve what could possibly be money laundering at the credit union. Which meant she would be forced to get entangled with Tony D'Angelo.

Looks like you've got some serious trouble here. Bernini's gruff voice interrupted her thoughts.

No doubt about that, Tony agreed, looking directly at her. This time she was positive there was the merest hint of a smile quirking the corner of his chiseled mouth. Based on the account churning, there's definitely something funny going on.

Well, you've confirmed our suspicions that someone's been rapidly opening and closing accounts, Nikki said, tearing her gaze from Tony's. She didn't want Bernini to pick up on any implication of a personal relationship between them.

They'd gotten way too personal on that Wednesday afternoon a dozen years ago. The guilt still haunted her.

Kissing and moaning, they fumbled into the back seat of his car. She traced his lower lip with her tongue before thrusting inside his mouth. He tasted of tangy sauce and wine, and she wanted more.

When he rested his hands on each side of her face and deepened the kiss, she melted against him. Slowly he slid his hands down her face, lower still, stopping when he reached the neckline of her shirt. Her skin tingled from the blazing trail of his fingers. He dipped underneath the fabric and caressed the slope of her breasts with his fingers and she groaned. Her nipples tightened to hard peaks.

His mouth followed the trail his hands had just traced, and she shivered. He slid her shirt off one shoulder and nibbled on the exposed skin. She arched toward him, wanting his mouth all over her body.

As if reading her thoughts, he shoved her shirt up, released the clasp on her bra and licked her pebble-hard nipples before sucking one into his mouth. She moaned, and he began rolling the other nipple between his fingers. Her panties were wet, her core pulsing in anticipation.

She lifted her hands to push him away. She shouldn't be doing this with her wedding a few days away. Instead, her hands had a life of their own. Her fingers fumbled as she unbuttoned his shirt. When she slid her hands over the hard planes of his chest, she heard his sharp intake of breath, urging her to continue. She trailed them down over his flat stomach to where his jeans rode low on his hips, revealing the starfish birthmark she knew intimately.

Still sucking on her, he moved his hands down her ribs and his fingers circled underneath the waistband of her denim skirt. He groaned, then put his hands on her legs and slid his hands upward, pushing up her skirt, until he reached her panties.

You're wet for me. His voice was barely above a whisper.

Hearing the passion in his voice, she leaned back and thrust against his hand.

He slid his fingers underneath the lace of her panties and stroked her. Not enough. She wanted more. He slid a finger inside, in and out, stroking her inside, while his thumb rubbed her clit. She could feel the pressure building. She began to move, matching the rhythm of his fingers. Ah, better. That's what she wanted. Clenching around his finger, she called out his name as the orgasm washed over her.

She gasped in air and stayed still while the waves faded away. Tony slowly removed his fingers, and she lounged back against the seat, still open to him.

When her breathing was back to normal, she straightened up and turned toward him. She reached out and grazed her hands up his arms and across his chest. She shoved his shirt wide open. She craved the