At the River’s Edge The Chesapeake Diaries (31 page)

“Wish I’d been here for that.” She smiled up at the waitress who was serving her salad. “They do that every year?”

“They do something different every year. I’m not a member, so I don’t know what they’re doing this year.”

“Did you dress up and play pirate?”

“Sure. What guy hasn’t wanted to be a pirate at least once in his life? Oh, sure, he was probably eight or nine at the time, but delayed satisfaction is still satisfaction.”

“Who did you kidnap?”

“What?” He frowned. The question was obviously unexpected. “Oh. Mary Beth Sykes, I think.”

“I don’t think I know her.”

“Probably not.” Head down, he took a few bites of salad.

“Looks like I have a lot to learn about my new home.”

“There’s always something going on here. Even in the winter. It’s been really good for the merchants. The
tourists have done a lot for St. Dennis. Even I’ve benefited.”

“In what way?”

“Everyone spruces up their properties before the tourist season begins. Shops, office buildings, private homes, the B and Bs, restaurants—everyone puts on their best face to impress the day-trippers and the weekenders, hoping they’ll come back, maybe even to rent one of the cottages or book rooms at the inn or one of the B and Bs for their next weeklong vacation. I’m super-busy by the first of March and running right through the fall. I had time to work on your grandfather’s place because we could start early, before the big push.”

“It’s stunning, what you did there.”

“Thanks. It was an interesting project because of its scope, but also because I had to do a lot of research before I began.”

“How did you go about doing that?”

“We started with some old photos that your grandfather had. Then, once he decided which era he wanted the garden to reflect, it was just a matter of determining which plants—trees, shrubs, flowers—would have been growing here at that time. The photos helped a lot, but it wasn’t always possible to identify some of the plants because of the quality of the pictures.”

“You like your work.”

“I love my work. There’s nothing else I’d rather do.”

“That’s how I feel about opening my restaurant.”

“Ahh, yes, the mysterious restaurant.”

Sophie laughed. “Nothing mysterious about it. I’ll happily show it off to you as soon as it’s mine.”

“Tuesday, right?”

“Right. Meet me at the office around one, and I’ll take you there. That is, if the time works for you.”

“I’ll make it work for me.”

Their entrées were served, and Sophie tried not to stare at his plate.

“Soft-shell crabs,” he told her. “Don’t judge.”

“They just look like little aliens that have been …” She shook her head. “Never mind. I won’t say another word. I’ll just sit here quietly and eat my beautiful rockfish, and you can have at those … things. Enjoy.”

He caught the sarcasm and smiled. “I will.”

The waiter returned to their table and refilled their glasses.

“Damn, two glasses of wine with dinner,” Sophie mused. “I usually limit myself to one.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Several. I have a low tolerance for alcohol, it seems, so it doesn’t take much to make me silly. And also because as a prosecutor for the past eight years, I worked closely with the local and state police. I would have been mortified if I’d ever been stopped for a suspicion of DUI and later had to face the same officer in court, not to mention any of the judges that I dealt with on a daily basis.” She toyed with her glass for a moment. “Besides, I handled several cases where driving under the influence caused serious accidents. It’s not something I’d ever do.”

“Well, tonight you’re not driving, so you have nothing to worry about. And since my tolerance is apparently a little better than yours, I think we’re good.”

They finished their entrées, passed on dessert, and wandered hand in hand to the end of the pier. The moon spread golden shadows across the water, along the marina, and onto the dock.

“It’s so pretty here and it smells so good.” Sophie took a deep breath of the night that was a curious mix of magnolia and salt air. “I keep telling myself that I need to see more of the town. There are so many streets I haven’t driven down yet, so many shops I haven’t poked into. It seems as if I travel between my house and the office and Pop’s, and that’s about all.”

“Come Tuesday you’ll have your restaurant. Or is that on the aforementioned route?”

“Not on the route, no. But I’ll still be working for Jess part time. I came here to help him out, and I’m not going to leave him in the lurch.”

“How are you going to swing that? Restaurant, law office?”

“I’ll work it out.”

“I don’t know anyone like you, Sophie.” He turned her around to face him. “I’ve never known anyone like you.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It’s a wonderful thing.” He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. There was nothing tentative about this kiss. It was direct and demanding and filled with need. Sophie pressed into him and parted her lips, inviting his tongue to explore. Her heart raced and her breath quickened, and heat spread through her body as if she’d been set on fire.

“My place or yours?” she managed to ask. Before he could respond, she said, “My place.”

They walked back to his truck at a quicker pace, and as she strapped into her seat belt, Jason asked, “You sure?”

“Positive.”

She watched his beautiful hands grasp the steering wheel, imagined them caressing every inch of skin on her body, and had to bite her lip to keep from making a sound that might prove embarrassing, given the fact that they were still a few blocks from her house. He pulled the truck into her driveway and before he turned off the engine, asked again, “You’re sure you want to …”

She leaned across the console, took his face in her hands, and kissed him, her tongue teasing his, assuring him without words that she knew exactly what she was doing. His hands were at her waist, pulling her closer, and her arms wrapped around his neck. She ached for him to touch her with those hands and sighed deeply when they found their way to her breasts. She wanted out of her dress, out of everything, wanted him out of those khakis and that sweater. She pulled away and unhooked her seat belt, while his mouth found its way down the side of her throat and his hands were sliding up her thighs.

“Inside,” she gasped. “We can’t … not here … driveway. Neighbors …”

“Right. Neighbors …” Jason jumped out of the truck at the same time she did and followed her to the path that led to the front door. His hands were on her as she fumbled with the key, scrambling her brain to the point where she had to ask herself if the key turned to the right or to the left.

Finally, the door was open, and they were inside,
though barely, before she was on her tiptoes to reach his mouth. She kissed him hungrily, and he responded by lifting her up to trap her body between his and the nearest wall. She eased her dress up to her hips and unhooked her belt, dropping it to the floor with a clang. He pressed his body hard against hers, and she pressed back with her hips to grind against him. His lips trailed to her neck and her collarbone, and she urged him lower, but her dress was in the way. She struggled to pull it over her head and tossed it. She slipped the straps of her bra lower, pressing his mouth to her flesh with one hand and tugging on his belt with the other. He hoisted her a little higher in his arms to take her breast in his mouth, and she gasped at the shot of heat that followed.

“My room …,” she managed the few words.

“Where?” he gasped.

She pointed down the hall to the right and he followed, his mouth and tongue still working their magic. He pushed the door open with his foot and placed her gently on the side of the bed. She inched back toward the pillows and removed her underwear while he shed his clothes, then lay back with open arms to welcome him. Her legs encircled his hips and she moved under him to guide him and to urge him closer, then lifted herself to allow him inside her. She moaned when he entered her, arching her back and giving herself to him as completely as she could. They moved together wordlessly, an occasional sigh of pleasure the only sound they made. The rhythm picked up, increasing in tempo and the need for release. When that release finally came, it shattered her body and left her mind
reeling. When she finally found her voice, it was to utter one word.

“Crap,” she said softly.

“Crap?” Jason lifted his head. “Did you say ‘crap’?”

“I meant, as in ‘holy crap, that was amazing.’ ”

“Not ‘holy crap, what the hell did I just do and God please keep me from doing it again’?”

“Not on your life.” She pulled him back to her so that his head rested against her shoulder and chest.

Her arms around him, Sophie closed her eyes and tried to remember the last time she’d felt such a powerful connection. She searched her memory hard but couldn’t recall ever having felt such a hard slam of emotion, a slam that hit her on every level. Her breathing easing almost to normal, she felt him stir. His lips kissed the hollow of her throat before starting a very slow inching downward.

“Let’s see if there’s anything beyond ‘oh crap,’ ” he whispered.

She arched her back to help him find his way, leaned her head back, closed her yes, and tried to come up with a more articulate way of expressing her satisfaction.

Chapter 19

S
OPHIE
stretched her arms and legs, then reached over to the other side of the bed, where she felt … nothing but sheet. Opening her eyes and sitting up, she looked around the room. From the bathroom, she could hear whistling, soft and low, and recognizing the tune, she grinned from ear to ear. She lay back and listened. The guy was not only handsome, buff, smart, and cool, he was incredibly sweet.

When he came out of the bathroom, fully dressed, she felt a momentary stab of disappointment.

“Sorry. I have a meeting in ten minutes with a client.” He leaned over to kiss her. “I should have told you I’d have to leave early.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

“Not so very early,” she noted. “That song you were whistling …”

“I looked it up on the Internet, downloaded it to my iPad. You were right. Very romantic. ‘The Twelfth of Never.’ A long, long time, indeed.” He kissed her again. “Speaking of time—when is Jesse due in?”

“Sometime this afternoon. I’m supposed to meet
him at the office at some point, but I have no idea when.”

“You’re going over to Ellie’s this morning, though, right?”

“Oh, the historical society thing. Yes, I was recruited.”

“You know how to get there?”

She shook her head, and he gave her directions.

“Thanks. That’s easy enough to find.” She plumped the pillow up behind her. “What’s the attire at these things?”

“Formal. Definitely. That slinky little thing you wore to the wedding would be just right.”

“You remember what I wore last weekend?” She was intrigued. Christopher had never really seemed to notice what she wore.

“Couldn’t take my eyes off you, babe. Could barely keep my hands to myself.”

“Good to know.”

“I’ll see you at Ellie’s.” One more tiny smooch on the tip of her nose, and he was gone.

Sophie rose onto her elbows and listened as Jason’s footsteps trailed down the hall, heard the front door open, then close. Had she even locked it last night? That could have proved embarrassing, had someone decided to break in. Smiling at the chaos that could have ensued, Hollywood-style, she plunked her head back against the pillow and sighed deeply. Contrary to whatever Gwen might have thought, that had
not
been rebound sex. That had been simply spectacular sex.

Christopher Lemaster, you should be so lucky
.

She got out of bed, pushed the curtain aside, and
watched the black pickup back out of the driveway. Humming, she headed for the shower.

Jason left his truck halfway down Bay View Road and had to walk the rest of the way to number one, Ellie’s house at the very end, where the dunes met the macadam. He surveyed the gathering crowd for Sophie, and when he couldn’t locate her, he walked to the table where the raffle tickets were being sold.

“You ready to guess what’s behind those doors?” asked Hamilton Forbes, who served as one of the directors of the historical society. “Ten dollars a guess.”

“I’ll guess twice.” Jason handed him a twenty, and he was handed two large numbered cards in return.

“Make ’em count, son,” Ham told him.

Jason scratched the back of his neck. He had no way of knowing what might be inside that building. He didn’t know the people who lived here before Ellie did. Hell, Ellie didn’t know the people who lived there, and she was related to them. He guessed a workbench on one card, and a lawn mower on the other.

“Lawn mower’s been guessed about eighteen times already,” Ham noted.

“Best I could come up with in a pinch.” Jason shrugged. “What happens if we’re all right?”

“Then you all get to split half of what we take in.” Ham snagged the next person to walk by and sold a few more tickets.

Jason waved to Grace, who was deep in conversation with a woman he didn’t recognize, and walked the perimeter of the group. He’d just reached the tree line when he saw Sophie out of the corner of his eye. He could pick her out in any crowd, he thought. He
knew how she moved. He stood back and just watched her for a moment, taking pleasure in the way she smiled at people, the friendly way she touched this person’s arm or the small of that person’s back as she passed through the throng. She was so natural, her manner so easy and unaffected, and so beautiful he could barely believe that last night hadn’t been the best dream he’d ever had. Could have been, but there she was, raising a few fingers in greeting and making her way to him.