Summer at Seaside Cove (16 page)

“Alex found out I'm pregnant.”

“You hadn't told him right away?”

“No.”

Something in her mom's voice made Jamie ask, “How did he find out?”

“He overheard me on my cell phone at Newman's speaking with the doctor.”

“Newman's? He came to the restaurant to see you?”

“Not exactly. He . . . oh, hell.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “He's been working there. You know the general contractor you hired to do the renovations at Newman's? Friends with Benefits Alex is Alex Wharton. The contractor.” Before she could say a word, her mother added, “So now you know the basis for the problems.”

Jamie raised her brows. “I do?”

“Yes. Do you not know who I'm talking about?”

“Of course. Alex Wharton. Contractor. Tall, dark hair, nice smile, always on time.”

“And . . . ?”

“And . . . I don't know, Mom. Is he a criminal?”

Her mother shot her an are-you-kidding-me look. “I'm talking about his
looks
.”

“What's wrong with them? I'm assuming you liked his looks since you got naked with him.”

“You're being deliberately obtuse. Or maybe you really don't get it. Jamie—he's
thirty-two
.”

“Last I heard, that's well beyond the age of consent, Mom.”

“And I'm forty-six.”

“Yes, I know. And yes, I can do the math. You're fourteen years older than him.”

“Do you know what that makes me?”

“The envy of all your friends?” Jamie guessed.

“A cougar.” Her mom frowned. “You don't look shocked.”

“At what, exactly? That you'd find a handsome, younger man attractive? Hardly. That you'd sleep with him? Again, no. That you'd fail to use protection? Okay, that's surprising. That you're pregnant? Yup, gotta give you that one—you definitely stunned me there.” In an effort to add some levity, she teased, “I mean it's usually the daughter who confesses to her mother that she's gotten knocked up by some stud.”

“This is no time for jokes, Jamie. I'm in a terrible dilemma here.”

“Sorry. So, what was Alex's reaction when he found out?”

“Well, he was stunned. And upset that I hadn't told him right away. And then he said he'd never wanted to break up in the first place. That he wanted us to get back together. And figure out this situation. Together.”

“I see. And how do you feel about that?”

“I just don't know. I'm very confused.” She dabbed at her eyes with her wadded-up tissues. “And these darn hormones aren't making things any easier.”

“Why didn't you want to see him any longer? Was it because you didn't care for him? Or because you were beginning to care too much?”

With a sigh, her mother sank down onto the sofa beside her. “I . . . don't know. I think I care for him. A lot. Too much.”

“Why too much? You said he didn't want to stop seeing you. Maybe he cares for you a lot, too. The fact that he said he wanted to get back together even after knowing you were pregnant has to tell you something.”

“But where could our relationship go?”

“I don't know. I guess that depends on where you want it to go. On how much you care. And how much he cares. And what you decide you're going to do about the baby.”

Her mom's troubled gaze searched hers. “What would you do?”

If Jamie had a nickel for every time her mom had asked her that question, she'd be cruising the Mediterranean on her three-hundred-foot yacht, hobnobbing with the Bill Gates/ Larry Ellison/Warren Buffet crowd. Most of the time the question involved nothing more serious than “seafood or steak for dinner?”

This, however, was not one of those times.

Aside from Laurel, this was another huge thing she'd wanted to escape—her mother constantly expecting her to make all her decisions for her under the guise of “what would you do?”

Well, she wasn't about to step into the huge hole of drama yawning in front of her. She therefore pondered for several seconds before saying carefully, “I'd think long and hard and very honestly about what I wanted, weighing all the pros and cons. And once I figured it out, I'd do everything in my power to get it.”

“But what would you
do?
”

“It doesn't matter because that would only be what's right for
me
. You need to do what's right for
you
—and you're the only one who can figure out what that is, Mom. But I will tell you this: I wouldn't let a few years' age difference stop me from having what my heart desired.”

Her mom gave her nose a gusty blow. “Fourteen years is a lot more than
a few
, Jamie.”

“Okay, but I don't see why it's such an issue for you, especially as Daddy was sixteen years older than
you
.”

“There's a difference between the man being older and the woman. Maybe there shouldn't be, but there is. At least to me. And fourteen years is a
big
difference. I'm afraid Alex is simply too young.”

“For what?”

“A woman of forty-six.”

“You obviously didn't think so when you started seeing him.”

“I did. But he just proved . . . irresistible.” She gave a helpless shrug. “It started out with just friendly conversation. Fun and flirty. I was flattered by his attention. It had been a long time since I'd felt any sort of spark with anyone, and when he asked me to dinner, I found myself saying yes. I knew he was younger, but I didn't know how much younger until we'd already slept together. And by then . . .”

“You were hooked?”

Mom sighed. “Completely addicted. I told myself it was just sex, so the age difference didn't matter. But sleeping with him was one thing. Having a baby with him, considering a future with him is something else entirely. When he's the age I am now, I'll be sixty.”

“It's not as if he's a child, Mom. He's a grown man. He has his own company. From my dealings with him, I know he's professional, responsible, and does excellent work.”

“So you think I should stay with him.”

Jamie held up her hands. “I'm not saying that. Only you—and Alex—can make that decision. I'm not even saying the age difference shouldn't be a factor in your decision. All I'm saying is that I don't think it's the huge deal you're making it out to be. Men age, too, you know. And you're the youngest forty-six-year-old I've ever known. Age is a state of mind. And I'm guessing a younger man would, well, keep a woman young. Do you love him?”

Tears immediately filled her mom's brown eyes. “No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know.”

A small smile curved Jamie's lips. “Decisive as always. You've always followed your heart, Mom. What's wrong with loving this man?”

“Would
you
want to be fourteen years older than your boyfriend?”

“Hell, no. He'd be twelve. And I'd be in jail.”

“Ha, ha.” Mom heaved a long sigh, then rose. “As you said, I have a lot of thinking to do. Can you help me with my bags?”

Jamie stilled. “Bags?”

“Don't worry, I packed light. Good thing, too, since this place is a lot smaller than you let on. Are the bedrooms through those doors?”

The reality of the situation suddenly hit Jamie like a sucker punch. Her much-needed life-reassessment, recharge, regroup alone time had just turned into a Rescue Mom—
Again
—scenario. She'd escaped New York and her family drama only to have New York and her family drama follow her here.

“Is there a washer and dryer?” her mom asked. “Because I only brought enough clothes for about three weeks.”

Jamie's stomach dropped to her feet. “
Three weeks?
But . . . but surely you can't take that much time off from Newman's.”
Please, God, tell me she can't take that much time off.

“Don't worry, Nathan and Patrick have everything under control. Uh-oh,” said Mom, holding her midsection. “Gotta barf. Quick—where's the nearest bathroom?”

Jamie pointed to the door leading to the empty bedroom and attached bath. Mom took off like an Olympic sprinter and seconds later Jamie heard the sound of muffled retching.

Damn, double damn.

Paradise, it seemed, was well and truly lost.

T
he first deep purple skeins of twilight darkened the sky as Nick drove his truck over the bridge leading to Seaside Cove. He dragged one hand down his stubbled face and grunted out an exhausted sigh of relief. After three long days away, all he wanted was something to eat, then to fall facedown in his own bed and sleep until he wasn't tired anymore—which could conceivably be for the next five or six days.

A few minutes later he turned onto his street and found himself slowing down and craning his neck as he approached Paradise Lost. Which really irked him. 'Cause it made it seem as if he were looking for that princess. Which he absolutely wasn't. And damn it, given how tired, hungry, and grimy he was, he didn't need anything else to annoy him.

Godiva, who'd had her head stuck out the window for the entire drive home, turned toward him and started panting. Nick blew out a sigh. A man could lie to himself, but he couldn't lie to his dog.

“Yeah, she sort of has that same effect on me.”

Damn it all to hell and back.

Or at least she had. But not anymore. No, these few days away had erased Jamie Newman from his mind. Absolutely. Whatever mild attraction he might have felt for her was nothing but a blip on the radar screen. A complete aberration and now completely forgotten. The reason he was still craning his neck had nothing to do with trying to catch a glimpse of her. No, he was merely checking out the Honda parked in her carport. Guess she'd rented a car. Well good. Now he didn't need to offer to drag her ass to the Piggly Wiggly.

And speaking of her ass—

He hit the brakes and stared.

At her ass. Clad in faded denim shorts and hiked in the air as she knelt on a corner of the carport and leaned forward with one hand extended, trying to coax a fluffy black-and-white cat sitting near the bushes to come closer.

She wriggled a little closer to the cat and Nick actually felt his eyes glaze over . . . his eyes that felt superglued to her ass. Her very fine, very curvy ass. Had he thought he was hungry? Damn. Starving was a better word. Yet all thoughts of food had deserted him.

Wetness on his wrist pulled him from his stupor. He dragged his gaze from her butt and watched Godiva give his wrist another swipe of her tongue. “Okay, okay. We're going.”

He lifted his foot from the brake and drove the remaining few feet to Southern Comfort, where he parked under the carport. Knowing Godiva's bladder was probably close to bursting, he reached over and opened the passenger door. She rocketed out and disappeared around the bushes separating Southern Comfort and Paradise Lost, barking for all she was worth.

Nick climbed from the truck, grabbed his duffel from the cab, and headed toward the back stairs leading up to his kitchen. Absolutely no way in hell was he going to chat with his neighbor. Before he reached the steps, however, he heard Jamie laugh. And to both his annoyance and disgust, he stopped and turned in that direction, drawn to the sound like a starving man to a banquet feast.

“You scared away the kitty, but it's impossible to be annoyed at you,” came her voice from the other side of the hedge.

Before Nick could even think about what he was doing, he set down his bag and walked around the hedges. And found his faithful dog stretched out on her back, tongue lolling, paws dangling in the air, her left hind leg thumping in delight as she received a thorough belly rub.

“Do you ever get tired of this?” Jamie asked his dog.

“Never,” Nick answered. “She'd let you do that until your arm fell off.”

She looked up at him and smiled.

And Nick's stomach sank like a stone.

Shit.

One smile. That's all it took. And the unwanted attraction he'd only moments ago believed was an aberration roared back and walloped him where he stood. Which just really pissed him off. As did the fact that she'd somehow lured him over here with her sexy, husky laugh and sexy, curvy ass, making him forget all about being tired, hungry, and dirty.

“She's obviously got you well trained,” Jamie said.

“Says the person who's still rubbing the dog's belly.”

“I should be annoyed with Godiva—the cat I was trying to feed took one look at her and headed for Florida—but she's just too darn adorable.”

Godiva made a sound that indicated she completely agreed with Jamie's assessment of her adorableness.

“That's why they call them scaredy-cats,” said Nick. “But don't worry, your feline friend will be back. There's a whole gang of them that hang out around here.” The fact that he stood there yapping, unable to drag his gaze away from her, instead of whistling for his dog and going the hell home, only served to irritate him further.

She gave Godiva a final pat and then rose. “I know. I've been feeding them. The feral cats are shy, but I didn't see a clipped ear on that one so I don't believe she's part of a colony. I think she's either abandoned or a stray and just frightened.”

Even in the fading light he could see the pink tint of sunburn painted across her nose and arms left bare by her bright yellow tank top. Her honey-colored hair danced around her shoulders in a mass of loose curls his fingers itched to mess with. An inch of tanned skin peeked out between the bottom of her tank and the top of her shorts—a tempting bit of flesh he felt a sudden, overwhelming desire to explore. With his tongue. Combined with those cutoff short shorts that showcased her curvy, toned legs, and bare feet, she looked natural and sun-kissed and undone and good enough to eat. And damn it, he needed a good meal.