Summer at Seaside Cove (24 page)

“ ‘Run' is an overstatement, at least for the last mile, which is better categorized as a slow, gasping, painful jog.” She pushed her sunglasses onto her head and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Godiva trotted over and flopped on her back in a shameless plea for a belly rub.

Jamie obliged and continued, “Unfortunately I'm not one of those people who can't eat when stressed. Instead I bake. And eat. Even though my common sense knows what brownies and cookies can do to thighs, I just keep on baking and eating. Which results in many calories. And with many calories must come much jogging-related suffering.”

His gaze skipped down to her legs. “If that's what brownies and cookies do to thighs, all I can say is keep on baking and eating.”

She smiled. “You've really gotten much better with the compliments, but clearly your eyesight is going. I feel like I've gained a hundred pounds in the ten days since Alex arrived.”

She gave Godiva a final pat, and after the dog settled next to Nick's feet and resumed chewing on her rawhide treat, Jamie continued, “I've officially renamed Paradise Lost. It's now Tension Central and I've been cooking—and eating—like a maniac. I would have happily shared a few hundred thousand calories with you, but you haven't been around to pawn them off on.”

“No.” He'd left Seaside Cove the morning after their scampi dinner. He could have returned several days ago, but he'd forced himself to stay away. “I got back late last night.”

“I know. I was sitting on the screen porch and saw you arrive. You looked tired.”

“It was late. So your mom and Alex are still here?”

“Oh, yeah. Whatever else is going on, they
love
Seaside Cove. Love the beach, love the town, love the weather. They love it so much they may never leave. Mom's already let Patrick and Nathan know she won't be back for at least another two weeks. When Alex found that out, he rearranged his schedule to remain with her. They said they'd stay somewhere else, but—as I found out when I arrived here last month—there're no vacancies anywhere. So they're with me. Yippee.”

“They getting along okay?”

“Hard to tell. Mom's not saying much, but part of that has been me dodging her. I really don't want to get involved in their situation—or bicker with my mom about Newman's, which is pretty much the only thing she wants to talk about other than Alex. They've had lots of arguments and intense conversations. I try not to listen—there are some things a daughter just shouldn't know—but it's hard not to hear things in a small house. So I've been spending most of my time at the beach and exploring the island. But I can tell you this—Alex is absolutely nutsy, coo-coo, crazy in love with my mother.”

“Is she crazy in love with him?”

“I think she is, but the fact that she's older than him really freaks her out, as does the fact that she's pregnant. I
know
she's afraid of being hurt. Of making a mistake.”

Nick nodded. “Love is scary. And it's easy to make a mistake.”

“Singin' to the choir, dude.” She walked to the edge of the float and wrapped her fingers around the carved balustrade he'd nailed into place earlier that morning. “Lots of people here this morning. Could you use another pair of hands?”

He offered up a silent thank-you to his Ray-Bans, which kept her from seeing the avid way his gaze roamed over her spandex-covered curves. “I guess that depends on the hands. And what they'd be used for. You volunteering, princess?”

A blush washed over her cheeks—like she needed to look more gorgeous. “I wouldn't know a nail from a screw.”

Even as his mind screamed at him to stay where he was—namely a safe distance away from her—he hopped down from the platform and stood directly in front of her. And standing so close, he couldn't stop himself from reaching out and dragging a single fingertip down her glistening arm. “I'd be happy to teach you the difference between a nail and a screw.”

More color rushed into her cheeks. She bit her plump lower lip, then gave a quick laugh. “Walked right into that one, didn't I?”

“Sure did. But the differences are easy to master.” He took her hand and turned it palm-side up. “A nail has a broad head and a straight, smooth body”—he ran the pad of his thumb slowly up and down the length of her palm—“and is driven straight in.” He pressed his thumb in a slow, steady pumping rhythm against her soft skin. “While a screw has a ridged body that enters with a circular motion.” He demonstrated by drawing a trio of leisurely circles around her palm.

A tremor ran through her, one that urged him to forget the people around them, snatch her into his arms, and make her feel it again. Instead he forced himself to release her hand and step back. “Got it?”

Her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips, a gesture that had him gritting his teeth. “Uh, yeah. Got it.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks. But I meant Alex. He's a general contractor and as much as he loves the beach, I think he's suffering from Home Depot withdrawal. I mentioned the float to him and he lit up like a sparkler.”

“Uh-huh. And this has nothing to do with you wanting him out of the house for a few hours.”

“That, of course, would be an added bonus. If only my mom liked to hammer nails, I might get some peace and quiet.”

“Always glad to have another helper.”

“Great. I'll let Alex know. What's going to go on there?” she asked, pointing to a raised dais accessed by a wide curved step.

“Chairs for the newly crowned Clam Queen, Clam King, and all the other clams.”

“Excellent. You need to enter for Clam King.”

He laughed. “I need that like I need a hole in the head.”

She eyed his head. “That can be arranged.”

Silence fell between them. Her gaze searched his face and he could almost feel her curiosity, her wanting to ask him where he'd been. The urge to touch her, to bury his face in that sweet spot where her neck and shoulder met and find out if she still smelled like cookies, grew stronger with each passing second, and he wasn't certain how much longer he could resist. When she continued to simply look at him, he asked, “You need something else?”

She blinked, as if coming out of a trance. “Yes. Actually the reason I stopped to talk to you. A delivery truck arrived at Paradise Lost yesterday morning. But I'm guessing you know about that.”

Hmmm . . . sounded like the princess wasn't pleased. Well good. That would certainly be a reason to dislike her, and God knows he needed a few. “Yes, I know. Is there a problem?”

“Only that I wanted to thank you but couldn't because you weren't home. The new furniture is absolutely beautiful. Thank you so much for getting it now rather than later.”

“You sound shocked.”

“To tell you the truth, I am.”

“I told you I'd think about it, and I did. And you were right—no reason not to furnish the place now.”

Her eyes widened and she made a big show of cupping her hand around her ear. “Excuse me, what was that I just heard? Did you say I was
right
?”

“Yeah—but obviously I should have said ‘you're a pain in the butt' instead. Believe it or not, it was never my intention for you to be uncomfortable.”

“Well, the place went from ‘pig' to ‘Pygmalion.' The sofa, chairs, tables, lamps, both bedroom sets—all gorgeous. And so comfortable. You have excellent taste.”

“I'm glad you approve.”

Once again silence swelled between them and he wondered if she had any idea how sexy she looked in those damn little shorts and sports top, without any makeup, her messy hair and sweaty skin. The urge to grab her and drag her to the ground and cover her body with his was approaching overwhelming—audience be damned—and he had to cross his arms over his chest to keep his hands to himself. He leaned his shoulders against the railing and asked, “Was there something else?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Actually, yes. I have a lot to do and you're kind of distracting.”

Something kindled in her eyes—a warm, teasing mischief that sizzled fire straight to his groin. “
Kind of?
That sounds pretty half-assed.”

“Okay, you're
very
distracting. Especially right here.” He reached out and traced a single fingertip along that enticing bit of bare midriff. Her stomach muscles contracted and she drew in a sharp breath. “If you're unconvinced, I'd be happy to demonstrate exactly how distracting you are.”

All the mischief evaporated from her eyes, replaced by a heat that made it clear her body craved the same thing his did. But instead of yielding to temptation, she shook her head and stepped back. “Not a good idea.”

He couldn't argue with that. Yet the desire lingering in her eyes let him know he could change her mind. But he kept his hands to himself. He'd vowed that the next time they kissed, it was going to be at her initiation. It was a vow he intended to keep. God help him.

Just to make sure his resolve didn't crumble, he stepped back onto the platform and picked up a handful of nails and his hammer.

“So what were you doing these last ten days?” she asked.

Ah. So that's what she wanted. He placed a nail and gave it a good whack. “What were
you
doing?”

“Aside from dodging my mom and Alex and exploring the island, I completed the paperwork for the additional Clam Festival contests and started organizing all the vendor booths, setting up a map for the site locations, and compiling all the key contact information. I attended a bonfire, where I met a bunch of the other residents. Dorothy, Megan, and Grace made sure they introduced me to everyone.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It was. And remember the black-and-white cat? I saw a lost cat poster with her photo on it—her name was Tabitha—and called the number. The next day, using her name, I was able to coax her to come to me and I reunited her with her family.”

“That must have made you happy.”

“Yes. We all cried. The most fun I had was helping out at Oy Vey Mama Mia for three days. Maria had two wisdom teeth pulled and she asked me to fill in for her. It was an absolute blast. Ira is absolutely hysterical—I don't know when I've laughed so hard. His first lesson was teaching me how to take the wine order—‘you want Manischewitz or Chianti with that?' ”

Nick laughed with her. The way her eyes glowed tugged something in the vicinity of his heart that he didn't want tugged, but was apparently helpless to stop.

“Okay, I've shared mine,” she said, “time for you to share yours.”

A slow grin tilted up his lips. “Sweetheart, I'm happy to share mine anytime you want.”

She shot him a glare. “I'm not talking about . . .
that
. I told you what I've been doing, so now you owe me.”

“And I'm a man who always pays his debts. What exactly do you want to know?”

“Where were you? Where do you go when you leave Seaside Cove?”

“Hey, Nick, can you give us a hand over here?” came Melvin's gruff voice from behind them.

Nick turned and raised his hand. “Sure. Be right there.” He turned back to Jamie, who regarded him with a disgruntled expression.

“I guess that translates to ‘saved by the bell,' ” she said.

He hesitated, debating, then finally said, “How about instead of telling you, I show you? This place I go—it's about an hour's drive and I'm heading back there this afternoon. Wanna come with?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What sort of place is it?”

He looked toward the sky. “Nothing nefarious, for cryin' out loud. Stop looking at me like I'd haul you off to some den of depravity.”

She snorted. “Like it hasn't crossed your mind.”

“And yours, too, Princess Glass House, so quit throwing stones. But the den of depravity isn't where I'm going this afternoon.” He raised his hand. “Boy Scout promise.”

Skepticism was etched all over her face. “
You
were a Boy Scout?”

“Jeez, do you have to pick
everything
apart?”

“I'm not picking—I'm detail oriented.”

“Tomayto, tomahto.”

“So were you a Boy Scout?”

Damn but she was a persistent pest. But damn, he liked it. Which meant he must have gotten dropped on his head when he was a kid. “As a matter of fact, I was.”

“For how long?”

Only for a week, damn it. Not that he was about to admit that. “Long enough. So, you want to come or not?”

“Wow. Such a pretty invitation. But I need more details.”

“Because you're detail oriented. As opposed to a picky pest.”

“Right. So are you going to a bar?”

“No.”

“How long are you planning to be gone—I'm not heading out on some ten-day jaunt with you.”

“Right—'cause ten days with
you
would be such a picnic. We'll be home tonight—probably around ten or eleven. You in or out?”

“In. But only to satisfy my curiosity. And because it's a chance to escape Pregnant Mom/Baby Daddy/Tension Town for a few hours.”

“Good to know it's not because you think you might enjoy my company for a while.” He started walking toward Melvin, glad she couldn't see the smile tugging at his lips.

“Happy hammering. See you at noon.”

He heard her sneakers crunching on the gravel and peeked over his shoulder. As he watched her jog off, his gaze nailed to her butt, he knew, deep down, that he was screwed.

The moment she disappeared around the corner, he held up a finger to Melvin to indicate he'd be there in a minute and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.