Seaside Sunsets (11 page)

Above the waist. Above the waist
. Oh good Lord, they were totally clothed below the waist, and she was embarrassingly close to having her first orgasm. His hand slid down her body and grabbed her ass.
Ohgodohgodohgod
. She sucked in a breath, and he trapped her earlobe in his teeth, as he’d done the other night.

“How close are you?” he whispered.

She mewed.
Mewed!
He knew? She was mortified and even more turned on.

“Close…I think.”

He squeezed her ass tighter and gyrated his hips so every inch of him was rubbing against her. Then he sealed his mouth over hers and kissed her hard, demanding, plunging his tongue deep into her mouth, in sync to his pelvic thrusts. It was erotic and sensual and so damn hot that she lost all control, and fireworks exploded behind her closed lids. Her muscles clenched and pulsed between her legs, sending heat and lightning through her entire body. Whatever had coiled in her stomach erupted, soaring through her body and out her lungs. He captured her cries in his mouth, holding her tight even as her hips bucked up off the sand. Then he did the most miraculous thing—he breathed for her. In and out, one long breath after another, until she’d eked out every last pulse of the mind-numbing orgasm, and he drew back with the need for air.

She was panting, embarrassed, and totally and completely taken with this patient and compassionate man who also happened to be sexier than hell and able to turn her world upside down while almost fully clothed. Jessica covered her eyes with her arm. He gently moved her arm aside and kissed her eyelids.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Don’t hide. You’re stunning, Jess.”

She clenched her eyes shut. She wished she could disappear, slip beneath the sand and tunnel to the sea. But even from behind closed lids, she sensed his smile and felt the heat of his gaze. She opened her eyes, and he was indeed smiling down at her.

“Oh God,” she whispered.

“Stop.” His whisper washed over her, soothing her worry. “You’re beautiful.”

“But I…” She glanced down at her body. Her breasts were exposed, her shirt tucked up beneath her arms, and he was fully dressed and hard as a rock. “You…”

“I’m fine.” He clasped her bra, then kissed the skin between her breasts and pulled her shirt down before rolling onto his side beside her, one arm draped over her belly.

“But I…and you didn’t.”

“Above the waist, remember?” He kissed her softly.

“Well, that whole show was below the waist on me.” She turned onto her side, still reeling from how her body reacted to him. “And you nearly turned me inside out.” She grasped for the right thing to say and do. “I can…use my hand.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “No, babe. I didn’t do that because I wanted payback. I wanted you. Badly. I did what I felt.”

“Wow, you’re a real giver.” She laughed and buried her face in his shirt. “I’m terribly embarrassed. I’ve never done that, and I didn’t even know I could.”

“Why are you embarrassed? We dig each other. That’s a good thing.”

“Yeah, but I don’t…you know. And to do it without…you know.”
Oh God, shut up!
Her cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“You don’t
you know
? Well, we’ll have to fix that, now, won’t we?”

He gathered her in his arms again and kissed her tenderly. “You’re incredible. Don’t ever be embarrassed around me. I think you’re lovely.” He kissed her again. “And sexy as hell.” He kissed her neck. “The sweetest person I know.” He gazed deeply into her eyes. “And I want to spend more time with you, and I want to make you…you know.”

Oh yes, now she knew.

And she wanted to…
you know
…even more.

JAMIE STAYED UP half the night answering emails, working through issues that had come up at OneClick, and thinking about Jessica. The best thing about being a computer professional was that he could work from just about anywhere, but he was a hands-on guy when it came to his business, and he’d learned the hard way that giving too much authority away could bite him in the ass. Luckily, Mark Wiley, his attorney, had been with him since the inception of OneClick, and he was in the office daily, keeping an eye on the goings-on at the company from a legal standpoint. Jamie no longer sealed deals with a handshake, and although Mark was a bit overprotective of Jamie and his interests, warning him off of money-grubbing, ladder-climbing employees and women, they made a good team.

He read a brief email from Mark alerting him to a situation
. We have a potential bug with the search engine. Checking into it. Don’t worry. Enjoy sun and fun. Will call if any further issues arise.
Mark could handle just about anything. He shot off a quick note of thanks, then began his hunt for the owner of the baseball card store. It was a piece of cake tracking him down through public website records and forums, and Jamie could hardly believe that the owner, Steve Lacasse, lived in Plymouth, Massachusetts. According to the information he’d dug up, Steve sold his goods on eBay, and like many other local collectors, he worked the Wellfleet Flea Market over the summers.

Jamie arrived at the flea market Saturday morning while vendors were still setting up their booths. He traipsed up and down every aisle, stopping at every booth that had a single sports item, but had no luck finding Steve.

He climbed back in his car and drove over to Kurt Remington’s house on the bay to see Leanna.

Kurt’s house, and the separate cottage from where Leanna ran her business, were built on a dune overlooking the water. Jamie parked behind Leanna’s old Volkswagen Bus that her father had refinished and painted with colorful seaside scenes when she’d graduated from college. He didn’t bother going to the front door. Kurt was a creature of habit, and he was as methodical as Leanna was disorganized. He went for his morning run, then had coffee while he scanned the news. By nine o’clock he had his fingers on the keyboard pounding out his next bestseller. Leanna was his polar opposite. She would surely be scrambling to get to Seaside to see the girls before heading over to the flea market to set up her booth—late, as usual. At least that’s what Jamie was counting on.

He heard their voices before he reached the steps to the rear deck. Pepper bounded toward him, tongue lolling from his mouth as he tried to climb Jamie’s legs, barking for a little love. Jamie scooped him into his arms and petted his tangled white fur.

“How’s it going, Pep?”

“Jamie?” Leanna peered over the deck as he ascended the stairs. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders, and her white tee was streaked with jam. Her eyes were wide with the smile on her lips. “Want a scone? They’re fresh.”

“No, thanks. I just wanted to pimp you for a little info.” He set Pepper on the deck and hugged Leanna, then gave Kurt a brotherly pat on the back.

Kurt looked up from the news site he was reading. “Hey, man. How’s it going? I hear you’ve got a line on the new Seaside babe.”

“Hey!” Leanna leaned over his shoulder and ran her hands down his chest. “Don’t call her that. Her name’s Jessica, although she is a total babe.”

Jamie flopped into a chair. “Everyone? That didn’t take long.”

“Jenna called me this morning. I’m running too late to stop by there.” Leanna went inside and came out with a mug of coffee for Jamie.

“Thanks, Leanna.” One of the things Jamie loved most about his summer friends was that their doors were always open. They didn’t rely on cell phones and email to communicate. Even though he loved his work and he loved Boston, being at the Cape with his friends rejuvenated him in ways no place else, and no other friends, ever could.

“Leanna, do you know a guy named Steve Lacasse at the flea market?”

Leanna furrowed her brow and shook her head. “I don’t know the last names of people there, but I know a few Steves. What does he sell?”

“I assume baseball memorabilia, but I’m not really sure. He used to own a store called My Mom Threw Out My Baseball Cards in Orleans, and he closed it down a little over a year ago. I did some checking, and he works the flea markets, here and in Dennis, and sells his stuff on eBay too. I just want to have a conversation with him.”

“There are about three sports guys at the flea market, but I can’t remember a Steve. I’ll check it out when I’m there today.”

Kurt ran his hand through his thick dark hair. “There is the Steve with that yellow truck. He sells all sorts of stuff—records, books, fishing rods—but I’ve seen sports memorabilia at his booth too. He might be the guy to ask.” Kurt opened a document and perused it.

“You know, you’re right.” Leanna picked up a big, colorful bag and hoisted it over her shoulder. “He might at least know who the guy is. If you want, I can talk to him today and let you know what he says. What’s this for anyway?”

Just thinking of Jessica brought a smile to his lips. She’d been so beautiful when she’d come apart beneath him last night, and she’d been so open and honest with him afterward, that as hard as it was to wait to get even more intimate, he was glad they were. He already felt like this was the beginning of a much more meaningful relationship than those that he’d had in the past.

“It’s for Jessica. He sold a baseball on eBay that she thinks was her father’s when he was a boy, and she wants to track down the new owner.”

“Fate.” Kurt’s eyes never left the laptop. He continued typing. He was a man of few words, but this one had Jamie stumped.

“What do you mean?”

“Steve. My Mom Threw Out My Baseball Cards? I assume her father’s parents lost the ball somewhere along the way and this guy got it, maybe after it passed hands a few dozen times?” Kurt shifted his eyes to Jamie. “Think like a writer. Connect the dots.”

Until then it hadn’t struck him how ironic the name of the store was, given Jessica’s situation. “So it’s fate that he works here?”

Leanna kissed Kurt’s cheek and patted his shoulder. “I’ll see you later. I’ve got to run. I’ll talk to the Steves I know and specifically the Steve that Kurt mentioned, and I’ll text you after I do.”

“See ya, Leanna. Thanks.” Jamie turned his attention back to Kurt. He wasn’t a big believer in fate, given his parents’ untimely deaths, but he was curious about what Kurt meant.

Kurt leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Fate. You know, something that’s destined to happen. The development of events beyond a person’s control. Jamie, look at me and Leanna, or Bella and Caden. Would you ever have put us together as couples? Fate, man. Jessica’s here, you’re here, Steve
might
be here. It’s all fate.”

Kurt went back to typing, and Jamie knew it must be nine o’clock.

Jamie thought about fate on the short drive back to Seaside. How could that be? Would fate have caused his parents’ safari vehicle to break down in the bush? Would fate have driven them into the bush without their guide that morning? Or placed the hungry lions there when his mother left the vehicle, he assumed to go to the bathroom? Would fate have put the video camera in his father’s hands as he filmed in the opposite direction and caught her screams as a backdrop to the beautiful scenery—or when the camera crashed to the ground and his father’s frantic footfalls and guttural, terrifying screams could be heard sprinting toward his dying wife? Against Vera’s pleas, Jamie had insisted on watching the video when he was in his late twenties. That video had taken the story of his parents’ deaths and made it real. He’d watched it over and over ten, twenty, maybe thirty times in a row—and then he’d buried the sights and sounds so deep he hoped they never resurfaced. But sometimes, when his mind was unoccupied, they did.

As Jamie pulled into Seaside, a painfully familiar thought pressed in on him. Had his father died saving his wife, or had he given himself over to the lions because he loved her too much to live without her?

Jamie wasn’t buying fate, no matter how well it fit his and Jessica’s lives at the moment. Fate was an invisible enemy with, in his eyes, an evil history that he didn’t care to have touch his future.

JESSICA BALANCED HER laptop on her hip and crouched at the bottom of the stairs to her apartment to pick a few wildflowers. She carried them across the quad toward Jamie’s cottage, intending to give the flowers to Vera and to ask Jamie for help finding the eBay seller again, since they got a little sidetracked last night.
Deliciously sidetracked
.

“Jessie, Jessie, Bo-Bessie!” Jenna waved from Amy’s deck. “Come on over and join us.”

Jessica loved that they included her. She stepped onto the deck and noticed that Bella and Amy were still in their pajamas. Bella’s nightshirt barely covered her ass, while Amy had on pink plaid pajama pants and a tank pajama top with a picture of a sexy cat with an hourglass figure, wearing a black bikini and holding a bottle of wine, and
MAKE ME PURR
embroidered above it. Jenna grabbed Jessica’s arm and guided her into a chair. She put her hands on her hips and looked pointedly up and down Jessica’s outfit.

Jessica swallowed hard. She and Jenna were both wearing cutoffs and white tanks, each with bikinis beneath. Of course Jenna was as voluptuous as Megan Fox while Jessica was less curvy, like Jennifer Aniston, but they looked like they’d coordinated their outfits, and from the look on Jenna’s face, Jessica guessed this wasn’t a good thing.

“Well, well, look at us.” Jenna narrowed her eyes and raked them down Jessica again as Amy disappeared inside the cottage.

Gulp
.

“Now we’re total Seaside sisters!” Jenna leaned down and hugged Jessica. “Don’t worry. I can help you match your sandals a little better. Something blue to go with your suit would be nice.” She lifted her foot and wiggled her toes. “See? Green. Matches my suit.”

“It’s way too early for one of your OCD matchy-matchy lectures.” Bella rolled her eyes as Amy came out with a cup of coffee and set it in front of Jessica. “Sit down, Jen. Jessica, don’t let her anywhere near your apartment, or everything you own will be color-coordinated, alphabetized, and God only knows what else.”

Jenna flopped into a chair and stuck out her lower lip.

Amy patted Jenna’s shoulder. “We love your organizational skills. Don’t worry. Bella just didn’t get any last night, so she’s cranky.”