Summer Beach Reads 5-Book Bundle: Beachcombers, Heat Wave, Moon Shell Beach, Summer House, Summer Breeze (28 page)

She was halfway down the length of the pool when she heard voices. She saw the glass door sliding open from the house to the deck. A group of people came out and a woman in a maid’s uniform followed, carrying a tray of drinks. Emma quickly gathered her tools and basket and slipped away from the pool and through the hedge toward the vegetable garden.

She was on her knees among a row of tomato plants when she heard someone speak her name. Shading her eyes with her hand, she looked up. Spencer Bracebridge stood there, looking like a
GQ
ad in his white flannels and blue blazer.

“I thought that was you,” Spencer said. “You’re really a jack of all trades, aren’t you?”

Emma felt awkward as she squatted there in the dirt in her shorts and tee shirt and long-billed scalloper’s cap. There was something a little too Lord of the Manor and Peasant Girl in the moment to suit her. She stood up, stretching to release the tightness of her back.

“I prefer Jacqueline of all trades,” she quipped. “How are you, Spencer?”

“I’m good. And I’m working right now, too, actually. The Prestons have agreed to hold a fund-raiser for the historical association here at the end of the summer and we’re going over the details.”

“Cool.” Something in the way Spencer looked at Emma made her tingle. But what was she thinking? She was sweaty and had dirt smeared on her clothes and probably on her face, too.

“Actually, I was out on the deck and saw you and I just wanted to, um, come out to say hello.”

“Well,” Emma said. “Hello.” She couldn’t stop smiling at him. She told herself that he was undoubtedly used to women gawking at him.

Spencer seemed slightly tongue-tied. “Um, it’s getting hot.”

“It certainly is.” His shyness was turning her shy, too.

“Did I ever tell you how grateful I am that you brought my grandmother to my talk?”

“Oh, well, I was glad to do it.” Emma thought Spencer was sort of leaning toward her. Was he attracted to her? He did come to lunch every day at Mrs. Bracebridge’s. His eyes were so warm on her face.

Spencer touched her arm. “She really likes you, and believe me, she doesn’t like everyone. And she and my mother act like a pair of wet cats with each other.”

Emma laughed. “They’re both strong-willed women.”

“I know. You’re so great with them. I really …” Spencer paused. “I wonder if you’d ever like to … Well, you probably just …”

Was he trying to ask her out? The heat between them was not all caused by the sun. Emma leaned closer to him.

“Spencer?” From the deck, a woman called. “Lunch is served!”

“Oh. Damn. I’ve got to go,” Spencer said. He became formal again. “It was so nice to see you here, Emma.”

“Nice to see you, too.”

“Emma—” He hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I wanted to tell
you—if you ever have to choose between doing what my mother says and what my grandmother says, choose my grandmother. Or if that’s a problem, call me. I want you to know you can always call me.”

So that was it. He had only come out to talk to her as an employer giving her instructions. Emma pulled away from his hand. “Good to know, Spencer. I’ve got to get back to work.” She turned her back on him and knelt back down among the tomato plants.

“Okay, well, see you tomorrow,” Spencer said.

Emma focused her energy on the weeds, working fast and hard. Hadn’t she learned her lesson with wealthy boys? What was she thinking! Imagining that Spencer Bracebridge was interested in her. Really.

By the time she’d finished the vegetable garden, she was trembling with fatigue.

Marcia loped up next to her. “Wow, Emma, you are one maniac weeder. I want all the hours you can give me. Come sit in the shade and drink a lemonade with me and Brian.”

Emma rose and followed Marcia out to the truck. Brian was already there, hauling his tee shirt off, exposing his tanned, muscular chest. The three of them sat on the bed of the truck, drinking cold bottles of lemonade from the cooler.

“Brian’s got something to celebrate,” Marcia announced.

“Really?” Emma arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

Brian rolled his shoulders and groaned. “Oh, come on, Marsh, give me a break.”

“But, Brian, it’s a big deal!” Marcia protested.

“No, it’s
not
a big deal,” Brian insisted.

Emma laughed. “Can you at least tell me what isn’t a big deal?”

“Brian got his Mass plumber’s license.”

“Congratulations, Brian,” Emma said.

“It’s no big deal,” Brian grumbled.

“Yes, it is,” Marcia insisted, aiming her words at Emma. “Now Brian can take over from Dad. Dad only likes to do the little jobs for the people he’s always known. Brian can take on some big fat new jobs for the new trophy houses.”

“That’s great, Brian,” Emma said.

Brian grinned at her. His teeth were very white against his
tanned skin. “It is, actually. I’m making a ton of money. I’ve bought a piece of property out in Dionis, and before long I’m going to build myself a trophy house of my own.”

“Then you’ll need a wife to fill it with kids,” Marcia told her brother, and winked at Emma.

Lily had no idea where she was. The bed, the room, the very smell of the air, were all unfamiliar to her. She shut her eyes tight and took a moment to listen to her body. Nope. She wasn’t hungover. She hadn’t passed out at a party. She’d only done that once, anyway, back in college, and once was enough; she’d never let herself get that drunk again.

But where was she?

She opened her eyes. She was facing a plain brown wall. No pictures. She smelled a dampness in the air, a kind of basement smell … and then, in a rush, it all came back to her.

She was in Jason’s apartment. She was in bed with Jason.

Last night rolled past her in a blur of memory. She’d attended two cocktail parties, and a concert. Jason had been waiting for her in his truck after the concert, just as he’d promised.

He’d stepped out of the cab and come around to open the door for her, a gentlemanly touch that pleased Lily.

He’d been smug. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

He’d driven them over to Wild Rose Drive and parked in front of an old, three-story shingled house. This close to town, all the parking places on the street were filled, but he steered his truck into the driveway of the house, turned off the ignition, and came around to open the truck door. He took her by the hand and led her to the
back of the house, in through a door, and down a set of steps, where he unlocked a door.

“My year-round apartment!” he announced.

Lily had stepped inside. “I don’t understand.”

Jason strode through the room, turning on lights. The apartment was small, basically a living room with a galley kitchen attached, and a boxlike bedroom with the world’s smallest shower-stall bathroom. It was furnished scantily—a bed, a futon for a sofa, an ancient and obviously wobbly table.

“I just rented this!” Jason waved his arms triumphantly.

“In the summer? It must cost a fortune.”

“Mrs. Fischer’s a friend of my mother’s. Her husband died a month ago, and she wanted to have someone in the house she can trust. They used to use this place for their grandchildren, but they’re all grown. She gave me a great deal on the rent.”

“But you don’t have to pay rent at your parents’ house,” Lily pointed out.

Jason came toward her, smiling. “True. But there’s no
privacy
in my parents’ house. You’re not the kind of woman I want to keep—
seeing
—in a pickup truck. You deserve a palace, Lily. Until I can afford that, I can at least offer this.” He took her hand and pulled her into the bedroom. “The sheets are brand-new. And I washed them.”

Lily sank down on the bed. A wooden chest stood at one end of the room. Curtains with sailboats on them spanned the high, narrow windows.

“I haven’t had time to fix it up yet,” Jason said. “And I want to paint over this gross brown, too. But for now—my parents gave me the bed from our guest room. It’s hardly been used at all.” A pair of candles stood on the chest. Jason lit them. He left the room, returning with two flutes and a bottle of champagne. “Let’s celebrate.”

She didn’t even need the champagne to feel intoxicated. It was enough to have Jason next to her. It was ambrosia to know that he cared enough about her to rent his own apartment.

Now, next to her, Jason snored gently. He’d hooked one of his legs over hers and his body warmth almost disguised the chill of the basement walls. Lily shifted onto her back and checked her watch.
It was after eight, but this was the one morning of the week when she didn’t have to hurry. Except she did have a lot to write up. Last week had been filled with activities, and it would take some time and concentration to be sure the right names were matched with the people she’d photographed.

Plus, she had some serious atonement to do with her sisters. Emma didn’t seem too upset about Lily forgetting to go to the grocery store, but yesterday Abbie had turned into a drama queen, storming past Lily, head high, not speaking. Having Abbie back home wasn’t the unmitigated pleasure Lily had anticipated.

What a confusing summer it was turning out to be! Emma was sad, Abbie was huffy, and the Playhouse was inhabited by a woman with designs on their father. And Jason—oh, this thing with Jason was happening so fast! He had rented an apartment just because of her! Last night when they were making love, he had told her he loved her, and she had told him she loved him. And she did. But she didn’t want to get serious yet, not so soon. And not—she allowed herself to be brutally honest in her secret thoughts—not with a man who could only afford a basement apartment. She wanted to live in a house on the cliff, a house like Eartha’s. Thank heavens for Eartha, she was the only part of the summer that came close to matching Lily’s dreams.

Her thoughts made her restless. She slithered out of bed and slipped into the bathroom to dress. When she came out, Jason was still sleeping. She wrote him a note and tiptoed out of his apartment and up the stairs to the street.

The morning air was fresh, the sky bright blue. As she strolled along the narrow lanes and over cobblestone streets to her own home, she fished her cell phone out of her bag and listened to her voice mail.

Invitations to a few more events—good.

A snippy message from Abbie:
No milk in the house. God, you are such a spoiled brat.
Ouch. Lily would have to go to the store today.

Then, Eartha’s raspy voice:
Honey, some friends of mine just arrived on their yacht and want me to come to dinner tonight. Wanna go with me? You might like their son.

Oh my God, Lily thought! Her heart leapt. Dinner on a yacht? With
Eartha and a man Lily might like? As she walked, she clicked in Eartha’s number and agreed to meet her employer at Straight Wharf at six.

When she walked into her house, the only sound Lily heard was the vacuum running upstairs. That would be Abbie. Lily rushed through the house, grabbed the grocery list off the refrigerator door and the keys off the hook by the back door, and hurried out to the car. At the Stop&Shop, she filled the cart so full she could scarcely push the damn heavy thing. When she got home, Abbie was gone, and so was everyone else. Hurriedly she put away the groceries. She raced up to the bathroom—she had to admit, it was awfully nice that Abbie had washed the towels and put out fresh ones—showered and washed her hair, then slipped on shorts and a tee shirt and grabbed up her digital camera and her laptop. She grabbed a banana and a Diet Coke for her breakfast and went out to the patio. She linked her camera to her computer and downloaded the photos while she ate, then opened her notebook and began to write.

The phone rang, breaking her concentration.

“Hey, Lily.” Jason’s voice was rumbly, warm, and masculine. “Why’d you leave? You should have woken me. I wanted to take you out to breakfast.”

“Oh, Jason, I’m sorry, but I had to get home and go to the grocery store. If I didn’t, Abbie would absolutely detonate.”

Jason laughed. “How about lunch, then?”

“I can’t. I’ve got to write up a bunch of stuff for the magazine. I should have done it last night, but you—
distracted
me.”

“Can I take you out to dinner?”

“Oh, Jason, I’m sorry. I’ve got another event.” It was only a white lie, Lily told herself. And God knew, dinner on a yacht certainly ranked as an
event
for her.

“Damn. I won’t get to see you at all today?”

She closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment to envision his mouth, his lips, his hands, his body … “But I’ll come over tonight,” she promised. “As soon as I can. And I’ll spend the night.”