Seaside Sunsets

by Melissa Foster

  “We love you, Lea, no matter where you stay.” Amy picked up Pepper and carried him to Leanna’s car. “And thanks for bringing my boy to see me. I’ve missed him, too.” Pepper lavished her face with kisses.

  “Where’s Tony?” Caden asked.

  “He went for a run on the beach,” Amy said. “He’s surfing at the Outer Beach in Orleans today. He said the swells there have been great lately.”

  “Did he behave last night?” Jamie asked. “I thought about chaperoning.”

  “I heard you were a little busy chaperoning your own party.” Jenna laughed.

  Jessica’s cheeks pinked up.

  “Sorry, Jessica. I couldn’t help myself.” Jenna handed her a muffin. “Here. This will help ease the embarrassment.”

  Jessica shot a quick glance at Jamie as she took the muffin, then lowered her eyes.

  He was surprised she’d share what they’d done with the others, but then again, she could have just said they stayed up talking. If he and Jessica decided to pursue their relationship, he wondered if she’d share the intimate details with them. He pushed away the notion of Bella and the girls knowing about his bedroom escapades.

  “On that note, I think I’ll grab a shower. I’ll swing by and get you when Gram’s ready—about ten?”

  “Sounds good.” She smiled at him again, bringing back memories of her body pressed against his, which sent a surge of heat rushing to his groin.

  Make that a cold shower.

  SEEING JAMIE ALL sexy and nearly naked again sent dirty ideas whirling around in Jessica’s head. She went back to her apartment before the girls saw right through her. She’d never had those kinds of thoughts before. I mean, really…who thinks about running their tongue down the center of a man’s abs? Apparently, I do. She had to get a grip before they went to the flea market.

  Had she been so entrenched in her career that she’d somehow missed these desires in herself for all these years? Or had she just never met the right man to bring them out? Had these naughty desires always been a part of her? She wasn’t going to find the answer in the next fifteen minutes, so she tried to push the lust away and eyed her cello case leaning against the wall to distract herself.

  She had promised herself that she’d go at least a week without playing, but after hearing Vera’s quartet, she craved the vibration of the music as it resonated through the floorboards and vibrated through her body. She gave in to the draw of her cello and removed it from the case. She stroked the neck and scroll as if they were parts of a familiar lover. Oh, how she’d missed them. She’d brought a cello pillow with her, knowing she wouldn’t have access to a cello chair, and now, as she settled it on the wooden chair in the center of the room and positioned herself in the chair, she breathed a little easier. If she were home, she’d play the Amati one of the benefactors of the orchestra had loaned her, but she didn’t dare bring such an expensive cello on vacation.

  As she positioned herself in her chair, years of coaching whispered in her ears. Pelvis and lower back forward, chin parallel to the floor, knees out. She grounded her feet flat on the floor and settled the body of the cello against her chest. The familiar lightness of it brought a smile. With her bow in hand, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. It felt strange knowing she could play anything she wanted without the pressure of preparing for a concert. The choice was easy. Her fingers moved without direction. The familiar tension of the strings drew her eyes closed as the long glide of the bow brought the sarabande from the Bach’s 6th suite for cello to life. The piece reminded her of angels singing. When she was alone, without the pressures of the symphony or the whispers of her mother’s scrutiny, there was no place she’d rather be than behind her cello. Her mind drifted to someplace far away, as if carried by the music itself. Her body felt lighter, and all the stresses of the world fell away.

  Kind of like kissing Jamie.

  When the piece ended, she sat with the cello between her legs for a long time, relishing the feel of it, until she remembered the complexities it brought into her life, and her joy was stolen piece by piece.

  Part of her wondered if it was the intense hours or the pressure and scrutiny that bothered her most. She knew it was the scrutiny and pressure to be the best that drove her to practice as hard as she did, and that scrutiny was what kept her nerves strung so tightly twenty-four seven. All she wanted was a normal life. To let go of the need to be perfect and to please her mother. She even wondered if it was her position with the orchestra that was causing the stress, or if it was the underlying pressure from her mother. She hoped to figure that out during her hiatus.

  She gently packed the cello away again.

  A normal life. Time to get back into it.

  She forced herself to focus on tracking down the seller of the baseball. That was the distraction she’d chosen for herself—although Jamie was proving to be an even better distraction. As if she’d flicked a switch in her brain, she put the focus she’d once put into practicing her cello back into finding the baseball.

  Only a laptop wasn’t a beautiful cello. It was a stupid, technical hunk of metal that she didn’t get along with. She opened the laptop and took a deep breath. If she could master the cello and graduate top of her class at Juilliard, then she could do this.

  Maybe.

  After twenty frustrating minutes of trying to figure out how to get back to the page on eBay where she’d bid on the baseball, she was ready to heave the darn thing over the deck. She’d used the Internet so little over the years that it was just one more thing she had to get used to. She narrowed her eyes at the evil thing, wondering how it could possibly be more difficult than anything else she’d ever tried. With a loud breath she tried one more time to figure it out. Finally, she found the Contact Seller link and sent a note to the seller of the baseball.

  She pushed her chair back from the table. At least she was making a little headway in the normalcy department. She’d made new friends. In reality, that was anything but a little headway. It was huge, and wonderful, and uplifting. She’d been a little nervous when Jenna, Amy, Leanna, and Bella had invited her to join them for coffee earlier, but they were easy to be with, and after the first blatant question from Bella—So, did Jamie make a move?—to which she’d responded, No, actually, I did, she’d had fun and conversation had come easily. She didn’t know where her answer had come from, and she still wasn’t sure if it was true or not. Technically, she’d fondled his magnificent chest before he’d kissed her neck, so maybe it was true.

  “Hi, beautiful.”

  She startled at the sound of Jamie’s voice. Her legs once again turned to jelly, as they had earlier that morning when he was wearing nothing but a pair of running shorts. Jamie opened the screen door and, thankfully, he bent down to kiss her cheek. She needed a moment to get her legs to work.

  “You startled me. I’m so used to being alone, and I forgot the door was open.” She closed her laptop. He was wearing a pair of shorts and a black tank top that did nothing for her jelly legs.

  “Sorry. What are you working on?” He reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  “I’m trying to track down the person who won that baseball.” Her hands were drawn to his chest like magnet to metal. She didn’t bother trying to fight the urge to touch him. She knew she’d lose. She’d lain in bed half the night thinking about all those muscles she’d been lucky enough to touch last night. And the kiss. Oh God, she couldn’t think about it without wanting to kiss him again.

  “I’ll help you do that when we get back, if you’d like.”

  Before she could say anything, he pressed his clean-shaven jaw to her cheek and hugged her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach again, and her lips were jealous of her cheek.

  “I really want to kiss you hello,” he said. “But if you have second thoughts about last night, just—”

  She clung to the straps on his tank top and pulled him down close enough to press her lips to his. He wrapped an arm around her waist and
deepened the kiss with slow, sensual strokes of his tongue until she had no brain cells left.

  “I guess you don’t have second thoughts,” he said against her lips.

  “Mm-mm.” She circled his neck with her arms and pressed her lips to his again. This was bad, bad, bad. She really shouldn’t be so aggressive, and she wasn’t even sure how to channel her urges. It had to be him, something about him, or something he was doing…

  Jamie Reed, kisser extraordinaire.

  She forced herself to flatten her palms against his chest and push away from him. Her breath rushed from her lungs.

  “I’m sorry.” She covered her heart with her hand, as if she could stop it from racing. “I’m pawing at you and attaching myself to your incredible lips, and…” She looked up. He had the sweetest look in his eyes. She nearly kissed him again.

  “My incredible lips?” The side of his mouth quirked up.

  “Oh…” She felt her cheeks flush again. She hadn’t blushed so much since she first began playing the cello—when she was six. But the words gushed from her still-numb lips. “You’re irresistible. How did you make it this long without some woman snatching you up?”

  He pressed his hand to the back of her neck and kissed her forehead. “I could ask the same of you.”

  He glanced at her cello case. “I heard you playing earlier. It was magnificent.”

  “You heard me? I hope I didn’t bother anyone.” She hadn’t even considered the noise. She hoped Theresa didn’t mind. She’d have to be more aware the next time.

  “I’d love to watch you play sometime.”

  “You would? Maybe sometime.” She tried to sound casual even though her mind was raging a silent battle. Normal. I want normal. My life has never been normal.

  When they arrived at his cottage, Vera was waiting on the front deck with her purse on her lap and an open paperback in her hands. Her hair was nicely done, and she wore a pair of cotton pants and a white, button-down, short-sleeved blouse. Her shoes were stable and efficient, and she wore a wide-brimmed straw hat. She set the book on the table and smiled at them.

  “Good morning, dear.”

  “Good morning,” Jessica said. “Thank you for allowing me to tag along with you today. I haven’t been to the flea market yet.”

  Vera glanced at Jamie. “I had nothing to do with it, but I’m pleased you’re joining us. Was that you I heard playing the ‘Sarabande’?”

  “Yes. I didn’t realize the sound would carry so far. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

  “Goodness, no. It was beautiful, one of my favorites. We should play together sometime.”

  “I would like that very much.” This was the problem with trying to be a regular person. Such a big part of her craved playing the cello that she’d jump at the chance to have her hands on it. Jessica could already hear the beauty of the music in her head, feel it in her body—and every time it hit her, it came at the expense of everything else in her life.

  “The most beautiful duo around. Ready, Gram?” Jamie took Vera’s arm and walked with her to the car, then opened the back door for Jessica. He ran his hand down her forearm and smiled as she got in. It was a gentle touch, an I’m-glad-you’re-here moment that brought a sense of comfort for Jessica and eased her nerves.

  Jamie paid the entrance fee at a kiosk as they drove into the parking lot of the Wellfleet Drive-in Theater, where the flea market took place. It was only a little after ten in the morning, and there must have been a hundred cars in the lot already. Just beyond the parking lot was a snack bar and a playground, already full of children laughing and playing, and row after row of colorful awnings shaded vendor booths for as far as she could see.

  Jamie took Vera’s arm as they entered the first row of vendors. He smiled at Jessica and lowered his hand to her hip.

  “If we go too slow, feel free to look around without us. We’ll catch up eventually.”

  She was touched by his thoughtfulness. “Don’t worry about me. I’m a meanderer. I could spend all day at a place like this, and I so rarely get to do anything like that, that it’s probably me who will be moving too slowly.”

  “Never.” With a casual smile, he turned his attention to the table of beaded necklaces and earrings before them.

  Vera was picking up necklaces and running them through her fingers. “Come here, dear.”

  Jessica went to her side, and Vera held a pretty jade necklace up to her shoulder. She lifted her chin and assessed her selection.

  “That’s your color.” Vera looked up at Jamie.

  “It brings out your eyes, Jess.”

  “Thank you.” Jessica wasn’t used to people fawning over her in that way. As uncomfortable as it made her, it also made her feel welcome and closer to them.

  Vera looked at a few more items and then they moved to the next booth. Colorful beach bags and purses hung from hooks around the perimeter of the awning. They spent the morning going from one vendor to the next. Each booth offered something different, from clothing and jewelry to hair products, knives, and leather goods.

  When they came to Leanna’s booth, she came around and hugged all three of them. “I’m so glad you made it.”

  Jars of jam with bright green and red labels covered the tabletop. There were homemade breads and muffins, and in the center of the table was a tasting area with several open jars of jam.

  Leanna handed Jessica a plastic knife and a hunk of homemade bread.

  “You have to taste Strawberry Spice.” She pointed to an open jar, then handed a piece of bread each to Jamie and Vera, too. “I’m swamped today, but help yourselves.”

  Jessica handed the knife to Vera to use first. “I can’t believe she makes these. Look at all these wonderful flavors. Apricot and Lime, Frangelico Peach, Watermelon. I could eat them every morning I love jam so much.”

  “When I was your age I ate pound cake for breakfast, made with real butter.” Vera smiled and touched Jamie’s arm. “And even when Jamie was a little boy, I still ate about half a loaf each morning, didn’t I, Jamie?”

  “Yes, and if I tried to sneak a piece she’d say, One slice, and then you need to eat your eggs.” Jamie laughed. “I think she just wanted the loaf all to herself. I don’t even remember my grandfather eating any.”

  Vera rolled her eyes. “Your grandfather abhorred sweets. Do you remember that time he came home early from work and found us eating ice cream right before dinner? I was sure he was going to have a conniption fit.” She waved her hand in the air. “I’m sure you don’t remember. You were barely seven at the time.” Her smile faded, and Jamie shifted his eyes away.

  The air around them thickened with a heaviness Jessica couldn’t read. Jessica tried to lighten the mood. “My mother never would have allowed ice cream before dinner.”

  Jamie smiled, but it was a slightly tethered smile. They ate their bread and jam, and by the time Leanna came back, the tension had eased.

  Leanna handed Jamie a tote bag full of jam. “There’s jam for all of you in here. Sorry I can’t really chat, but…” She glanced at the group of people hovering behind them, waiting for their turn to taste the jam.

  “Thank you, Leanna. That was delicious.” Jessica stepped to the side to allow others near the table.

  A few rows over they came to a booth that had a plethora of miscellaneous items, from old McDonald’s Happy Meal toys to books, antiques, and much to Jessica’s surprise, baseball cards, bobbleheads, and other sports paraphernalia. She knew her father’s baseball wouldn’t be there. Not after she was sure it had been sold just the day before, but her heartbeat quickened at the sight.

  She felt a hand on her hip.

  “Hoping to find your father’s baseball?” Jamie asked.

  She loved the way he moved closer to her and spoke softly, as if every word were meant only for her ears, no matter how generic the topic.

  “Not really. The person just won it yesterday, but seeing sports memorabilia makes me think of my dad, and that always makes me ha
ppy.”

  “So you’re a daddy’s girl?” He moved to her side, keeping his hand on her hip.

  She blinked up at him. She was a daddy’s girl. Was it okay to be a daddy’s girl, or would that make her seem immature? Did she care if it did? Hadn’t she come on this vacation to figure out who she was—aside from a cellist? Aside from her mother’s expectations? She was done pretending to be someone else. For any reason.

  “I guess I am,” she admitted, and it felt darn good.

  He draped his arm over her shoulder. “Then we have something in common, because I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m a bit of a grandma’s guy.”

  Unless guys had totally changed in the last few years while she was busy playing her heart out, Jamie was as unique in his honesty as with his emotions. He kept surprising her, and the more he did, the more she liked him.

  The morning went by too fast. Vera bought a scarf, Jamie picked up a few war novels, and they ate lunch beneath an umbrella at a picnic table in the courtyard beside the snack bar. Even though she was having a wonderful time and could walk around for another few hours without an ounce of boredom, it was nice to get a break from the hot sun. She and Jamie sat shoulder to shoulder across from Vera. Turkey sandwiches and iced tea had never tasted so good.

  Vera set her napkin on the table. “Do you play the cello professionally?”

  “Yes. I’m taking a bit of a hiatus at the moment.” She sipped her iced tea, trying to ignore the way her nerves started to quiver. She wasn’t quite ready to reveal that she worked for the Boston Symphony Orchestra.

  Vera raised her brows. “A hiatus. Oh yes, how I used to dream of those. That’s not something that is typically acceptable in the larger orchestras, unless there’s illness, of course, or something as unavoidable. But dreaming I did, for a break from the long hours of practice and working most evenings. Of course, I was married and my husband might not have liked sweets, but he loved my music. He was very supportive. But a young, single girl like you? How do you fit in a social life?”