Connie’s throat was tight with emotion as she worked elbow to elbow with one family to save what they could from their home. Tears streamed down the woman’s face as she stood in what had once been the living room and hugged a sea-soaked photo album to her chest. Sucking in a rough breath, Connie tossed broken china and water-logged books into a plastic bag while another part of her crew helped move furniture outside. Eventually, they hoped to take down ruined sheetrock so the building could dry out.
When the bag got heavy, she dragged it across the sand-littered cottage floor and outside. As she neared a growing pile of furniture and bags, a young boy ran across the street and into the path of an oncoming bulldozer.
She called out a warning and ran after him, but in that split second, a man raced across the street, grabbed hold of the child, and hauled him to safety just a few feet away from her.
“Careful there, grommet,” the man said as he set the boy back on his feet.
“Sorry, dude,” the boy said and hugged the man. Hugged Jonathan Pierce, she realized as she stopped dead and stared at them.
Jonathan released the young child and ruffled the youngster’s hair with affection. As the child ran off, this time more carefully behind the wall of furniture and detritus growing along the street, Jonathan smiled and jammed his hands on his hips.
It just wasn’t fair that he looked even more handsome than he had two years earlier. His body had filled out with muscle, lovingly shown off by the worn fabric of his flannel shirt. A large rip along one side exposed tanned skin, while faded jeans hugged powerful thighs and lean hips.
Her heart raced in her chest, but it was no longer from the fear of seeing the child mowed down by the bulldozer. As Jonathan turned and saw her, however, his smile faded.
He walked over until he stood barely a foot from her, and his gaze skimmed over her.
Raising her chin a defiant inch, she said, “Jon. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
At his prolonged silence, she wanted to ask where he’d been, what he’d been doing, but the words stayed trapped inside along with a maelstrom of emotions. Fear. Anger. Relief. Maybe even affection, because you never really got over your first love.
* * *
Jonathan struggled to find the right words to say. Connie looked so beautiful standing there, wisps of dark hair escaping from the ponytail holding the wealth of her thick hair, a smudge of dirt along one high-boned cheek. But her lips, those full lips he’d loved to kiss for hours, were thinned into a tight slash of disapproval.
He reminded himself that her disapproval was the reason they could never be together. Connie could never accept that he wasn’t a nine-to-five guy. That he wasn’t the kind to settle down and be home for supper every day because he loved experiencing life too much.
With a shrug, he said, “When I heard where the hurricane was going to hit, I had to come home.”
Her eyebrows flew upward. “Home as in the beach house?”
Faking a nonchalant shrug, he said, “Where else?”
But as adventurous as he was, he’d questioned his decision more than once during the long course of the night. As one powerful wind gust after another attacked the house and rain lashed the boarded-up windows, he’d wondered if their home would survive the night. Somehow, the building had ridden out the storm. Somehow, he had as well, but not without realizing that he cared more than he thought for the home he’d escaped years earlier.
Just like the way his clenched heart warned that he was not over what he’d felt for Connie Reyes. Or at least the carefree, laughing, and sensual Connie who had emerged from her über-responsible shell that summer like one of the hermit crabs that lived tucked into the jetties.
“That was foolish. You could have been killed,” she said, but her tone was one of concern and not condemnation.
He challenged her on that. “Would you have cared?”
“Don’t be a jerk. Of course I would have cared,” she almost shouted.
Despite what he’d told himself earlier about the impossibility of their ever being together, he couldn’t stop himself from prolonging the encounter. “How’s law school going? Heard you got into Columbia.”
She nodded and tucked her hands into her front pockets, clearly uncomfortable. “I did. I’m interning at a law firm too.” After a long, hesitant beat, she said, “And you? What have you been up to?”
He narrowed his gaze, considering her, wondering if he’d feel like he’d gotten worked after a bad wipeout if he told her, but he decided to press ahead. “This and that. I went to SoCal and hit some surf spots while I worked a couple of different jobs. Came back to Jersey a few months ago. Been doing some car mechanic stuff ’cause I like it.”
“Does that mean you’re home for good now?” she asked.
He told himself not to believe there was a hint of hopefulness there. “Maybe,” he said with another shrug, uncertain to commit to more, even though he knew that was what she wanted to hear. What might bring her back into his life.
She rocked back and forth on her heels, and he waited for her censure, but instead, she said, “I hope you find what will make you happy, Jon.”
He told himself to walk away. To resist the urge building inside, but he couldn’t, because he could never resist a challenge. Especially one like Connie.
Leaning close, he whispered against her lips, “I thought I had.” And then he closed his mouth on hers and savored the heaven lost to him that long-ago summer night.
Chapter 1
Jonathan Pierce stared hard at the mirror, wondering what Connie Reyes might see tonight when she and her friends came over for the dinner his brother Owen had arranged. What Connie might think after so much time had passed.
The teen she had known seven years earlier was gone, as was the man she’d run into shortly after Hurricane Sandy. That man had been replaced by one who had known his share of hardship and success. Barely perceptible laugh lines that hadn’t been there that last summer bracketed his mouth and eyes. There was a thin scar above one brow thanks to a crash while testing a new vehicle prototype on the Bonneville Salt Flats. Another jagged, white line on his jaw was courtesy of shrapnel when a hydrogen fuel cell had unexpectedly exploded in their lab.
He looked away and leaned heavily on the edge of the vanity, noting the other assorted nicks and scars on his hands. They were the hands of a man who had lived life to the fullest and made himself what he wanted to be and not what others expected. He knew he’d sometimes hurt people with his choices, especially his older brother, Owen, who’d had to shoulder the burden of the family business as well as their father’s ire whenever one of Jonathan’s escapades caught the attention of the media.
He’d gotten used to the interest the press had in him. After all, he was the renegade son of a wealthy family, a self-taught inventor who had sold his first small invention for millions. He was now revolutionizing the motor vehicle and battery industries with his innovative designs, unconventional methods, and fearless experiments.
He had brought idea after idea to life with detailed research and hard work. There had been failures along the way, but that had only made the successes that much more enjoyable. He had celebrated those successes with his team, his brother, and a bevy of actresses and models who were only too keen to be seen on the arm of a rebellious multimillionaire who might soon be a billionaire if his company’s stock prices continued to climb.
But…none of those women could hold a candle to Connie.
Connie, who he would see in just a few hours thanks to his brother. Owen had finally decided to fight for Maggie Sinclair, and he was happy that his brother was following his heart. But while Jonathan would do almost anything for Owen, he wasn’t happy about having to spend time with Connie.
Smart and beautiful Connie, he thought with a sigh and a shake of his head.
He’d managed to avoid her for t
he last several years. Sure, he’d seen her after Sandy and occasionally from afar when Maggie and her friends had come down to Sea Kiss. Or every now and then when he’d gone to some business event in the city.
He’d tried to tell himself he didn’t like the sleek professional woman she’d become. That she wasn’t prettier than ever. He tried not to imagine peeling off those elegant business suits to reveal the real woman beneath. But he was lying to himself.
He had never really gotten over the Connie Reyes who had emerged that summer they had shared. The woman who had learned to live for the moment and have fun. Who had been carefree and willing to explore their love. He doubted he would ever forget that woman and wondered if she was still there, trapped inside her very prim and proper suits.
Maybe he’d find out tonight, he thought and prepared himself for what might be a very difficult dinner.
* * *
Connie Reyes splayed her hand across the nervous butterflies in her stomach that were beating their wings so violently, she felt like throwing up. She was tempted to beg off from dinner with the Pierce boys, but Maggie needed her moral support, and Connie never disappointed a friend. Especially Maggie, who was like a sister. She’d do anything for Maggie, even suffer through a meal with Jonathan Pierce.
“You feeling okay? You’re looking a little…” said Emma Grant, her other BFF. Emma peered at her intently, her green-eyed gaze inquisitive.
“I’m just fine,” she lied, but it was clear from Emma’s meaningful stare that her friend suspected something was up as they followed Maggie onto the patio and to the long row of tall privet hedges that separated the two Jersey Shore mansions.
She tamed the flutters much as she did when arguing a case before a judge and trudged along behind Maggie as they eased through the hedges and approached the entrance to the Pierce mansion. They had barely reached the front porch when Owen threw open the door, a big, friendly smile on his handsome face.
He welcomed them warmly, but Connie couldn’t resist mumbling to Emma, “Said the spider to the fly.” As much as she wanted things to work out with Owen, she still worried about how hurt Maggie would be if they didn’t.
Emma jabbed her in the ribs, and luckily, it seemed Owen either hadn’t heard her comment, or if he had, he was choosing to ignore it. She gave him props if it was the latter, since it indicated he was truly trying to be nice for Maggie’s sake.
They quickly walked through the foyer and living room and back to the dining area. Jonathan was in the kitchen, an apron over his jeans and T-shirt. The T-shirt hugged his broad, muscled chest and laid bare the powerful muscles of his arms. His light-brown hair still had the kiss of the summer sun and was tied back from his face, revealing the sharp lines of his features.
He looked older but still so handsome.
She had thought she could handle this dinner for her friend’s sake. That she could face Jonathan and not get caught up in the emotions from years past. But it was impossible to forget the way he’d held her in his arms, a dimpled smile on his lips, his sea-blue eyes bright with humor and love. With that memory, the flutters in her stomach were replaced by an ache in the region of her heart.
As they walked into the kitchen area, Jonathan looked up and smiled. He sauntered from beyond the island, over to Maggie, and hugged her. “Nice to see you again, Maggie.”
He embraced Emma next, playfully teasing her like he might a kid sister. “How’s the world’s best wedding planner doing?”
Emma grinned back, apparently totally at ease around him. “Busy making the world less safe for confirmed bachelors like you.”
When it came time to greet Connie, his demeanor changed drastically. He kept his distance and provided her with only a quick nod and a forced smile. “Connie.”
She tried to understand his reticence, but it didn’t make it any easier to handle the pain of his actions. It hurt so much, she lost control and responded out of anger, something she rarely did.
“Jonathan. I almost didn’t recognize you. It’s been so long since I’ve seen your face in the news.” Her friends’ muffled gasps chased her words.
“I should have known you were around when all the sharks migrated to safer waters,” he said.
“Professional courtesy,” she retorted with a Cheshire-cat smile, trying to hide how much his words hurt. Her eyes grew unfocused with the glimmer of tears, and she immediately regretted that they had gotten off on the wrong foot. This dinner was important for Maggie, and she didn’t want to do anything that would hurt her friend’s chances with Owen.
“Now, now, children. It’s time to play nice,” Emma said, trying to soothe the upset.
Connie imagined it was the kind of calming tone her friend used to control unruly situations at one of her wedding events and understood how it worked so well.
“Of course. Sorry. Let me get back to the sauce,” Jonathan said and hurried to the stove.
Owen and Maggie walked away to open a bottle of wine while Connie sat down next to Emma.
After Owen and Maggie had poured wine for all of them, Maggie grabbed a glass and ambled over to Jonathan at the stove. Connie watched as Maggie and Jonathan chatted in low tones and wondered what they were discussing. As Jonathan shot a quick, hesitant look at her, it was obvious the talk included her, and she hoped that Maggie wasn’t interfering. She suspected that her friend thought that if she and Owen could make things work out, Connie and Jonathan could learn to get along as well. But too many things would have had to change for that to be possible.
As Jonathan finished dishing up bowls of pasta for everyone, Owen and Maggie helped him bring the meal out to the table.
Once they were all seated, Owen raised his glass in a toast and said, “To friendships renewed.”
In most worlds, that would be an uncomplicated statement. In their world, it only created a maelstrom of emotions. For Maggie and Owen, it was dealing with a decades-old family feud between their fathers. For Connie and Jonathan, it was the specter of a years-old romance and the hurt that apparently still lingered over the way they’d parted. But somehow, uneasily, their gazes met over the rims of the goblets, and they reluctantly touched their glasses together.
“To friends,” Jonathan repeated.
Connie hoped she and Jonathan could at least be civil with each other now that Owen and Maggie were involved.
“Mangia,” Jonathan shouted out, and in a flurry of activity, everyone dug into the meal.
Connie took her first bite, although it was tough to swallow past the lump in her throat as she imagined how different life might have been if her fight with Jonathan had never happened. If they had been a couple inviting her friends over for a meal as she had imagined in the game plan she had altered so long ago. But she forced those thoughts away, because they were too difficult to bear. Instead, she focused on the now.
Taking another bite of the pasta, she savored the delicate complexities of the meal Jonathan had prepared. The penne were perfectly al dente while creamy at the same time. The Parmesan Jonathan had freshly grated over the dishes was sharp against the sweetness of the Bolognese sauce. The tomato sauce swam with bits of pancetta, onion, and tender veal that just had your taste buds begging for another forkful.
“Amazing,” Maggie said, and Emma immediately added, “I need this recipe. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
Connie still knew Jonathan well enough to recognize that he was self-conscious about the praise. Growing up with his nasty father, praise was something to which he was unaccustomed, so it made him awkward with compliments. That clearly hadn’t changed.
With a shrug, Jonathan said nonchalantly, “I had to work with some Italian designers and spent about six weeks in Bologna. While I was there, I decided to take some cooking classes in my free time.”
She remembered seeing something in the news about Jonathan’s company reaching out to the Ital
ians for their new high-end electric car.
“That was for the Lightning design, right? The new sports car? I thought I saw the prototype in your driveway,” she said, drawing the attention of everyone at the dinner table. As heat blossomed across her cheeks, she avoided Jonathan’s surprised gaze by burying her head in her plate of pasta.
“Yeah, it was. I didn’t know you were a gearhead,” he said, and there was a hint of need in his voice that drew her gaze back to his.
“I like cars. Since we never had one when I was growing up, they seemed so…special. I like seeing what your company is going to do next,” she said, but she didn’t admit to something else. That she had pored over every article about what he did and had bought stock in his company after their IPO a few years earlier. She had even toyed with buying one of the earlier hybrid sedans they’d made but had held off because it would only serve to remind her of him every time she drove it.
With a humble nod, he said, “Thank you.” As Emma asked him another question, he regaled them with stories from some of his other adventures.
As she met Emma’s sharp gaze for the barest moment, Connie realized her friend had bailed her out of what could have been an uncomfortable situation. It made her wonder if her friend somehow knew about her involvement with Jonathan years earlier, but she still mouthed a silent Thank you.
Dinner moved along smoothly, and the tension in her body eased as they finished the pasta. She was grateful the meal had gone better than she could have imagined, but then Owen suggested that they enjoy the midsummer night together, especially since the day’s earlier rain and fog had dissipated somewhat.
She hoped her friends would skip the offer to hang out on the great lawn. But when Jonathan proposed making s’mores, both Emma and Maggie quickly agreed. Not wanting to seem unfriendly, especially since the sniping between her and Jonathan had calmed down, she agreed, albeit with reluctance.
She understood Maggie’s desire to spend more time with Owen, but Emma’s chumminess with Jonathan was a little unsettling. Then again, Emma was a beautiful woman. She had nice curves; lush, wavy red hair; and almond-shaped, green eyes that made her look like a sexy water nymph. What man wouldn’t be attracted to her?
What Happens in Summer Page 2