By two, she’d chopped five pounds of onions and peeled and cubed a huge sack of potatoes. While she worked, the locket swung on her chest, warm and heavy, but not in the least bothersome. After starting a pot of coffee, she washed, sliced, and diced green and red peppers. Putting the veggies into one supersized mixing tub, she stirred the contents together and added her secret blend of spices. The O’Brien potatoes were a popular item on the menu, and she always made sure they had plenty. The batch she prepared would last three days. It only took fifteen minutes to form them into patties and arrange them on freezer sheets. Avery shouted out a loud goodbye as he disappeared through the back door. He was heading to the Sea View for a couple of hours worth of work as the cleanup laborer.
After she slipped the trays into the freezer, she focused on cleaning her mess. The entire time she worked, she kept glancing to her planning desk where she’d laid the letters and book. At least twice, she’d given herself a stern lecture to keep from dropping her knife or rag in order to pick up the book. The slim volume sat on the desktop...a siren song calling to her, begging her to sit and read.
When she finished her work, Jem poured two cups of coffee and arranged them on a tray. As an afterthought, she added the last slices of cherry pie from the cooler. Her baker, Elizabeth, would be back tomorrow to bake apple tarts in the morning. Jem tucked the letters and book under her arm and hoisted the tray. Getting the back door to the café open was difficult, but she managed and crossed the alley to the small garden behind Mal’s flower shop.
After setting the tray on a small table, Jem sat on the bench she and Mal occupied most afternoons around three. She knew she wouldn’t have to wait long for Mal to show up, but in the meantime, she’d start reading Mary’s letters.
Picking up her cup, she took a hasty sip before setting it back on the tray. Sliding the top letter from the packet tied with ribbon, a sense of anticipation built in her chest.
Lips pursed, she lifted the flap on the heavy parchment envelope. As she plucked the single folded sheet of paper from the enclosure, she caught a hint of a tart, lemony fragrance. Hearts, melded together in an intricate pattern, adorned the top. The mid-afternoon sun reflected on the paper, almost giving the cream-colored sheet an otherworldly glow.
Jem snickered and shook her head at her fanciful thoughts.
“What’s so funny?” Mal asked as she stepped out of her shop.
“Oh, you startled me.” Jem pressed a hand to her chest where her heart had kicked at the sudden interruption. “We found a secret hiding place behind the fireplace at the Sea View. Look, there were letters and a diary and this locket.” She plucked the chain from under her collar to show Mal.
Mal took a seat on the bench next to Jem. Her pretty, sheer top fluttered in the gentle breeze that blew through the alley. She grabbed the coffee Jem had brought her and took a sip before responding. “I love secret hiding places. I bet there has to be more in a house that old.” Mal grabbed the book and lifted it. “Can I?”
Jem nodded. “And get this. I’m related to one of the original owners. Mary George Baron. How cool is that?”
“For real? That’s a little awesome. Oh, look”—Mal tipped the book so Jem could see—“she doodled hearts in the edges of her book.”
Ink scratches formed the entwined heart motif along the inner binding of the volume. The sight filled Jem with a sense of peace. “She must have loved Edward very much. And vice versa. He traveled so much. She must have missed him terribly when he was gone. According to Amy with the Historical Society, he died at sea.”
“That explains the weeping heart she drew on this note.” Mal stopped to read the entry, then gasped. Her cup rattled against the untouched pie plate when she set it down. “Oh, no!”
“What?”
“Edward died before Mary could tell him he was going to be a father. Oh, my God. That’s so sad.”
“Can you imagine waiting and waiting, and the man you love beyond reason never making it back home?” Jem suppressed a shudder and blinked her eyes hard. Sympathetic sorrow for Mary’s grief filled her heart. Jem didn’t know what she’d do if anything happened to Jack. She dropped the letter she held to her lap and stared at the hearts decorating the top of the sheet like a coat of arms. With a start, Jem realized her pose mirrored Mary’s from the vision of her ancestor sitting in front of the fireplace.
She twisted on the bench to face her friend. “Mal, if the Sea View was haunted, you’d still be okay running a business out there wouldn’t you?”
Mal lifted her brows. “Casper friendly or more like Exorcist-not-so-friendly?”
“Definitely friendly.”
Tipping her head to the side, Mal give the idea some thought. “I wouldn’t want to be there by myself, but I think it wouldn’t bother me too much. As long as the spirit or whatever didn’t play pranks. Why do you ask?” She picked up her cup again and slurped a gulp down.
Jem couldn’t believe she was going to embrace the idea that Mary’s spirit remained in the house. She squared her shoulders. “I’ve seen an apparition of Mary. I look a lot like her.”
“Holy cow! Has anyone else seen her?”
“One other home owner apparently has. And Amy. Jack hasn’t admitted seeing her, but I think he senses her. His face was all funny when we were talking about it.”
“That’s so cool.” Mal bounced in her seat like an excited three-year-old. “Wait, was the other home owner from the family that did a midnight runner?”
Jem nodded, her ponytail bobbing on her shoulders. “Yep. But Amy says they didn’t run because of any haunting. More like they bit off more than they could chew financially.”
Mal flipped idly through the diary, her finger trailing down each page, as if she was scan reading. “I think it’s cool that we have a ghost you’re related to.” With a sigh, she closed the book and handed it back to Jem. “Are the live people making progress on the construction?”
“They started demolition today. Jack will stick to the schedule and, barring any unforeseen complications, we’ll be able to stage our first event before the holidays.” A slight breeze blew, carrying the faint lemony scent. “Mal, do you have a plant out here that smells like lemon?”
Lifting her nose into the air, Mal sniffed and shook her head. “I planted Sweet Alyssum a few weeks ago but it doesn’t smell like lemons. Why do you ask?”
“I just keep getting these tantalizing whiffs of lemons.” She lifted the letters she held to her nose and inhaled. The only smell she detected reeked of must and age. What had happened to the lemon fragrance she’d detected earlier?
Mal deposited her empty cup on the tray. When she stood, she jerked her top down over the waist of her jeans. “I have to get back to work. Chloe has the afternoon off. With Gaby visiting her friend in Nebraska, I only have a part-timer in today.”
Jem pointed to the two pieces of pie. “Take those with you.”
“You are going to make me fat, Jemima Kerrigan. You’re a pusher...a food pusher.” Mal’s grin was lightning fast and happy despite her words.
“That’s my job. I’m a chef. And besides, you look great, so quit complaining. Gunnar keeps you on your toes in the exercise department.”
“Well, that’s his job.” Gunnar owned a health club and made sure Mal worked out with him regularly. Mal handed the diary back to Jem. “But I will take the pie and promise an extra twenty minutes on the treadmill.”
After Mal retreated through her back door, Jem remained in the garden reading through the letters and the diary. The shade in the arbor kept the temperature bearable. Her coffee sat on the table beside her, neglected and cooling. The sun had begun its decent when she reached the end of the book. She swiped tears from her eyes after reading of Mary’s joy over the birth of Olivia, but heart-rending grief that Edward had never known his beautiful baby girl. Overwhelming sadness encircled Jem’s heart. The dangers of the seafaring life had torn the small family apart. She pulled her phone from the pocket of her chef�
��s coat and checked the time, discovering it was much later than she thought. She closed the cover with a deep sigh and rose from the bench. She had an hour to get home and fix a meal for Jack. She couldn’t wait to tell him what she’d discovered.
* * * *
“Mmm, spaghetti for supper?” Jack dropped his work boots in the mudroom when he walked in. He moved into the kitchen and found Jem stirring a pot of red sauce on the stove. He captured her lush lips for a kiss hello while water and noodles gently boiled on a back burner. After washing his hands, he dried them on the colorful towel that hung from the drawers closest to the sink. Sidling over to her, he inhaled deeply the aroma of ripe tomatoes, garlic, and fine olive oil. He slipped his arms around her waist and crowded close to her. Using his chin, he nudged her curly hair to the side and nuzzled her neck.
“I thought you might like pasta for dinner.” She rapped the spoon against the pan, then laid it on the wad of paper towel at the edge of the counter. After turning the flame to low, she twisted to face him and draped her arms over his shoulders.
“I’d like you for dinner better.” He grinned at her.
“A plate of Jemima isn’t on the menu,” she teased.
Jack pressed his hands to her breasts, the weight filling his hands as blood rushed to his cock. “How about rack of Jem?” He pressed his lips to hers.
He couldn’t get his fill. He opened his mouth on her, hungry, eager to ease the ache only she could soothe. Slipping his arms around her back, the low heat from the stove stung the back of his hand. He ignored the sting. Holding her tightly, he spun them around, moving their bodies away from the danger the stove represented. Resting against the counter, he spread his legs, tightened his arms, and pulled her close to his growing erection.
He dropped his hands to her delicious ass and kneaded the supple flesh hidden by too many damn clothes. He groaned and tightened his legs around her thighs. He’d been semi-aroused and eager to bury himself in her since she’d brought his lunch. Now, he was full blown swollen with need. He drifted his hands under her T-shirt, stroking along the supple curve of her spine until he reached the clasp of her bra. With a small flick of his wrist, he opened the closure. Moving his hands under the soft cotton to her front, he dipped his fingers beneath the lacy fabric and cupped her breast, squeezing gently.
“Jack, that feels...” She let her head fall back, exposing the creamy skin of her neck.
He traced his tongue from her collarbone to her chin, then laid his lips on her lush mouth again.
When he tweaked her nipples, the little whimpering noise she made in the back of her throat inflamed him. A pulse hammered in his cock, desperate to find its home in her silky, wet warmth. She opened and sucked his tongue into her mouth. The sweet pressure of her lips encircling his tongue made him want—no, need—more.
He jerked his hand from under her shirt and fumbled behind him for the knobs controlling the flame on the stove. Pain seared his finger when he overshot and hit the pot with the back of his knuckles. “Shit, that’s hot,” he mumbled against Jem’s lips.
Which curved into a smile. “That’s what she said.”
He stopped kissing her and examined the rising blister on his finger. “No, I mean I burned myself.”
“Oh! Let me look.” Jem grabbed his hand and pulled it up in front of her face. “I’ve seen worse. This is just a tiny burn. I think you’ll live, poor baby.” She stepped out of his embrace, flipped the controls of the burners to off, and went to the freezer.
His erection strained the front of his jeans, pressing almost painfully into the taut fabric. He shook his burned hand while he adjusted his hard-on to a more comfortable position behind his zipper. When she reached into the ice tray, Jem’s shirt rose, revealing a smooth band of pale skin and the ink on her hip he loved to trace with his tongue before finding more interesting places for his mouth a little farther south.
Jem hurried back to his side and grasped his hand, pulling it toward her. When she smoothed a frozen cube over his seared flesh, he shuddered. She held his gaze with her deep chocolate eyes as she stroked the ice over the burn. Water dripped onto her chest, darkening the pink of her shirt to a deeper rose, the same color of her areolae.
His breath hissed through his teeth when she pressed a kiss to the burn. She sucked his finger into her mouth. Making a game of it, she laved her tongue around the digit, then released it. God, he wanted her lips on his dick in the most urgent way.
A sexy smile lit her eyes with desire. She pressed his palm against her breast, the invitation clear. “All better?” Her other hand found its way to the front of his jeans and molded against him.
“Ah, sugar, you know it.” He kneaded the soft mound under his hand a moment longer, trying to control the undeniable urge to thrust his cock against her hand. “What do you say we take this to the bedroom?”
God, that sizzling smile made him want to drag her to the floor and bury himself deep within her sexy heat right here.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she rasped.
Jack wrapped his arms around her and lifted her against his body. When she twined her legs around his waist and locked her ankles behind his back, every inch of the sweet spot he’d longed for all day pressed against his straining dick. Heady pleasure sped through him. Jem laughed as he stumbled, then righted himself, and raced from the kitchen, her body hugging his. She nibbled his earlobe as he climbed the stairs to their master bedroom and their king-size bed. He was going to use every inch of space there, and then maybe he’d use some more in the shower.
He strode across the room and dropped her on the mattress. Without hesitating, he plucked the button on her shorts open and lowered the zip. He pulled them from her hips, trailing his lips down one leg as he shoved the pants down. Working his way back up the other side, he repeated the procedure as he removed the sexy pink boy-shorts panties. On his return trip, he stopped at the apex of her thighs and swirled his tongue over her slit, her salty, tangy taste exploding in his mouth. She jerked and curled her hips up, offering him better access. Cupping her butt in one hand, he continued to nibble on her clit and slid two fingers into her warm, tight sheath. Her fingers dug into his scalp, holding him in place as he worked his fingers within her, relishing her sensuous whimpers as he kept his tongue on her.
“Jack, enough. Get up here,” she demanded.
“I don’t even care that you didn’t say please,” he teased.
After one last lick of her slit and tease of her clit, he rose from the bed. It took less than thirty seconds to shuck his clothes and kick them away. By the time he returned to the bed, Jem was on her knees, waiting. The hungry look on her face mirrored the growing need in his body. He slid in next to her and she straddled him, rubbing her sleek, wet folds along his erection. He gripped the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head. Hips rocking of their own volition, he jerked the bra from her arms then pulled her forward until she collapsed against his chest.
Was there any better feeling than having her breasts pressed against his chest while the juncture of her thighs cradled his cock? Maybe, but only if he were in her instead of just rubbing over her.
Urging her body up, he positioned his shaft at her entrance. He then flexed his fingers on her hips, pushing her down. Each sultry inch of her channel felt like heaven on earth as she sheathed him. She was already tight and nearly there. Pulsing his hips up into her, he smoothed his hands up her ribcage, urging her upright and open to taking more of him. Jem rolled her hips, matching her movement to his thrust.
Heart pounding, he kneaded the tender flesh of her tits. Pushing from the bed, he rose to take a nipple in his mouth. One hand braced behind him, he held her tight as he thrust into her. Pressure, hot and insistent rose within him. He tangled his hand in her hair and eased her back until she was arched against him. He knew the moment her clit connected to his pubic bone. Her breath shortened and became the tiny little screech that drove him wild, the signal she was about to slide over the edge
to completion. She held his head against her breast and rolled urgently on him until she shrieked his name as she came.
A groan built in the back of his throat as Jem’s inner muscles tightened and rippled, hugging his shaft, massaging it. The tingle began in his balls, climbed his spine, and crashed over him. His seed jetted out of him, but he continued to move deep within her until he exhausted himself.
Chapter 8
“Oh, God, Jack.” Jem laughed, her muscles clenching around him as she did.
“Yes, I am.” He claimed her mouth and eased back to the mattress until she was sprawled, sated and happy, atop him. “But you, my love, are a goddess.” His laughter rumbled against her chest.
“A sex goddess. I like the sound of that.”
“Nobody does it better.”
“No, Jack. Together we’re magic.” She traced a circular pattern on his shoulder, his breath a soft breeze against her cheek.
He tightened his arms around her back, his fingers resting against the swell of her hips. The locket she still wore nestled against his chest, the old metal warm between them.
He brushed her forehead with a gentle kiss, the perfect end to their wild lovemaking. “I love you so much, Jem. You’re my sunrise everyday.” The promise of good things to come for them. His words were a pledge to face each new day with each other.
“I love you, too.”
Sunrise was a special time for them, the instant he swore he’d fallen in love with her. She treasured the memory of when they’d viewed their first glimpse of a new day together after they’d first met. Jem’s shoulders lifted as he heaved in a lungful of air, then released it in a long controlled breath. She slid to his side and nestled against him. Over their bed, the palisade-style ceiling fan rotated slowly, moving air across her skin.
“So, what did you do with the rest of your afternoon?” Jack yawned as he asked.
A Spirited Love (A Five Senses Short Book 2) Page 6