Summer at Seaside Cove

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  “But I don’t want to be in love,” Jamie wailed. “He lives seven hundred miles away. A long-distance relationship just isn’t feasible. Once I return to New York—you know how things are at work. I’ll barely have time to breathe, let alone be flying down here. Before I came here this summer, I hadn’t taken a vacation in three years—not since my dad died. Things won’t be any different when I go back.”

  “They could be—if you changed them.”

  “I’ve tried to change things at Newman’s but my mother refuses.”

  “Then you need to change her. What happened to the strong, independent woman who went to Seaside Cove to reassess and recharge so she could take charge?”

  Jamie paused and stared out at the ocean. “She got overrun by her family and confused by her feelings for a man who dazzled her and made her like him enough to get naked with him, and whom she hasn’t seen since.”

  “I hate to ask, but is there any chance he didn’t think the sex was as great as you did?”

  “Not unless he gave an Academy Award–winning performance. Based on his, um, enthusiasm, he found it as good as I did.”

  “Yet you think he’s avoiding you.”

  Jamie raked a hand through her windblown hair. “I don’t know what to think. Maybe he wasn’t as satisfied as I believed. When I left his house that last night … the way he looked at me …”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know how to describe it. Sort of a combination of ‘I don’t want you to go’ and ‘holy crap, I can’t wait for you to get the hell out of here.’ ”

  “Ah-ha!” said Kate, her voice filled with triumph. “He is avoiding you! And not because he thought the sex was bad, but because it was stupendous.”

  Jamie frowned. “That doesn’t even make sense. What sort of man avoids you because the sex is stupendous?”

  “A man who is no longer viewing it as ‘just sex.’ A man whose heart is becoming involved.”

  Jamie halted as if she’d walked into a wall of glass and her heart began thumping in fast, hard beats. “You think?”

  “Jamie, from everything you’ve told me, it sounds like he cares. And if this thing between the two of you scares you, isn’t it possible it scares him as well?”

  “He doesn’t seem like the sort who scares easily.”

  “Well, neither are you. But here’s a news flash—love scares everybody.”

  Jamie felt a strong need to sit down. “Who said anything about love?” she asked, unable to keep panic from edging into her voice. “I’ve been talking about like. Only like.”

  “Uh-huh. Which leads to love.”

  “Which leads to heartache.”

  “Or to happiness—as Ben and I can attest.”

  “Not for two people who live seven hundred miles apart, Kate. Sure, it sounds all romantic and possible, but the harsh reality is it simply could never work. I couldn’t keep a relationship going with a man who only lived two subway stops away.”

  “Uh, that would be because he was a cheating asshole, not because of where he lived.”

  “We’d never see each other. The relationship would just die a slow, painful death.” And that, she knew, would really break her heart. “I called you to talk me out of this impossible, can-only-lead-to-heartbreak relationship. I have to say, you’re really not helping.”

  “Probably because I’m not convinced it’s impossible and I’d hate to see you give up on something that could be exactly what you’ve been looking for.”

  “What I’ve been looking for is peace and quiet. Have I found it here? Ha! All I’ve gotten so far is a bombardment of the very people and sort of drama I was trying to get away from, and a guy who has me totally bewildered and out of sorts.”

  “At least you enjoyed a bunch of orgasms.”

  “Yes—which is one reason I’m so bewildered and out of sorts.”

  “You never did say how many orgasms it was.”

  “A lot. And again—not helping.”

  Kate’s sigh came through the phone. “Fine. I can’t deny you have a point—long-distance relationships rarely work out. And a quick, final break is preferable to the slow, painful fading of feelings that occurs when a relationship dies.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Which means you have two choices.”

  “Right. I can cut this off right now—assuming Nick hasn’t already decided to do so.”

  “Or you can just keep reminding yourself that this is only a temporary fling, quit worrying about anything beyond the next three weeks, and enjoy yourself for the time you’re still there.”

  “And then say good-bye and resume my life in New York.”

  “Exactly. Just be sure you check your heart at the door.”

  “Great advice. Except … what if it’s too late about the checking-my-heart-at-the-door thing?”

  “Then you’re shit out of luck. If it were me, I’d take my chances and go the fling route. Odds are just as good that instead of falling madly in love over the next three weeks, you’ll find out your first impression was correct and he really is nothing more than a pain in the ass. Hell, it might only take you three days—or three hours—to decide that.”

  “That’s true,” Jamie said, brightening at the thought. “Assuming he ever comes back to Seaside Cove.”

  “If he doesn’t, it’s his loss and you’ll know he’s utterly foul. Feel better?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. So there’s no need for me to come down there and kick your butt?”

  Jamie chuckled. “No. And as much as I’d love to see you, there’s absolutely no room for you. Now tell me about your cruise.”

  “Lots of sun, food, dancing, relaxing, and sex. And speaking of sex, my handsome husband just walked in the door after a hard day of lawyering, so I’m going to—”

  “I don’t need details,” Jamie said with a laugh. “Have fun. Thanks for the girl talk. Love you.”

  “Love you, too. And that have-fun thing? Same goes.”

  Jamie slipped her phone into the pocket of her shorts and realized she’d walked much farther down the beach than she’d anticipated and Oy Vey Mama Mia was just ahead. Unable to resist the lure of the place, she headed toward the wooden stairs that led to the ocean-facing patio. As soon as she reached the top, she was greeted by a beaming Maria.

  “Ciao, bella! How lovely to see you! It seems like forever since you were here.” Maria engulfed her in a warm embrace, then kissed her on each cheek. When she pulled back, her eyes immediately filled with concern. “But what is wrong, cara? Something is troubling you.” Before Jamie could answer, Maria shouted, “Ira! Jamie is here and needs an aperitivo. A negroni, por favore. One for me as well.” She turned back to Jamie. “The negroni—it will make whatever ails you feel better. The restaurant is quiet—that lull between lunch and dinner, so we can talk. Come.” She pulled Jamie to a table in the corner and sat. “Tell Maria what is happening and why you haven’t been to the restaurant for so long.”

  Since she wasn’t about to confide about getting naked with Nick, she forced aside all thoughts of him and said, “Nothing’s wrong, I’ve just been busy with my visitors.” She’d just finished telling her about Heather’s unexpected arrival when Ira bustled outside bearing a tray holding two glasses decorated with slices of orange peel.

  “Hello, my dahling,” Ira said, setting down the tray on the table, then giving Jamie’s cheek a smacking kiss. “I brought you ladies something to nosh on—a little whitefish salad, a little smoked salmon, and some prosciutto and Italian olives—I call it Israeli antipasto. Enjoy.” He dropped a kiss on his wife’s head, then returned through the sliding screen door into the main restaurant.

  They each picked up their drink and Maria clicked her glass to Jamie’s. “Salud!” she toasted, then tossed back a healthy mouthful.

  Figuring when in Rome, Jamie followed suit. And her eyes glazed over as the drink slid down her throat, filling her with what felt like liquid fire. “Delicious,” she pro
claimed, “but potent. What’s in this?”

  “Gin, vermouth, and Campari,” Maria said, taking another swallow. “Two of them and your troubles disappear.”

  “Two of them and I’ll be unconscious,” Jamie said with a laugh.

  “Mangia,” Maria said, pushing the tray of food closer to Jamie. “And continue telling me about your niece.”

  Jamie continued, all the while sipping on the delicious, seductive negroni and nibbling on the noshes. Whether it was the alcohol, or Maria’s gentle prodding, the next thing Jamie knew she’d told Maria all about her situation with Laurel. When she finished, she shook her head—which felt decidedly fuzzy. “Heavens. This negroni is like truth serum.”

  Maria laughed. “That it is. It is also good for putting you in the mood for the amore.” She squeezed Jamie’s hands. “It is a good thing you do for your niece. An unselfish thing. It speaks well of you, cara. As for your sister, I understand your anger toward her. I had a similar problem with my own sister when we both liked the same boy in our youth.”

  “What happened?”

  “Lucia and I, we exchanged many harsh words. In the end, Paolo chose her. I was devastated. But this tragedy, it was a blessing, for six months later I met my Ira. For those six months my heart was closed to her. To everyone. It did not open again until I met Ira. My love for him let me lose my anger toward Lucia. Because if not for her, I would have been with Paolo, who portare male gli anni—he does not age well.” She squeezed Jamie’s hands. “My mama used to tell me that anger poisons the person who holds it. Forgiveness sets us free. Don’t dwell on what Laurel did to you. Instead concentrate on finding your own happiness. And pity her, because now she is stuck with that bischero.”

  Jamie wasn’t sure what a bischero was, but since it was describing Raymond, she knew it wasn’t complimentary.

  “You haven’t mentioned Nico,” Maria said with a hoisted brow. “Ah, I mention his name and your eyes, they light up veloce come un razzo—fast as a rocket. The same way his eyes lit up when I said your name to him an hour ago.”

  Jamie’s fingers tightened on her empty glass. “An hour ago?”

  Maria nodded. “He came in for a late lunch. He seemed anxious to get home.” She smiled slyly. “To see you maybe?”

  Jamie’s heart leaped at the thought. “Not likely. But home is where I need to head myself. My mother, Alex, and Heather probably think I ran away.”

  “You did. For a little while. And that is allowed. You come back soon and bring your family. This week’s dinner specials are rigatoni pesto and corned beef on rye.”

  “I’ll do that,” Jamie promised. “And thanks for the pep talk.” After exchanging hugs, Jamie headed back to the beach for the long walk to Paradise Lost, convincing herself the entire way that the spinning in her head was courtesy of the negroni and had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that Nick was back.

  Chapter 23

  Nick stood on his screen porch and looked toward Paradise Lost, where lights blazed in all the windows. In spite of the desire to go over there that had nearly choked him since the minute he’d arrived home, he’d forced himself to remain at Southern Comfort. After all, he needed to shower. Sort through his snail mail. Check his e-mail and pay a few bills online. Feed Godiva. Put out food for the feral cats. Yeah—he had plenty of stuff to do.

  When he’d finished all that, he ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich even though he wasn’t particularly hungry. He’d even gone so far as to wash the plate and knife he’d used and to make his bed. Then he’d forced himself to stay at home another hour. Just to prove he could. That he didn’t have to go racing next door to see her. After all, she hadn’t raced over here to see him. She had to know he was home—there was no missing his truck in Southern Comfort’s carport.

  Unless … maybe she didn’t know he was home. Because maybe she wasn’t home. Maybe while he’d been hiding out at Kevin’s she’d met some other guy. Maybe she was out on a date.

  His every muscle tensed and a red haze seemed to fog his vision at the thought of her being with someone else. She was his fling, damn it.

  That’s it—I’m done. He’d proven he could stay away from her, so what the hell was he still doing here? He strode into the kitchen and rummaged around for a minute, coming up with a six-pack of beer—for those old enough to drink and who weren’t pregnant—and a bag of Doritos. Gripping his offerings, he whistled for Godiva and together they headed to Paradise Lost.

  As he climbed the stairs leading to the kitchen door, Maggie’s voice drifted through the screen. “The cake is cool enough to frost, Jamie. Where are the candles?”

  She’s home. He refused to examine the ridiculous level of relief that washed through him.

  “I don’t know, Mom,” came Jamie’s reply. “Where did you put them?”

  “I didn’t put them anywhere.”

  “You didn’t put them away along with the other things you bought at Walmart?”

  “I didn’t buy candles at Walmart.”

  “Why not?” Jamie asked, a hint of impatience in her voice. “I’d written it on the shopping list.”

  “Is that what you’d written? I thought it said ‘candies.’ ” Maggie gave a laugh that sounded forced. “So—no candles. Sorry. But there’s a giant bag of peanut M&M’s if you’d like some.”

  “Unless we can light them on fire, they’re not really going to work.”

  “We don’t need candles,” came Heather’s tight voice. “Really, you guys. It’s fine.”

  Nick reached the top of the stairs. Through the screen door he saw Jamie, Maggie, and Heather standing in the kitchen, all staring at an unfrosted chocolate cake on a plate. Alex sat slumped on the sofa in the living area, his gaze glued to the TV, where a baseball game was in progress.

  With his attention fixed on Jamie’s profile, Nick knocked. In the back of his mind, it registered that four heads turned toward the door, but his gaze locked with Jamie’s and damned if for a split second it didn’t seem as if his lungs forgot how to work.

  “It’s Nick,” Heather said, her voice sounding … relieved?

  He watched Jamie approach the door and the heat and desire he’d managed to hold at bay for the last week rippled through him. Damn, he loved the way she moved. He could just watch the woman walk for hours. When she opened the door, he immediately noticed the strained look in her eyes. Stress radiated off her like laser beams. The smile she offered him appeared tired. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he said. “Godiva saw the lights on and wanted to stop by. You know, to see if you had any dead clams she could rub herself in. I figured I’d tag along.” You know, in case I could rub against you. He held up the six-pack and the Doritos. “We brought snacks.” When she hesitated, he added, “If this is a bad time—”

  “Not at all. In fact, your timing is perfect.” She sounded sincere and a bit of the tension in her eyes faded. She moved back so he could enter. “C’mon in. We’re almost ready for cake.”

  He smiled. “Then we agree—perfect timing.”

  He stepped into the kitchen, followed by Godiva, who made a beeline for Cupcake’s food and water bowls. She sucked up the handful of kibbles like a vacuum cleaner, helped herself to a few splashy slurps of water, then began a tail-wagging, sniffing exploration, no doubt looking for Cupcake so she could bestow upon her some kibble-scented drool. Good times.

  Nick exchanged greetings with Maggie, who looked pale and exhausted, and with Heather, whose eyes behind her glasses were suspiciously bright, as if she were holding back tears.

  Alex ambled in from the living area, and there was no missing the relief on his face. “Glad to have another guy in the house,” he said, shaking Nick’s hand. “I’m severely outnumbered around here. I mean even the cat is a female.”

  “Glad to help.” Nick nodded toward the TV. “Who’s playing?”

  “Yankees and Red Sox. Yanks are up four to three in the fifth.” Alex eyed the six-pack of beer Nick had set on the counter. “You
sharing that?”

  “You bet.” He handed Alex a beer, then looked at the trio of females, all of whom were staring at him. He could actually see the tension shimmering in the air and wondered what the hell was going on.

  He tilted his head toward the cake and waded into the awkward silence. “Special occasion?”

  Jamie cleared her throat and smiled. “Today is Heather’s birthday.”

  Nick turned to Heather and smiled. “Happy birthday.” He handed her the bag of Doritos. “From Godiva. They’re not much, but the best she could do on short notice.”

  A shy smile ghosted across Heather’s flaming face and she dipped her chin. “Thanks.” She looked up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “You were gone a long time. The float’s nearly finished.”

  “Yeah? You been painting?”

  Heather nodded. “Me and a bunch of other kids. It’s pretty cool.”

  “I can’t wait to see it.” He sniffed the air. “It smells like a bakery in here.” His gaze cut toward the cake. “And that looks delicious.”

  “It’s not frosted yet,” Heather said, sounding agitated. Her gaze bounced between Jamie and Maggie, then returned to Nick. “You want to help?”

  “Sure—if you don’t mind a crappy-looking birthday cake. The only thing I know about frosting is how to eat it.”

  “Then you’re in the right place,” said Jamie, with what appeared to be a genuine smile, “because we whipped up a double batch of it.”

  “Hey, hey, you ladies all have each other, so I’m calling dibs on the only other male company. C’mon, Nick, grab a beer and let’s watch the game. You a Yankees fan?”

  “Cubs.”

  Alex grimaced, but said, “At least you’re not a Sox fan, so the invite stands.”

  “Thanks. I take it you’re a Yankees fan?”

  “Lifelong. Got the season tickets to prove it. You go to Wrigley Field often?”

  “I went to a few games, when I lived in Chicago.” He wasn’t about to share that he’d viewed those games from the comfort of his own luxury box suite. Just one more thing he’d sold when he’d walked away from his former life.