Sunsets at Seaside(38)

With her hand in his, he led her past the elderly couple talking beside the alcove. “Excuse us.”

They laughed as they hurried into the next room. As soon as they cleared the doorway, he swept her into his arms again.

“Too close for comfort?”

She nibbled on her lower lip. “Kind of exciting.”

“Holy…Come here, you little vixen.” He took her in another greedy kiss, then peeled his lips from hers. “Another whole day?”

“Another whole date,” she corrected.

“By the time we come together, I’ll be so hot for you I’ll barely last.”

She raised her brows with a blush on her cheeks. “Maybe I need to rethink this whole relationship.”

“Maybe you have to…” No way. “You’re such a sweet and naughty girl. Everything you do turns me on.” He ran his knuckle down her cheek. “Trust me, baby. That first time we come together? It’s not going to be sweet or careful.” The way his heart swelled with emotions every time he was near her and the desires that raged through him, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how good it would feel to finally make love to her. He settled his cheek against hers and held her so close he felt every breath. “But the next time, and the next, and every time thereafter? Sweet, hot, sensual, rough, playful. We’ll do everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Only better.”

She sucked in a jagged breath. “Promise?”

He’d died and gone to heaven.





Chapter Eight





JAMIE REED WAS patient to a fault. He was kind, generous, and just about the best friend a person could have. He was as loyal as a puppy and as trustworthy as the law. Or at least he always had been, until that very second. He’d spent half the night working through company issues again, and the other half of the night convincing himself not to think about Jessica. His patience shattered about five thirty Sunday morning, when the crows started cawing and images of Jessica lying in her bed played in his mind like a pornographic rerun. Of course, in his fantasies she wore nothing but a silky little negligee and every word out of her mouth had to do with making love to her. By the time it hit six o’clock, he was ready to burst. Even a cold shower didn’t help.

He tossed a few bagels into a paper bag, threw in a jar of instant coffee, and headed for the door.

“Where are you rushing off to?” Vera asked from behind him.

“Going for a run.” He had never been a very good liar.

“With a paper bag, and dressed like that?”

Jamie closed his eyes, his back to his grandmother. “I have a breakfast date with Jessica.”

“Well, don’t you want to bring something a little nicer? Muffins, maybe?” He heard the smile in her voice. “I could make some for you.”

He heard her shuffling toward the kitchen in her slippers. Jamie turned, knowing she’d see right through him, the same way she’d known the first time he snuck out of the house to meet a girl when he was sixteen.

“Thanks, Gram, but I think she likes bagels.”

She crossed the cozy cottage in her pink housecoat, a smile on her thin lips and love in her eyes. Vera reached up and brushed his hair from above his eyes.

“You worked until very early this morning.”

“I kept you up? I’m sorry. I’ll try to be quieter.” He was trying his best not to sound anxious, but he wanted to see Jessica more than he wanted anything else in the world.

She took his hand and led him to the couch. “Sit with me a second before you rush out. I’ll only take a moment.”

He’d do anything for her, but at that moment, every second felt interminable. He sat beside her and tried not to seem too anxious. The paper bag crinkled in his grip.

Vera patted his hand. “I like her, Jamie. She’s just like your mother was.”

That sucked the wind from his sails. They rarely talked about his parents. There wasn’t a reason, that he could remember, or a time when they suddenly stopped talking about them, but they’d somehow faded into the background of their lives. It was strange how that happened. One day he was consumed with grief, and a year later, he had shaped and molded that grief into something he could shift to the side in order to continue living.

“She is? I don’t remember Mom very well. The images in my mind feel like they’re pieces of pictures you’ve shown me rather than real memories.”

“Your mother was in love with love, Jamie. She was so in love with your father that it seeped from her pores, and you? You were her very heart and soul.”

His throat thickened at her words.

“She used to watch you when you were sleeping, and she’d brush your hair from your forehead in that way that mothers do.”