All That Jazz (Butler Cove #1)

“Shut up,” he said jokingly. “I can handle it.”

“Are you sure about that?” I squeezed the cream onto my hand and handed the tube over his shoulder. Then I began a long slow swipe from between his shoulder blades down his spine. I took my time. “Ooooh,” I moaned softly. “Your back is so strong.” I brought my other hand in on the act and smoothed upward and over his shoulder blades and back down. “Wow,” I breathed. “So muscle-y.”

“Jazz,” he warned.

“Mmmm,” I emitted the sound as I worked the cream in, massaging and caressing. My moan was hardly faked. He really did have a magnificent back, and I was getting one-on-one time with each and every muscle, ridge, and curve. “Massaging you makes me think about those happy endings you mentioned,” I said.

“Jazz,” he choked and turned around leaving my hands up in mid air.

“What?” I asked innocently.

“Thank you,” he said tightly and stalked back to his towel. He flung down the tube of sunscreen.

Keri Ann saw him. “Hey, Joey, I was thinking—”

He ignored his sister and stalked straight down to the water and dove into the surf.

I laughed out loud.





JOEY WAS STILL in the water when my shift was over. He’d been doing laps out to the buoy and back. I dropped my stuff near Keri Ann’s towel and jogged down to the water. He saw me coming and waited. The top half of his torso was out of the water.

I waded in, then dove into a breaking wave, swimming until I came up right in front of him.

Joey’s lips landed on mine, and he pulled me flush against his body.

“You’re still hard.” I giggled.

“You’re a minx. And no, I wasn’t, but seeing you come down here in that ridiculously tight red swim suit …” He shook his head.

The waves lapped and pulled at us. I kept losing my balance, so I wrapped my legs around his waist.

“Christ,” he said. “You’re killing me.”

“Mmmm,” I moaned as he slipped his tongue into my mouth. He smelled of sunscreen and tasted of salt and Joey. I grabbed his hair to hold him still so I could taste him over and over and over.

“Kissing you is, like,” I gasped in a moment between kisses, “the thing that matters.”

His hands roamed over my body, up and down my back and into my wet hair. “Happy birthday,” he whispered into my ear, then ran his tongue over my lobe.

I quaked.

“This is getting x-rated,” I said as the tip of his erection kept bumping against me. “We need to stop.”

He breathed heavily against my cheek and nodded. “Yeah. We do.”

“I have to work at the boutique. I have to go.”

He walked us to shallower water, then set me down where I could find firm footing. The sole of my foot skated over something hard in the sand. I grasped at it with my toes.

“What?” he asked, looking at my face.

“Shhh. I’m concentrating.”

“Do you always concentrate with your tongue out the side of your mouth.”

I snorted a giggle. “Oops. Ah, got it,” I exclaimed as I got the slim smooth object gripped firmly with my toes and raised my knee. I reached into the water.

With a flourish, I pulled my find out the water. “Ta da!”

“A sand dollar.”

It was covered in slick green fur. “It’s still alive,” I said. “We can’t keep it.”

Joey took it from me. “Make a wish,” he said and flicked his wrist, sending it sailing out over deeper water. It plopped into the sea and disappeared.

I closed my eyes. What should I wish?

Please let my dad still be alive. I kept my eyes closed and squeezed them shut as hard as I could, wishing with everything I had.

When I opened my eyes, Joey was staring at me. He brought a finger up to my cheek. “What was that?”

I blinked rapidly, my eyes had filled with tears. “I’m worried about my dad.”

He nodded. “I’m worried about Nana.”

“Do you think we both get a wish from one sand dollar?” I asked.

“I hope so,” he replied. Then he gave me a swift kiss on the lips. “Go,” he said. “You’ll be late.”

I started back for the beach.

“Hey,” he called. “Can I see you tonight?”

“Text me,” I tossed over my shoulder.





I WAS WORKING at the boutique five until closing at eight. But at seven fifteen Faith flicked the sign over to closed. She turned to me, her hands on her generous hips. Her almost white blonde hair, tied with a purple scarf, contrasted with her ruby lips. On her ears hung large colorful plastic baubles like Christmas tree ornaments.

“Why are you closing early?” I asked. “It’s been busy.”

“Take a seat,” she gestured to the upholstered wingback chair that held a three thousand dollar price tag.

I looked at the chair and back at her to make sure she wasn’t kidding.

“You been rolling in the mud?” she asked.

“No.” I frowned. “But—”

“Then sit.”

I sat. Perched really.

Faith pulled the stool from behind the cash resister and sat in front of me. “Now talk.”