Sunsets at Seaside (Sweet with Heat: Seaside Summers #4)

“Oh no,” she whispered.

“Stop.” His whisper washed over her, soothing her worry. “You’re beautiful.”

“But I…” She glanced down at her body. “You…”

“I’m fine.” He rolled onto his side beside her, one arm draped over her belly.

She turned onto her side, still reeling from how her body reacted to him. “You nearly turned me inside out. I should do something in return.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “No, babe. I wanted you. Badly. I didn’t do that because I wanted payback.”

“Wow, you’re a real giver.” She laughed and buried her face in his shirt. “I’m terribly embarrassed. I’ve never done that, and I didn’t even know I could.”

“Why are you embarrassed? We dig each other. That’s a good thing.”

“Yeah, but I don’t…you know. And to do it without…you know.” Oh geez, shut up! Her cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“You don’t you know? Well, we’ll have to fix that, now, won’t we?”

He gathered her in his arms again and kissed her tenderly. “You’re incredible. Don’t ever be embarrassed around me. I think you’re lovely.” He kissed her again. “And incredibly sexy.” He kissed her neck. “The sweetest person I know.” He gazed deeply into her eyes. “And I want to spend more time with you, and I want to make you…you know.”

Oh yes, now she knew.

And she wanted to…you know…even more.





Chapter Six





JAMIE STAYED UP half the night answering emails, working through issues that had come up at OneClick, and thinking about Jessica. The best thing about being a computer professional was that he could work from just about anywhere, but he was a hands-on guy when it came to his business, and he’d learned the hard way that giving too much authority away could bite him in the rear. Luckily, Mark Wiley, his attorney, had been with him since the inception of OneClick, and he was in the office daily, keeping an eye on the goings-on at the company from a legal standpoint. Jamie no longer sealed deals with a handshake, and although Mark was a bit overprotective of Jamie and his interests, warning him off of money-grubbing, ladder-climbing employees and women, they made a good team.

He read a brief email from Mark alerting him to a situation. We have a potential bug with the search engine. Checking into it. Don’t worry. Enjoy sun and fun. Will call if any further issues arise. Mark could handle just about anything. He shot off a quick note of thanks, then began his hunt for the owner of the baseball card store. It was a piece of cake tracking him down through public website records and forums, and Jamie could hardly believe that the owner, Steve Lacasse, lived in Plymouth, Massachusetts. According to the information he’d dug up, Steve sold his goods on eBay, and like many other local collectors, he worked the Wellfleet Flea Market over the summers.

Jamie arrived at the flea market Saturday morning while vendors were still setting up their booths. He traipsed up and down every aisle, stopping at every booth that had a single sports item, but had no luck finding Steve.

He climbed back in his car and drove over to Kurt Remington’s house on the bay to see Leanna.

Kurt’s house, and the separate cottage from where Leanna ran her business, were built on a dune overlooking the water. Jamie parked behind Leanna’s old Volkswagen Bus that her father had refinished and painted with colorful seaside scenes when she’d graduated from college. He didn’t bother going to the front door. Kurt was a creature of habit, and he was as methodical as Leanna was disorganized. He went for his morning run, then had coffee while he scanned the news. By nine o’clock he had his fingers on the keyboard pounding out his next bestseller. Leanna was his polar opposite. She would surely be scrambling to get to Seaside to see the girls before heading over to the flea market to set up her booth—late, as usual. At least that’s what Jamie was counting on.

He heard their voices before he reached the steps to the rear deck. Pepper bounded toward him, tongue lolling from his mouth as he tried to climb Jamie’s legs, barking for a little love. Jamie scooped him into his arms and petted his tangled white fur.

“How’s it going, Pep?”

“Jamie?” Leanna peered over the deck as he ascended the stairs. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders, and her white tee was streaked with jam. Her eyes were wide with the smile on her lips. “Want a scone? They’re fresh.”

“No, thanks. I just wanted to pimp you for a little info.” He set Pepper on the deck and hugged Leanna, then gave Kurt a brotherly pat on the back.

Kurt looked up from the news site he was reading. “Hey, man. How’s it going? I hear you’ve got a line on the new Seaside babe.”

“Hey!” Leanna leaned over his shoulder and ran her hands down his chest. “Don’t call her that. Her name’s Jessica, although she is a total babe.”

Jamie flopped into a chair. “Everyone knows? That didn’t take long.”

“Jenna called me this morning. I’m running too late to stop by there.” Leanna went inside and came out with a mug of coffee for Jamie.

“Thanks, Leanna.” One of the things Jamie loved most about his summer friends was that their doors were always open. They didn’t rely on cell phones and email to communicate. Even though he loved his work and he loved Boston, being at the Cape with his friends rejuvenated him in ways no place else, and no other friends, ever could.

“Leanna, do you know a guy named Steve Lacasse at the flea market?”

Leanna furrowed her brow and shook her head. “I don’t know the last names of people there, but I know a few Steves. What does he sell?”

“I assume baseball memorabilia, but I’m not really sure. He used to own a store called My Mom Threw Out My Baseball Cards in Orleans, and he closed it down a little over a year ago. I did some checking, and he works the flea markets, here and in Dennis, and sells his stuff on eBay too. I just want to have a conversation with him.”

“There are about three sports guys at the flea market, but I can’t remember a Steve. I’ll check it out when I’m there today.”

Kurt ran his hand through his thick dark hair. “There is the Steve with that yellow truck. He sells all sorts of stuff—records, books, fishing rods—but I’ve seen sports memorabilia at his booth too. He might be the guy to ask.” Kurt opened a document and perused it.

“You know, you’re right.” Leanna picked up a big, colorful bag and hoisted it over her shoulder. “He might at least know who the guy is. If you want, I can talk to him today and let you know what he says. What’s this for anyway?”

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