Summer at Seaside Cove (40 page)

Silence, as thick as quicksand and just as suffocating, descended. All the color drained from Laurel's face.

Heather slammed her plate and fork onto the counter. Twin flags of color rose on her cheeks as her gaze scanned everyone. “That's it,” she said, her voice shaking. “What's going on here? What's
wrong
with everyone? Do you think I'm stupid? Or blind? You're all pretending that everything is fine but it obviously isn't. Aunt Jamie's talking like a robot, Maggie looks totally pissed off, Alex and Nick have barely said a word, and Mom—I have no idea what's up with you.” With each word her voice grew louder until she was yelling. “I know you're all pretending for my benefit and I
hate
it! I'm not a baby!”

She fixed her gaze on Laurel. “What did Maggie mean? What did you take?”

Laurel shook her head. “Nothing. I—”

“Why are you really here, Mom? And acting so . . .
nice
?”

Laurel looked as if she'd been slapped. “It's your birthday—”

“Like you care!”

Tears swam into Laurel's eyes. “Of course I care, Heather! I'm your mother—”

“Who for months has been too busy for me. So why are you really here? Why aren't you with your boyfriend? Did he dump you or something?”

Laurel's face paled even further. She swallowed, then jerked her head in a quick nod. “Yes.” Her gaze flicked to Jamie. “As a matter of fact, he did.”

Another thick silence descended, although Jamie missed it due to the buzzing in her ears. Raymond had dumped Laurel. That was . . . karma. Sickly funny. Completely ironic. And unheard of. Men didn't dump gorgeous, skinny, rich Laurel. Either it was a mutual parting of the ways, or she did the dumping. Her mother muttered something that sounded like, “What goes around . . .”

She looked at her sister and was surprised to note Laurel's hands were shaking and her bottom lip was quivering.

“Now I get it,” Heather said with a harsh laugh. “You came because you had nothing better to do.”

Laurel sucked in a breath. “That's not true. I came because I missed you. Because I wanted to see you on your birthday.”

She reached out to touch her daughter, but Heather backed away. Laurel slowly lowered her hand and briefly squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, she said quietly, “You're angry. I get that. I'd like to talk with you about it—see if we can fix this rift between us. But not like this, when you're being deliberately hurtful. And not with an audience.” She paused for an audibly shaky breath, then asked Heather, “Can we go for a walk? Maybe on the beach? And talk?”

Heather's bottom lip trembled, but her eyes were filled with mutiny. “Why, Mom? Whenever I talk, you never listen. So what's the point?”

“I'll listen,” Laurel said. “I promise. Give me a chance.” She reached out again and this time touched Heather's arm. “Please?”

Once more Jamie was tempted to blurt out
Who the hell are you and what have you done with Laurel?
“Please” was not a word she'd often heard pass Laurel's lips. Jamie wasn't convinced her sister was sincere, although there was no denying she
sounded
that way.

Heather's gaze cut to Jamie, clearly looking for guidance. Jamie nodded and mouthed, “Go. Try.”

Heather rolled her eyes and heaved a put-upon sigh. “Fine. Whatever.” She shot a scathing glance at her mother's shoes. “Too bad you don't have flip-flops.”

“I have a pair of sneakers in one of my suitcases,” Laurel said. “I left my luggage downstairs.” She turned to look at Jamie. “I tried to book a room, but couldn't find anything available online. Is there somewhere nearby you can recommend?”

Jamie looked into Laurel's eyes. The unspoken question hung between them, as loud as if Laurel had shouted it.
Can I stay here?
And Jamie had to wonder why she hadn't asked. Actually, she wondered why Laurel hadn't simply
announced
she was staying. She normally took what she wanted—as evidenced by Raymond. This hesitant, diffident Laurel—who'd been
dumped
—was someone Jamie was having trouble recognizing.

Still, here was her chance. Her opportunity to say,
Too bad, there's no room available here, either, you backstabber. Have your talk with your daughter, then get back on your broom and fly home to New York.

But she couldn't say it. Maybe she could—to her sister, if they'd been alone. But she simply couldn't to Heather's mother—especially not in front of Heather. So clearly she'd have to take one for the team.

Shit.

But that didn't mean she needed to stick around and endure Laurel's company. She'd come to see Heather and Jamie wouldn't stand in the way of that, but that's as far as she'd go. There might not be another place for her sister to stay—but there was for Jamie.

“Everything around here is completely booked,” Jamie said. “There are twin beds in Heather's room. You can stay in there with her.”

“But then where will you sleep, Aunt Jamie?” Heather asked.

“Nick has a spare bedroom.” She turned to him. “Mind if I make use of it?”

“Not at all.”

She honestly expected Laurel to wrinkle her nose at the less-than-five-star accommodations, but instead she nodded and said quietly, “Thank you, Jamie. I appreciate it.”

Jamie frowned. Seriously, who
was
this person? She could not recall ever before hearing those six words pass Laurel's lips. She gave her sister a long look and noticed for the first time the pale violet smudges of fatigue under her eyes. She looked tired and drawn—totally out of character for her normally inexhaustible sister, who could party hop and schmooze until the wee hours and then show up at Newman's the next day looking as if she'd just spent hours at a day spa—which she probably had.

Laurel's gaze bounced between Alex and Nick. “Do you think one of you guys could help me get my luggage up those stairs?”

Alex glanced at Maggie, who shrugged. “Sure. I'll give you a hand.”

Needing a moment alone with her mother, Jamie turned to Nick. “Would you mind helping them?”

“Not at all.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze and then followed Laurel and Alex outside, the screen door slapping closed behind them.

“This sure turned into a strange birthday,” Heather grumbled. She looked at Jamie. “Is Mom acting weird or is it just me?”

Not just you
. But in an effort to help her niece, Jamie said, “I think she's really trying to make an effort. So meet her halfway. She said she'd listen. So talk. Calmly. Tell her how you feel, everything that's bothering you. Then return the courtesy and listen to her. And try to remember—just because you disagree with someone doesn't mean you have to be disagreeable. She's your mom and deserves some respect, okay?” Jamie gave her a quick hug. “Love you, kiddo.”

“Fine, whatever, love you, too,” Heather mumbled, her face burning bright. “I need to grab my flip-flops and text Lindsey before the big mother-daughter beach walk. Yippee.” She walked into the bedroom she'd shared with Jamie and would tonight share with her mother and closed the door.

The instant the door closed, Maggie turned to Jamie and said in her loud whisper that wasn't at all a whisper, “I can't believe you said she could stay here.”

Jamie's last nerve stretched to the breaking point. “What was I supposed to do, Mom? She's Heather's mother and today's her birthday. And that comment you made about Laurel taking things that aren't hers—”

“Was completely true.”

“I know. And I appreciate your loyalty, but please don't do it again. For Heather's sake. It's not your place, or mine, to say anything to drive a wedge between them.”

“Laurel seems to have managed that all by herself.”

“Yes. But it seems she's trying to fix that. For Heather's sake, I hope so. And for Heather's sake I don't want to interfere with that in any way.”

“You're being extremely understanding about all this, I must say.”

“No, I'm not. I'd like to toss her out on her skinny ass and tell her to never darken my doorstep again. My stomach's tied in knots, my head is pounding, my skin feels hot and blotchy, and I'm a heartbeat away from screaming and ripping out handfuls of my hair. But my love for Heather is stronger than my anger toward Laurel.” She pulled in a shaky breath, then continued, “But I'm not staying in this house with her.”

“So you're abandoning me? Why do
I
have to entertain her? I have enough of my own problems to deal with.”

Jamie pressed her fingers to her temple to ward off the headache brewing there. “You don't have to entertain her. She'll be out with Heather and then they'll be sleeping on the opposite side of the house. Take your man and go to bed.”

Her mom's lips tightened. “I wasn't planning to sleep with Alex tonight. We had a disagreement. Which I wanted to talk to you about. He's asked me to
marry
him. What do you think I should do?”

That question snapped Jamie's last frayed nerve and the composure she'd fought to hold on to disintegrated. “Here's what
I think
, Mom,” she said, her voice low and throbbing with all the frustration she'd been holding in for what felt like forever. “
I think
I traveled seven hundred miles to take some much-needed time for myself. To solve my
own
problems. To get some perspective on my
own
life. And instead I've had to deal first with you and your drama, then your boyfriend, then a teenager, and worst of all, now my sister, who is the one person I most needed to get away from.

“
I think
that you've leaned on me so much since Daddy died that you've forgotten how to stand on your own. Do you have any idea how much pressure that puts on me? It's absolutely exhausting.
I think
—and I've lost count of how many times I've told you this since you barged into what was supposed to be my peaceful haven—that only you can decide what you want and what is best for you. I will support whatever that decision is, and frankly, I don't see what the hell is so difficult. If you love Alex, then be with him. If you don't love him, tell him so and let the poor guy go. And for God's sake, quit expecting me to make your decisions for you because I'm
done
.”

Without another word she stalked to the door and hurried down the stairs. Alex, Nick, and Laurel were halfway up with Laurel's luggage, but she didn't pause. She squeezed around them on the staircase, mumbled good night, and kept going, praying that she'd make it to Southern Comfort before her shaking knees gave out and the tears thickening her throat and pushing behind her eyes burst through.

She took the stairs at Southern Comfort two at a time and relief filled her that Nick hadn't locked his door. She let herself in and paced the length of the house, trying to corral the tumult of emotions battering her.

God, she felt so . . . frustrated. Tense. On edge. And so damn tired of dealing with everyone and their issues. She craved a reprieve. A break from the drama and stress.

Footfalls sounded on the stairs. The door opened and Godiva dashed in, followed by Nick. Nick, who'd offered support and friendship and concern. Whose steady presence had made the unbearable tension at Paradise Lost somehow bearable.

Their gazes met and a bolt of desire unlike anything she'd ever felt before struck her. The need to touch him, be touched by him, feel his hands and mouth on her, hers on him crashed over her, stealing her breath. With her gaze steady on his, she walked toward him. Based on the fire that flared in his eyes, her intent was obvious. And fine with him.

When she reached him, she wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. And was gratified to note he was already hard.

“Want you,” she whispered, grazing his neck with her teeth. “Need you.
Now
.”

Based on the speed with which he swept her into his arms and carried her to his bedroom, they were once again in agreement.

T
he first thing Nick became aware of when he awoke was the lush feminine body fitted against him. With his eyes still closed, he shifted closer to the soft warmth and nestled his morning erection more firmly against the delicious curve of Jamie's bare bottom. He breathed deeply, filling his head with the delicious scent of fresh-baked cookies.

She stirred, and his arm automatically tightened around her waist. He skimmed his hand up her torso to fill his palm with the softness of her breast. His thumb lightly circled her velvety nipple, which instantly pebbled beneath his touch.

He briefly slit one eye open. Sunlight streamed through the windows, announcing the arrival of morning. The morning after another incredible night with Jamie. The intensity of their lovemaking had blown him away. He'd had great sex before. This was better than that.
More
than that. More . . . intimate. Even more so than the last time they'd been together, and that had been pretty damn spectacular. Yet last night had been even better. He couldn't explain how, he only knew it had been.

And now as he lay with her in his arms, listening to her deep, even breaths, the troubling thoughts he'd shoved aside last night came roaring back, and he knew they could no longer be ignored.

He had to tell her the truth.

With a sigh, he eased away from her and slid from the bed. Stepping over their scattered clothes, he unconsciously counted the empty condom wrappers littering the floor as he headed toward the bathroom. One, two, three, four . . . Jesus, five of them. And that fifth time . . . damn. That fifth time—so slow and lazy and deep—had left him shaking. And feeling as if he'd emptied his soul into her.