Sweetheart Cove

by Jacquie Biggar

  Josie slid him an uncertain glance, then smiled at Jane. “You can pet him, he won’t bite. Have you thought of a name yet?”

  The pup took matters into his own hands. With his thin tail whipping, a small pink tongue lashed out, catching cheek, nose, chin, whatever skin he could find. Jane gasped, then giggled, her fingers sinking into the soft fur.

  “Daddy, look, he likes me.” Her smile lit the room and warmed his heart.

  Jake smiled back around the lump in his throat. “What’s not to like?” he said. “Are you ready to teach this guy some manners?”

  “This is the best gift ever,” she chirped. “Josie will help me, won’t you?”

  Josie stood and brushed a wavy strand of honey-brown hair away from her face. “Well, it’s been a few years since I had a puppy, but I think we can manage, yes.” She leveled an unfathomable look on Jake. “Maybe your father would prefer to help?”

  Jake frowned, unaccountably annoyed. He didn’t need the therapist to run interference between him and his kid. If she preferred having Josie’s help to his, that was fine. He didn’t have time for puppy training anyway. “I have work,” he muttered.

  Josie glared at him over Jane’s head. “Listen, I need to talk to your dad for a minute. Are you okay with your new friend, here?”

  Jane nodded, her eyes shining. “Sure. I’ll keep a tight hold on his collar, so he doesn’t fall.”

  The pup had already used up his energy and fallen asleep with his head resting on the arm of the wheelchair. Jake bent and gave his daughter a kiss on the forehead. “Be right back, honey. I’m glad you like your present.”

  Jane hugged the pup. “I love him.”

  Josie led the way to the exercise room, Jacob followed and set the weight he’d been carrying on a bench. She glanced out to check on Jane, then closed the door and leaned against it. Her gaze made him uncomfortable, like his skin was two sizes too small.

  He wandered the room, but the mirrors lining the walls bounced her image back to him every step of the way. Not that he needed any reminders, he’d spent more than one night waking up with her on his mind. It had succeeded in leaving him feeling guilty and out of sorts for the rest of the day. No wonder he’d been spending more time away from home—it was her fault.

  Not really. He’d like to blame her, but truthfully it was his own fault if he couldn’t keep his libido under control.

  “How’s the arm?” she asked, head tipped, wavy hair brushing her shoulder, as she watched him making the rounds.

  He glanced down, surprised by the question. “It’s fine. Thanks.” He met her gaze in the mirror. “You had something to say?” His tone was abrupt, but there was nothing he could do about that. She kept him off-kilter.

  She straightened, her expression going from worried to wary. Good, she should be.

  “Jane is over the moon about that puppy. It almost seemed as though it’s her first pet.”

  He could tell she was bursting with questions, but he wasn’t ready to give all the answers, so he just nodded.

  Her face fell. “Okay, well, the thing is… I never hired on to babysit a dog.” She crossed her arms and stared at the floor as though she wished a hole would open up and swallow her. “If you want the pup trained, you’ll have to do it.”

  He stiffened, ready to… he didn’t know what. Somewhere in the last few weeks she’d become indispensable to his daughter, he couldn’t fire her. Then he took note of her defensive posture and her strange attitude suddenly made sense. She was doing this for Jane.

  A warmth he hadn’t felt in a very long time unfurled in his chest. He strode to her side and stared at her bent head. “Why didn’t you tell me I was being a jerk?” That brought her head up. She stared at him with wide eyes.

  “You aren’t mad?” she whispered.

  His lips quirked at that. “Maybe a little, but I’ll get over it. Thing is, you’re right. I’ve been so crazy at work I’ve neglected my child. And you.” She startled, and her cheeks took on a rosy hue. He had the sudden urge to kiss her, taste that sassy mouth and see if it was half as hot as it was in his dreams.

  He lowered his head and she opened her mouth. “Are you going to kiss me?” she asked, shock apparent in her expressive eyes.

  He smiled. “Yes, so shush.” He held her waist, more to anchor himself than to hold her in place and released the breath he hadn’t even been aware of holding before touching her lips with his. The sensation was so exquisite, he had to close his eyes to hold it all in. Good. So damn good.

  Her mouth was warm and mobile, and her hot little body practically melted in his arms. She made sweet, kittenish sounds that he felt right to the core. But when her tongue licked into his mouth the resulting explosion of sensation told him he was losing control.

  He took a step back, away from her erotic moan, his body aching. The flush covering her face and neck almost drove him back to her arms, but that would be a mistake. He wasn’t in a good headspace for an affair—and neither was she.

  “What did you do that for?” she whispered, the back of her hand against her swollen lips.

  “Hell if I know,” he muttered.

  She opened the door at her back, the one leading into the hall where his daughter sat waiting a few feet away. Christ.

  “Well, don’t do it again,” she warned, and disappeared like a wraith.

  Yeah, he’d take that as some sound advice.

  Chapter 11

  Mona stomped up the walk and stormed in the front door of the Town Hall. “Where is he?” she growled.

  Trudy looked up from her desk, startled. She glanced at the mayor’s office, then stood and hurried to the front reception counter. “He’s in a meeting, honey. Now calm down, you don’t want to go and say something you’ll regret later.”

  Mona laughed, though there was nothing funny about the situation, and headed toward the closed door, his lordship’s name emblazoned in gold script across the wood paneling. “The only regret I have is that I didn’t shoot the bastard when I had the chance.”

  The last words floated into the room as she opened the door and put an instant halt to the so-called secret meeting. Sally turned from her position in front of the window, a sardonic smirk on her red lips. “Fancy meeting you here,” she murmured.

  Trace was at the bar pouring himself a drink. He’d stiffened on her entrance and now cursed as the liquor overflowed his glass. He set the tumbler down, grabbed some napkins and crouched to sop up the mess from the sage green carpet.

  His gaze met hers, a hint of appeal in his expression. “Mona, this is a surprise. I hope you’ll save the shooting until after I have a drink. It’s been one of those mornings.” His eyes invited her to share in his humor, to remember their connection and give him a chance.

  For one brief instant, she softened. Everything they’d been to each other, the memory of his touch… then Sally clapped her hands and the anger flooded back, hotter than ever.

  “So sweet. Are you sure you two didn’t take acting lessons? That’s a theatre-worthy production if ever I’ve seen one.” Sally lowered herself onto the leather sofa next to the window and crossed her legs as though she was awaiting the next act.

  “Shut up, Sal.” Trace rose and picked up his drink again. He took a healthy swallow before waving a hand to one of the club chairs in front of his desk. “Join me?” He tipped his half-empty glass in Mona’s direction.

  Mona shook her head but took the chair. Her knees had been giving her problems lately and any chance to get off of them, even here, was appreciated. “We need to talk,” she said, her tone abrupt. She didn’t want to do this in front of his wife, but she would.

  Sally sighed and rose. “Well, that’s my cue. I can’t stand heart-to-hearts, can you?” She wandered over to Trace, placed slim fingers with perfectly polished nails on his chest, and leaned up to buss his cheek. “See you tonight?”

  Trace gave an infinitesimal nod, his gaze never straying from Mona’s face. “Yeah, sure. I’ll call you l
ater.”

  Left with no more chaos to cause, Sally gathered up her purse and headed toward the door. “Be nice to him, Mona. I might need him later,” she quipped, her smile triumphant.

  Trace snorted as she closed the door. “That woman isn’t happy unless she’s stirring up trouble.”

  Which begged the question; what had he seen in her? But then, Mona could guess the answer. Sally was rich, sexy, beautiful, popular—in short, everything she wasn’t.

  “Why are you trying to destroy my brother’s business?” She launched the first missile, well aware the best defense is a solid offence.

  He looked genuinely puzzled, but then he would pretend innocence. It didn’t look good in the polls if people found out how big a creep their mayor really was, and elections were just around the corner.

  “I don’t know what…,” he started.

  Pissed at the whole situation, she rose and stalked toward him, poking a blunt fingernail into his chest. “I don’t want excuses, Trace. I want you to fix this. Jacob is your friend; how could you do this to him?”

  He stared into her eyes and wrapped his hand around her finger, bringing it up to his lips for a kiss that made her insides quiver. She jerked her hand free and launched herself backward, her chest heaving.

  “What did you do that for?” she demanded, glaring.

  He smiled. Smiled, the jerk.

  “I figured it was the quickest way to make you listen,” he admitted. “Besides, I wanted to.”

  He was the most aggravating man on the face of the planet. “Fine, I’m listening. Explain to me why you’re allowing that health spa to take up three quarters of prime waterfront real estate and when Jacob came here to talk to you about it, you put him off.” She crossed her arms, hating the vulnerability she couldn’t control. “Jake needs the work, but not if it’s a shady corporation that’s going to bleed our community dry. It’ll ruin him, Trace. You’ve got to see that.”

  He stepped into her bubble—did the man have no boundaries—and tipped her chin so he could meet her gaze. “Is that what he told you? That I put him off?”

  She shrugged. Maybe not in so many words, but…

  “He was protecting you, same way I’m trying to do.” She startled. “Truth is, that land belongs to the Haywards. Sally’s father bought it when the old Davidson place burned down, back when we were kids. Now that her dad has dementia, Sally has taken control of his business interests.” He brushed his finger along her cheek. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  She stared into eyes so blue she could happily drown in them and saw the truth he couldn’t reveal. “Your wife holds my brother’s future in her slimy little hands. That’s it, isn’t it?” She dropped her forehead to his chest, wishing she could take comfort in the strong beat of his heart. “We’re doomed.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and waited, her mooring in a storm-tossed sea. “He’s been through too much already, I have to do something,” she muttered into his shirt.

  He chuckled. “Funny, Jake said the same thing about you.”

  She looked up at that. “Me? What do I have to do with…” A lightbulb went off in her head. She swore. “Are you telling me this is my fault? Your wife is on a vendetta to ruin my brother because of our past? That’s ridiculous.”

  Trace’s lips quirked sadly. He released his hold on her and stepped away to pick up his drink. “Of course,” he said quietly. “But that’s Sally. My ex-wife, by the way. She gets something in her head and it’s well-nigh impossible to change her mind. I have to see her tonight when I pick up Beth. I’ll try to talk some sense into her, but no guarantees.”

  Beth. The fourteen-year-old he’d fathered a little more than a year after he’d walked out on her. Samantha’s half-sister. The one she had no idea lived in the same town as she did.

  Fun times.

  Chapter 12

  Josie wasn’t sure how she got through the next few days. She must have acted reasonably normal, because no one questioned her absentmindedness, even when she set the puppy’s food in the refrigerator instead of the pantry where it belonged. Jacob’s kiss lived front and center in her thoughts, and his hard, masculine body encompassed her dreams. He was a moody, short-tempered grump who made her pulse skyrocket. How could she feel this way when only a month ago she’d been hours from marrying another man?

  She added fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies to the picnic basket she’d prepared and glanced down at the pup sitting expectantly at her feet. “If you’re looking for handouts, you’ll just have to wait. No offence, but I don’t trust your stomach in the car.”

  “Is it time yet?” Jane wheeled into the kitchen, her face expectant. The dog, thinking it was playtime, crouched, nose on his front paws, butt in the air and tail wagging a mile a minute. He let out a couple of excited yips, then raced around the room and jumped against Jane’s shorts-clad legs. “Ow, Mischief, that hurts,” she cried, then stopped in shock and stared at the red marks already fading from her skin. “It hurt,” she whispered.

  Josie pushed the dog out of the way and crouched at the little girl’s side. “Honey, this is great. I’m so happy for you. We better tell your father, so he can get you to the specialist for a checkup.”

  Jane shook her head and gripped Josie’s wrist. “No. Can we keep it a secret? Please, Josie? Just for a while. I want to get better and surprise Daddy by walking. Please?”

  Her pleading eyes undid Josie. How was she supposed to say no to that? She nodded. “Okay, but if you have any pains at all, you tell me, understand?” She patted Mischief’s silky head. “Guess your dad knew what he was doing, getting you a dog. Maybe we should name him Miracle instead of Mischief.”

  Jane giggled. “It’s not Mischief, Josie. It’s you. You’re the miracle.”

  Overcome, Josie gave her an impulsive hug. “Your dad is one lucky guy,” she whispered.

  “What are you two conspiring about over there?” Jacob entered the house through the sliders opening onto the patio. He’d been cutting grass and must have become overheated—or lost his shirt. The sun had kissed his skin a warm golden-brown. The muscles in his arms and chest were delineated, strong from years in the construction business. A thin trail of dark hair led the way from his belly button and hid behind low-riding jeans and a growing bulge he didn’t bother to hide.

  Embarrassed, Josie looked up and caught amusement mixed with sinful temptation in his storm-tossed eyes. She snapped her sagging jaw shut, swung back to the overflowing hamper, and blindly moved cookies and thermoses around, her mind filled with erotic images of just how well that body could make her hum.

  “Daddy, we’re not co… co-spiring,” Jane giggled, reminding Josie they weren’t alone. “We’re going on a picnic. Can you come with us?”

  “Wellll,” Jake murmured. “Looks like you packed enough for an army. I guess I’d better. Someone has to haul this basket around. That is, as long as Miss Sparks doesn’t mind?”

  His breath feathered Josie’s cheek, causing her to jump. How did he move so quietly? She snapped the lid closed and skittered sideways, away from the distracting heat of his body. “Not at all, you’re more than welcome. I’m sure Jane would love to spend the day with her father.” She risked another glance, and yep, still no shirt. “Actually, I have some e-mails to catch up with, and you guys don’t need me in the way. Go and have a nice father-daughter day. I’ll get all the highlights tonight.” She smiled at Jane and headed for the hallway, anxious to escape, but she hadn’t counted on Jake’s lightning reflexes.

  He reached out and grasped her hand, stopping her in her tracks and sending Mischief on the run. “Hold on, the e-mails will wait. Doesn’t a day at the beach beat one at a keyboard?” He wove their fingers together, cementing his hold on her heart as much as her hand. “Come on, Sparks. You know you want to.”

  “Yeah, Josie, you have to come,” Jane pleaded.

  There really was no contest. Stay home and mope all day or take this opportunity to make me
mories she could treasure later when she left the island and returned to the real world.

  “Okay, but you have to help me build a sand castle,” she said.

  Jake followed Josie down the trail to the beach a short while later, his arms laden with basket and blanket and everything else the girls deemed necessary for a picnic. Jane led the way, the motor on her electric wheelchair whining as she held to a low gear for the steep decline. Mischief felt no such hindrance and tumbled down the hill and onto the sand with a puppy’s exuberance and gangly legs.

  The ache in his loins intensified with every step the woman in front of him took. She wore what should have been perfectly respectable linen shorts, but they served up her ass on a pretty pink platter and he was hard put not to indulge. What was the matter with him? He was acting like a randy teenager trying to score with the cheerleader. And even if he did, what then? An affair would only make for an untenable situation at home. Much as Josie tempted him, his daughter needed her more. She’d already changed immeasurably this summer. It did his heart good to see her smile and hear her laughter. He couldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.

  He sighed and turned his attention from the wind playing with Josie’s crazy hair. “Hey, Pumpkin. Stop there and I’ll carry you across the sand. Just let me get rid of this pile of stuff. You guys packed enough for Armageddon.”

  Josie smiled somewhat mischievously. “We needed to be prepared,” she said demurely.

  He risked losing the load to lean over and whisper on his way past, “What else did they teach you in Girl Scouts, Miss Sparks?”

  She sucked in a startled breath, then came back with a swift retort. “How to tie knots.”

  That drew him up short. He stared at her defiant face, bemused. “You’ll have show me some day, they could come in right handy.” He couldn’t help it, he winked, then carried on down the trail whistling with her sputtering along behind him. Yep, this was going to be a fun day.