The Ocean City Boardwalk Series, Books 1-3

by Donna Fasano

  Their friendship had easily been rekindled. In fact, some would accuse them of being more than friends; and depending on the definition, that could very well be true. She and Brad did spend time together. She liked him. He made her laugh. And he sure as hell was easy on the eyes. If she ever found herself plagued by the blues, she would call him and he’d take her for a night on the town. The two of them even went so far as to scratch those very intimate itches that cropped up every now and again.

  But when it came to Brad, or any man for that matter, Cathy kept her softer emotions in check. Under lock and key, really. She suffered not a wit of jealousy when women turned to stare at his tight butt or went all hazy-eyed when he shot them one of his million dollar smiles. She endured not even a smidge of envy when she saw him out and about with some attractive tourist he met on a Saturday night.

  The toast popped and she plucked the golden brown bread from the slots, slathered two slices with a little mayo, and set them on one plate. She piled on extra crispy bacon, lettuce, and tomato, and cut the sandwich in half. Then she buttered the rest of the toast.

  Cathy’s eyes were wide open. Brad might be kind, considerate, warm-hearted, open-minded, intelligent, and fun-loving, but he was also a flirt, a Romeo, an alley cat constantly on the prowl. In other words, he was good friend material. Period.

  Thank heavens she was looking for nothing more than that.

  Scooping up the pancakes from the griddle, she arranged them on a plate and finished the eggs Benedict. Then she brought the food to the counter.

  “Sheri, order’s up!” she called.

  Brad surprised her by rounding the corner of the counter and coming toward her. Usually, he made a bee-line for the drink station where it was his habit to fill his insulated thermos with fresh coffee before heading out to a guard stand or the ATV, depending on his particular assignment for the day.

  She couldn’t help but smile when he grinned at her, his dimples were enough to make a weaker woman keel over.

  “Morning, gorgeous,” he murmured, setting down his thermos on the countertop.

  Before she could speak, he slid his arms around her and kissed her like no one was watching.

  Chapter Two

  His lips were warm, soft, familiar. And for several long seconds, the sensuous sensations swept Cathy away. The whooshing of blood through her ears, the sudden thudding of her pulse, drowned out the normal sounds of the café. The kiss ended as suddenly as it had begun, and she found herself being picked up off her feet. Brad spun in a small, tight circle, and she grabbed hold of his shoulders and let out a breathless gasp.

  An odd mixture of delight and shock laced her nervous laughter. “What has gotten in to you?” she whispered as her toes touched the floor. “Let me go. Customers are looking.”

  He grinned, his deep blue eyes twinkling with merriment. “Don’t be so paranoid. No one’s looking.”

  She glanced to her left. Sure enough, Al and Lyle were staring, one smirking, the other nodding as if to say, “Oh, yeah. We’ll be talking about this for the rest of the week.”

  Brad gently captured her jaw between his thumb and index finger and guided her face and her gaze to his.

  “The winds, they are a changing.” He breathed the words for her ears only.

  For a split second, the intensity in his eyes, the silky feel of his warm breath against her cheek, mesmerized her. Then the cryptic message seeped into her brain and caused her brow to wrinkle. “Are you okay? You didn’t get hit in the head with a surf board this morning, did you?”

  Rather than answer her question, he just laughed, turned on his heel, snatched up his thermos from the counter, and made his way over to the drink station. As he unscrewed the lid, he swiveled his head to look at her.

  “You’re still going to participate in the lunch auction, right?” he asked her. “Plans are coming together and I need to get the list of participants to the printer so the programs will be ready for auction night. The whole team has been handing out fliers. And the newspapers have already started on publicity. Have you seen the ads? They turned out great.”

  Cathy automatically picked up the dish towel from the counter. “No one is going to bid on me, Brad. Who would pay to have lunch with me?”

  “I’ll bid,” Al called out, raising his hand and waving.

  “Me, too,” Lyle chimed in. “Especially if Cathy’s providing the lunch.”

  Al snickered. “You got that straight.”

  She shot the men a look.

  “What?” Lyle said. “Come on, Cathy. It’s a great cause. And you’re a great cook.”

  While looking at Cathy, Al pointed a thumb at Lyle. “The man might not be a genius, but you can’t argue with that kind of logic.”

  The proceeds of the fund raiser Brad had been busy organizing for the past few weeks would go toward the ever-mounting medical costs of a local child who had been diagnosed with brain cancer. The hospital bills had nearly forced little Ethan Ferguson’s parents into bankruptcy. The town residents had gathered at a council meeting back in the spring to discuss what could be done. The Ocean City Beach Patrol decided to auction off lunch with some of the guards as well as some prominent citizens: a couple of the town council members and a dozen or so business owners would be participating.

  Steam wafted from Brad’s thermos as he moseyed back toward the counter. “They’re both right. On all counts. Come on, Cathy. What do you say?”

  Before she could answer, he told her, “Heather’s going to be there. Daniel said he’d bid whatever it took to win lunch with her.” His tone lowered as he said, “Who knows? Maybe you and Heather might get a chance to talk at the auction.”

  As incentives went, that one wasn’t all that great. The last thing Cathy wanted was for Heather to blow up on her and make a scene in front of a crowd of people. Not that she would expect Heather to do such a thing, but…

  Brad’s tawny brows went flat and his expression drooped like a hound dog begging for a biscuit. “Come on. Please?”

  She sighed. “Okay. All right. I’ll do it.”

  Al drummed a happy tune on the counter with his fingers, and Lyle said, “Yes! I’m going to win that lunch!”

  “Oh, no,” Al said. “I don’t think so.”

  Lyle shook his head. “Then you don’t think so good, my friend.”

  Brad beamed at Cathy as the men continued to bicker like magpies. “Thanks, Cath. I appreciate it. You won’t regret it. I promise you.” He bent close enough to kiss her cheek.

  He smelled like sunshine and ocean waves, and Cathy dragged the scent of him deep into her lungs.

  “I already regret it,” she smirked. “You sure as hell better bid on me.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t you worry about that. Now, I gotta run. I’m going to pop over and ask Sara to participate.”

  Cathy drew her chin back. “But she’s eight months pregnant.”

  “So?” Brad screwed the lid onto his thermos. “That’s just extra incentive for Landon to bid on his beautiful woman.”

  “Brad.” Cathy couldn’t keep the scoffing out of her tone. “Why don’t you just ask them for a donation? That would be so much easier.”

  He smiled and his straight, white teeth gleamed. “Easier, maybe. But the competition will be much more fun.” Then the amusement left his tone as he asked, “Hey, are you free for dinner tonight?”

  The energy in his whole countenance changed. There was a depth in his blue gaze that stirred a need deep in the pit of her belly. Like warm, gray smoke, emotion curled and tightened her insides. Judging from the look he gave her, he was talking about much more than dinner.

  “Yes,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry with anticipation, “I’m free.”

  “Great. I’ll call you later.”

  He hitched his backpack higher onto his shoulder and headed for the door, calling out for everyone in the café to have a good day.

  * * *

  Brad smiled in the darkness as he stared up at the cei
ling. He liked the feel of cool, cotton sheets on his naked skin. He felt sated, satisfied, and he knew without a doubt that Cathy felt the same. Her breathing had gone slow and rhythmic, and he suspected she’d fallen asleep.

  They’d had a good night. A great night. From start to finish.

  The scallops and risotto at Liquid Assets had been delectable. The slice of Smith Island cake they’d shared, his favorite dessert, had been slathered with rich fudge frosting. They’d talked about their day and had ended up laughing.

  He told her about a group of inquisitive kids he’d met who had asked him all manner of questions about his job and the seashore. How many people had he saved? Could he breathe underwater? Had he ever gotten caught in a rip current? Were there crocodiles in the ocean? Did dolphins eat people? Did he like to build sand castles? Had he ever been blown away by a hurricane? Did crabs have eyebrows? Were there more fish in the ocean than there were grains of sand?

  Her day had been packed with staff issues, cooking for customers, and listening to Al and Lyle bicker over who would bid the most at the auction and win the right to have lunch with her. Apparently, the guys had concocted a scheme where, if the need arose, they would pool their money for a two-for-one deal, and the rest of their afternoon had been spent planning the menu for the anticipated lunch date. Cathy complained about the crusty oldsters, but Brad knew that the men held a special place in her heart.

  He rolled over onto his side, raising his arm, and resting his jaw on his closed fist so he could look at her. Her skin glowed in the moonlight. She often lamented the fact that her skin refused to tan and claimed that, when it came to the sun, she had two colors—white and red. But he loved her porcelain-pale skin; it brought to mind fresh cream, and he fought the urge to lean forward and lick her sweet, naked flesh.

  Her back was only partially to him, and propped up like he was, he let his eyes devour the swell of her breast beneath the sheet. Her dusky nipple protruded to a pert point and desire stirred in him. Her chest rose and fell in a peaceful cadence.

  All through dinner, Brad had looked for a lull in the conversation during which he could tell her about his amazing stroke of luck. He was so excited about having inherited the mini golf course and arcade. A short-handed staff meant he’d spent the day in a guard chair, keeping watch over the swimmers, but he’d been glad to have the time to sit quietly and dream about the possibilities for the future.

  The white cotton sheet covered the gentle curves of Cathy’s waist and hip, but the fabric bunched high on her thigh, leaving her long, shapely legs open to his gaze. She had perfect calves, narrow ankles, even her feet were cute. Dark scarlet polish coated her toenails.

  He hadn’t found an opportune time to tell her about his good fortune. Not at dinner. Not at the pier where they’d gone to watch the sun go down. And not during the drive back to her house. Once there, he had become so lost in kissing her, touching her, slipping her clothes off, the whole idea of telling her had disappeared from his mind. Who could blame him for that?

  Still… why hadn’t he found a chance to tell her? They’d been together for hours, and more than one opportunity had presented itself.

  He shifted on the bed, tugged the sheet off his body, and stood up.

  Was he really that leery of her reaction?

  He found his trousers on the floor and quietly slid into them.

  Maybe it would be best to clean the place up a bit first. Schedule a visit from the landscaper. The grass was knee-high in places. And he should probably find a carpenter and an electrician to give the golf course obstacles a good once-over to make sure all the moving parts were working. The indoor arcade games were in need of good cleaning; months of sitting idle had allowed a thick coat of gray dust to settle on everything.

  Brad buttoned up his shirt and slid into his canvas Docksiders at the same time.

  He wanted Cathy to be wowed. He wanted her to look around and see the successful business he intended to make of it. The place wasn’t very impressive in its current state. Once he got it cleaned up, he could tell her.

  The job shouldn’t take long. As long as he arrived at the arcade early, he could get the crew started on their assignments each day before going to his ten o’clock beach patrol shift each morning. Dividing his time like this would be hectic, but he could handle it.

  “Hey,” she softly called from the bed. “You headed home?”

  He nodded as he tucked his wallet into his back pocket and picked up his keys. The dark doubt that had seeped into the satisfied happiness he’d felt disturbed him.

  “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’ve got to be up early.” He rounded the bed and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Stay put. I’ll lock the door on my way out.”

  She murmured a thank you, then closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. It was a sight he saw fairly often, one that never failed to conjure a warm smile. But an odd frown marred his brow as he left the bedroom and made his way to the front door.

  Chapter Three

  Quiet enveloped the inside of the café like a piece of cotton batting, muffling the sounds coming from beyond the front door: the conversations and laughter of the people strolling along the boardwalk, the squeals of happy children, and the ever-present background noise of the ocean waves. She’d locked the door at two thirty that afternoon and hoped the last few customers would finish up their meals by three so she could hit the beach by four. Her staff had been quick and efficient in taking care of the end-of-shift tasks. Every table had been cleaned, the chairs had been perched upside down on the tabletops, the floor had been swept and mopped, the counter wiped down, and all the dishes and utensils had been washed, sterilized, and put away. The dining room and kitchen gleamed. She was ready for tomorrow morning’s opening.

  Slipping into her office and closing the door, she changed out of her work clothes and put on her bikini. She carefully coated every inch of her skin with sunscreen, put on her beach cover-up, and then went to the closet to pull out her umbrella, a chair, and her trusty tote that held a few cooking magazines she’d been eager to read.

  Snagging her phone off her desk, she started tapping out a text to Brad, but then she paused before she’d completed the invitation to join her when he got off work.

  Something was up with him, although she wasn’t sure what. The last time they’d been together, he’d been so considerate, so… giving. Cathy grinned when she thought about just how giving he’d been. However, over the course of the following four days, she’d reached out to him a couple of times and he’d blown her off with vague excuses. That’s how her relationship was with Brad; when he was with her, he could be so attentive that she felt like the only woman alive. But once they were apart, she seemed to easily slip his mind. That was okay. Really. She knew where she stood with the man.

  Cathy decided to delete the text, and she sent one to Sara instead.

  Cathy: Headed out to the beach. Want to join me?

  Sara: Yes! Need some sunshine on my skin.

  Sara: Just finishing up at the shop. Give me 15.

  Cathy: No prob. Take ur time. Will bring a chair for u.

  Sara: Thx.

  Cathy: Head due east. : )

  Sara: Will do.

  Out on the beach, Cathy rocked the umbrella pole back and forth, forcing it into the sand. She caught sight of Heather on the front porch of the Lonely Loon with Daniel’s little girl, Mia. With the umbrella open and secure, Cathy moved her tote next to the pole and positioned the chairs in the circle of shade. She tried not to glance toward the B&B but failed. On her second quick look, she spied Mia crossing the boardwalk. The child trudged toward her across the sand.

  “Hey, sweet stuff.” Cathy smiled broadly at Mia.

  “I asked Heather if we could come say hi.” Mia lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “She said she didn’t want to get sand in her shoes. But she let me come by myself.”

  “I’m so glad you did.” Cathy sat down and pointed to the empty chair. “Want
to sit while we visit?”

  “Okay.” Mia’s tone wavered a bit and she didn’t move immediately toward the beach chair; instead, she darted a nervous glance back toward Heather.

  Cathy was actually surprised that the child had come so far from the B&B all by herself. The ordeal Mia had experienced back in the winter had left her frightened and uncertain. Daniel had taken his daughter to visit family in some Eastern European country, and his deceased wife’s sister had snatched the child and had kept her from Daniel for many long, agonizing weeks.

  “You’re safe, sweetheart,” Cathy assured her softly. “Heather will stand right there on the porch until you get back, I’m sure of it.”

  Mia nodded and then sat down in the shade of the umbrella.

  “You haven’t been to the café for breakfast for a while,” Cathy said. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve been helping Heather. She keeps me awful busy.”

  Cathy chuckled. “I’m sure. Running a bed and breakfast is hard work. And this is the busiest part of the season.”

  Mia agreed with an exaggerated nod of her head. Her big eyes went round. “And those people… they really like to talk.”

  “Yes, they do.” Cathy reined in the humor tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  “I got a kitten,” Mia pronounced.

  “You did?”

  “I’m really happy.” The little girl’s words were breathed on a sigh. “I wasn’t sure it was going to happen. Heather was worried the people who come to stay with us might be lergic to cats.”

  “Allergic?”

  “Yeah, lergic.” Mia’s dark head bobbed enthusiastically. “That means Midnight might make ‘em sneeze and make their nose run with snot. Daddy told me snot is mucus, and it’s sticky like flypaper. To catch the stuff you don’t want to breath in. And then there are the hives. Big, red blotches. Heather told me about those.”