All That Jazz (Butler Cove #1)(81)

I bring the champagne to my lips and swallow the whole lot. I end up hiccupping.

Putting the glass down next to the shrimp, I fold my arms across my chest as if I can somehow protect myself. “What is all the information, Jay Bird? You’re going to have to spell it out for me.”





“COLT’S WALKING OVER here,” says Joey instead of answering my challenge.

I close my eyes briefly, then turn and smile at Joey’s best friend and his date, Karina. She’s exotic and beautiful.

“So Karina and I are going to head back to Savannah,” says Colt.

Joey claps his best friend’s shoulder. “It means a lot that you were here, thank you.”

Colt shrugs. “No sweat. Wouldn’t have missed it.”

We finish our good-byes and they leave us. And if my eyes don’t deceive me Jack and Keri Ann just made for the exit as well.

I look around, then back at Joseph. “We can share a ride back to Butler Cove but don’t read into it. This is not me coming home with you.”

He puts his hands up. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Yes. Yes, you would.”

Before I notice what he’s doing, he slides a hand around my waist and pulls me flush against his body. Then he dips his face down close to my neck, inhaling deeply and setting my nerve endings alight. “You’re right,” he says, his voice rough as gravel. “I do dream of it. Often.”

Heat travels through my body fast as lightning.

Then he lets me go and steadies me by the elbow as I stumble in my ridiculously high, strappy heels.

I elbow him in the ribs. Hard. Then walk away to ask the concierge to call a cab.

I’d like to say I feel his eyes boring into my back, but I have a feeling they’re on my ass.





AS IT HAPPENS, as soon as we get to the lobby of the hotel from the event space, we bump into the cast of characters who came from Butler Cove to support Keri Ann. Latching onto this safety raft, I immediately procure us spots with them. No hour of alone time in the back of a cab for Joey and me.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

Joey’s jaw tightens but he goes along with it.

The ride home is loud and jovial. Mrs. Weaton and Paulie from the Snapper Grill are discussing the other folks they see at Canasta on Wednesdays. The gossip is rife.

Honestly, I hope I have this much of a social life when I’m almost eighty.

“You have to teach me Spite and Malice,” says Paulie. His white hair is long and tied back in a ponytail. He’s probably fifteen years Mrs. Weaton’s junior, and they’re chatting like best buds. And, if I’m not mistaken, flirting. Age is such a funny thing. The more years on your clock, the shorter the years seem as a measurement of distance. And, as my mom always points out, the shorter they seem as a measurement of time.

Maybe my time away from Butler Cove will fly by. It could become forever. And maybe, the time will drag if my heart doesn’t make the journey with me, and I’ll be dying to come home.

I’m hanging on as tightly as possible to what little of my heart is still in my possession. It was so dumb that I’d given away the bulk of it at eighteen years old.

And worse that Joey now knows it.





THE GROUP DROPS me off at my apartment. I bid them all goodnight.

Joey climbs out too.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Seeing you to your door. We’re on a date.”

I purse my lips. “Why are you so difficult?”

“I’m difficult? You’re impossible.”

“Okay kids,” calls Mrs. Weaton. “Stop arguing and just sleep together already.”

Both of us and everyone in the car turn to look at her, mouth agape.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” She shrugs.

Fuck it. “We already tried that, he wasn’t any good.” I shrug back at her.

Paulie lets out a huge bellow.

Joey folds his arms, looking more handsome than he has a right to with his irritated expression and suit stretched across his shoulders. “You really enjoy baiting me, don’t you?”

I smirk. “You’re an easy target.”

“Is your mother home?”

“Probably.” She isn’t. She still isn’t back from visiting her high school friend.

“Then get back in the car.”

“Why?”

“So I can prove you wrong.”

Paulie whistles.

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation in front of everyone.” I huff.

“You started it.”

“Actually I think I did,” says Mrs. Weaton. “Come on, Jazz, love. Get in the car.”

“Yeah, Jazz,” mimics Joey. “Get in the car.”

I scowl. “Just for acting like children, the answer is most definitely no.”

Joey unfolds his arms. He takes two steps toward me and pulls me to him. One arm snakes around my waist, the other along my jaw tilting my face up to his. In the milliseconds it takes for him to drop his mouth to mine, I glimpse a multitude of emotions flashing through his expression. Exasperation, arousal, determination, and oh my God, his mouth tastes so good. So him. So addicting. And then I know the other emotion I saw flashing briefly by in the myriad of emotions. Something else that struck me deep inside. Something I recognized. Fear.