Page 11 of The Cottage on Pelican Bay

“Of course, we noticed the two of you leaving the cookout together early,” Ashley said with a grin that was even larger than Bryce’s. “If you want to tell us it’s none of our business we will understand.”

Zara rolled her eyes, grinned and said, “No, you won’t.”

That got everyone laughing. Vashti then said, “Yes, we will, but be forewarned that we’ll only draw our own conclusions, and they might be hotter and more erotic than the real thing.”

Zara grinned, shaking her head. Leaning closer to the table and in a low, conspiratorial voice said, “I seriously doubt anything could be hotter and more erotic than the real thing, ladies, trust me. And with that said, my lips are sealed.”

6

“Good morning, Saint.”

Saint looked up from his breakfast and tried keeping the frown from his face. Kristen Hunt. He understood she was someone his mother felt he should get to know better because she was single and an attractive churchgoing woman. She seemed to be a nice person, but deliberate or otherwise, she seemed to pop up almost everywhere. At first, he figured it was a coincidence but now he was beginning to wonder. And those suspicions were annoying the hell out of him.

“Hello, Kristen.”

“Surprise seeing you again this morning.”

Was it? Since moving back to the cove he’d made sure he checked in with his mother periodically. During those calls he would mention any stops he planned to make before and after work. Had it been a chance meeting yesterday evening when he’d run into Kristen at the grocery store? And the day before at the dry cleaners? He would have a talk with his mother and explain there was such a thing as stalking, and it was something that did not turn him on.

And speaking of turning him on...

Kristen didn’t. There was no chemistry between them. Zilch. Irene Toussaint had no way of knowing that. Maybe he should explain it to her. Then again, maybe he shouldn’t.

“I’m on my way to work and decided to drop in and grab a cup of coffee. I saw you sitting over here and wanted to speak and to let you know that my invitation to dinner is still out there.”

She had reminded him of that yesterday, the day before and a time before that. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, although he knew that he wouldn’t. The last thing he wanted was to pursue a serious relationship with anyone—especially not any of the women his mother was throwing in his way.

“Okay, I’ll be seeing you,” she said.

No time soon, he hoped. “Have a nice day, Kristen.”

“You do the same, Saint.”

He watched her leave and was glad she hadn’t invited herself to join him like Robin Dyer had done last week. Robin, a single teacher in town, had cornered him in the Ribs Shack. Even when he’d told her that he had an important call to make, she had slid into the booth across from him anyway. Had she not assumed he’d wanted to make the call in private? He’d put an end to that nonsense when he told her he’d suddenly remembered something he had to do and asked the waitress to pack up his meal for him to take out.

He took another sip of his coffee and then bit into his blueberry muffin while noticing how busy the Witherspoon Café was. He was glad he’d come early and had gotten a table when he had.

“Hi, Saint.”

He waved to the woman who’d called out to him as she rushed out the door. At least she hadn’t stopped to chitchat. As he took another sip of coffee, he thought about the woman he’d been thinking about a lot lately, ever since he’d heard she was coming to town. By his calculations she would have arrived yesterday. Namely, Zara Miller. He still thought of her as Angel during the wee hours of the night while remembering the time he’d spent with her.

It was during those times when he would lie in bed and recall the night they had spent together in his hotel room. The next morning, he hadn’t awakened to an empty bed like he’d assumed he would. She was still tucked close to him, asleep. Either she was a sound sleeper, or he’d worn her out the night before. By the time she had finally awakened, he had showered, repacked and ordered room service to deliver breakfast.

The moment she’d seen him she’d smiled at him. That expression signified she hadn’t regretted anything about the night before. That had made him cross the room and give her one hell of a good-morning kiss. He had been tempted to undress and crawl back into bed with her, but time would not allow it. He’d had a plane to catch.

After kissing her, he had stood back and watched her slide into the T-shirt he’d worn the day before to go into the bathroom. She had used his hotel-room toiletries to freshen up before joining him for breakfast. They talked about how the weather had improved and the state of the economy. Neither mentioned anything about the night before. Nor had they shared personal information about each other.

After they’d finished eating, she had gone into the bathroom to change clothes. Before leaving she’d tried returning his T-shirt, but he’d told her to keep it. For some reason he wanted her to have something to remember him by. Then they kissed goodbye, and it had been long and deep. Afterward, he was convinced the taste of her had remained on his tongue for a long time.

“Hello, Saint.”

A feminine voice cut into his thoughts of the past and in a way he was annoyed by it. He didn’t recognize the woman standing in front of his table but returned her greeting anyway. “Hello.”

He must have given her a strange look because she then asked, “You don’t remember me, do you?”

He had no reason not to be honest with her. “No, I don’t.”

“That’s understandable since it’s been years. You had a crush on me in the sixth grade.”

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