Page 12 of The Cottage on Pelican Bay

Did he? He didn’t remember but then he had to have only been around eleven at the time. “What’s your name?”

“Samantha Groover.”

That name didn’t ring a bell, which meant she obviously hadn’t left a lasting impression on him. “It’s been a while, Samantha.”

“Yes, it has. I just moved back to town. I was working at the Colfax Bank in Tulsa, Oklahoma, as a credit analyst agent and jumped at the chance to transfer to the branch that opened here in the cove. My folks were glad about that.”

“I’m sure they were.” He hoped she saw they were running out of things to say and would move on. However, no such luck when she said, “Your mom came into the bank the other day. I hadn’t seen her in years.”

He nodded, certain there was more. “She did?”

“Yes. And of all things she remembered that crush you used to have on me. She said you had moved back to town and were still single and hadn’t gotten married yet.”

He took a sip of coffee while thinking that he definitely needed to have a talk with his mother, and soon. On a given day at least one or two women would approach him saying they’d run into his mother. “And?”

A wide grin spread across her face. “And I couldn’t believe it. You were the most sought-after guy in our junior and senior class. It doesn’t seem right that you’re still single. All the girls wanted you. I would have rekindled your interest in me then if I hadn’t been going steady with Oscar Belkins.”

He wasn’t sure what made her so certain she could have rekindled anything. Instead of making a comment, Saint took a quick look at his watch and was glad she took the hint.

“Well, you need to go, and I do, too. Which way are you headed?” she asked.

To douse the thought that they would be leaving together, he said, “Nowhere. I need to check my phone app to see how the stock market is doing.” He pulled his phone from his jacket.

“Oh. Okay,” she said, disappointedly. “While you have your phone out, let me give you my number.”

He didn’t recall asking for it and knew if she gave him hers then she would expect his, and he just wasn’t feeling it. Lucky for him at that moment his phone rang. Thank goodness, he’d been saved by the bell, although it was one of those annoying telemarketing calls that he hated getting. “Sorry, I need to take this.”

“Sure. You know where I work.”

And then she walked out, and he had a feeling she was deliberately swaying her hips as she did so. Releasing a deep breath, he leaned back in his chair and stopped his phone from ringing. All three women who had spoken to him this morning were nice-looking, but not one had pressed his buttons, set a spark or caused anything like a pang of longing to shoot through him.

The waitress came up to his table and asked, “Would you like more blueberry muffins?”

“Yes, thanks.”

When she walked off, Saint allowed his thoughts to drift back to the one woman who had the ability to make his breath catch on a surge of yearning every time he thought about her. Some of those thoughts had stirred his libido in all kinds of forbidden ways. He recalled how in the days, nights, weeks and months that followed that night with her, he had thought about her often. Nearly constantly.

He was glad he’d told her to keep his T-shirt. More times than not, he wished he would have kept something of hers to remember her by. However, in a way he had kept something of hers, although it was intangible. It had been the sanctity of his memory of her.

Two and a half years after that night with her, when he’d returned to Catalina Cove to live, he had attended his boss Vaughn Miller’s surprise celebration cookout party. That was when he’d seen Angel again. She had been just as shocked to see him.

“Here you are,” the waitress said, placing a plate of hot blueberry muffins in front of him and refilling his coffee. “Will there be anything else?”

“No, thanks. You can bring me my check.”

Back at the office, Saint was busy most of the day. After a meeting with the new bank manager in town, he grabbed lunch at Spencer’s, then was back at the office for a two o’clock meeting.

After joining his parents for dinner after work, he walked into his home close to six that evening. After removing his suit and throwing on a T-shirt and jeans, he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and went to sit on his screened-in patio.

As Saint gazed out at his land, he couldn’t stop his mind from going back to that day three months ago in February when he had discovered Angel’s true identity. Once they’d gotten over the shock of seeing each other, he had waited for an opportune time to talk with her privately. The party was in full swing when he’d finally found that moment to approach her. They knew they needed to talk and agreed the party wasn’t the place and should go elsewhere.

As he sat alone sipping his beer, Saint’s mind was filled with memories of that night when he and Zara left the cookout together.

7

Three months earlier

Saint was fighting hard to keep his eyes focused on the road with Zara seated beside him in the car. He knew her real name now. It wasn’t Angel but Zara. He’d finally gotten around to asking someone he figured would know. Saint also knew something else.

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