Page 19 of The Cottage on Pelican Bay

“Why am I here, Zara?” He had to ask her that, since he was filled with a desire to consume her the same way a flame from a candle sucked up oxygen.

“I wanted you here with me, Saint.”

Although he knew the reason, he wanted her to tell him anyway. “Why?”

She took a step closer as if doing so would garner all his attention. If only she knew just how much of his attention she already had.

She said, “Earlier tonight you alluded to the fact that typically you aren’t into casual relationships. But...”

He lifted a brow. “But what?”

“You and I shared one such night two years ago, didn’t we?”

Yes, they had and for months after it happened, he’d tried to understand what had driven him to do it—although he didn’t regret the experience at all. “Yes, we did. Like I said, you were an exception. I enjoyed being with you and I’ll even go so far to say I needed it.”

“I enjoyed being with you and needed it, too,” she admitted. “However, I don’t want you to think I’m a promiscuous woman, Saint, because I’m not. In fact, I haven’t made love to anyone since that night I spent with you.”

Her admission surprised him. “Why?”

Zara shrugged. “I haven’t had any desire to do so. And, like you, I’ve been busy.” She paused and then said, “Besides, I haven’t met another guy who I was sexually attracted to the way I was with you that night.”

Since she was being forthright with him, he saw no reason not to do so with her. “I totally understand since I haven’t shared a woman’s bed since you, either.”

Now that surprised Zara. Why would a virile man deny himself that way? “Why not?”

“Earlier tonight I told you the reason I’m not seriously involved with anyone. Another reason is similar to yours. I haven’t met a woman who I was sexually attracted to the way I was with you that night. So far, no other woman can push my buttons the way you do. All you have to do is look at me and I get hot. I see you and I want you. I touch you and I want you. I smell you and I want you.”

His words had sexual excitement curling her stomach. “You are a very passionate being, Saint.”

He took a sip of wine. “So are you.”

She appreciated his compliment. “Thanks. So, what are we going to do about all this passion that’s going to waste?” she asked, deliberately easing closer to him. Although the intensity of her desire and attraction for him mystified her, in no way did it bother her. He also didn’t seem bothered by the intensity of the heat they were generating.

“Do you have any suggestions?” he asked, holding her gaze.

“Yes, I have a few,” she said, inching closer to him. “I suggest we work it out of our systems.”

“Out of our systems? Is such a thing possible?” he asked, amused.

She knew why he was asking. If a full night of lovemaking two and a half years ago hadn’t eradicated their desire for each other, what hope was there that a repeat performance would render a different result? “Not sure, but we can definitely try. And as far as your hang-up on indulging in casual relationships, think of this time differently.”

“How so?” he asked, placing his wineglass on the table.

“Nothing we do will be considered casual in normal terms. It will be a hookup of a purely sexual kind. No emotional attachment. No commitment. No expectation of anything other than the moment.” She had offered him the type of relationship most men would jump at. “That’s the arrangement. You game, Saint?”

“Yes, I’m game. There’s no way I couldn’t be,” he said, holding her gaze.

He continued to stare at her for a long moment before reaching for her wineglass. He placed it on the table beside his. Then swept her into his arms and headed in the direction of where he’d seen a bedroom earlier.

10

Present day

It was a warm, sunny day as Zara strolled toward the Witherspoon Café, a restaurant known for serving a wonderful breakfast, a delicious lunch and a mouthwatering dinner. She had awakened that morning for the taste of their blueberry muffins. Nobody in Catalina Cove made them better than the Witherspoons.

Parking near the shipping district she decided to take the leisurely walk to the café. She loved this part of Catalina Cove. The downtown area was a replica of New Orleans’s French Quarter. That had been a deliberate move on the part of the cove’s founder, her great-great-great-grandfather, the pirate Jean LaFitte, after the US government turned down his request to be given New Orleans.

Zara greeted those she passed. Some she knew and others she didn’t. Over the years, a number of people had moved to Catalina Cove. A lot of them, thanks to the low-interest loan plan Reid had established, were people who’d grown up in the cove and were moving back home.

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