Page 22 of The Cottage on Pelican Bay

“Yes, Vaughn mentioned it to me. He knew since I was a Bayou Creole that I probably spoke either French or Spanish as a second language. My parents are fluent in both. However, I’m fluent in just French. I figured whenever the folks would speak Spanish around me it was because they were discussing something they didn’t want me to know about,” he said, grinning.

She laughed softly. “I hate to say it but you’re probably right.”

Saint looked at his watch. “Unfortunately, I need to leave for a meeting at the office.”

“Alright and thanks for breakfast. I enjoyed sharing it with you, Saint.”

“And I with you, Zara.”

He held her gaze for a moment and then he leaned in close. His voice was low when he asked, “Will I be able to see you while you’re here, Zara?”

Her voice was just as low when she answered, “I was hoping you’d want to, Saint. You know where I’m staying.”

“The cottage?”

“Yes.”

“And the access code to the security gate’s the same?” Saint remembered it from the last two times.

“Yes.”

Saint straightened in his chair. Just the thought of spending time with her again sent a rush of adrenaline, as well as contentment, all through him. He motioned for the waitress to bring him a new check. There was no need for him and Zara to discuss their plans for later any further. Instead, they talked about the possibility of rain over the next few days as well as the Blueberry Festival that would be held in a few weeks.

He placed enough cash on the table for both their meals and a generous tip. As he stood to leave, he said, “Enjoy the rest of your stay in the cove, Zara.”

She met his gaze over her coffee cup. He saw the heat in her eyes and figured it probably mirrored his own. Lowering the cup, she said, “I’m sure that I will, Saint.”

11

Zara sat at the easel in the loft and painted. She’d gotten the idea after leaving the Witherspoon Café that morning and walking to the shipping district to watch the boats come and go.

She’d always enjoyed walking along the pier and when she saw the arts-and-crafts store, the only one in the cove, she decided to do something she hadn’t done in a long time. That meant she would need paints and brushes. She was glad to see Ms. Fanny, who’d owned the place for years. The older woman said she could recall when Zara would come in as a little girl with her mother to get her art supplies. Zara remembered those days as well.

When she returned to the cottage, she’d taken a leisurely swim in the bay. Once she began painting, she hadn’t known where her creative thoughts would lead her, until her paintbrush began moving across the canvas. A short while later she wondered what had possessed her to paint the vacant storefront she’d seen earlier that day. She hadn’t reproduced just an empty building; she had worked with different colors and painted what she visualized as another one of her boutiques.

She paused to study the image and saw how this one was different. The storefront was classier than the others, chic while still maintaining that classic Catalina Cove look. It had a French flair with flower planters, triple awnings and a huge sign that read, Zara la Vogue, the French translation of Zara Fashions—which was different from the other stores she owned, all named Zara’s Fashion Boutique.

She decided there wasn’t anything wrong with a little daydreaming and over-the-top thinking. That was what it would be for her to even consider opening one of her boutiques in this town. The space was way larger than all her other shops, which meant she would consider it as the main store. But she didn’t want to move back to the cove. It had been easy for Vaughn to come back here to live, but it wasn’t that easy for her, especially after living in Boston.

It wasn’t that she absolutely loved Boston, because she didn’t. She detested the cold winter, and then there was the traffic that seemed to be more horrendous each day. So was the cost of living. Although she and Vaughn would be considered wealthy by most people’s standards—considering the proceeds from the oil business her parents sold when her father retired, the trust funds, as well as extensive properties she and Vaughn jointly owned in Paris—they’d decided to work and not to live extravagantly just because they could afford to. Between the two of them, they had established several foundations for their charitable work.

That was one of the things she and Maurice had disagreed on. He was the grandson of a wealthy businessman and could be just as snobbish as her parents had been when it came to social classes. Now that she could reflect on her two years of exclusiveness with him, she could see the old Zara had tolerated a lot of things that the new Zara wouldn’t.

That included her bedroom experience, which she’d assumed was okay and acceptable. Not anymore. The three hookups with Saint had satisfied her more than her sexual encounters with Maurice. That night spent in Saint’s hotel room had been the hottest sexual experience of her life. She had been left thinking nothing could be better than that.

She was proved wrong when she’d seen him at Vaughn and Sierra’s celebration cookout, and then again on the night of their wedding. Each time was better than the last. That was probably why she was feeling antsy now, and the reason a spike of heat had settled right between her legs.

Since she didn’t have Saint’s cell number and he didn’t have hers, there was no way to know if the hookup would be tonight or even if it would happen this week. She’d basically let him know at breakfast that he was welcome at any time.

Since meeting him, other men had tried capturing her interest. So far, none had done so. She hadn’t met another guy with such a deep and strong attraction like she felt with Saint. Her attraction to him was even stronger than what she’d felt for Maurice. And in the bedroom...well, although she tried not to compare, in all honesty there was no comparison. It was Team Saint hands down, or bodies down. Each and every time.

She also enjoyed the times they spent just talking, over wine or cuddling in bed. Like Vaughn, Saint had a strong background in finance. She’d also discovered he was good when it came to problem-solving. The last time they were together she told him about the issue she was having with the landlord of one of her shops. The man was refusing to make necessary changes to the building that he had agreed to do.

Saint suggested since the landlord was being difficult to call his bluff and tell him she would not be renewing her lease. If that didn’t work, and if she really liked the location of that shop, she should buy it. Owning the property would be a better deal since it would be a valuable long-term investment.

She had followed Saint’s suggestion and called the landlord’s bluff. It worked. However, the idea of owning the buildings of all four of her shops was appealing. Already her attorney was looking into making that happen. More than anything she would love to own her shop in Boston on Newberry Street, a popular shopping, dining and entertainment district. She’d made offers to buy it twice and had been turned down both times.

She could have easily gone to Vaughn for his advice, but she knew her brother. Whereas Saint was a problem solver, Vaughn was a fixer. He would have wanted to handle it for her instead of letting her handle it for herself. For the most part, Vaughn accepted her as the independent woman that she was. However, he clung to this belief that when it came to the women he loved, a man had to handle business for them even if they were capable of handling it for themselves.

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