Page 56 of The Cottage on Pelican Bay

She blinked when she realized the significance of that thought, when there was no way she would accept a marriage proposal. She was through with men. As far as she was concerned, one heartbreak in a lifetime was enough to have to deal with. There wasn’t one man who could be trusted with her heart ever again.

Her thoughts shifted back to Saint. He was a special person and one day a woman would enter his life who was deserving of everything there was about him. She appreciated every moment she spent with him, even those times when they would sit in the kitchen, over coffee or wine, and talk for hours about anything and everything. He knew more about her than Maurice ever had, and he’d told her a lot about himself and the life he’d lived in Seattle.

Then there was the wealth of business knowledge he generously shared with her, offering smart suggestions...but only when she asked for them. The one suggestion he’d given that she hadn’t asked for was about that vacant building.

Whether he knew it or not, that idea had somehow taken root in her mind. Every time she passed by the building on her walk to the Witherspoon Café, she no longer saw it as it was now; she imagined it as she’d depicted it in her painting. That had to be the reason why when she’d passed by it yesterday morning, she had taken a picture of the For Sale sign. She was actually thinking about buying it. Would it be so bad if she did? Why had she thought it would when she knew, like Saint said, it would make good business sense?

She knew the reason without thinking hard about it. Buying that building meant more frequent trips to Catalina Cove. Deep down, she knew the real reason the prospect of a connection to the cove was something she didn’t want to think about. Namely, Saint.

Whenever they were together, although she wished differently, she was consumed with a need only he could quench. She’d tried building an immunity against it, but so far, nothing had worked. An attachment to him or any man was the last thing she wanted or needed in her life. It didn’t matter one iota that Saint was a man with a keen sense of intelligence, intense integrity and loving-kindness and tenderness most didn’t possess or want to show. He was someone any woman could love and would want to love. She could not be that woman. No matter what.

Suddenly, her heart slammed against her ribs at the thought that it might be too late to stop what she hadn’t wanted to ever feel again. Deep emotions for a man.

“I meant to ask if your parents enjoyed their trip to Memphis?”

Saint smiled down at Zara. They were walking around the Blueberry Festival grounds with his arm draped around her shoulders as they moved from one booth to the other. “Yes, they always relish any time spent with the Givenses.”

He thought she looked gorgeous in her shorts set. And that straw hat on her head gave her one hell of a sexy look. When she’d opened the cottage door his gaze had roamed from head to toe. Lust had instantly ignited within him. He had to fight the urge to sweep her into his arms, take her into the bedroom and make love to her instead of going to the festival.

“Givens? Are they related to Mia?”

Her question interrupted his thoughts. “Yes, they’re her parents.”

“Oh.”

It wasn’t what she’d said but how she said it. For some reason she sounded surprised. “I mentioned to you that night I took you dancing in New Orleans that the Givenses and my parents struck up a close relationship and began doing things together during the time Mia and I were together.”

“I recall you saying that,” she said, softly. “I guess I assumed with your and Mia’s breakup, the close friendship between them had waned.”

“That’s an understandable assumption to make. Both sets of parents were upset with Mia each time she turned down my marriage proposals. The Givenses didn’t stay mad at Mia long since she’s their only child. I think our parents see it as a phase she’s going through, and they’re still holding out that she’ll come to her senses one of these days.”

“Are you holding out for that, too, Saint?”

He frowned and ceased walking. Turning to her, he said, “You of all people know better than that.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “My parents, as well as Mia’s parents, should know it as well since I’ve made it pretty clear there will never be a Saint and Mia again. That ship has sailed.”

“Do you think they got it?”

“No,” he said, honestly. “But it doesn’t matter what they think since I know better. Mia and I haven’t communicated since we broke up. As far as I’m concerned, she got on with her life and I’ve moved on with mine.”

They began walking again. “I understand Vaughn and Sierra got back,” he said, wanting to change the subject.

“Yes, and according to them they had a great time. Sierra’s parents returned with Teryn, and of course they were glad to see her. They plan on resting up some and will attend the festival’s closing activities tomorrow.”

Saint drew Zara closer to him when a group of people passed by in the crowded aisle. He loved the feel of her beside him and was getting used to her being with him. Seen or unseen. He doubted that she knew that over the past month she’d become an integral part of his life, whether he wanted her to or not.

All he had to do was remember the weekend before when he’d taken her dancing again to that same nightclub in New Orleans. Like months before, they danced to several slow songs. More than once he maneuvered her to a darkened area of the dance floor to steal a kiss or two. Maybe three.

“You want to share a corn dog with me, Saint?”

He leaned slightly away to look at her, making sure she looked at him. “I’d share anything with you, Zara.”

He thought the smile that lit up her face was priceless. Unable to help himself, he leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her lips. It had been quick, yet he’d felt her shiver. It always amazed him how deep and profound their responses were to each other. At that moment he wanted her with a fierce intensity that almost took his breath away.

“Saint?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Just so you know, Mr. and Mrs. Ivanstall saw you kiss me.”

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