Chapter 8
8
Saint’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. She was asking him something he’d rather not talk about. But then he figured she probably hadn’t wanted to share anything about what a prick her boyfriend had been, but she had. At least his story, as she’d put it, wasn’t that bad. There hadn’t been any betrayal. What there had been was no desire for a commitment, which basically meant no love.
He said, “To fully explain why I’m not involved with anyone now, I’ll have to explain my prior relationship with my ex-girlfriend.”
“Okay.”
He slowed the car at another traffic light and said, “Mia and I met at a wedding. She was one of the bridesmaids and I was one of the groomsmen. We hit it off and after a few dates we became an exclusive couple. We enjoyed our relationship and after a year and a half I felt we were both ready for more. I asked her to marry me. She turned me down, saying it was too soon, and that we should live together for a while to see if we were compatible. So, we did.”
“Were you compatible?”
“I thought so. We got along great. Everyone said we complemented each other. We rarely had an argument and we liked being together. Like I told you, my parents thought the world of her, and her parents said I was the son they always wanted. Our parents even struck up a close relationship and began doing things together. Everything seemed perfect.”
“But?”
“Two years after my first proposal, I assumed the time was right. We’d been together four years and weren’t getting any younger. I thought we should settle down, make everything legitimate and consider starting a family. I asked her to marry me for a second time.”
“So, what happened?”
“Mia threw a tantrum. Literally. She accused me of being selfish by wanting to mess up a good thing. She told me that she still wasn’t ready for marriage and doubted that she would be anytime soon. Nor was she ready to have children and wasn’t sure if she ever would be. In other words, she didn’t want a husband, children or wedding vows. She wanted us to continue as we were.”
“Living together in an exclusive relationship?”
“Yes.” Saint paused a moment and then said, “There was no way that I could do that. I wanted more. Namely, a committed future with her that involved marriage. After she turned down my second proposal, I knew there would never be a time I’d do a third and figured it was time to cut my losses and move on.”
She remained silent; however, he knew there was another question coming and had a feeling what it would be. “Are you hoping that the two of you will get back together one day?” she asked.
“No.” If she thought his response had been quick it was because he felt strongly about it. “Mia has moved on with her life and so have I. Soon after she turned down my proposal, she took a job in Florida. It’s been three years, and I haven’t heard from her and doubt that I ever will. We’ve both moved on.”
There was no need to tell her that although he hadn’t heard from her, his mother had. She had been close to his parents and still called them on occasion to see how they were doing. Likewise, he’d done the same for her parents. At least he had in the beginning. He stopped calling them when he discovered the couple was holding on to hope that he and Mia would get back together.
Saint had been disappointed when both sets of parents thought he should have put his foot down with Mia. To do what? Force her into marriage? He knew now that he’d done the right thing by breaking things off and not going to Florida with her.
Moving back to Catalina Cove had been the best thing he could have done. Initially, it had been for his parents’ benefit, but now he would be the first to say it had benefited him as well. He loved his job and liked the house he’d purchased. Both kept him busy. Too busy for a serious involvement with a woman.
“So, I guess at one time you had to do your own pathway-forward thing, too,” Zara said, breaking into his thoughts.
“Yes, I did. However, at the time I thought of it as surviving a heartbreak. For me that meant not setting myself up for another. Mia proved that forever, and happy-ever-after, aren’t for everybody. Giving a woman I loved four years of my life, only to have her turn down my marriage proposals, was a kick to my heart that is hard to recover from. I doubt that I ever will.”
He’d never been a man who routinely indulged in casual relationships. Those type of affairs weren’t for him. He figured that he would meet a girl, date her and concentrate solely on her. He never understood why some men felt the need to have a different woman in their bed every night of the week if they could. His mom had been the only girl for his dad and vice versa for his mom. He’d honestly believed it would be the same way for him.
“I’m not into casual relationships.” Had he just said that when the one he’d participated in that night with her had been as casual as any connection could be? “At least typically, I’m not. That night I spent with you was an exception.”
“You do date, though, right?”
“On occasion, yes, although I haven’t done so since returning to Catalina Cove. I’ve been too busy with my new job.” No need for her to know the dates he’d had while living in Seattle had been blind dates his friends had set up.
“I see.”
He doubted she did see. “But that hasn’t stopped my mom from trying to fix me up with every single woman in the cove since I’ve moved back. She wants grandbabies.”
“Your mom is actually trying to hook you up with women?”
“Yes,” he said in an annoyed tone. “However, my mother wants something far more serious than a hookup, trust me. She wants me to meet a woman who, unlike Mia, has marriage on her mind. But a part of her is still hoping that Mia comes to her senses, and we’ll get back together. Although I’ve told Mom that won’t be happening.”
When he saw the bright lights of the French Quarter, he asked, “So where is this place in New Orleans that we’re going to for a night of dancing?”
“You’re a good dancer, Zara.”
She looked across the table at Saint, taking in his kissable lips, chiseled jaw and those penetrating dark eyes that could wet your panties if you stared into them too long.
“And so are you,” she said, being totally honest. When she’d told him of her desire to go dancing, she figured he would just dance to the slow songs with her like Maurice used to do whenever he took her dancing. But not Saint. He had danced with her every single time, even the line dancing. Not only was he a good-looking man but his well-defined masculinity was on full display with that open-button shirt and what she thought of as pulse-tripping jeans. His pectorals and biceps were in fluid motion with his dance moves, and she wasn’t the only woman noticing.
There wasn’t anything about Saint that wouldn’t grab a woman’s attention. She liked the slow dances with him the best. That was when she would breathe in his scent and revel in the hard body pressed against hers. When he tightened his arms around her, a restless throb of desire invaded her senses.
Sharing a car ride with him to New Orleans had been sexual torture at its best. Whenever she’d felt his eyes on her and looked over at him, she would see the dark intensity in their depths. And when he spoke, his deep, husky voice would set off vibrations deep in the core of her body.
“Where did you learn to dance?” she asked after a waitress had brought them each another beer.
He leaned back in his chair and smiled. It was that same sexy smile that had had her stripping off her clothes that night at the hotel faster than he’d stripped off his. That same smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes while tipping up the corners of his mouth.
“I learned to dance in college. I got a football scholarship to Louisiana State University and my defensive line coach had this thing about movement. He figured the best way to increase our speed and agility was through dancing. It was important for us to be quick on our feet. A dance instructor attended our practice sessions at least two to three times a week, and a number of us were even enrolled in ballet.”
“I bet that was fun.”
He barely held back a laugh. “We didn’t think so at first, but we eventually did. During the offseason some of the guys and I would keep up the practice by going dancing a lot.”
“At night clubs?”
“Night clubs weren’t allowed.”
“Not even during offseason?” she asked.
“For a college player on scholarship, offseason only meant there weren’t any scheduled games. We still had practice sessions without coaches and trainers. Then there is mandatory study time. However, there were a lot of parties on campus that we could attend.”
Zara found what he’d said interesting. “I took dancing while growing up and I loved it. That prepared me for cheerleading in high school.”
“I heard you were very popular in high school and in your senior year you were Miss Catalina Cove High.”
She wondered who’d told him that, so she asked.
“Vaughn. He is a proud brother who would mention you on occasion. Of course at the time I hadn’t known his sister Zara was my Angel.”
His Angel. The way he’d said it made her feel things she didn’t want to feel. Made her remember things she didn’t want to remember. At least not now. But then how could she not remember that night when the man she’d shared it with was here with her? And she was just as attracted to him now as she had been then. Not wanting to think such thoughts, she surveyed the room. Several people were still on the dance floor enjoying the live band.
“What college did you attend?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Boston College. Then I moved to Paris to attend a fashion design school for my graduate degree.”
He took another sip of beer, and she watched as he placed the beer bottle to his mouth. She recalled just how delicious his lips had been that night and how much pleasure she’d gotten from his kisses. And she couldn’t help but recall the number of times that night they had kissed.
“Did you always know you wanted to be a fashion designer, Zara?”
“Not until high school. I assumed I would be an artist like my mom since I did a few paintings that even she thought were good.”
“When did you decide being an artist wasn’t your calling?”
Zara thought about that time. “The summer before my senior year of high school, and I’d made captain of the cheerleading squad. I designed our uniforms. I would have made them as well, but my parents considered a seamstress job beneath me and hired one. They figured that would be their contribution to what they considered my interest at the time.”
Her features lit up in a mischievous grin. “Little did they know that Ms. Juanita and I had worked out a plan. She let me help her sew the uniforms. On a lot of days when my parents thought I had stayed after school for study hall, I was at Ms. Juanita’s house helping her with the uniforms. That was our secret.”
“Mrs. Juanita Beckett?”
“Yes.” Zara wasn’t surprised he knew who she was talking about. The older woman had been Catalina Cove’s seamstress for years.
Saint placed his beer bottle on the table and extended his hand to her. “Ready to hit the dance floor again?”
It was a slow number, and she recalled the last one they’d danced to had left her entire body tingling with desire. When she placed her hand in his, she instantly felt her stomach curl in sexual excitement. From the look in his eyes, she knew he’d felt it, too.
Standing, she said jokingly, “I’m glad it’s a slow song. Not sure I have the energy to shake my booty right now.”
He laughed and the sound awakened every single nerve in her body. When they reached the dance floor, he placed his arms around her waist and swayed her into the dance. Body to body. She felt his hands’ languid, swirling strokes up and down her back. He was doing so with such tenderness she almost groaned. The muscular power of him surrounded her, and all kinds of sensations were swamping her.
During all the other slow dances, she had rested her face against his chest. For this one, she hooked her arms around his neck, which meant looking up into his face. She was drowning in him. It was a vivid repeat of the last time they’d shared space, heat and each other.
There was something about Saint that made her think that he actually was a saint. Or possibly from another world or period in time. All she did know was that two years ago on a night she would never forget, he had brought calmness to her turbulent and troubled world. Tonight he was indulging her by doing something she loved. Dancing.
It hadn’t taken her long to decide she liked dancing with him. She loved the way he held her body close to his. She was literally being consumed by the scent and feel of him. She wanted to break eye contact with him but couldn’t. At that moment need began overtaking her. Although she wished otherwise, that same need was tearing away at her common sense.
To save her sanity she shifted her gaze from his, determined to look anywhere but at him. All kinds of thoughts were going through her head and all of them were way too naughty. She’d never engaged in what she considered casual sex until him. Now their paths had unexpectedly crossed a second time and she wanted to share a bed with him again. She needed to share a bed with him. What was there about him that would make her want to indulge in a hookup? It was so unlike her.
But then, what was like her? She had believed in forever-after only to fall in love with a man who had betrayed her. So why bother? There was no way she would risk giving her heart to another man again.
At least she knew her intuition hadn’t been wrong about Saint that night. He was someone who was kind, thoughtful and considerate. That hadn’t changed. For him to bring her here showed what a terrific guy he was. Too bad his ex-girlfriend hadn’t appreciated that about him.
Another thing she noticed was, just like before, he was easy to talk to and they still connected on a number of levels. Because he’d gone through his own heartbreak, he was able to relate to hers. Not only that, he understood how it was to love someone deeply and then for that person to show you that they truly didn’t love you back.
She shifted her gaze back to Saint to find him staring at her. The look in his eyes, as well as the particular song being played, seemed to have them in a seductive trance. Her entire body throbbed just by him looking at her. Shifting her arms from his shoulders she slid them around his back. His magnificent, muscled back.
At that moment she felt the need for her chest to be pressed against his. Her breasts were beginning to feel achy and needed the contact. She wondered if he realized sexual vibes were pouring off him. Off them. Then, as if their lips were magnets drawn to each other, she leaned up and met his lips in a kiss.
She immediately thought that just like that night in his hotel room, this kiss was meant to be. Here. Now. And she honestly didn’t care who was watching them. Maybe she should, but she didn’t. It was as if this moment in time was theirs to take and they were taking it.
They ended the kiss and she knew she couldn’t fight the need any longer. For two years she had thought about him, remembered that night, remembered him. She had thought their meeting had been a chance encounter and she would never see him again. However, tonight she was proved wrong. He was here, and tonight they were back in New Orleans of all places. And dancing.
When the song finally ended, they slowly parted, and she looked up at him knowing if a bed would have been close by, he would have swept her off her feet and carried her to it. And she would have been glad about it.
“I’m glad our paths crossed again, Zara,” he said in a deep, throaty voice that she found so sinfully erotic.
Her lips curved in a smile. “So am I, Saint, and I don’t regret that kiss.” And she truly meant it.
“Neither do I. Do you want to dance some more?” he asked as another slow song began playing.
She shook her head. “No. I’m ready to leave.”
He took her hand. “Where to now?”
Zara met his gaze and said, “My cottage.”
“And where is your cottage, Zara?”
“On Pelican Bay.”