Chapter 10
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.
On Saturday night Vaughn, Sierra and Teryn had treated her to dinner at the Lighthouse Restaurant. Sierra had asked if she’d ever considered moving back here and the answer had been a resounding no. She had outgrown Catalina Cove even before she’d left for college. Returning on occasion to visit was enough for her.
She continued walking on the wide sidewalk, passing the historic buildings that were now various shops and cafés. Sierra’s café, the Green Fig, was one of them. A short while later, she stopped when she came to a vacant building and stood facing the huge glass front. The Catalina Cove zoning board had strict laws against architectural changes, especially to this section of town. The buildings had been preserved and looked as they had when they’d originally been built. She liked it.
Her mind drifted to thoughts of how this place could be transformed into one of her boutiques. The four she presently owned were scattered around the New England area and there was one in New York. They had become so popular and successful that they were often featured in fashion magazines. She’d never considered having a boutique in the southeastern part of the country.
She began walking again and inhaled the scent of the sea. With the shipping district just blocks away there was no way she could not. She’d also noted the vacant building was a two-story structure like Sierra’s café. She found herself imagining a second floor that would display her fashions as well.
Stop it! she mentally ordered herself. Forget about that For Sale sign you saw in the window. The last thing you should want is to have any reason to stay connected to Catalina Cove. However, she knew she had that connection whether she wanted it or not. Vaughn, Sierra and Teryn lived here. They were her family. Besides that, she knew Vaughn wanted a big family and she could see them starting one soon. That meant several nieces and nephews for her to love on and spoil.
There was one reason for her not to have too many ties to the cove and that was due to Saint. She hadn’t seen or talked to him since Vaughn and Sierra’s wedding. They had hooked up the night of Vaughn and Sierra’s celebration cookout in February, after Saint had taken her dancing. They’d hooked up again the night of the wedding in March, after Vaughn and Sierra had left for their honeymoon. That was a double dose of Saint within a thirty-day period, but she’d had no complaints, just memories of two nights of pleasure in his arms that were still emblazoned in her mind.
The one thing Zara liked about their hookups was that they were never planned. They just happened, and so far, they’d occurred whenever she came to town. She’d been back a few days now, and so far, they hadn’t run into each other. She wasn’t sure Saint even knew she was in the cove, unless Vaughn had mentioned it to him. By mutual agreement she and Saint hadn’t exchanged contact information. Keeping in touch wasn’t part of the arrangement.
She entered the Witherspoon Café and the first thing she noticed was that it was crowded. The second was an awareness that suddenly began stirring to life in her midsection. She carefully studied the room and saw Saint. He was staring at her with that same hot, powerful intensity.
And as usual, her intense attraction propelled her legs to move toward him.
Saint, who’d been sipping coffee and eating blueberry muffins, felt his heart skip a beat, then start to race, when his eyes collided with Zara’s. Her features conveyed her surprise at seeing him.
He was surprised as well. As she headed toward him, he stood and watched her weave her way around tables and customers—just as she’d done the night they’d first met. She looked just as stunning as she had then. Today she was wearing a pretty printed sundress that showed off her beautiful shoulders and gorgeous legs. Usually, when other women approached him vying for his time and attention, he would quickly find an excuse not to be bothered. No such excuse would be given to Zara.
Saint still hadn’t figured out why he’d broken a couple of rules for her, and as he stood watching her move toward him, he knew if push came to shove, he would break a few more. Hell, push didn’t have to come to shove. All she had to do was give him an indication that her thoughts were aligned with his, and he was all in. Literally.
As she drew closer, he began feeling overwhelmed. Zara Miller would and could have that effect on any man. The woman was striking and stunning, all rolled into one and sprinkled with a large amount of gorgeousness. When her lips curved into a smile, he knew he was a goner.
“Hello, Saint.”
As usual, her voice was distinct, soft and breathy—that was, until she was in the throes of passion. Then it would become raspy, impeccably sexy and unequivocally arousing. “Hello, Zara. Would you like to join me?” he asked, gesturing to the empty chair at his table.
“Weren’t you about to leave?”
If he was before, he sure as hell wasn’t about to now. “What gave you that idea?”
“Your bill is on the table.”
Saint looked down and saw that it was. “I still have time,” he said, without checking his watch.
“In that case, yes, I’ll join you.”
Not only did she look good, Saint noticed that she smelled good, too. But then she always did. He leaned in as he pulled out the chair for her and asked, “How have you been, Zara?”
“Fine and what about you, Saint?”
“The same.”
At that moment the waitress came to take her order of coffee, a side of bacon and blueberry muffins. He asked for a refill on his coffee. Before she walked away, he asked the woman to add everything to his bill.
“You don’t have to do that, Saint.”
“I want to.”
He felt sexual energy passing between them. In a way he was glad she was still just as affected by him as he was by her. “Vaughn mentioned you were in town,” he then said.
“Yes, I arrived a few days ago.”
“For Jaye and Velvet’s engagement party?”
“Yes, and to pack. Vaughn and I have decided to list Zara’s Haven as a historical landmark and open it to the public for tours. That means it’s time for me to do something I’ve avoided doing for years. Namely, pack up the stuff in my parents’ room and my room that I want to keep. Neither Vaughn nor I will be living in the house.”
The waitress returned with Zara’s coffee and to refill his. Saint was well aware that Vaughn was planning to build on a tract of oceanfront property he’d purchased from Reid. In the meantime, he and Sierra were living in the spacious apartment above her restaurant. There was no need to ask where Zara was staying while in town. It would be the cottage.
Just thinking about the cottage and the two times he’d spent the night with her there made sexual need jolt his insides. She was still the only woman he’d shared a bed with since his breakup with Mia. The intimate times he’d spent with Zara—their hookups—would just happen, without any preplanning. They weren’t friends with benefits. Nor were they lovers. They were just two people who couldn’t control the degree of lust that would consume them whenever they saw each other.
The arrangement to combat their dilemma was...no emotional attachment. No commitment. No expectation of anything other than the moment. So far, it worked for them.
“How is the fashion business going?” he asked. He took a sip of his coffee and watched her sip hers. He liked the way her mouth was positioned on her coffee cup and recalled one night when it had been positioned on a certain part of him the same way.
“Business is going great. My assistant is handling things in my absence for the next six weeks, and I have all the confidence in the world she’ll do a good job.”
“You’ll be in Catalina Cove for six weeks?”
“Yes, unless I finish packing earlier.”
At that moment the waitress returned with her bacon and blueberry muffins. Even though he’d just had his own, his mouth watered at their wonderful smell.
“It’s sad when one of the main things on my list whenever I return to the cove is to come here for the Witherspoons’ blueberry muffins.”
He suppressed a laugh. “You mean Ms. Debbie’s blueberry muffins. Everybody knows she’s the one who bakes them.”
Zara’s lips curved in an amused expression. “Okay, Saint, I stand corrected. Ms. Debbie’s blueberry muffins.” She paused a moment and asked, “How are your parents doing?”
One thing he liked about their hookups was, when the lovemaking was over, they relished their cuddle time. That was when he would hold her in his arms, and they would talk about anything and everything. She’d even told him about her legs closed, options open rule she’d implemented after her breakup with her ex-boyfriend, and that she’d tossed the rule to the wind the moment she’d met him. None of their cuddle time was meant to build any emotional attachment. It was merely time they enjoyed together.
Saint figured one of the reasons was because neither would be ready for their time together to end. He would tell her about his parents or the changes he was making to his house, and she would talk about her fashion boutiques.
“Mom and Dad are fine. Moving back home has definitely made life easier for them and for me. Now I don’t go to bed worrying about them doing stuff they aren’t supposed to do.” He chuckled. “That doesn’t mean they don’t test my patience at times. They still like to flex their independence, and I’ve learned to step back and let them. They need to feel useful and not dependent.”
“Any new activities for them?”
“Dad did hint about getting a motorcycle last week, but I squashed the idea pretty fast. And Mom wouldn’t be Mom if she didn’t remind me every chance she gets how much she wants grandkids before she gets too old to enjoy them.”
“They didn’t have a problem with you moving back home, did they?” she asked, amused at what he was sharing about his parents.
“Not as long as I don’t cramp their style, as they put it. However, there is an issue I need to talk to my mom about before it gets out of hand.”
“Oh, what?” She bit into one of her muffins. When a crumb got caught on her top lip, his stomach clenched when she swiped it off with the tip of her tongue.
Saint shifted in his chair before saying, “She still thinks I need a steady woman in my life. She still won’t accept that I’m fine with the woman-less life I’m living now.”
“I understand how you feel. As much as I miss my parents, what I don’t miss is their belief that an arranged marriage is the best way. My parents believed a couple should marry for wealth and not love.”
He leaned back in his chair. “They honestly thought that?”
“Yes. Vaughn and I always suspected although they respected each other, their marriage was one of convenience. Our suspicions were confirmed when we found a marriage agreement among their important papers after they died.”
Saint lifted a brow. “A marriage agreement?”
“Yes. At the time my parents met, Mom was the daughter of a wealthy French industrialist. Dad, of course, was a wealthy American business magnate and philanthropist. He wanted a French wife and saw Mom as the perfect woman for the job.”
“Why did he want a French wife?” Saint asked.
“For the bloodline. He felt if he didn’t, the French blood in his offspring would be diluted.”
Evidently, Saint had an I-don’t-believe-it look on his face. That made her grin and say, “I know it sounds crazy that anyone would think that way, but it’s true. That’s why I know Dad would have loved Maurice. He’s French and comes from a wealthy family.”
Although the last thing he wanted to hear was anything about her ex-boyfriend, he asked, “Is that why, while growing up, French was the main language spoken in your household?”
“You heard about that, huh?”
“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.”