Chapter 18
18
The buzzer on Saint’s desk sounded. “Yes, Mrs. Dorsett?”
“Saint, your three o’clock appointment has arrived.”
“Please send them in.”
After ending the connection, Saint stood and reached for his jacket to slide it on. This appointment was one he was handling in Vaughn’s absence. He was meeting with Jaye’s brother, Franklin Colfax, whose construction company Reid had chosen for his housing project; and with Colfax’s planning manager, a man by the name of Keith Vickers.
Mrs. Dorsett escorted both men into his office. Although Saint hadn’t met Keith Vickers before, he immediately recognized him as the guy who’d tried dominating Zara’s time on the dance floor Saturday night.
He came from around his desk to shake Franklin’s hand and then Keith’s after introductions were made. Saint knew the moment when Keith recognized him as the man who’d replaced him with Zara for all of the slow songs. That meant, more than likely, he’d seen the way they danced and their kiss. Hopefully, this guy would assume Zara was taken.
Saint gestured the two men to the chairs in front of his desk. After they were seated, Saint’s suspicions were proved correct when Keith said, “I believe I met your girlfriend at Jaye and Velvet’s engagement party Saturday night.”
If the man expected him to say Zara wasn’t his girlfriend, then he would be disappointed. While they were playacting their affair she was off-limits. “Yes, Zara loves dancing. I saw you managed to keep up with her, which isn’t always an easy thing to do on the dance floor,” he said, grinning.
There...he had let Keith know he’d been aware of him dancing with Zara, and that he didn’t have a problem with it. What if he’d left the party like he’d almost done? Would Zara have danced those slow songs with Keith?
Saint leaned back in his chair. The thought that she might have bothered him. But who she danced with shouldn’t have been any of his business. Yet, that was before. The reason he could make it his business now was because of their fake affair. So far, it was working. When he’d arrived at the Witherspoon Café this morning, Debbie Witherspoon had commented on how good he and Zara had looked dancing together and she thought they made a lovely couple.
“I understand your entire work crew will arrive in town in a week,” Saint was saying.
Franklin smiled. “Yes. Keith and I are ready to get things started.”
Saint knew all about Reid’s vision. It would be a luxurious gated community of grandiose homes. Although each property owner could build the house of their dreams, all the houses had to be energy efficient and have smart home features. Also, the architectural design had to blend in with Catalina Cove’s French, Spanish, Creole and American style.
A number of celebrities had made purchases. A few had inquired but hadn’t liked the restrictions on the style and design of house they could build. Reid had no problem telling them, in that case, Catalina Cove wasn’t for them. His intent was to retain the grace, beauty and classiness of the cove. Reid and his wife, Gloria, had purchased the largest oceanfront lot for themselves. Like Vaughn, the older man would be listing his mansion with the Historical Society sometime within the next two years.
Less than an hour later the meeting ended. It had gone well. He liked Franklin and soon discovered that he liked Keith as well. There was no reason not to. After the men left, he wondered how things were going for Zara with packing. He picked up his cell phone to find out, appreciating that he had her number and could now call her whenever he liked.
“Saint?”
She must have added him to her phone contacts already or had assigned him a special ring. Why did the thought of that please him?
“Yes, Zara. I was wondering how the packing is going?”
“Great. I decided to start on my parents’ room first. A part of me wished I’d done so long ago, but after packing up their home in Paris, Vaughn and I put off going through any of their belongings here. I’ve packed up a lot of stuff. I will be donating some of the boxes to Goodwill.”
“It sounds like you’ve been busy. I planned to leave work in a couple of hours and wondered if you were hungry. I can grab takeout for you.”
“That’s kind and thoughtful of you, Saint, and that would be wonderful. I finished all the packing that I intend to do today and will be heading to the cottage in an hour. That will give me time to shower and change before you arrive.”
At the mention of a shower, he vividly recalled the times they’d showered together and felt a heated rush at those memories. “Do you have a taste for any particular thing?”
“Yes, crab cakes, fries and coleslaw from LaFitte’s Seafood House.”
He chuckled. “Sounds good. Next time you have a taste for crab cakes, I have my grandmother’s recipe and will be happy to prepare them for you.”
“So, you’re good in the kitchen?”
“Not to sound boastful, but haven’t you realized by now that I’m good at a number of things, Zara?”
She was quiet for a moment and then she said, “Trust me. I have realized it, Saint.”
It pleased him that she had. “I’ll see you in a few, sweetheart.”
“Okay. I’ll be at the cottage waiting.”
When he ended the call, he noted that he’d used a term of endearment for the second time that day. The thought that he’d done so didn’t bother him. Besides, for the time being while engaged in this fake affair, she was his sweetheart.
He leaned back in his chair thinking that earlier that day, he’d gone to the Green Fig for a late lunch. Every once in a while, Levi would drop by his table to shoot the breeze. At some point Levi mentioned running into a woman Saturday night on his walk home from the party by the name of Margarita Lawson.
The woman, who went by Margie, was the daughter of Mr. Chelsey. Everyone in the cove knew Alton Chelsey since he’d been Catalina Cove’s mailman for years before retiring. Saint observed Levi’s features when he talked about Margie. He wondered if that sparkle in the older man’s eyes meant he liked her. It definitely sounded that way.
As Saint got back to work, the thought that Levi might be smitten at his age was good news. It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.
Zara knew the moment Saint punched in the access code to her property. It had been thoughtful of him to offer to bring her dinner. She had accomplished a lot that day and hadn’t bothered to stop for lunch since she’d eaten a hearty breakfast with Saint.
She smiled when thoughts of him filled her mind. Although he hadn’t mentioned it, she had noticed several people in the restaurant staring at them this morning. That meant word had gotten out about their kiss. At first, the thought of a fake affair had turned her off, but then she had to admit she had no problem keeping the women out of Saint’s face while she was in town. In other words, she liked having him all to herself. The women could resume competing for his attention after she returned to Boston.
Before leaving her bedroom, Zara briefly inspected her reflection in the full-length mirror. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a floral print top. Beneath her shorts was her two-piece bathing suit. Before leaving Zara’s Haven she had sent Saint a text inviting him to go swimming with her if he was interested. He had texted her back that he was definitely interested.
When she got to the living room, she glimpsed out the window and saw Saint walking across the pier. He had changed from his suit and was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a T-shirt. In one hand was a big bag with the take-out food. In the other was an overnight bag. She never had to invite him to spend the night since she’d told him he was always welcome to do so. To the outside world, those intent on getting into their business, they were pretending to be girlfriend and boyfriend. In essence, they were lovers in every scope of the word.
While watching him, she saw the swagger in his walk and thought it was sexy as hell. She fully understood why the single women in the cove would be vying for his attention. He had a lot going for him. Good looks, good job, nice personality, respectability and every single thing any sound-minded woman would want in a man. She also knew he had the ability to rock a woman’s world in the bedroom.
Deciding not to wait for him to knock on the door, she went outside to stand on the porch. When he reached the end of the pier and saw her, a huge smile spread across his face. That Evans Toussaint smile almost took her breath away. She then recalled during their earlier phone conversation he had used the term of endearment again. It sounded natural and she’d liked it.
“You must be starving,” he said.
Zara tilted her head and grinned. She was starving alright, and it wasn’t just for what was in that take-out bag. “Yes, you can say that. I notice there’s only one food container in that bag.”
“I ate a late lunch at the Green Fig. Besides, I got a lot of barbecue ribs left from yesterday when I grilled for the folks,” he said.
He’d told her it had been years since he’d been in the cove on Memorial Day. Usually, he waited to come home for two weeks around the Christmas holidays and for three weeks during the summer in July.
Maurice had only visited Catalina Cove once. It had been the year Vaughn had moved back, and she’d wanted to spend the holidays with him. Maurice had wanted her to spend the holidays in Paris with him. When she’d refused and told him it would be a good opportunity to meet her brother, he had relented. Although Vaughn never said anything to her, she knew he hadn’t cared for Maurice. His arrogance was a turnoff for most people. He came from money and wanted everybody to know it.
When Saint reached her, she patted his chin. “Thanks for bringing this to me. You’re such a nice pretend boyfriend,” she said, taking the bag he handed to her.
“You think so?”
“I most certainly do. Come on inside. You can keep me company while I eat since you’re not hungry.”
The look he slanted her had heat curling up inside her. Without saying a word, that look let her know that he might not be hungry for food, but he was definitely hungry for her.
He followed her inside, placing his overnight bag on the coffee table then trailing her to the kitchen. “You sure you don’t want anything? I have no problem sharing,” she said.
“I know you don’t. You’re the most giving person I know, Zara.”
She thought that was a sweet thing for him to say. She looked at him over her shoulder and smiled as her body heated up a little more under his regard. “If you don’t mind, please pour us glasses of wine,” she said.
“I don’t mind.”
As she sat at the kitchen table, she saw how easily he moved around her kitchen and with such familiarity. That was understandable since he’d been there several times, and she always relished his presence in the cottage.
“Did you finish that painting?” he asked.
She knew which one he was asking about. The one of the vacant building. “Yes, I finished it and I plan to give it to you as a gift before I leave.”
When he headed toward her with the full glasses, she said, “It’s such a pretty day. Let’s sit outside on the back porch.”
“Okay.”
Settling into the chair at the patio table, she was glad she suggested they sit out here. The view of Pelican Bay was gorgeous, and this time of year was when the pelicans returned from their winter trip south. They were breathtaking and she understood why her mother liked painting them so much. Across from the table were wooden patio chairs and chaise lounges that faced the shimmering blue waters of the bay. On nice evenings she would sit in one of the chairs and read a book while drinking a glass of wine.
“You were right. It’s nice out here,” he said.
She glanced at Saint. “I will admit this is the one thing I miss about living in Catalina Cove. The number of beautiful days there are. I talked to Sherri this morning and it’s been snowing in Boston every day since the weekend.”
His brow arched. “Is that normal to get snow this late in the year there?”
“Not normal, but it snowed in May years ago. I’m glad I’m here and not there.”
“I’m glad you’re here, too.”
An unexpected measure of appreciation flowed through her. He probably hadn’t meant anything with his words, but they made her heart thump in her chest anyway.
He took a sip of wine and she watched him. She grew aroused watching how his lips fit on the glass. Then she recalled all the things those hands holding the wineglass could do to her, had done to her. Just thinking about it made her body throb.
“I saw that guy today.”
She switched her gaze from Saint’s hand to his face. “What guy?”
“The one you danced with on Saturday.”
“Keith?”
“Yes.”
Did she detect irritation in his voice? “Where did you see him?”
“I had a meeting with him and Franklin Colfax. He’s the planning manager for Colfax Construction Company.”
“That’s right. I recall he had mentioned that.” She also recalled what Sierra had said about Saint watching her and Keith dance.
“He did a good job of keeping up with you on the dance floor.”
She grinned. “Yes, he did.” Wanting to drop the subject of her and Keith dancing, she said, “These crab cakes are delicious. You sure you don’t want one?”
He looked down at her plate. “I guess you can give me a tiny piece of one.”
“No problem.” She broke off a section of crab cake and offered it to him.
“Feed it to me, Zara.”
Lifting the morsel, she placed it to his lips. When he opened his mouth to accept it, she drew in a sharp breath when the warm tip of his tongue licked her fingers. He held her gaze as he slowly chewed the food. “You’re right. It’s delicious.”
She sat there transfixed and only blinked when he said, “Look over there.”
Her gaze followed where he was pointing and saw the sun going down across Pelican Bay. It was an awe-inspiring sight. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked him.
“Yes, and so are you.”
She looked at him and smiled. “You say the nicest things to me.”
“And all of them are true.”
“Thank you.”
When she finished eating, she asked, “Are you ready to go swimming now?”
He stood as she gathered up the trash. “When it comes to you, Zara. I’m always ready.”
Since he was standing, her eye level was below his waist. She saw what he meant when she took note of his aroused body.
She met his gaze. “I’m always ready, too.”
When he smiled, she knew he’d gotten her meaning just like she’d gotten his. They weren’t talking about swimming.
Levi settled into his favorite wingback chair in front of the television. The national news from the station in New Orleans was about to come on and he was ready to watch it. Chip had been fed and walked and he was ready, too.
He took a sip of beer while thinking that today things had run smoothly at the Green Fig. He figured a number of people were still in town for the Memorial Day weekend, which accounted for the increase in business for a Tuesday. All the waitresses and waiters had reported to work today, and knowing he had a full staff was always good.
Like most mornings, he’d gotten up around eight and walked Chip before getting dressed for work. Today he had left early to take Chip to the vet. Then he’d stopped by the pet shop to get that lighted cat collar for Mr. Chelsey’s cat. He had given himself enough leeway to drop it off and still get to work on time.
The staff of the Green Fig usually arrived thirty minutes before they opened at noon for the take-out-only lunch crowd. The café had opened three years ago and was doing well. The soups were always tasty, and everyone employed by the Green Fig always provided good customer service. Sierra wouldn’t have it any other way. People always came back and told others. They’d discovered word-of-mouth satisfaction was the best form of advertisement. Today a couple had driven all the way from New Orleans. They thought the take-out kegs of soup were cute and a novel idea.
He sipped his beer and his thoughts shifted to Margie. He had appreciated seeing her again. It had been dark Saturday night and the streetlights hadn’t given her much justice. In the brightness of daylight, he saw just how attractive she was. He could remember her as a young girl who would often sit on her parents’ porch and watch when he cut their yard.
Back then, he’d barely paid her any attention, but the grown-up Margarita, or Margie, had caught his attention—and held it tight. He recalled her saying that she was now retired and had moved back to the cove to take care of Mr. Chelsey. That was thoughtful of her to take on that responsibility.
He would want to believe if his and Lydia’s only daughter had lived, she would have grown up to return to the cove on occasion to check on him. Heck, he would have hoped that Dasha, who’d died of an asthma attack before her second birthday, would have been a daddy’s girl and never thought of moving away like all the other young people in the cove usually did once they finished high school.
He would admit it got lonely living here without Lydia. They’d had a good marriage that had lasted over twenty years. He was glad they’d finally gone on that cruise out of New Orleans they’d always talked about. She had deserved it. After he was shot, he didn’t know what he would have done if she had not stuck with him all through the rehabilitation period.
She had not given up on him and had refused to let him give up on himself. It was only with her love and support that he’d walked again. He had taken her death hard when she’d suddenly passed away of a heart attack close to twelve years ago.
As he took another sip of beer his thoughts shifted back to Margie. Saturday night she’d said her last name was Lawson. She wasn’t wearing a ring so he figured she was no longer married. Was she divorced? A widow? He figured Emma, head cook at the Green Fig, would know, since she seemed to know about most people’s business in the cove. However, he didn’t want to put ideas in her head if he were to ask.
Levi had been alone for a long time and preferred things this way. He’d decided years ago after losing Lydia that he would never remarry. One woman in his lifetime had been enough for him, and he doubted he had the ability to love anyone else. His heart was one and done with Lydia. But then he would admit he had liked talking to Margie.
And she was pretty. Very pretty.
Smiling came easy for her and she had a friendly disposition. She wasn’t pushy, either. He recalled that Lydia hadn’t been buried a good week before the women began calling, offering to bake him pies and inviting him to dinner.
He declined all of it and told them he knew how to bake his own pies and cook his own dinner. Pretty soon they stopped calling and he was glad of it. He did things to keep busy and was satisfied with that. And when he began feeling lonely, he had Chip.
Hours later, after watching the news and several of those crime shows back to back, it was time for him to go to bed. Getting up from his chair, he headed for the bedroom. When he’d finally settled between the sheets and closed his eyes, for the first time it wasn’t Lydia’s face he saw that night.
It was that of Margie.