Chapter 19
19
Saint jumped into the water thinking it had been years since he’d gone swimming at night, but here he was doing that very thing. After they’d made love, Zara had been determined to go swimming and he had no problem joining her.
“How does the water feel, Saint?”
Treading water, he turned around and admired her two-piece bathing suit. As cute as it looked on her, he didn’t intend for it to stay on her for long. Besides, with as much skin as it was showing, she might as well swim without it anyway. It didn’t matter that he’d seen her naked a lot tonight. He would never tire of seeing her exposed body.
“The water feels good. For some reason the bay always seems warmer than the ocean,” he said.
The moon shone overhead, and stars lit up a velvety sky. Zara had dimmed the floodlights around the yard, providing the perfect ambience for a nighttime swim. The setting was ideal.
“Okay, then. Here I come.”
He watched her dive into the water with the expertise of an Olympic aquanaut and the gracefulness of a swan. He immediately knew she was one hell of a swimmer. She surfaced with ease and tilted her body to glide toward him. He welcomed her with open arms.
She smiled and pushed hair from her face. “You’re right. The water feels good.” She reached out and ran a hand along his chest and stomach. “You feel good.”
He thought she felt good, too. When her hand explored below his waist he became amused when she realized he was completely naked. “Evans Toussaint! Where are your swimming trunks?”
“Over there,” he said, tilting his head toward the porch where he’d draped them on one of the chairs. “I prefer swimming without them.”
She grinned. “Don’t you think that’s a bit scandalous?”
“Sweetheart, didn’t you know today is Temptation Tuesday?” he whispered, leaning close and licking the sensitive area below her ear.
“Temptation Tuesday?” she inquired with a breathless sigh.
“Yes. Some refer to it as Tantalizing Tuesday. Others think of it as Thrilling Tuesday.”
She looked at him and held his gaze. He was still holding her at the waist, and her body felt good next to his. “What do you think of it as, Saint?”
He smiled. “I think of it as just what I intend to make it for you. Terrific Tuesday.”
He lowered his head and captured her mouth with his as if he wanted to swallow her whole. They had made love earlier, several times. He kissed her with a hunger that was filled with a need he could only associate with her. Why was he so addicted to her kiss? To everything about her? Suddenly, he knew why. He was allowing her to do something he swore he wouldn’t allow another woman to do. Get under his skin.
That realization had him breaking off the kiss. However, he still held her in his arms, unable for the time being to release her. According to their plans for the week, they would have lunch together on Friday. He needed to put distance between them until then. Somehow, over the next two days he had to pull himself together, collect his senses and remind himself that she didn’t want anything serious and neither did he. They both had been there and done that and preferred not to go there again. All they wanted was to enjoy each other sexually. That kind of arrangement might not work for some, but it worked for them.
He had said he intended to make this a Terrific Tuesday and would keep his word. “Come on, it’s getting late. Let’s swim back and forth for a while,” he whispered against her ear.
“Alright.”
They did for a half hour and then he drew her into his arms and carried her to the bay’s shore where he’d placed a huge towel earlier. He was already naked and it didn’t take long to remove her skimpy and sexy bathing suit. When he joined her on the towel the need to make love to her again was so strong it nearly took his breath away.
Then he remembered. “I need to grab a condom.”
“No, you don’t, unless you truly want to. I’m safe and I believe you are, too. And I’m on birth control.”
Saint truly didn’t want to, although he knew he should. Being skin to skin inside her could make the situation between them worse. Hadn’t he felt the need to take time to pull himself together over the next couple of days where she was concerned because she was getting under his skin? What she was suggesting would be like pouring kerosene on an already blazing fire. However, at that moment he was too weak to resist her offer.
“I’m all in, Zara, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure, Saint. That’s how I want you. All in. No pun intended.”
His hand cupped the side of her face, and he leaned in and kissed her hungrily as a need consumed every inch of his flesh. She tasted hot, delicious and all woman, and at that moment he wanted as much of her as he could get. It didn’t matter that they’d made love mere hours ago. He wanted her again. He needed her again.
This kiss was burning out of control, and he pressed her back onto the beach towel. Pulling his mouth away he began licking her throat, reveling in all the sensations he was feeling. He wanted more. Positioning his body between her open legs, his hands slid around her back and curved around her backside and lifted her as he thrust inside her. When he’d gone as deep as he could go, the thrusting began, and he couldn’t hold back the guttural sound stemming from deep within his throat. Nor could he suppress the emotions that were unleashed by being inside her, skin to skin.
“Saint...”
She’d moaned his name and the sound made his hunger for her become ravenous. The feel of her inner muscles gripping him while in the most intimate part of her had him moaning her name as well. “Zara...”
She was always an equal participant in their lovemaking, refusing to let him make love to her without making love to him. Their eyes met and she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck and began licking around his mouth, chin and neck, while lifting her body to receive each one of his thrusts.
As he continued to rock against her, over and over, he knew the exact moment an orgasm of extreme power slammed into each of them. The same degree of lust consuming his senses had taken over hers. More than just pushing him over the edge, Zara had taken him to another universe.
“Saint!”
She screamed his name when another orgasm hit her, and her tremors caused another to detonate inside him as well. When he finally got the quivers of his body under control, he pulled her into his arms. Even with wet hair and swollen lips from his kisses, he thought she looked breathtaking. It took a while before he was able to finally speak. “Did I make it terrific for you, Zara?” he whispered against her lips.
“Yes,” she said, licking the side of his neck, chin and lips again. “It was tempting, tantalizing and terrific all rolled into one.”
Smiling, he leaned forward to kiss her again.
Two days later Zara was walking into the arts-and-crafts store on the boardwalk. “Good morning, Ms. Fanny.”
The older woman greeted her with a huge smile. “You’ve run out of paint already, Zara?”
Zara chuckled. “No, I’m starting something new and need additional colors.” She had decided to paint a portrait of Saint without him posing for it. She would do it from memory. That shouldn’t be hard to do since she had such vivid images of him in her nightly dreams.
Tuesday night had been as terrific as he’d set out to make it. However, he hadn’t stayed overnight, like she assumed from the overnight bag he’d brought with him. Why he’d changed his mind she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t think of a single thing that would have made him leave after they’d made love on shore after their swim, showered together and then made love again.
Maybe she was overthinking things. It could have been that he had an early-morning meeting Wednesday that he’d forgotten about. When he’d left, he told her he would see her on Friday, which indicated he wouldn’t be seeing her again before their scheduled lunch. He had told her to call him if she needed help moving boxes. She had spent yesterday packing for the second straight day and decided to take a break today and paint.
She had made her purchases and was walking back to where she’d parked her car when she heard her name being called. Shading her eyes from the brightness of the sun, she saw it was Samantha Groover. What on earth did the woman want with her?
They’d never been introduced. Zara only knew who she was because Sierra had pointed her out to her at the engagement party. She recalled that Samantha had been trying to get Saint’s attention every chance she got, the same woman who apparently told other women she had an advantage over their interest in Saint because he’d once had a crush on her in the sixth grade. Like that truly mattered.
“Zara?” the woman asked when she came to a stop in front of her.
Zara pasted a smile to her lips, wondering why the woman looked upset. “Yes. And you are?” she asked, refusing to let the woman know she already knew who she was.
“I’m Samantha Groover.”
She offered Samantha her hand, but the woman didn’t take it. Instead, she said, “You know what I detest about rich women like you?”
She was about to tell Samantha that she didn’t even know her, but curiosity made her say, “No, what?”
“They think money can buy them anything. Personally, I think it’s pretty selfish of you to waltz into town and decide Saint will be your flavor for the month. He’s a swell guy and is only dating you because you threw yourself at him. Anybody who knows Saint can see that you’re not his type.”
Zara fought back rolling her eyes. “And I guess you know his type.”
“Yes. Saint needs a woman who will have a permanent place in his life. Not someone who’s in town one minute and out the next. You only want him because he’s available.”
Zara tilted her head. “You honestly believe that?”
“Why not? Rumor has it that your boyfriend recently dumped you and you’re in town licking your wounds.”
She wondered where this woman got such misinformation. Her breakup with Maurice was over two years ago. “Look, Samantha. If you have a problem with me spending time with Saint, then I suggest you talk to him about it. He’s a grown man who makes his own decisions about who he wants to be with. Have a good day.”
With that, Zara turned and walked off. Had it been so blatantly obvious to anyone who’d watched them dance just how much she’d wanted Saint that night? What had she expected when she’d kissed him in front of everyone the way she had? Jeez. No wonder Saint had suggested they pretend to be having an affair. Her behavior that night had dictated it.
Still, like she’d told the woman, if she had an issue with her and Saint dating, then that was something she needed to address with Saint. Just in case Samantha didn’t, Zara had every intention of telling him herself.
Saint quickly walked across the pier toward the cottage. He’d been surprised to get the text message from Zara. All it said was, We need to talk!!
Those two exclamation points were a good indication that whatever they needed to discuss was serious. He’d tried calling her, but she hadn’t picked up. What was that about? What in the hell was going on? Was she upset that he hadn’t stayed the other night? He honestly didn’t think so. One thing he knew about Zara was that she wasn’t the clingy type. If that wasn’t it, then what was?
Tuesday night he had been consumed with a need for her the likes of which he couldn’t define. He’d long ago accepted this thing between them defied logic, but what he’d felt Tuesday night was playing with emotions he’d declared null and void after Mia. It had scared him.
He was an in-control kind of guy and, granted, he’d lost some of that control with Zara, but he was determined not to lose all of it. When he felt emotions clouding his senses, he knew he had to put some distance between them. He was glad it had worked because now he felt more in control of his senses again.
As he made his way across the pier, he figured she knew he was coming the minute he’d entered the access code. When he got halfway across the pier, he saw her. She’d stepped out onto the porch with her arms folded over her chest. She was wearing a blouse and jeans, standing with her legs braced apart. She didn’t look happy. No. She appeared to be in a fighting mode, something he’d never seen her in before. What the hell...
Concern consumed him. She was upset. She looked angry. He walked up the steps and when he reached for her, she took a step back. That was something else she’d never done before. “What’s wrong, Zara? You had me worried when you didn’t answer my call.”
She lifted her chin. “I needed time to calm down.”
He lifted a brow. “Calm down? What happened?”
“Today I was confronted by Samantha.”
“Samantha?”
“Yes, Samantha Groover. You know, the woman who kept getting all in your face at the engagement party. The woman who thinks since you had a crush on her in the sixth grade that it means something now. Well, she thinks I should back off from you.”
“What!”
“You heard me.”
Saint rubbed a hand down his face. “Let’s go inside, and I want you to start from the beginning and tell me everything.”
“So, there you have it, Saint. I don’t need or want that kind of drama.”
He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. This time, she let him. “No, you don’t, and I’m sorry for it. Samantha had no right to say that to you, and I’m glad you told me about it.”
She pulled back and stared up at him. He could see anger still in her eyes. “Of course I was going to tell you about it. Samantha Groover thinks you need a woman who wants a permanent place in your life, and I’m in the way of that happening.”
“You of all people know better than that.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t my place to tell her.”
“No, it wasn’t, and I will handle it.”
He tugged her back into his arms and neither said anything for a long moment. Then she stepped back again. The anger he’d seen in her eyes earlier had dissipated some. “People like Samantha were the reason you wanted us to pretend we were having an affair, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Saint said.
Although he hadn’t said anything to Zara, Samantha’s words reminded him of what his mother had said to him on Monday. Not verbatim, but too close to suit him. Had Irene Toussaint shared those same thoughts with Samantha?
“The one thing that bothers me, Saint, is the fact when I do leave Catalina Cove it will be as if everything she accused me of will appear true. That while I’m here temporarily, I’m only with you because you’re available.”
“And we both know that isn’t true. We have a history they don’t know about.”
“Yes, but what happens when I leave? They’re going to think I’m just another woman who broke your heart.”
“And we will know better. You’re the woman who helped heal my broken heart.”
A smile touched her lips. “And you’re the man who helped to heal mine.”
It was the first smile she’d given him since he’d arrived. It was a small smile, but he would take it. And he would take this, too, he thought as he lowered his mouth to hers.
Margie entered the Green Fig and saw how busy it was. However, she noted most of the customers were standing at the take-out line. She had tried persuading her father to join her here for dinner, but he hadn’t wanted to miss reruns of Oprah , which he saw at four every day.
She offered to record it for him, but he said he preferred seeing it when it happened. She didn’t bother reminding him those were old shows from twenty or so years ago, but figured he knew that and hadn’t wanted to be bothered. He’d asked her to bring him back a bowl of whatever the special of the day was. He’d eaten here before and liked their soup.
“Hello, welcome to the Green Fig. Will someone else be joining you or will you be dining alone?” a waitress asked.
“I’ll be dining alone.”
“This way, please.”
Margie followed the woman and glanced around. It was a nice restaurant. She loved the decor and liked how the booths were set up as well. She slid into the seat and found it quite comfortable. A menu was placed in front of her.
“What would you like to drink?”
She glanced up at the young woman who looked to be around college age. “I’ll have a cup of herbal tea.”
“I’ll bring it right out.” The young woman did in a timely manner and Margie thought that was good customer service.
She studied the menu and thought the soups listed sounded delicious. She decided to try the cabbage and bacon soup. She recalled it had been her favorite of all Ms. Ella Marie’s soups. If her granddaughter could make soups as well as her grandmother, then Margie figured she was in for a treat. The picture of it on the menu looked scrumptious and it was served with hot garlic bread.
“Hello, Margie. Glad you’ve decided to pay us a visit.”
She looked up into the smiling face of Levi Canady. “Yes, and from the menu everything looks delicious.”
“It is. What have you decided?”
“I think I’ll try the cabbage and bacon soup.”
“Good choice. And how is Mr. Chelsey?”
“Dad is fine, and he loves that collar you bought for Butterball. I love it, too, and it’s working fantastically. Now when Butterball gets out and wants to prowl, he doesn’t get far because you can’t miss him all lit up like a Christmas tree.” She grinned.
Levi returned her smile. “I’m glad, and I’ll let your server know of your choice of soup. Bread, hot from the oven, will be delivered to you shortly.”
“Thank you, and Dad asked me to bring back your Thursday soup of the day.”
“That’s broccoli and cheese today. I’ll let your waitress know.”
When he turned to walk off, she called out to him. “Levi?”
He turned around. “Yes, Margie?”
“I’d like to invite you over for dinner on Sunday.” And not wanting him to think she was being too forward, she added, “To thank you for getting that collar for Butterball.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Your dad thanked me and that was all the thanks I needed. To be quite honest, he really didn’t have to. Like I said, he would help me out when he let me cut your parents’ yard as a kid. He knew how much I needed the money.”
That was something else her father had told her. Levi’s father had been an alcoholic. His parents barely got by because of the money his father used to buy booze instead of taking care of his family. The man had died when Levi had been fourteen, and he and his mother had to move in with his paternal grandparents.
“Does that mean you won’t be coming to dinner?” she asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
“No, it doesn’t mean that at all. I would love to come, and I appreciate the invite. I just don’t want you to think you owe me a meal because of that cat collar.”
She smiled. “Would it help matters if I said I’d like to invite you because I think you’re a nice person?”
“Yes, and I’m looking forward to it. What time do you want me there?”
“What about around three? Dad likes to eat not long after he gets home from church.”
“Three will be fine. Do you need me to bring anything?”
“No. Are you allergic to any foods?”
“None that I know of.”
“Great! I’ll see you Sunday at three.”
Levi turned to walk off, then turned back to say, “Again, thanks for the dinner invitation, and I’m glad you decided to dine at the Green Fig today. I hope it’s not your last time.”
“It won’t be,” she replied.
Levi held her gaze for a long moment as if what she’d said had a double meaning for him. He gave her a smile that warmed her insides, before nodding and walking away.