by Bella Andre
“And here I thought for sure you were finally going to give me a compliment.” He followed up his words by dunking her head beneath the water.
She was sputtering when she came up for air, but he had already danced out of her way to rinse off. “I’ll get you back for that, you know,” she warned him.
He had the nerve to grin. “I’m counting on it.”
And damn him, she was grinning too as she soaped up, rinsed off, then stepped out onto the bath mat to grab a towel.
“Not so fast.” He took the towel from her and began running it over her curves to dry her off. “How many minutes do we have left?”
She was sorely tempted by the heat—and the promise of even more pleasure—in his eyes. But she couldn’t forget how sad Brittany had seemed about not seeing her this morning to say good-bye. “Not enough even for Mr. Speedy,” she teased.
He waggled his eyebrows. “Want to bet?”
Yes! But she made herself say, “We really should get dressed and head downstairs.” That was when it hit her. “Your clothes are in your room. If they see you wearing the same thing as last night, they’ll wonder why you didn’t already have your clothes in my room.”
“Don’t worry.” Now that she was dry, he rubbed the towel over his own wet skin. Skin she was dying to wet all over again with her tongue. “It won’t take me more than a couple of minutes to run upstairs, grab my bag, and change.”
While she rummaged in her overnight bag for jeans and a top, he quickly put on yesterday’s clothes.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, then drew her close and kissed her before grabbing her room key and heading for the door.
She stared at the door for several long seconds after he left. No question, the hot sex had scrambled her brain. But it was his kiss—the kind of kiss people who were actually together gave each other when they were about to leave a room—that truly had her head spinning.
It must have been an accident. The two of them having hot shower sex in a hotel room had probably made him forget for a second that what they were doing wasn’t real.
That they didn’t have a future.
That they were together only temporarily…until they most decidedly were not together anymore come Saturday.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
True to his word, Rory was back inside of two minutes, changed into jeans and a T-shirt. Seriously, there couldn’t be another man alive who wore jeans better.
Noting she was still naked, her clothes in her hands, he said, “Not that I’m at all averse to you not wearing clothes, but are you sure you’re up for seeing Brittany and Cameron again this morning?”
He’d never believe her if she told him that his kiss had made her forget all about them for a few minutes. Pushing away her unease, Zara said, “I’m cool.” And as she put on her clothes and shoes, she was relieved to realize it was mostly true. Courtesy of Rory’s brilliant distraction methods.
She gathered up her clothes from where he’d tossed them on the floor the night before and shoved everything into her bag. “Here’s my secret sign if I need you to make an excuse so that we can escape.” She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.
He was laughing as he said, “They’ll never guess your secret code. Or mine.” And then he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue too.
Of course, she had to pretend to bite it. Which ended in yet another kiss—one that meant her cheeks and lips were still flushed by the time they finally made it downstairs just past the ten-minute mark.
“I was about to ask the manager to let me into your room so I could make sure you were okay,” Brittany said when she saw them. “You always answer your phone and are never normally late.” She sent a borderline accusing glance in Rory’s direction, as though he was clearly the problem.
“I’m great,” Zara said as she gave her stepsister a hug, trying to hide her blush at the thought of what Brittany would have walked in on in if she’d come up to Zara’s hotel room five minutes ago.
Her stepsister studied her face. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Your cheeks are a little flushed.”
“It was a little hot in our room.” Talk about an understatement. Zara could have been in the Arctic and as long as Rory was there too, she would have overheated.
Brittany reached into her purse. “Here’s some gloss for your chapped lips.”
Zara made herself smile as she took the gloss, reminding herself that her stepsister was only trying to look out for her as she applied a light coat to her lips, which were in fact slightly chapped due to all the kissing she’d been doing.
With Brittany’s birthday a month before Zara’s, she took her responsibilities as “older” sister seriously. At times like this, when Zara was tempted to be irritated with her, all she had to do was remember the many nights her stepsister had held her while she sobbed over her mom. Though Brittany had been tougher on the surface, Zara knew how devastated she’d been over losing her father.
Cameron was looking worse for the wear this morning as he led them over to the facing couches and coffee table where four cups were waiting. Her ex had always been a little on the delicate side, too cold or too hot or needing more sleep.
As Rory put his hand on the small of her back while they walked across the room, Zara couldn’t imagine anyone ever calling him delicate. And as he sat beside her on the small love seat, then put his arm around her waist and tugged her closer, for once she couldn’t have been happier that he was inclined to hog most of the cushion. If only for the excuse to sit practically in his lap.
They all picked up their coffee and drank, and when neither man spoke and Brittany frowned into her cup, Zara decided it was up to her to lead the conversation. “Have you decided where you’re going to get married?”
“We’re still working out those details,” Cameron said, “but we have picked our honeymoon destination. Haven’t we, honey?” He gave Brittany’s hand a squeeze.
She looked up from her cup and finally smiled. “Harbour Island, Bahamas. I read about it in a magazine recently—a British woman who is related to the royals has a place right on the pink sand beach. We’re renting one of her guest houses.”
Given Brittany’s impeccable taste, it was sure to be a five-star wonder. “I’m sure you’ll both have a fantastic time.” Even though Cameron tended to turn red like a lobster when he sat out in the sun too long.
“Have you been to the Bahamas before?” Brittany asked Rory.
“One of my cousins has a place on Eleuthera, the island just over from Harbour.” He gave Zara a lazy smile, one that sent her heart racing as though he were doing far more than just smiling at her. “Anyone who loves wild swimming needs to experience diving into the warm, crystal-clear water. Promise you’ll let me take you sometime.”
She knew she shouldn’t be making Rory any promises beyond Saturday, but when he was holding her this close and looking at her with this much heat, it was impossible to do anything but nod. And when he dipped his head to kiss her, it felt so good that she nearly forgot where they were—and who they were with.
Blushing even harder now, she turned back to the other couple. “I’m sure your mom has plenty of ideas for where she’d like you to hold the ceremony.”
Brittany nodded, but she was frowning as she said, “She’s been trying to convince us to have it at the yacht club.”
Zara nearly gasped at the suggestion. Brittany’s father had died of a sudden heart attack on the club’s golf course. As long as Zara had known her stepsister, she’d never been comfortable there. “Do you need me to talk to her about it? I’m sure I can find a way to convince her that there are at least a dozen better options in the area.”
“The library amphitheater would be an incredible place for our wedding.”
Zara had never spent much time thinking about her own wedding—why would she, when she’d never truly been in love?—but if she had to pick her favorite place in Camden, it would be the large lawn behind the library that overlooked
the sailboats in the bay. “I can’t see how Margie could object to that. Do you have a date yet? We should check to make sure the library has rental availability before going full-court press on your mom.”
“We?” Brittany beamed at her. “Does this mean you’re offering to help me plan the wedding?”
We had been a slip of the tongue. Given that Zara hadn’t even been sure she’d be able to deal with having coffee with the couple, helping plan their wedding was a major stretch. But she wasn’t sure how to back out of the messy spot—or even that she should, considering how unwavering Brittany’s support had been when they were teenagers.
“With your new product launch coming up,” Rory said before Brittany could pressure her to agree right then and there, “are you sure you have the bandwidth to fit anything else in?”
She hadn’t realized he knew her release calendar so well, not when it had always felt like whatever she said to him went in one ear and out the other. But he was right. Hopefully, she was going to be slammed with orders once her new line launched.
Still, this was her stepsister’s wedding. Even if Brittany had come by her fiancé in less than ideal circumstances, Zara didn’t feel right about bowing out completely. “For now, you can definitely count on me to step in with your mom and bring her around to having the ceremony at the amphitheater,” she told Brittany. “Let’s talk again later this week to see if there’s anything else that you’re getting stuck on. After all,” Zara reminded her, “you’re the master party planner. I’m sure you’ll easily be able to put on the wedding of the century.”
The alarm on Cameron’s phone went off. “We need to head out now, honey, or we’ll be late to Jeff’s house.”
“Cameron’s friend is throwing us a small garden celebration this afternoon,” Brittany explained. “Why don’t you guys come with us? Jeff always has enough food and wine to feed an army.”
Zara kept her expression bland. Jeff was her least-favorite of Cameron’s friends. A smarmy financial analyst, he wore too much cologne and had wandering hands. “Thank you for the invitation,” she said, “but we really should get on the road back to Bar Harbor. You know how bad Sunday afternoon traffic can be if we leave too late.”
Zara almost laughed at the relief on Cameron’s face. Clearly, he wasn’t enjoying her being pulled into the middle of their engagement celebrations and wedding planning any more than she was.
When they stood, Brittany threw her arms around both Zara and Rory. “Thank you so much for coming to our little celebration. It wouldn’t have been nearly as wonderful without you both there—and I hope we see lots more of the two of you in the near future. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Z so blissfully happy.”
Zara couldn’t read Rory’s expression when Brittany finally let him move away to shake Cameron’s hand. In any case, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he thought about Brittany’s blissfully happy proclamation. Surely he would think it was simply down to the hot sex…
After waving Brittany and Cameron off, Zara collapsed onto the couch cushions, closing her eyes as exhaustion took over. “I need sugar. And fat. And butter. And carbohydrates. And lots more caffeine.” She held out her arm. “If you could hook me up to an IV drip with all of those things, that’d be great.”
“You eat too much junk food,” Rory admonished, albeit in a gentle voice. But then he offered, “I’ll see what I can rustle up from the diner down the street.”
If he brought her a kale and tofu salad, she was going to punch him. That was, if she could muster up the energy when it felt like things had just spiraled even more out of control. Last night, after spending time with Brittany and Cameron, Zara had ended up in bed with Rory. And then this morning, fifteen minutes with the happy couple was all it took for her to nearly sign on the dotted line to be their official wedding planner. If she wasn’t careful, Brittany would be scheduling Zara to work as her personal maid on her honeymoon in the Bahamas.
She must have dozed off in the hotel lobby, because the next thing she knew, she was waking up to the tantalizing smell of bacon and coffee. Though she was still sleep-deprived, her two favorite things went a long way to temporarily reviving her.
She opened one of the to-go boxes and shoved an entire piece of crispy bacon into her mouth. “You’re an angel.” Actually, given that she was also wolfing down a massive bite of a waffle, it came out much closer to murf an afuel.
Shaking his head at her food choices, Rory pulled the top off a container of oatmeal and didn’t even coat it with brown sugar before digging a spoon into it.
“No.” She had to stop eating long enough to make sure he understood precisely how she felt. “Oatmeal does not count as food.” She made a mental note to put it on their breakup list for Saturday. A junk-food fiend and a health nut could never make it as a couple long-term.
“You’re right about this,” he said as he shot a grim look at the gruel on his spoon, “but when Mom makes Irish oatmeal?” His face broke out in a rapturous smile. “It’s one of the best damn things you’ll ever eat. I’ll ask her to make it for you sometime.”
“Every meal I’ve had at your family’s café has been great.” Though Zara knew Rory’s mom ran the kitchen at Sullivan Café, she had never been on-site when Zara had eaten there. “What was it like growing up in a town where your family is such a big part of things?”
“It was great…unless we were getting in trouble. All the cops in town, the teachers, the other store owners, knew my parents. I honestly have no idea how many times we were hauled into the café with our tails between our legs.”
“Somehow, I can’t picture you ever having your tail between your legs, regardless of what you did.”
“You haven’t heard my mom yell. When you meet her, don’t be fooled by her outwardly sweet demeanor. Beth Sullivan is a badass. And all of us live a little in fear of disappointing her.” It was clear he had an infinite amount of respect for his mother.
Zara wished she could tell her mom how much she respected her. Especially given that in their last moments, she had been anything but respectful.
The food that had been so good minutes before now tasted like sawdust as it settled like a rock in her twisting stomach. She closed the lids abruptly, picked up the containers, and shoved them into the garbage can. “We should go before traffic picks up too much.”
If Rory thought her sudden mood change was at all strange, he didn’t comment on it as they checked out, then he grabbed their bags and headed out to the car. Normally, she would have made it a point to carry her own luggage, but in the aftermath of her Brittany/Cameron anxiety, an all-night sexfest, and her sudden renewed grief over her mother, it was all she could do just to drag herself over to Rory’s car and climb into the passenger seat.
Of course, as soon as he turned on the ignition, the radio came on, tuned to a heavy metal station. “You have no taste in music,” she mumbled as she bundled up her sweater to use as a pillow against the window. She made another mental note to put hate each other’s music on their breakup list for Saturday.
The last thing she heard him say was, “Have a nice nap, Backstreet Girl,” in an obvious bid to take down her appreciation for boy bands.
She dreamed of a boy band where every member was Rory. All five were singing a pop version of the classic Nat King Cole song There Goes My Heart.
And they were singing right to her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Two hours later, Rory pulled into his driveway and turned off the car. Zara had been sleeping soundly for the entire drive—he’d even turned off the heavy metal for her—but as soon as they stopped moving, she stirred.
She pulled off her glasses, rubbed a hand over her eyes, then slipped her glasses back on and looked up at the lighthouse in surprise. “Why are we at your house? I thought for sure you’d have had enough of me for one day.”
Three days ago, he would have been certain of that too. Now, however? He wasn’t anywhere close to having enough of her. “I’m
in the final stages of making a chess board for one of my cousin’s movies and just remembered that I need to throw another coat of varnish on it right away if I want to get it to him on time. Once I’ve done that, I’ll take you home, if that’s what you want to do.”
“Actually…” She opened the car door and stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the ocean air. “Since I woke up on your couch on Friday, I haven’t been able to stop dreaming about doing some wild swimming here.”
“If you can wait fifteen minutes, I’ll join you.”
She shot him a look. “We might have just found something we agree on.” She blushed slightly as she added, “Apart from all the awesome sex.”
Just talking about the awesome sex made him want to grab her, instead of his bag. But she was already heading up the walk to his front door, so he took his bag out of the trunk and followed. After unlocking the door, he let her inside. “Have at anything in my fridge.”
She surprised him by picking an apple out of the bowl on the kitchen island. “Can I watch you varnish?”
Rory had never found anything about woodworking to be sexual. Not until Zara said varnish in a slightly husky, just-woke-up voice. With Zara watching him brush on the varnish, the entire process was going to feel like one big act of foreplay.
“You can help if you want.”
She shook her head. “No way. I’d never forgive myself if I ruined your creation at the eleventh hour.”
“I’ve seen you put together your eyeglasses frames. You have very steady, precise hands.” And last night she’d given him even more proof of just how good she was with her hands. “I have a feeling you’d be a brilliant woodworker if you ever wanted to learn.”
“Funny you should say that, because after seeing some of your furniture designs, I’ve often thought you would create some really great frames.”
