Savannah froze, her fingers clenched around her handbag strap. “Rachel made a scrapbook? For me?”
Her father nodded, as if it were no big deal. “She got into my stash of old photos of you, clippings from magazines, interviews and movie posters and the rest. She was planning to bring it over at Christmas. Oh.” He stopped and shot her a glance. “That was meant to be a surprise. Guess you won’t be in Auckland for Christmas now?”
So many emotions swirled around Savannah’s head that she could do nothing but blink. He’d kept photos? Tracked her career? She’d always thought he’d never been interested—too caught up in the lives of his new family, his new daughters. And Christmas? They planned to visit over the holidays? And where would she be in a month? It felt as if she’d swallowed a dozen ice cubes whole, and they were tumbling around her stomach.
“Too many questions. Sorry about that. You must be exhaust—”
“I met someone, Dad. His name’s Glen.”
“Ah.” He released the suitcase handle. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
Her father touched her cheek. “The tears. The times you and Liam visited us, I never saw you cry over him—happy, sad, or mad tears.”
Savannah scrunched up her face. “No. Then you’ll be glad to know I’ve cried more tears over this man in the last three weeks than I ever shed over Liam.”
“Sad tears?”
She nodded. “And happy and mad tears. Glen’s not coming with me to L.A. He said he would, but…” Savannah fiddled with her handbag zipper. “He bought me the flight here. Told me I needed to get things right with you before I went to L.A. He said…” The ice cubes in her guts turned into jagged shards. “I was still searching for other people’s approval—for your approval. And that I didn’t have to do anything to earn his, because he loved me. He loves me, and I left him.” A sob hiccoughed out of her, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.
Oh God, what was she doing, making a huge scene in a crazy-busy airport?
“Ah, Savvy.” Her father slung an arm around her shoulder, hooking her tight to his side. “You’ve always had my love and approval, only I didn’t show it as well as I should’ve. We’ll work on that, we will. And as for this Glen fellow, seems he knows you pretty well.”
Savannah snuffled, the ache in her chest spreading until her whole body throbbed. “He does. I didn’t see it before, and I didn’t tell him that I loved him before I left. I refused to see it, to even think it could be true, because it would make me an idiot for leaving him behind.”
“Love makes you do stupid things. Like leaving when you should stay.” His voice gentled. “Like staying when you know you should leave.”
“So what do I do, Dad?” she asked. “Now would be a good time for some fatherly advice.”
He gave her one last squeeze and released her again. “Now we go back home and let Rachel and the girls fuss over you. You let your family—because make no mistake, we are your family—take care of you for a few days. You’ll figure out what you want. What’ll make you happy. What it is you need.” He grabbed the handles of both suitcases. “A man who knows your heart and loves you enough to encourage you to follow it… That’s not something to give up lightly. So let your heart be a compass and show you which direction you should go.”
Savannah found a watery smile. “Dad, that’s very profound.”
“Your old man is pretty profound now, too. Being in love helps with that. You’ll see.” He tipped his head toward the outside doors. “Come on, then, little diva. Your chariot awaits.”
***
Twenty-eight hours without sleep did weird stuff to a woman’s brain. Particularly to a woman who may’ve screwed her chances with the man she loved. Blame lack of sleep, stress, and the snoring guy next to her who twitched in his seat like a dreaming dog. Savannah directed the taxi driver to Glen’s place in Newmarket. A less desperate woman would’ve opted to get a twelve-hour nap under her belt before a win-back-her-man attempt.
The taxi disappeared down the road, and Sav turned toward Glen’s townhouse. Scratch winning her man; she was here to grovel. Admit she was an idiot. Eat humble pie if that’s what he was serving, and even ask for seconds.
After dragging her cases through the gate and to the front door, she eyed the doorbell as if it’d launch a nuclear missile. How would Glen react to her showing up on his doorstep unannounced? For the second time.
Before she could change her mind, she stabbed the buzzer. She stepped back a little bit from the door, smoothing a hand down the yellow dress she knew he liked. Yes, she’d changed out of her comfortable stretchy pants and into a dress. One didn’t have to grovel looking as if she hadn’t slept in twenty-eight hours.
No footsteps on the other side of the door, so Sav buzzed again. And again. Then knocked. Loudly. Checked her phone to make sure she had the right address for Glen Cooper, Newmarket. She peered through a small pane of glass beside the door. Two crossed swords were mounted on the hallway wall. She had the right place.
A tuneful whistling from the sidewalk behind her dragged her focus from Glen’s front door. A postman poked a handful of letters into Glen’s mailbox and then continued on. Postie? Clearly, she was not only tired but stupidly oblivious to the fact normal people were at work on a Monday morning-lunch-afternoon whatever-the-time-was. Her stomach rumbled. Must be after lunch, surely?
Sav sighed and grabbed the suitcase handles. She spotted a path down the side of the house—bet it led to a tiny yard out back. She’d wait for Glen to come home and eat the muesli bar tucked in her purse.
After five minutes of fighting to get both pieces of luggage around the back of Glen’s house, Sav slumped onto a patio chair overlooking a postage-stamp-size patio. The muesli bar vanished in four bites, and even after chewing through glucose-infused goodness, it did little to inspire a great speech that would convince Glen she was worth a second chance. Even less to prevent her eyelids drooping.
She’d just rest her head on her arms on top of the cute little table, and then she’d be…
Sav jerked awake, her stomach plummeting into a free-fall. Someone had turned on the sprinkler system! Someone had—she jolted upright, grabbing the table edge, gazing frantically around for the culprit. Rain sheeted down, a notorious, four-seasons-in-one-day Auckland downpour.
Crap. It wasn’t a faulty sprinkler.
She jumped up, looking for an outdoor table umbrella—something. Icy water trickled down her bare arms, slid down her back, and soaked her front. There—the partially open window in Glen’s kitchen. She’d hunted around his tiny yard earlier, hoping to uncover a spare key, and she’d also noted the open window. Then, she hadn’t been desperate enough to break in.
Now? Savannah stored her luggage under the patio table and dragged a chair over to the house. Off came the yellow heels and she climbed onto the chair—which wobbled precariously until she grabbed the window ledge to steady herself.
Possibly not one of her better ideas. She tried to pry the window open wider. It wouldn’t budge, because it was locked open with one of those window-locking-arm-thingys. The one her too-tired brain hadn’t noticed before she’d hauled herself up there. She rested her wet forehead against the inside of her elbow, arm muscles twitching from the effort of remaining balanced on this ridiculously spindly chair.
“Savannah?”
Her name, delivered in Glen’s low, rough voice—his achingly familiar voice—sizzled through her like static electricity.
Her knees trembled, sending a rattle shimmering through the chair’s frame. Strong hands grasped her waist.
“Let go of the window before you wrench it off,” he said.
She released her white-knuckled grip and stepped off the chair—straight into a broad chest. A brief impression, a flash of warm, hard muscle pressed into her back, before Glen removed his hands from her waist and stepped aside.
“You’re home,” she said inanely. “I must’ve slept longer than I thought
.”
“It’s just after midday. My neighbor called to say a bedraggled blonde in a yellow dress was flaked out on my patio.”
“Er, yes.”
Glen touched his cheek above the faintest curve in the corner of his mouth. “Little criss-cross lines on your face right here.”
Savannah scrubbed a hand over her flushed cheek. Sure enough, table indentions. Just the look she’d gone for…
“And how did you plan to gain access through my kitchen window when even the neighbor’s cat can’t fit through it?”
Super.
They’d established she looked like a dog’s breakfast. And that she sucked at breaking and entering. He was kind of missing the point. In a script, this would be the time the leading man swooped in and kissed the bejesus out of her. Then he’d sweep her inside the house to his rose-petal-strewn, king-size bed.
Oh god, she’d murder for a king-size bed right now.
Her eyes narrowed at Glen’s bland expression. He definitely wasn’t following the dialogued script she’d imagined. Yet again.
“If I were still your landlady, I’d kick your butt for leaving my property unsecured.”
“You’re not my landlady anymore.”
His blue eyes remained steady on her face, and she had no idea—not one—what he was thinking. Was he happy to see her? Had he changed his mind about loving her? Cut his losses and moved on?
“So.” He folded his arms, studying her like a scientist would study a newly discovered plague bacteria. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to get into your house out of the rain, where I will convince you that I love you and that you should forgive me for being a bubble-headed jerk”—she sucked in a deep breath since her mouth had used up her last supply of oxygen—“and then I’ll find the nearest horizontal surface, which I really hope is your bed, and sleep for at least forty-eight hours.”
Glen’s expression remained unchanged. The same as it had before she blurted out she loved him. This didn’t bode well. The heat in her cheeks spread throughout her whole body.
A muscle bunched in his jaw, and he pressed his lips together. “Can we slow down and unpack that a little?”
“How about we go inside?” She pooched her lower lip out and blew a strand of wet hair from her face. “I’ll explain there.”
“Not yet.”
She huffed out a sigh, until she caught the ghost of a smile crossing his mouth.
“Take me back to the reason you’re trying to break into my house, instead of auditioning in L.A., where you’re meant to be.”
“Nope,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not meant to be there. I rang the director from London and told him I was on a new career path. A career path that didn’t involve depriving myself of chocolate, muffins”—she counted off two fingers and held up a third—“and you.”
“I’m your career path?”
What? Had she missed part of the conversation?
“No,” she said. “Teaching kids like Tom and the Bounty Bay children is my new career path, and acting in repertory theatre again. No more sitcoms or movies for me. That’s my new career path. And you, you’re the cherry on top of the big-ass chocolate cake. Hell—you’re my chocolate cake. The cake that I love.”
A flash of heat lit Glen’s gaze, and he closed the distance between them. Warmth pumped out from under his tee shirt and jeans. Savannah’s gaze zipped down. His wet jeans clung to a truly delicious package—“Why are you wearing jeans? Where’s your suit?”
Glen barked out a laugh. “This has got to be the weirdest conversation we’ve ever had. I quit working for Dad, and I’m waiting to hear about a position in an environmental law firm. I’ve been walking to a local coffee shop each day to write my next rainbow-farting unicorns book.” He patted the laptop satchel slung over his shoulder, then shrugged it off and leaned it against the chair.
Bubbles of pure joy shot through her. Without thinking, she grabbed his arm. “The agent took you on? Oh, I knew he would. That’s—”
Glen cut off her next exclamation with a kiss. The feel of his mouth on hers, hot, firm, demanding, was better than a triple-strength shot of espresso.
They finally came up for air, and he said, “We can talk book deals later. I want more out of you than chocolate cake metaphors that don’t make sense.”
Sav gathered her tumbleweed thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to get stage fright.
“You were right.” She balled the damp fabric of his shirt in both hands and held on tight. She’d keep him here in the rain until she convinced him of her sincerity. “I’ve wasted too much time and energy trying to earn other people’s love and approval. When you found a way behind my masks and exposed me, the real me, I couldn’t believe you would really love me. Deep down, I believed I didn’t deserve to be so happy with you, that I had to earn your love because the real me was unlovable.”
He cupped her face with his big palms, and her bare toes curled on the wet brick.
“You don’t have to do anything, and you…you’re the polar opposite of unlovable.”
“Oh.” Her heart raced around her body in a quick sprint. “You still love me then?”
“Not planning to stop any time soon.”
Thank God for that. He loved her, and while she knew she’d love him even if he’d turned her away, the relief made her sway closer.
“Can we go inside now?” She licked rain droplets off her lips.
Glen’s eyes zeroed in on her mouth like a cat tracking a red dot laser. “Wouldn’t agreeing make me one of your yes men?”
“That would make you my only yes man.” Sav tugged up his shirt, sliding her palms along the silky skin of his waist. “Once we get inside, I’ve got a list of things I’d like you to say yes to—starting with removing all your clothes.”
Glen threaded his fingers through her hair and tilted her face to his, all teasing vanishing from his eyes. “Then I say yes, Savannah Davis. Yes to compromising and working out a life with you, whether it’s here in Auckland, Hollywood, or even Bounty Bay. Yes to country music and bubble baths, dancing in barns and your irrational fear of spiders. Yes to one day making you my wife and to us raising a family together. Yes to being the guy at your back while you shine in the spotlight. Yes to all of it.”
“I wish…” Tears—hot, happy, overwhelming tears—flowed down her cheeks. “I wish I had words like you have, to tell you how much I love you. How devastated I was when you left Bounty Bay, and how sorry I was that you never knew I loved you back.”
“But I did know, angel,” he said. “I knew watching you interact with Tom and the kids in Bounty Bay, and I knew for sure the night of Tom’s concert.” He shrugged. “I figured if you’d fallen in love with my nephew and the other kids so fast, there was a good chance you’d fallen in love with me. That you just needed some time to trust that our feelings for each other were a solid foundation to build on.”
“I do trust you. We’ll build a hell of a weather-proof house on that foundation.” She arched up on tip-toes and kissed his chin. “This ex-movie star won’t require a tenancy agreement, either.”
Glen pulled back slightly. She saw herself reflected in his eyes—a woman in love with the man she’d never, ever forget. The man she’d never need to put on an act for again.
“You know,” he said. “You don’t really look like a movie star.”
“You said that once to me in Bounty Bay.”
“Uh huh.” He pulled a key-chain from his pocket and dangled it under her nose. “Take this.”
She did, and he swept her off her feet and into his arms, laughter bubbling out of her as he swung her in a circle.
“So, what do I look like to you?” she asked as he carried her toward the back door.
“Mine,” Glen said.
And he kissed her until she believed it.
###
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Far North Series
Imagine an endless stretch of azure blue water and clean, unspoiled beaches. Imagine a small town surrounded by ancient native forest.
Imagine neighbors who look after their own, who consider them whānau - family. Imagine the secret lives, the hidden passions simmering under New Zealand’s sultry, subtropical Far North.
Welcome to Bounty Bay, where the reward of true love is a price only some are willing to pay.
Hide Your Heart Book #1
Love will bring them together. Distrust will tear them apart…
Alexandra Lauren Knight has reinvented herself in the safety of her rural New Zealand hometown to become Lauren Taylor. She’s cut all ties with her past as a former model whose ex-husband turned out to be ruthless in both the boardroom and the bedroom. While Alexandra allowed other’s expectations to propel her into the spotlight, Lauren prefers the safety of anonymity; restoring classic cars with her brother, and snuggling with her four-year-old son.
Nate Fraser, a burned-out photojournalist, plans to fix up the property next door to Lauren and sell it as a celebrity retreat. Always on the move, Nate is only comfortable with short-term assignments and even shorter-term relationships. But it’s not just his buyer’s tight deadline or that the restoration is far beyond his expertise which turns a short-term project into an ordeal. Nate’s plan of travelling the globe is in jeopardy—created by the intensity of his growing feelings for Lauren and her little boy.
Know Your Heart: A New Zealand Enemies to Lovers Romance (Far North Series Book 2) Page 24
