There Goes My Heart Read online

  Interesting. Twice in the past five minutes, they’d been in complete agreement with each other, first over going for a wild ocean swim and then over each other’s maker skills. Sure, their food and music choices weren’t similar, but how much did those things really matter in the end? Especially if they respected each other where it counted.

  Rory knew better than to say any of this aloud, however. Not when they’d agreed on Saturday as their do-or-die breakup date. And not when he still wasn’t convinced that he had anything real to offer her in the long term, when he’d been such crap at relationships until now. For the past year, he’d stuck fast to one relationship rule: If there wasn’t magic from the outset, there wasn’t ever going to be magic, so it wasn’t fair to string a woman along.

  Only, when it came to Zara, while there hadn’t been obvious magic from the beginning, there couldn’t be a better word for the night they’d just spent together.

  Last night had been magic from start to finish.

  They were both lost in their thoughts as he took her across his property to the auxiliary workshop in the barn.

  Zara looked around the room with obvious appreciation. “What a fantastic space. Why don’t you work here all the time, where no one can bother you?”

  “That’s exactly why.” He got out the can of varnish. “Growing up with six siblings, I got used to living and working in the middle of noise and chaos. All this quiet is great when I need to wind down, but Monday through Friday, heading into the office and being surrounded by other creative people helps keep my own creative juices flowing.”

  She nodded. “I never felt like I fit in until I met other makers.”

  He imagined growing up with a stepsister who epitomized bubbly, blonde, and by the book hadn’t made things any easier for the decidedly not by-the-book woman in his barn. Which was why he had to ask, “You’re not seriously considering helping to plan Brittany and Cameron’s wedding, are you?”

  “I know how things look on the outside, but our history isn’t as simple as it seems.”

  “How so?”

  She didn’t reply right away as she moved to run her hands over a wooden canoe that he’d been working on in his spare time. “We were both pretty messed up at fifteen, when we were suddenly thrown together.” It was as close as she’d come yet to referencing her emotional response to losing her mother. “I know we seem really different—and I’m not saying we aren’t—but Brittany was there for me when I needed her most.” When he looked up from his work, he saw a bleakness in her eyes that made him want to put his arms around her and never let go. Obviously, she was still grieving the loss of her mother—just as he knew he would be, even after fifteen-plus years. “I know she has her faults, just like I do, but at the core, she’s my sister, no matter what.”

  “I get it.” And he truly did. Family wasn’t always easy, or straightforward. But no matter how hard you had to fight for it, it was worth it. “Though I still don’t like the thought of you getting hurt again by Brittany or Cameron, even if that isn’t what they intend.”

  Zara waved away his concern. “I’m sure she’ll find a top-notch, must-have wedding planner and forget all about me.”

  Rory wasn’t nearly as certain about that. Which was why he decided that even after Saturday, he was going to look out for Zara, to make sure her sister and ex didn’t take advantage of her.

  “So, let’s see the chess board.”

  Obviously, she didn’t want to talk about her stepsister anymore. He picked it up carefully, moved it to his worktable, and uncovered it.

  “That’s gorgeous.”

  He’d been given plenty of compliments on his work over the years, but when Zara said it, he found himself looking at it with new eyes. “Thanks. Knowing my work is going to be part of a movie where people will continue to see it for years to come makes me stretch.”

  “If I were a card-carrying member of the Rory Sullivan Fan Club, I’m sure I’d know whose movies you’re talking about. But since you’re just some guy I work with who happens to have some really great moves in the sack, I’m clueless.”

  Though he was less than thrilled at being referred to as just some guy I work with, he was pleased that she thought his moves were great. “Smith Sullivan is my cousin.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “I thought you were going to name some obscure indie film actor, not one of the biggest movie stars in the world. Have you made things for Smith’s movies before?”

  “A couple of times.”

  He waited for her to ask what his famous cousin was like, but she seemed far more interested in his varnishing technique. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever watched his hands so carefully before. If he’d known it would be this hot to be with another maker…

  No, he still wouldn’t have jumped into bed with any of them. Zara was the only one he wanted.

  “I’m sure I can’t afford you,” she mused, “but on the off chance that I win the lottery, you wouldn’t consider making up one of the eyeglasses designs that I’ve envisioned in wood, would you?”

  “I’d rather show you how to make it yourself.”

  “Seriously?” When she looked at him as though she couldn’t believe her luck, he wanted to kiss her senseless.

  So he stopped varnishing and did just that.

  When he finally released her, it was so she could catch her breath while he finished with the chessboard.

  A few minutes later, he asked, “Ready to swim?”

  Zara surprised him by taking off at a run and heading for the long staircase that led to the small cove in front of his house. As she ran, she pulled off one piece of clothing after another, waiting until she was at the shore to take off her glasses.

  Rory might have been able to catch up with her had he not been so sucker-punched by Zara’s glorious spontaneity…and by the sheer magnitude of the contrast to every other woman he’d been with.

  It wasn’t just Chelsea, but all of his ex-girlfriends. Where Zara was free and wild and reckless, the women he’d been with before her had been sweet, but restrained. As though they were afraid to step too far out of the box.

  It suddenly struck him that he’d been looking at the situation with Brittany all wrong. Only someone as strong as Zara could put aside the resentment and hurt of being cheated on and instead focus on a sisterly bond made as teenagers. She wasn’t being walked over, she was helping someone she loved with one of the most important days of her life.

  His admiration for Zara grew by leaps and bounds.

  The fact that she was naked as she splashed in the waves didn’t hurt either.

  Pulling off his clothes and kicking his shoes away, he dived in and swam to her. They played chase in the water for a few minutes, before he caught her by an ankle and pulled her to him.

  She was breathless and laughing as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Took you long enough.”

  The only way to deal with sass like hers was to keep her mouth busy doing something else. Keeping one hand on her hip as she wound her legs around his waist, her breasts slipping and sliding against his chest, he threaded the other hand into her hair and crushed his mouth to hers.

  She tasted like salt and sunshine…and joy.

  Joy he’d never felt quite so keenly before.

  She lifted her hips over him at the same moment that he drove into her, their kisses spiraling deeper with every thrust, every gasp of pleasure.

  They were on the precipice of climax when he pulled back to look at her. Though he loved her in glasses, it was a rare treat to see directly into her hazel eyes.

  They’d made love several times during the past twenty-four hours, but it wasn’t enough. He craved her in a way he’d never craved anything, or anyone, else.

  “You’re not going to call me sweetheart again, are you?”

  He put his hand on her cheek, caressing her soft skin as he told her the truth. “I might.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth when her eyelids fluttered shut and her he
ad fell back as she catapulted into orgasm. He buried his face in the crook of her neck as he followed her into ecstasy.

  “Best wild swim ever.” They were both panting as they clung to each other in the water, and Zara’s voice was breathier than usual.

  Of course he had to kiss her again, a kiss that would surely have brought them right back around to more lovemaking had she not begun to shiver in the cold water. “Come on,” he said, “let’s head back inside. I’ll make you my world-famous hot chocolate.”

  As soon as she got to the shore, she put her glasses back on, then started running again, this time up the steep steps. He’d been laughing as he’d chased her all the way down, and now he was laughing again as he chased her back up.

  No woman had ever grated on him the way Zara had for the past year. But that suddenly seemed a small price to pay for all the laughter.

  It was amazing how natural it felt to walk naked into his house together, both of them holding their clothes, rather than putting them back on over wet skin. If Zara lived here with him, they could do this every day—jump into the water whenever the spirit took them.

  His brain caught up several seconds later. If Zara lived here with him?

  The odds that she would ever agree to give up her own space had to be nil. Then again…she’d agreed to more than one night, hadn’t she, when he’d assumed such a thing would be an impossibility.

  She tossed him a towel from the bathroom, the thick cotton smacking him in the face and yanking him out of his surprising musings.

  “It doesn’t count, you know.”

  He briskly rubbed his hair to dry it before moving on to his face, shoulders, and chest. “What doesn’t?”

  “The sex.”

  Maybe the water had been colder than he thought, because he didn’t follow her. “The sex doesn’t count for what?”

  She rolled her eyes as though the answer was obvious. “For our long-term couple compatibility. We are still a terrible fit, and by Saturday both of us will be dying to cut each other loose.”

  He almost laughed out loud at the irony of the fact that while he’d just been wondering about the odds of convincing her to live with him, she was doing her level best to add to her list of all the reasons they shouldn’t be together.

  Of course, he couldn’t just agree with her and be done with it. Not because taking opposite sides on most topics was an integral part of their interactions, but because he wasn’t sure he agreed that the sex they’d been having was just a feel-good way to pass a few hours.

  “Sex might not be the be-all and end-all of a relationship,” he said, “but it definitely counts. Especially when it’s this good.” Case in point: They’d had each other twice today, and he was already raring for more.

  She wrapped her towel even more firmly around herself as though to lay that idea to rest. “I knew you’d end up thinking sex means more than it really does.”

  He was pretty sure it was the guy in a relationship who normally said that. It figured that the two of them would end up flipping things upside down. After all, their entire relationship to this point had been completely backward, given that they’d begun as enemies before becoming allies. “What do you think sex means?”

  “It’s fun. It’s a good way to get some exercise. And, with the right person, I suppose it can also help bring you closer.”

  “So you do agree with me. What we’re doing here—” He gestured between their naked bodies. “—counts.”

  “No.” She shook her head, hard enough for little droplets of water to fly from the tips of her hair. “I said with the right person it counts.”

  Rory loved having sex with Zara. He’d need to have his head checked if he didn’t. But the way she kept deliberately pointing out how sure she was that they could never have anything more than that pushed all his buttons.

  He didn’t expect her to turn into a big, emotional ball of mush after they made love. He wouldn’t mind, however, if she could at least pretend to be a little more starry-eyed over what they’d just shared—especially given how many stars he kept seeing.

  She’d seemed so emotional during their lovemaking. But was he seeing only what he wanted to see?

  Ironic, wasn’t it, that he now longed for the very thing he’d been so averse to in his past relationships. All of his previous girlfriends had been so starry-eyed around him that their emotional states had become stained by desperation.

  Zara would never be desperate. Not in a million years.

  Maybe he should have left it. But everything inside of him felt churned up. All because of the breathtaking, infuriating, brilliant, and frustratingly unavailable woman who might as well be six miles away, rather than six feet.

  So instead of letting her comment go, he decided to push her buttons just as hard as she was pushing his. “What if it turns out that I’m your right person? And you’re mine?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Zara stared at Rory with an expression he couldn’t quite read—a mixture of what looked like panic, disbelief, and maybe even regret—before she threw back her head and laughed.

  When she caught her breath again, she said, “I thought you were serious there for a second.”

  Rory had felt this way only twice in his life. The first time a challenge he couldn’t ignore had been laid in front of him was when his mentor had accused him of stealing his designs. He’d vowed then to prove to both his mentor and the rest of the world that everything he created was totally original.

  And now, with less than a dozen words, Zara had challenged him to prove to her that the two of them were the right people for each other.

  Had he known it from the start? Had this been why she’d gotten under his skin so easily? Because he’d been fighting the inevitable loss of his heart to her? A heart he’d believed would be better kept under wraps, rather than risk hurting anyone else the way he’d hurt Chelsea.

  Only, he’d never counted on meeting a woman like Zara. Her strength on all fronts constantly stunned him, from her pursuit of her career to her relationship with Brittany.

  Zara would never let Rory get away with hurting her. If he made a mistake, she would call him on it, and he would change. Because she was worth changing for.

  Five and a half days.

  He now had five and a half days left to convince her that come Saturday, the very last thing either of them would want to do was cut loose from each other.

  He knew better than to push her further today on the “right person for each other” argument, however. She was wary enough of relationships that it would be far better to lull her, at least for a little while, into believing that she was safe from losing her heart to him…while he did everything in his power to make damned sure that she did.

  Especially now that he had finally realized he was well on the way to losing his heart to her.

  “Time for hot chocolate,” he said. “I would say clothing optional, but I’d hate for any of the scalding liquid to spill on your skin.” They dried off, then put on their clothes and headed into the kitchen.

  He appreciated how comfortable she seemed in his home as she sat on the couch by the picture window, tucking her feet beneath her and opening a blanket over her lap. On Friday, when he’d brought her here to sleep off the Prosecco, he’d been surprised—and more than a little taken aback—by how much he liked having her in his space. Today, he simply let himself enjoy it.

  “Why did you choose to live in a home attached to a lighthouse? I’m not knocking it,” she clarified before he could respond. “This view is extraordinary, and I love unique houses like this. But you’re quite a ways out of town, and it must feel like you’re on the edge of the world during a storm.”

  He was about to respond when she took a sip of her drink. Her eyes closed in a look of ecstasy he was becoming familiar with. He now knew two things that made her look that way—orgasms and his hot chocolate. He hoped to find many more by Saturday.

  “I hate to admit it, but you weren’t o
verselling your hot chocolate-making skills.” She took another sip. “I could happily bathe in this.”

  “And I could happily lick it off you,” he offered.

  She wagged her finger at him. “You’re going to have to put your one-track mind back into your pants for a few minutes. At least until you tell me why you’re so fascinated by lighthouses.” She pointed to the right front leg of his coffee table, where he’d etched the outlines of a tiny lighthouse. “Everything you make has a lighthouse on it, doesn’t it? It’s your business logo too.”

  Rory had always been better at joking around with people than being serious. Off-the-cuff responses were his specialty. But that wouldn’t be enough for Zara. “I was eight years old when I took out the Laser sailboat without asking my parents’ permission. I thought I knew what I was doing, that nothing could swamp me. If you think I’m cocky now, you should have seen me at eight.” He smiled, even though the memory of just how close death had come was chilling. “I didn’t know to check for storm warnings. Especially not when the sky was blue and the wind was barely enough to set my sail fluttering. I’d never seen a storm blow in so fast. If I had been with my parents, or one of my siblings, I might have been able to keep my wits about me. But the truth is—and I’ll deny it if you ever tell another soul—I lost it. I panicked and forgot everything I knew about sailing. I was certain that I was going to die as the storm swept me up and tossed me around in a boat that felt no bigger than a thimble. And then I saw it.”

  She was gripping her mug tightly enough for her knuckles to turn white. “A lighthouse.”

  “Yes. The Bass Harbor Head revolving lights were shining bright enough to be visible through driving rain and fog. Everything that’s been said about what lighthouses symbolize—salvation, home, safety—is true. I found my way back to my family, to my friends, to my future, because of a light that showed me the way in rough waters.”

  “Your parents must have been frantic.”

  “Frantic is an understatement. They were beyond overjoyed that I made it home to them. And then I was grounded for the next decade.”