Tides of Passion by Tracy Sumner Read Free Book Online Page B

of wine from the glass rim, his eyes finding hers over the edge. For some reason, his half-lidded look brought back the feel of his hands on her body, his teeth nipping her bottom lip. "That so?"
    "If you haven't ever done anything completely for yourself"—she moved in close enough to catch the peppery scent of his shaving lotion—"isn't it about time? I believe I'm due as well."
    He lowered the glass. "Are we talking about the same thing here?"
    She rocked back on her heels. "I agree that the details may require a spot of negotiation."
    He laughed then, his glossy hair falling into his face. "Yeah? I'm not at all sure we're talking about the same thing; I'm not at all sure you even have a clue. But damned if I'm not willing to negotiate ."
    Smiling, she smoothed her hand down her shirtwaist, strangely pleased. "Fine. Excellent, we're getting somewhere."
    Tapping her lip, she stepped out of reach, fearful she might give in to temptation and beg him for another kiss if she wasn't careful. "How about tomorrow morning? I'll stop by your office at, say, eleven. I'm having lunch at the restaurant across the way at noon with my committee. An hour should be enough time."
    "Can't. Prior engagement."
    She glanced his way, studying him to see if he was teasing her. "Truly?"
    He nodded his head, but not before she caught the amused glint in his eyes. "Truly."
    "Can you reschedule?"
    "Hyman Carter is heading to Raleigh on business next week, and tomorrow morning is the only time he can stop by to discuss his situation."
    She halted, whipping around so quickly she stumbled. "Hyman Carter? You're meeting with that man without alerting me? I must inform my committee."
    Reaching out, he tipped her chin high. "I'm alerting you, Irish. But no committee. You show alone or not at all. And bring the sensible Miss Connor you've been telling me so much about, not the hellion."
    He blinked, gazing beyond her for a moment before refocusing. "Better yet, save her for the negotiation ."
    "What time?" Savannah asked, drawing back, breathless and disconcerted. Too disconcerted to reprimand him for using that childish and highly inappropriate moniker.
    He shrugged, back to his good-natured self. "Ten or so."
    They walked home in silence, her bicycle standing guard between them. Not an indecent touch passed. Nothing indecent at all occurred aside from the graphic images exploding like last July's fireworks in her mind. Zach had refused to let her travel the two blocks to her rented room alone. Just imagine the nights she had walked alone in New York! If his gesture hadn't made her feel so warm, she would have laughed.
    "Why," she asked, as Zach stood outside the gate of the boarding house, waiting for her to climb the porch steps, "did you tell me about the meeting? I thought you weren't interested in helping me. I'm not sure I understand."
    "Got to understand everything, huh?" He hesitated, clearly debating how much he should reveal. Finally, with a sigh, he closed the gate and started down the rutted path that served as a sidewalk. Stopping at the junction with his lane, the gleam of a gas streetlamp flooded over him, throwing his arresting features into dull relief. "Why, Miss Connor? I guess because your heart's in the right place, even if your lovely little head is in the clouds. I can't much fault someone for being naïve though, now can I? Even a Yankee do-gooder."
    She stayed on the porch, letting the gentle ocean breeze wrap its fingers around her, watching Zachariah Garrett disappear into the shadows. She wasn't sure whether to be affronted or gratified by his comments.
    If she was honest with herself, both.
    The man seemed to pull her in utterly divergent directions.
    But she was smiling as she closed the front door behind her.
    * * *
    Seeing his son take his first breath had been the most astounding feeling of Zach's life. Watching that miniature face contort and burst into color, hearing the impressive bellow roll from minute-old lungs. Of