search his face. “You mean it? We can go ahead with the reception on the beach?”
The words didn’t want to come, choked up behind the knot of emotion in his throat, so he nodded instead. It was all worth it, the pain of reliving the past and the vulnerability of being here with Felicity, for the way her face lit up with happiness and excitement.
As she burst into explanations and plans for what she envisioned the reception to be like, Zane let his eyes drift to half-mast and listened with only half an ear while he kept one arm around her shoulders and concentrated on the feel of her at his side. She fit there so perfectly, as if there had been an invisible space carved out of the universe just for her, and he’d been carrying it around with him all his life.
Breaking off in the middle of an estimate for how long it would take to build a temporary wooden walkway across the cord grass marsh to help guests get from the yacht club to the reception site, Felicity met Zane’s gaze. “Thank you. I know this isn’t your first choice, and that it’s not completely comfortable for you, but it means a lot to me. And I know it will mean a lot to Miles and Greta.”
Zane shrugged it off, uncomfortable with her gratitude. “No big deal. It’s not like we’d found another alternative for the reception location anyway. And this will be convenient to the ceremony, no transporting the guests someplace else. It’s the practical solution.”
“I agree, but I know…” Felicity paused, worry shadowing her gaze. “I know it costs you something to be here, and to plan to spend even more time here. I just want you to know that I appreciate it, and I think we’re doing the right thing. For several reasons.”
Zane wasn’t sure what those reasons were, but as Felicity went back to lamenting the fact that she’d left her binder in the car and she couldn’t make notes on all her ideas, Zane hugged her in close to his side once more. And even as he pressed a kiss to the honey brown hair crowning her head, he realized he’d do a lot more than stand on a beach to keep from losing this.
Chapter 7
Felicity wasn’t a child. She understood that the fact that she and Zane were now sleeping together—sneaking down the hallway at Harrington House, avoiding the creaky floorboard and laughing breathlessly when they slipped into each other’s beds—did not mean they’d never fight again.
Of course, the fact that both of them were guests at the Harrington’s huge, rambling Victorian house on Main Street eliminated several of the major obstacles to continuing their affair. For the last few days, they’d taken shameless advantage of their proximity, and every time they came together, Felicity felt herself unbend a little more. Under Zane’s tender hands and hungry gaze, her heart opened like a flower. No matter how often she reminded herself that this was only a fling, Felicity’s stubbornly hopeful heart never quite got the message.
But amazing compatibility in the bedroom—and in the back of her car, against a tree, and once, memorably, in the bathroom at the Firefly Café—did not necessarily equal compatibility anywhere else. Once they’d agreed to hold the reception on the beach, she’d sort of assumed the party planning would be relatively simple from there on.
Not so much.
“I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t you want me to fly in Dash and the Danger Boys? They’re the top music act on my label. They sell out stadium concerts. Women throw their panties on the stage and men rock out to their badass sound.” Zane kicked his booted feet up on the porch railing and slouched down in his cushioned wicker chair. “What I’m saying is, they’re the new hotness. And I can get them here, on zero notice, to play a freaking hundred-person wedding. That’s the coolest thing I can think of.”
“It’s the flashiest thing you can think of,” Felicity corrected, snapping her binder closed. She ran a hand through her hair,
The words didn’t want to come, choked up behind the knot of emotion in his throat, so he nodded instead. It was all worth it, the pain of reliving the past and the vulnerability of being here with Felicity, for the way her face lit up with happiness and excitement.
As she burst into explanations and plans for what she envisioned the reception to be like, Zane let his eyes drift to half-mast and listened with only half an ear while he kept one arm around her shoulders and concentrated on the feel of her at his side. She fit there so perfectly, as if there had been an invisible space carved out of the universe just for her, and he’d been carrying it around with him all his life.
Breaking off in the middle of an estimate for how long it would take to build a temporary wooden walkway across the cord grass marsh to help guests get from the yacht club to the reception site, Felicity met Zane’s gaze. “Thank you. I know this isn’t your first choice, and that it’s not completely comfortable for you, but it means a lot to me. And I know it will mean a lot to Miles and Greta.”
Zane shrugged it off, uncomfortable with her gratitude. “No big deal. It’s not like we’d found another alternative for the reception location anyway. And this will be convenient to the ceremony, no transporting the guests someplace else. It’s the practical solution.”
“I agree, but I know…” Felicity paused, worry shadowing her gaze. “I know it costs you something to be here, and to plan to spend even more time here. I just want you to know that I appreciate it, and I think we’re doing the right thing. For several reasons.”
Zane wasn’t sure what those reasons were, but as Felicity went back to lamenting the fact that she’d left her binder in the car and she couldn’t make notes on all her ideas, Zane hugged her in close to his side once more. And even as he pressed a kiss to the honey brown hair crowning her head, he realized he’d do a lot more than stand on a beach to keep from losing this.
Chapter 7
Felicity wasn’t a child. She understood that the fact that she and Zane were now sleeping together—sneaking down the hallway at Harrington House, avoiding the creaky floorboard and laughing breathlessly when they slipped into each other’s beds—did not mean they’d never fight again.
Of course, the fact that both of them were guests at the Harrington’s huge, rambling Victorian house on Main Street eliminated several of the major obstacles to continuing their affair. For the last few days, they’d taken shameless advantage of their proximity, and every time they came together, Felicity felt herself unbend a little more. Under Zane’s tender hands and hungry gaze, her heart opened like a flower. No matter how often she reminded herself that this was only a fling, Felicity’s stubbornly hopeful heart never quite got the message.
But amazing compatibility in the bedroom—and in the back of her car, against a tree, and once, memorably, in the bathroom at the Firefly Café—did not necessarily equal compatibility anywhere else. Once they’d agreed to hold the reception on the beach, she’d sort of assumed the party planning would be relatively simple from there on.
Not so much.
“I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t you want me to fly in Dash and the Danger Boys? They’re the top music act on my label. They sell out stadium concerts. Women throw their panties on the stage and men rock out to their badass sound.” Zane kicked his booted feet up on the porch railing and slouched down in his cushioned wicker chair. “What I’m saying is, they’re the new hotness. And I can get them here, on zero notice, to play a freaking hundred-person wedding. That’s the coolest thing I can think of.”
“It’s the flashiest thing you can think of,” Felicity corrected, snapping her binder closed. She ran a hand through her hair,
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