The Heart - Kate Stewart Page 0,14

man in the world who could save her. All I did know was that I loved the exhilaration that danced through me as I bared witness to it. It was the best I’d ever felt, a new craving.

The next day, I’d done everything I could to get Jason to kiss me the same way. At only ten years old, I was chasing that feeling. Frustrated after several attempts, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get it back.

I didn’t realize it then, or even until years later, but that was the night the romantic version of myself was born. A strong and powerful kiss between my parents had awakened the believer in me. I’d spent my early years convinced when I found the person that kissed me like that, I could own that feeling, and with each kiss, I would be able to summon it at will. Lying in my bed almost twenty years later, I knew the rarity of such a gift. That ten-year-old girl had been naïve, but she’d also been right. There were people out there capable of making you feel that way with a kiss, of summoning it with a look. It had never been the act of kissing but the connection between two people that caused such powerful emotion. It didn’t take much to figure that out, and once I had, my search began.

That young romantic grew older and found that person who turned her world upside down with just the feel of his lips. She’d gotten to explore a few short months of free rein and contentment, until the day it ended.

I stopped listening to that ten-year-old romanticist and the woman she grew in to. The romantic in me now remained buried due to years of living in realism and practicality. In my bitterness, it had become relatively easy to ignore her. Years later, she willingly lay dormant and disappointed.

At that moment, somewhere between shaking off the sleep haze and reliving that memory of my parents sharing the most romantic kiss I’d ever witnessed, I wondered if there would ever come a day when that silent part of me spoke again, and whether or not I would listen to her. I put my fingers to my bankrupt lips in an attempt to make sure they were still there and capable of receiving such a kiss, and then I remembered the only man I knew capable of giving it was long gone.

Penance, that’s what this was. I was paying penance for buying that ridiculous car. I eyed it in the distance as I wiped the dirt off the budding summer squash. I’d been all but shooed away by the men I’d hired to tend to the farm, but told them I needed the exercise and a simple task to keep myself occupied. They’d hesitantly obliged. Think of me what they would, but I needed to be a part of what was going on with the center in any aspect. It was my driving force.

“Mornin’, Rose.”

Cajun.

I loved the sound of it. It was especially sexy rolling off Jack’s tongue.

I smiled into my t-shirt as I cleaned the dirt off my face before I turned to find him holding two cups of coffee, one extended out to me.

“No offense to your gesture, sir, but a bucket of ice water would have been preferred.” I had been out in the fields for hours and was sure I was covered in dirt.

“It’s iced. I usually have a fresh batch of beignets to go with my apologies, but you Texans know shit about that.”

“I’m offended for all of us Texans,” I said with a grin, “but you brought no donuts, either, and that’s unheard of in these parts. And there is nothing to apologize for, Jack. We made peace with it, right? I’m really not used to having visitors but will have to be more careful once the center opens, anyway. So, in a way, you did me a favor by reminding me of that.”

“Okay, just as long as you know I don’t make a habit of staring at beautiful women in their underwear through their bedroom windows.”

Flattered by his comment but unwilling to acknowledge it, I gave him a simple reply. “Understood.” I grabbed the coffee from his extended hand and took a sip.

He was dressed again in a solid t-shirt and jeans, and yet looking at him always felt like the first time. No woman in their right mind could deny Jack’s appeal. From his blond spiky