Love Makes the Difference (Sully Point Book 1) (4 page)

He laughed, then said, "I have a proposal. I won't bug
you about your secret life and you agree to leave mine alone as well. How about
it?"

She operated the cash register and took his twenty and made
change before agreeing to his deal. As she handed the money to him, he said, "Hey,
are you okay? What's that?"

Glancing down, she discovered a smudge of cobalt blue mixed
with black on her left wrist. "It's nothing," she said quickly and
covered her wrist with her right hand.
How did I miss that in the shower?

"You're sure? If you're hurt or need any help--"

"No, I'm fine, really. Now you go on and have a good
day. Enjoy your muffin and donut. Don't forget your coffee!"

He walked out, but turned back twice to look at her. She
smiled brightly at him and he eventually left. Anna knew it was probably silly
to hide the paint on her wrist, but she didn't want to go revealing personal
parts of her life to him. Besides, his curiosity was already high enough.
Anyway, no harm done.

* * * *

Sam walked to his car, got in and then sat there thinking.
Had the mark he's seen been an injury on her wrist? What else could it have
been? It looked like a dark bruise. Maybe that building she went to was
actually a boyfriend's place. If so, the guy might not be so nice. He could
have hurt her. Sam noticed he was suddenly quite angry at this guy he'd never
even met. Maybe he was wrong. But the way she'd covered it up so quickly and
she'd seemed so nervous. Plus, she had practically pushed him out the door at
that point. No, something wasn't right. He wondered if he should go talk to
Anna's father. Someone needed to know something was wrong. If she was being
abused, it had to stop.

When Sam got home, he scarfed down the bakery confections
and then took his phone outside. First he made a call to the packing company he
was using to tell them to deliver the rest of his furniture, which they'd been
keeping in storage. The second call went to Norman Crawford.

"Sam, what the heck are you doing out there? I haven't
heard from you for three weeks!"

"Calm down, Norm. I bought the house, been fixing it
up. I'm calling because I knew you'd be getting anxious about now."

"What can I do to speed things along?"

"Stay off my back like you've been doing. Have I been
getting many calls at my old number? Anything I need to deal with?"

"Patrice has called a few times. I get the impression
she can't quite believe you dumped her."

Sam sighed. "I broke it off, fair and square. If she
didn't listen, that's not my problem. The woman has an ego the size of Montana.
In her mind, she was supposed to be the one who dumped me. Anyway, she's
unimportant now. Don't worry about her calls. She'll give up after a while."

Norm's voice took on an edge Sam could clearly hear. "I'm
not so sure about that. She's been sounding more and more distraught and the
last phone call was very threatening."

"What she wants is to be near the famous writer Tom
Anders, again. She wouldn't care one bit about who I really am as Sam Carter.
She loves the persona of my pen name, the glamour, the parties. There's nothing
real about her."

"I think you need to take her seriously."

"Norm, what's she going to do besides chase after me? And
she doesn't even know where I am right now. She's a manipulative, shallow
woman. I'll just continue to avoid her."

"I hope you're right. Hold on now--did you just say she
was unimportant
now
? Don't tell me you've fallen for someone there! You
don't need the distraction."

"Never fear. I know what my job is and I'll get it
done. There is someone...interesting here, but I'm not falling for her. She's
just an intriguing character."

"Good. Keep me posted."

"Will do, Norm. And thanks. You're the best literary
agent I've ever had."

"I'm the only one you've ever had," Norm said with
a laugh and hung up.

Sam decided to work off the bakery items he'd been consuming
lately with a run. As he ran down the beach, shirtless and wearing khaki
shorts, he compared his memory of Patrice to Anna. Patrice was full of artifice--blue-eyed
and ice blonde, beautiful, well-crafted, but ultimately manipulative and cold
at heart. Seeing through the glitz to the inner core of the woman hadn't been a
pleasant vision. It had finally dawned on him that Patrice maneuvered him into
situations where they would be photographed together. She liked his celebrity,
rubbing shoulders with the Hollywood crowd. She used people to get what she
wanted.

Anna, on the other hand, was kind and thoughtful and seemed
like the most real person he'd ever met. It felt like she was so present, a person
without any pretense or guile--except for this morning and the mark on her
wrist. That still disturbed him.

Sam knew he was good at research and tracking things down.
Maybe he could find out what was going on with Anna on his own instead of
mentioning his suspicions to her father. Yes, that would probably be best.

He completely forgot about Patrice.

That evening, Sam made his way to St. Luke's in downtown
Sully Point. There were quite a few people milling around or seated at the
tables. He paid his five dollars and found a seat at the same table as Frank
Grainger.

"Hey, Sam, how're you doing?" Frank asked.
"Everybody know Sam? This is Sam Carter, he's bought old Wally's place at
the beach and is fixing it up."

Sam saw people nod in acknowledgment and he smiled back at
them. He was scanning the crowd looking for Anna and when he finally found her,
his mouth fell open. She was most definitely not wearing a pastel uniform.
Instead, she was dressed in a red, ruffled skirt and a white off-the-shoulder
blouse revealing the tops of a well-endowed bosom and beautiful shoulders. Dark
auburn hair framed her face and fell down her back in waves. She was...luscious-looking.
He was suddenly hungry in a very different way than he had been. She turned her
head as if sensing him and their eyes met. Something she saw in his made her
glance down and then back up again, more boldly.

He wanted her.

"Sam? Did you hear what I said?" It was the woman
sitting next to him, Maelynne Turner. "Is it true in Hollywood everyone
rides around in limousines?"

"It does sometimes seem that way," he said
distractedly.

Maelynne nodded knowingly. "I thought so."

Anna had made her way over to their table and was offering
garlic bread to the people seated there. As she approached him, Sam felt the
tension rising. She stopped beside his chair and said, "Can I get you
anything?"

Then she blushed. And he knew she had noticed the sexual
tension in their previous look.

"I can think of several things," he murmured so low
only she could hear. More loudly he said, "Some of that bread would be
great."

As she gave it to him, her hand touched his and he felt fire
within. Gazing into her eyes, he saw surprise and then an awareness of what he
felt. Their glance held for a moment longer, and she moved down the row and was
gone.

* * * *

Anna dressed hurriedly the next morning. Anxious to get to
work. More anxious to see if Sam would show up there. She'd been awake half the
night thinking about the way he'd looked at her. At first she thought she'd
misinterpreted the look, but then when he'd said, so quietly and suggestively,
about what she could get him--it seemed unbelievable to her that he seemed to
want her.

Maybe she was off in her perceptions about her looks. Holly
was always telling her that she looked good. But that was Holly. It was true
she never really tried very hard in terms of make-up or her clothes. Today,
she'd decided, would be different. She put on makeup and took her time with the
mascara. When she was done, she did have to admit her eyes looked great. She
had long eyelashes. She still had to wear her hair up because it was an eating
establishment. The uniform needed to go. Holly was going to hear about that.

By the time the muffins were out of the oven and the bread
was cooling on racks, Anna was sure Sam wouldn't show up at all. She became
more and more convinced she had misread everything last night. She left the
kitchen to turn the sign on the door to 'Open' and saw Sam waiting. He smiled
at her as she opened the door.

"Good morning, Anna," he said. His voice seemed
deeper to her today. Like she could feel it in her belly.

"Hi, Sam. What are you in the mood for--uh, what can I
do--damn."

He reached out and touched the side of her face quickly and
gently. "Do you have any Danish?"

"Yes, cheese Danish. I'll get you some. Coffee?"

"Yes, please." He gave her the money for his food
and then walked over to the little tables. He sat down and angled his chair to
face the counter. "Did you have a good time last night?"

"Yes, I did. It's always fun to see everybody
together."

"I noticed you didn't come back to my table
again."

"We had so many people to get to, we only went around
once."

"Anna..." He paused and stared at her. "Are
you wearing makeup today?"

She looked down and then took a deep breath and looked back
up at him. "Yes, yes I am," she said rather defiantly.

"I like it. Your eyes look more intriguing than ever."

"Oh. Well. Thank you."

"You know the blush you get in your cheeks is quite
appealing."

She could feel herself turning redder with each passing
second. "Uh, thank you?"

He laughed. "I get the feeling you aren't used to
hearing compliments on your looks. I can't imagine why not, unless the men
around town are blind."

She shrugged.

"You know, I think I'll make it part of my mission here
to get you used to hearing compliments, from me. But I only give compliments
that are the truth. For instance, I would never say anything nice about that
pastel uniform."

She laughed. "It really is awful, isn't it? I'm going
to talk to Holly about changing it to something else."

He nodded. "By the way, this Danish is great. Also, I
need to buy one of those coffee machines to have out at the beach house."

"You can order one at the hardware store."

"What do you do in your spare time, Anna? What do you
do for fun?"

"Fun?" She scrambled quickly, trying to think just
what she did for fun besides painting. Her mind was a blank. "Hmm. I'm
into art."

"Art? Like drawing?"

"Yeah, like that."

"You'll have to show me your drawings sometime."

"Uh, sure," she said.
No freaking way!
He'd
probably think her stuff was amateur hour. Or wait--was that comment supposed
to be a come-on? Like 'show me your etchings?'

"I guess I should head over to the hardware store. But
I think we'll have to come up with something fun to do together--soon." He
winked at her and left the shop.

She stared after him. Did he mean what she thought he meant?
Wow.

As the day wore on, Anna decided to talk to her father over
dinner about moving out. Cody had called and told her he'd be on a date, so she'd
have Dad to herself. It was her night to cook and she planned to make her
special chicken enchiladas. It might even be nice to mix up a batch of frozen
margaritas.

She closed up the bakery and headed for the grocery store.
She was grabbing cans of refried beans, green chilies and enchilada sauce when Maelynne
Turner called her name.

"Anna! You won't believe what I heard."

Probably not
, thought Anna. Maelynne could come up
with stories about people faster than the blink of an eye. Anna stared at the
shelf, debating between super-hot salsa and medium-hot when she gradually
became aware that Maelynne had continued to chatter and was now talking about
the bakery.

"...and then she said that Sam Carter was seen visiting
you at the bakery three times in the past two days. Do you think that's wise?"

"Whoa, wait a minute. Sam came into the bakery to buy
stuff, not to visit with me. Don't go spreading that rumor, Maelynne, because
it's just not true." Anna was angry and she could tell Maelynne was
surprised to hear her tone of voice.

"Well, I had no idea, Anna, that's just what I was
told. I guess he likes the things you bake."

"Exactly. Anyone is entitled to come into the shop and
buy cookies or bread or whatever they want without 'visiting' with me. And don't
go telling anyone any different than that!"

Anna whirled back to her cart, dumped the cans she'd been
holding into it, and sped off down the aisle, leaving Maelynne staring avidly
behind her.

Seething the whole way home, she started to slam the bag of
groceries on the counter in the kitchen, then stopped herself. She didn't want
to break the bottle of margarita mix in the bag.

She pulled the blender out of the cabinet and ice trays from
the freezer, muttering to herself the whole time. "Stupid gossipy
interfering...Visiting me--ha! Like he would...Who on earth started this
moronic rumor...if I only knew! Why do people have to gossip, anyway?"

All Anna really knew at this point in time was she didn't
want to think about the whole confusing mess. She poured her frozen drink into
a margarita glass and took a sip. "Yowza! Just a bit of a heavy hand there
with the tequila," she said only to see her father open the door as she
finished talking.

"Who ya talking to, kiddo?"

"And that's another thing! Dad, we have to talk--do you
want a margarita first?" She took another large swallow of hers.

He stared at her for a moment. "I think I'd better have
one."

She poured him one in a salt-rimmed glass. She didn't like
salt on hers, but he always did.

"So what's this about kid--"

"No! Don't call me that! I'm not a kid anymore, Dad. I'm
twenty-three years old. Every time you call me 'kiddo,' I end up feeling like I'm
twelve. We have to face it...I'm a grown-up."