by Julie Hyzy
“I know. I probably should have asked you about this first, but I just don’t like the idea of you being here alone at night. But . . .” Sam faltered as he spoke, “I figured that if you really didn’t like him, I could keep him. He seems like a really nice pet and they said at the shelter that he’s a great watchdog.”
Something in Sam’s voice let Annie know that this was really important to him. Taking a breath to get over the surprise, she nodded and reached over to greet Max. “Hey, boy,” she said in a soft voice as he nuzzled her hand. She reached over and scratched him behind his pointed ears, noticing that his eyes were alert, flicking between the three of them, watching every move. “He’s got to be nervous,” she said to Sam.
“Do you like him?”
Annie grinned down at the dog who’d started to lean against her leg as she stroked his fur. “Yeah,” she said. Glancing up, she caught a look in Sam’s eyes. With a force that nearly took her breath away, it hit her. He loves me. She turned her head back down quickly, afraid that he’d read her thoughts from her face. Oh my God, he really loves me. Annie’s knees felt ready to wobble and her hand shook a little as she pulled Max closer, for support.
Sam cleared his throat. “I picked up some supplies and stuff at the pet store on the way here. How about I go get them?”
Uncle Lou grinned at Annie while Sam headed to the car. “I’m going to take off myself. It’s not the company, it’s the hour.” He glanced at his watch then at Annie with a rueful smile. It couldn’t be later than nine in the morning. “Got up too early. Let me know what you find in those papers, okay? And if there’s anything I can do . . .” He leaned down and took the dog’s head in his hands. “You take care of Annie, you hear?” The dog blinked, as if he comprehended. Uncle Lou took off his glasses and headed toward the door, looking pointedly toward Sam out front. He grinned at Annie. “But I have a feeling you aren’t going to be alone here much at all.
”
Chapter Twenty-One
Max lapped up his water with noisy eagerness, the action of his long pink tongue flinging droplets around the side of the bowl. Annie thought he seemed happier than he had at first, maybe because now he knew that he had a home. She smiled to herself. As if a dog could reason that way. Still, when he finished drinking and plopped himself down in the corner, she thought he gave a whuff of contentment. With his head resting across one large paw, his eyes followed Annie as she moved away from the sink toward Sam, who stood at the kitchen table, all of Gary’s notes and paperwork spread out before him.
She watched Sam in profile, knowing that at any second he’d feel her gaze, look up, and she’d lose these precious moments to study him. His brow furrowed in concentration and the fingers of his left hand came up, massaging his temple, which she knew meant he was deep in thought. From the slight curl of his light brown hair to the way he studied the information before him, she found herself attracted to every inch of this man. Contented, she took a deep breath, trying to memorize every curve, every line of his face.
He must have heard her sigh because he looked up. Caught her staring. But when he did, it was almost as though she’d been waiting for him to do so. She managed a small smile without breaking eye contact, asking him a silent question, half-afraid of getting the answer she wanted. Sam stood up straight, but didn’t avert his gaze as a grin played at his lips. “What were you looking at?” he asked, his voice light.
Annie answered simply. “You.”
She watched as his eyes smiled then, too. Could he be feeling that same invisible tug, that welling up of emotion she felt every time she looked at him? Feeling a red blush creep up into her face, she bit her lip. The need to touch him overwhelmed her, but she didn’t move.
Tapping the pile of papers on the table, Sam said, “We should go through these.” His voice wavered a little. “Maybe there’s something important here.”
Annie nodded because it seemed like the right response, but she wasn’t really listening. Something about the papers. Something. But it didn’t seem all that important at the moment. The sun coming in from the window to her right caused a brightness in the room, but one that paled in comparison to the light in Sam’s eyes. They’d picked up the blue from the T-shirt he wore, but behind their sparkle she sensed a seriousness she hadn’t seen before. And when he gave a shy half-smile, she finally understood the term “took her breath away.”
Pointing behind herself with a vague motion, Annie started to speak, her words coming out in nervous spurts, “There’s something I need. Um. In my room.”
Turning, she headed to her bedroom. She stood at the side of her bed in the small room with her back to the open door. Closing her eyes, she listened to her heart pound as she whispered, “Please. Follow me.”
For a long moment she heard nothing. Then the floor creaked behind her, and he was there. She let out the breath she’d been holding.
“Annie?” he asked, touching her shoulders. His fingers traced a slow shivering path around the back of her neck.
She turned, opening her eyes. Any doubts she had about his desire for her tumbled away in a rush. Sam cupped her cheek in one hand while his other arm encircled her waist. He brought her face up to his and their lips met, sending a torch of fire through Annie’s body, lighting up every crevice, every secret place. Her breath uneven, Annie reached forward and upward for more, feeling Sam’s lips encompass her own, pressing her mouth to deepen the kiss. As they pulled apart, they stood motionless, catching their breaths, their bodies carrying on the conversation that their words could not.
Annie reached up to trail a finger along the side of Sam’s face. “Do you know how much I love looking at you?”
Surprised, as if he’d expected her to say something else, he leaned back a bit, but spoke in a soft voice, “Me? What’s there to look at?”
She let her fingers trace his jaw line, then move further down, playing under the neckline of his shirt. “You’re beautiful,” she said with a sigh. “You’re perfect.”
Sam laughed, and Annie felt his warm body shake as he pulled her closer. “Nobody’s perfect until you fall in love with them.” His eyes became serious as he looked down at her. The weight of the unasked question hung in the air, sending weakness to Annie’s knees. She felt as though she’d loved him forever. And would love him forever.
So close now that she felt her body mold to his, Annie could sense Sam’s readiness. She felt a sweet wash of warmth course through her own body, as it wept with joy at the thought of being with this man. Their lips met again, touching, releasing, tasting, like a dragonfly’s dance on the water at the lake.
“Annie, it’s . . .” Sam began. He took a deep breath, “It’s been a long time.”
“For me, too,” Annie said. She looked away, then back at him as she amended with a wry smile, “Since it meant something. Since it felt—right.”
A shyness crept up between them. Annie shuddered with anticipation as they stood there, waiting to take the next step. Her heart welled up with a burst of affection. She trusted him, loved him in a way she’d never experienced before. She wanted to be with this man. More than anything. With trembling fingers Annie reached for Sam’s belt buckle and moved to loosen it, not wanting him to see that she was biting her lip. It came undone easily, more easily than she would have expected, and she looked up at him, hoping for guidance.
His hands, which had remained chastely around her hips, moved up, pulling her in with a swiftness that surprised her. She felt them move across her, roving at first, then become more insistent as they tightened around her back. Their mouths touched, parted, then came together, moving as though with one thought. Annie felt as though they were meant to fit together, as their mouths opened, wanting more of each other, inching impossibly closer. Sam’s hands moved from her back, reaching around her sides, till they brushed against her breasts, sending shivers of delight down her spine. She pulled her T-shirt up over her head, then reached back to unfasten her bra. The look in Sam’s eyes
and the rumble of pleasure in his chest made Annie’s heart quicken till she thought it couldn’t beat any faster.
A tickle of fear caused her to give a tiny shudder. Sam reached for her, at once both gentle and strong, caressing her flesh with pleasurable pressure. His warm hands moved in tender slowness, but she sensed unleashed power just beneath the surface of his calm.
Annie raised both her arms to wrap around his neck, pressing herself forward, feeling as though she couldn’t get close enough. He slid his fingers down her sides, causing her skin to explode in gooseflesh. She moved her hands downward, instinct taking precedence over rational thought, and tucked her hands inside his waistband, coaxing his jeans downward, and their lips met, not softly this time, but with heat and intensity as he crushed her body to his.
They pulled apart for a moment and Annie heard her own shallow breaths, felt the pounding of her heart in her ears. She reached a nervous hand out to help Sam remove the rest of his clothing.
“You’re beautiful,” she said as she ran her hands up his bare chest, leaning forward to brush him with her lips.
Wrapping his arms around Annie, Sam lowered her to the bed. She felt the heat and gentle pressure of his warm body over hers. They kissed, deeply, their bodies, their hands, their mouths exploring with an eagerness Annie had never felt before. “I’m in love with you,” Sam said, never taking his eyes from her face. “And I want to be with you, Annie, but if you think we should wait . . .” his voice was ragged, his eyes, ever bright, concerned.
Annie reached up, silencing him with a touch to his lips. She kissed him in a long slow display of her own readiness, then reached to hold his face in her hands, feeling as though she knew love for the first time in her life.
Annie took a deep breath and blinked away the heat gathering in her eyes. “I love you, too. So very much. I don’t want to go another day without having you know that. Please,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper, “don’t stop now.
”
* * * * *
Later, as she lay on her side with Sam’s strong arm wrapped around her, she sighed, contented. His breathing, which had almost reached the level of evenness that indicated sleep, now sounded a bit more shallow. She felt his arousal against her back and she smiled, feeling more comfortable and satisfied than she had in a long time. His hand shifted now, his fingers tracing an imaginary line along her naked hip, not stopping, but moving upward until he reached around to cup her breast. Turning toward him, they kissed, deeply, lazily. With a low moan, Sam pulled Annie over himself, settling her on top with his hands on her hips. She smiled as they began to move together, taking it slow, knowing that they had all the time in the world now, to learn to love each other.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You’re telling me you got that picture everybody’s been talking about?” The big man smirked as he sat back in the booth and folded his arms across his chest.
Pete didn’t like the guy’s tone. As if the bastard didn’t believe he could have gotten his hands on something this big. “Yeah, that’s what I’m tellin’ you.” Pete affected a look of boredom as his eyes swept the room to the left. Al was leaning forward behind the bar, talking with one of the regulars, though his eyes flicked up now and then, as if to gauge how Pete’s meeting was progressing. Al licked his lips as he nodded to the fellow talking and gesturing on the barstool in front of him, but Pete bet his mind was on the finder’s fee he expected once this deal was done.
Al had brought the guy over to the booth, introducing him with a casual, “Hey, this here’s my buddy Don Romas. You and him have some friends in common, I think.” And then he’d left.
As Al walked away, Romas remained standing next to the booth, just staring down at him for a few moments. Pete didn’t like looking up to anybody; it made him feel like he wasn’t the one in control. The guy was huge, everywhere. Paunchy, flaccid cheeks dropped down to become wiggly jowls. His full head of hair looked like it might be glued in place, its dark brown color contrasting with the long gray hairs sprouting from bushy eyebrows, and curling out and around his ears. More long, wiry strands made an appearance from within the v-shaped neckline of his pale green golf shirt. His gut could rival that of a ripe pregnant woman’s and when he moved down closer, pressing his fingertips onto the tabletop, Pete caught a glimpse of the man’s nails. Manicured. Not the sort of guy he was used to dealing with.
He hadn’t offered his hand to shake, not that Pete minded. Instead, he pulled his head low and looked straight at Pete. His eyes were a peculiar shade of brown with sort of yellowish flecks that Pete couldn’t help but notice with the guy’s face so close. Romas spoke with the voice of a heavy smoker, “You mind switching sides?” he asked, with a nod of his head to the empty seat of the booth.
Pete’s hands were around his beer mug. He’d curled in his chewed fingernails, and held them against the glass. Lifting his chin to this guy, he narrowed one eye, “Come again?”
Romas tapped the table in front of Pete. “I prefer to sit on this side,” he said, his manicured nails making a tiny clicking sound as he did so. “Facing the door. Makes me feel more secure, you understand?”
Despite the fact that it was a small request, Pete felt his position of strength slipping away. He sighed theatrically and moved to the other side, carrying the weighty plastic bag he’d brought along. He reached to drag his beer across the table, glad to hear it make a rumbling sound as it skittered across the uneven wood. Romas smiled, showing capped, tobacco-stained teeth, lowering himself into the seat Pete vacated. For a moment he wondered how the guy would fit, with a gut that big. Without missing a beat, Romas grabbed the table with both hands and edged it forward, repositioning it so that it accommodated his bulk, but pinned Pete in further, pressing lightly, but noticeably against his chest.
“Do you have this alleged masterpiece with you?”
“What are you crazy? You think I’d bring it here?”
Romas shook his head, then lowered his face and spoke in a quiet, terse voice. “You don’t have shit, do you?” His face, wide with an undisguised smirk, loomed close. Mocking.
Pete sat with his arms on the table, crossed in front of him, feeling like a kid in an oversized desk. This wasn’t going the way he’d anticipated. He snuck a look over to Al, but the bartender was busy adjusting some control on the television.
And now this Romas guy was laughing at him. Or looking like he was about to start. But beneath it, a cold-steel anger flashed in his eyes as he spoke. “I don’t have time to waste with pissant guys who think they’ve made a score,” he said, pursing his lips. “I deal with the real things. I deal with fine merchandise. I can look at you and know you’ve never seen anything of real value in your life. You’re stuck in a rut, lifting cheap crap, trying to fence it for a couple of bucks. Barely making it. Am I right, or am I right?”
Pete felt a tremor of anger work up through his body. But Romas wasn’t finished.
“And I don’t have time to educate a nobody like you on what is valuable and what isn’t. Because you’re not ever going to find yourself in possession of something that I’d be interested in.” He smiled then. Pete wanted to shove his beer mug down the guy’s throat. “What did you do, buy some old drawing at a garage sale? Think you found a masterpiece?” He was really laughing, now.
Pete bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making a retort. He reached down to his side and snaked his hand into the plastic grocery bag next to him. He’d been so nervous about someone seeing what was in the bag, or the bag ripping, that he’d wrapped his treasure in newspaper, then overlapped it with four grocery bags to conceal its shape.
Right now, he cursed himself for his caution, as his fingers fought the plastic and fumbled around, looking for an inlet into each bag. The bags crinkled, the noise amplified by the small confines of the booth. He grabbed a handle from the outermost bag and pulled it up onto his lap, allowing himself a quick glance at Romas across from him. The man was ready to bolt, hi
s half-lidded eyes expressing both disdain and impatience.
Romas placed his two plump hands on the table, fingers spread, and began to boost himself up. It pushed the table further toward Pete’s chest and he looked up to see the big man watching him grope through the bag. Romas shook his head with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Then the sucker winked. “Pleasure doing business,” he said with a snort.
Pete stopped digging long enough to shove the table back. It caught the other man by surprise and he stumbled a bit, sitting back down hard. The expression on his face was one of pure fury. He wagged one fleshy finger Pete’s direction, “Don’t you ever—” he began.
Pete brought the bag up to the table with a whump. “You,” he said to the other man, “will wait till you see what I’ve got. Then you decide whether you want to stay or go. Got it?” Pete needed this guy to wait. He didn’t have any other connections that could fence the kind of merchandise he and Gary had gotten their hands on. It was time he stopped taking this guy’s shit and started acting like someone who knew what the hell he was doing.
His hands shook as he reached into the grocery bag, finally feeling the crumpled newspaper wrapping. He took out the lumpy parcel and laid it on the table between them. “Now,” he said, attempting to come across more confident than he felt, “I’m gonna give you a look at this. Just a look. I don’t want all the bozos over there to see what I’m carrying, you understand?”
Romas held his gaze for a moment. “Yeah, you show me what you got here, little man. I have a couple of minutes and I could use a laugh.”
Pete’s mind flew all directions at once. Both he and Gary had assumed that everything in that study was genuine and valuable. The truth was, neither of them knew a priceless piece of artwork from a scribble. If it wasn’t for that newspaper article, they wouldn’t have had a clue about the drawing. Maybe that DeChristopher fellow dealt with reproductions, and this wasn’t the real thing. His gut told him the stuff was real though. Besides, it was too late to turn back now and there was only one way to find out.