by Nicole Smith
He kissed her with urgent need.
She said breathlessly, "However?"
"Fast has a charm all its own."
She gave a laugh that quickly turned into a moan as his lips moved down her neck and then up to whisper in her ear.
"Now."
* * * *
Steaks and her news were a big hit that night. Her father got tears in his eyes when he heard what Stanley had said. "I always knew you had it, that spark, just like your mother."
"Oh Dad," she said and hugged him fiercely. "Thanks for giving me the space, the privacy, to do my work."
He patted her on the back. "Come on, let's eat this great dinner. We've been back to having pizza around here lately."
"I thought you were going to teach Cody how to cook fish."
"Our first lesson didn't go so well. We have yet to try again."
After dinner she called Holly who was thrilled for her. "I can't believe it Anna! This is awesome, wonderful--"
"Yeah, yeah, now tell me what you really think."
Holly laughed. "Seriously Sis, this is great. How are things with you and Sam?"
Anna looked around to see that Sam was inside her father's study, looking at plans her father had drawn up, while she was out on the porch in the swing. "Things are really good, almost too good."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, it's hard for me to trust it, to believe it's real."
"Oh Anna, hon, you have to go with it. Has he done anything to make you distrust him?"
"No. The thing is, I may be, you know, falling in love with him."
"I could have told you that. It was obvious to me before I left."
"But we're from such different worlds."
"You are and you aren't. Yes, he has money and fame and travels all over, while you like privacy and being by yourself. But he also works alone, is creative in his own art, just like you. I think where it counts, you two are very similar."
"Huh, I never thought of it like that. Thanks."
"No problem. Now what is the name of the gallery so I can brag about it to my friends."
Anna laughed. "Stanley Walters gallery is all I know. I don't know if it has another name."
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
"Holly?"
"Anna," Holly whispered. "Do you have any idea how prestigious his gallery is? Stanley Walters is famous in his own right. He's the one who came to see your paintings?"
"Uh, yeah. Is that weird or something?"
"Weird, no. Amazing, yes. Anna honey, you have just leaped into the big time. Wow, oh man, this is huge."
"Well now that you've succeeded in freaking me out..."
Holly laughed. "Sorry sis. Really major congrats to you. And we are going to have to do some serious clothes shopping. You have to look great at the opening of your show."
"I have to be there?"
"Absolutely. I'll make sure you look fantastic, don't worry."
"Fat chance there."
Once she was off the phone with Holly she hunted down Cody. She found him sitting on the back steps drinking a beer. "What's up?"
"Hey, Anna. Cool about your paintings."
"You have to promise to come to the city for the opening. I need my big handsome brother at my side."
"Yeah?" He perked up a bit. "Sure I'll go. Might as well start looking for women there anyway. I think I've gone through all the ones in this town."
"Cody! Why do you date so many different ones?"
"I'm trying to find the right one, Sis. Thought maybe I had this last time, but she said I'm not in touch enough with my feelings--whatever that means."
"Hmm. I think it means it's not all about the sex. There's more to a relationship."
"I was thinking of swearing off women for a while. But, you know, I love women too much to stick to that."
Anna laughed. "You'll find her, one day. The right one will come along and suddenly you'll be head over heels."
He looked at her seriously. "I really do hope that's true. Was it that way for you and Sam?"
"Kind of, yeah. Still a little new to talk about."
"Whatever you do, don't blow it. Because it sucks when it ends." He stared morosely at the label on the bottle of his beer.
"Yeah," she whispered, walking away. "That's what I'm afraid of."
* * * *
Sam had watched her during the evening, talking to her father and Cody, on the phone with her sister, and he'd felt glad she was so excited. She deserved this, and so much more. Before the night at her family home was through, they all helped to box up some of her books to put on the shelves in the loft.
"There's certainly a lot of science fiction and fantasy here," he said. "I should have realized after seeing some of your paintings that you'd like it."
Cody held up a book. "Never fear, Sam. She appears to have every one of your psychic detective's books."
Sam laughed. "I guess I won't need to bring in a set then."
Cody continued. "So what did you say when you heard about the Porsche, Anna?"
"What Porsche?" she asked, picking through books.
"You know, the Porsche Sam bought to replace your old--"
"Cody, shut up!" Frank said.
Sam groaned.
Anna turned slowly around from the shelves in her room. "What did you say? You bought me a--a--Porsche? Are you nuts?"
Sam shook his head. "Maybe a little premature. I thought perhaps at some point you'd need to drive into the city and I couldn't imagine you driving your car there."
"And you didn't think to talk to me about this? How much money did you spend?"
"Anna--love--you know I don't care about money. Let's not talk about price."
"Sam Carter--if you think I'm just going to accept a big expensive car from you--"
"It's actually rather small and sporty."
She tossed a paperback at his head. Not, he noticed, one of his.
Later at the loft he saw the bed in the back corner of the loft behind screens. "When did this get here?"
"Earlier today, before Stanley came. I can't decide if I like the screens or not. Without them, I'll have to keep that bed made up nicely all the time."
"That may be difficult to do when I have major plans for messing up the bed covers on a regular basis."
She smiled at him, her eyes, green today, sparkling. "Oh you do, huh? And you think by teasing me with the promise of sex I'll forget all about your high-handedness in buying me a replacement for my car?"
"That vehicle barely qualifies for the name 'car' and besides, it's a Porsche I bought, not just any old replacement."
She danced out of the way of his reaching arms. "No, not yet. First tell me what color the Porsche is."
He hoped strongly that he'd chosen right. "Blue-green."
She moved toward him. "Hmm. Interesting."
He took another step and swooped her up in his arms as she gave a little scream. "Time to check out the new bed."
"You're carrying me!"
"That's right."
"I think I like it."
He laughed and hugged her to him--before he dropped her onto the bed. She giggled and got up to bounce on the bed a few times.
"I think it can handle us," she said, eyes suddenly intense with passion.
He crawled onto the bed until they were inches apart, both on their knees. "Can it? I've been hampered by the lack of a good bed up to now, you know."
"Have you? You mean it gets better?"
"Oh yeah." Suddenly they were in each other's arms as the spark between them grew into a blaze hot as wildfire.
* * * *
Anna watched him working on his laptop, as he sat at the kitchen counter. She was curled up in the big leather chair that had finally been delivered this week. The past couple of days they'd spent either working--him on the first floor and her at the bakery--or else they were spending time having tons of incredible sex. This was the first time she'd managed to sit and relax i
n the new chair.
He ran both hands through his hair. Then said, "Aha!" and bent quickly back to the keyboard, typing quickly.
She'd noticed how he seemed able to work when she was around, but it wasn't that way for her painting. Even when his eyes weren't on her, she kept thinking they were and getting distracted.
Gradually, she was getting used to living with him. He was a considerate roommate, helping out with whatever needed to be done. Much more important was his presence. He filled the empty spaces she hadn't even known were there. And there was laughter here, and talking, and definitely loving. She smiled a secretive little satisfied smile. As much as she wanted him, he seemed to want her even more.
But there was still that little wall between them. He didn't say it anymore, not even when making love. He said other things--'I adore you' or 'You're my life' but never the L-word.
She knew it was up to her to cross that bridge. And she could feel herself getting more certain of him. It was just--not quite yet.
When she saw him take his hands off the keyboard and push away from the counter, she said to him, "Hey handsome, got a minute?"
He turned to her with a vague smile, eyes still unfocused."
"What did you call me?"
"Handsome. Cause you are."
"Ah, okay then." His eyes left his work to really see her. "That chair looks big enough for two."
"It just might be."
He came over and got into the chair with her partially on his lap.
"I think I need to tell you something," she said, a bit nervously.
"Hmm?" He nuzzled her neck, scattering little kisses.
"Yes, although I can't think very well when you do that to me."
"That's the idea."
"It's about that thing I never say."
She felt him freeze and then slowly move away from her neck to look at her. "It's my issue, my problem. Not you. I feel--so much for you--but there's this distrust, no not that really--a fear. I've figured out it comes from my mother dying. Always being afraid that people could disappear on me, leave me, if I cared about them. Anyway, I'm working on it. Don't give up on me, okay?"
He pulled her against his chest and hugged her. "Never. I'll never give up on you."
She sighed in relief. "So you still..."
He whispered in her ear. "Always, love. Forever." They sat together in the quiet for a while and then he said, "You know, it won't always be as crazy as it has been for us. Someday the bodyguards will be gone and the reason for them as well. We'll have our lives just to ourselves. What shall we do? Where would you go if you could go anywhere in the world?"
"Anywhere? Hmm. I think it would have to be Italy."
"Ah, I could show you the work of the old masters, the art--"
"Not just the art, though that would be incredible to see, but more the feeling of the country. I've always thought of it as a romantic place."
"We could have our own villa with a vineyard," he said, warming to the idea. "A house that has history in its bones. And you could wear flowing night gowns on the balcony, that I'd later tear off your body in my lust for you."
She laughed. "Flowing gowns? Okay, but if I wear those, you have to come up the marble stairs wearing a white shirt unbuttoned to show off your chest, the kind with the sleeves that billow out."
"A puffy shirt?"
"A hot one."
"Ah, I see. And I suppose tight leather pants?"
"I could live with that picture." She giggled. "Then you'd feed me strawberries dipped in chocolate from our bed. And the doors would be open to the balcony, so we'd feel the night breezes on our skin."
"Every day I'd bring you fresh flowers from the garden."
"And we'd have a cook so I would only have to cook when I felt like it."
"I think there would have to be a large tub," he said. "Definitely big enough for both of us. Scented oils and flower petals floating on the water--the whole nine yards."
"Sounds...arboreal."
He laughed.
"No, I like it." She sighed. "Too bad we have to wait for all that. It sounds like a dream."
"Well, we don't have to wait for all of it. There are still some things we can do right now that will show you how I feel from holding you in my arms."
Then he proceeded to show her in no uncertain terms just what he felt.
Chapter 10
Sam walked through the first floor on the wide plank cherry hardwood. He loved the richness of the wood. Anna thought the wide planks were genius in the large space. The furniture had arrived and broken up the space, along with a couple of big rugs. His desk sat at about the halfway mark of the room. On the back wall was a dart board that he resorted to when he had trouble with his writing. Anna had bought him a conch shell at one of the tourist shops for a paperweight that was sitting on the desk. The bathroom was as big as the one upstairs, but this one held a free-standing modern-looking tub, jetted and fit for two.
He looked at the window area in the front of the building. They'd left the vintage glass blocks. He was always careful not to stand in front of them. Even though the past couple of weeks had been free of any sighting of Patrice, nobody believed that the trouble with her was over.
The kitchenette had turned out quite well, and Sam pulled a bottle of White Zinfandel out of the wine fridge. He'd noticed Anna's music turn off a few minutes before and knew she'd be down soon. When they'd redone this space she'd insisted that they use major insulation for sound in the ceiling. Even with that he could still hear the bass faintly when she blasted it. Another reason he couldn't work up there when she was painting.
Things had been going well between them. So well he'd had moments of nervousness. Never in his life had he gotten along so well with another person. The writing was starting to move at a good pace on this book, and Anna's plans for her first show were shaping up under Stanley's direction. It was perfect--except for the bodyguards.
He supposed they'd both gotten used to the guards but the reason for them--he wasn't sure he could ever get used to someone hating him that much.
"That can't be good. I haven't seen a frown like that on your face, ever," Anna said walking across the room. "What's wrong? Book not cooperating?"
"I didn't even hear you come down the stairs."
"That's because I'm barefoot." She kicked a foot out from under a new maxi dress. It was a pale green with gold threads running through it and made her eyes glow.
"I was thinking about the forbidden topic again--Patrice."
"No, now we said we wouldn't discuss her anymore. It doesn't help anything."
"But don't you wonder about her?"
Anna sighed. She reached out for the glass of wine he'd poured for her and took a sip. "All the time. I just refuse to talk about her."
"I wonder sometimes about my judgment. What I could have been thinking to get involved with her in the first place."
"Sam...would you be offended if I said I don't think you were 'involved' so much as getting some?"
He barked out a laugh. "That's direct, even for you."
"In your Tom Anders persona, I think you went for a particular type to add to the image. Tall--check. Blond--check. Gorgeous--check. You weren't exactly looking for someone to find meaning in your life with, at least I don't think so."
He thought about it. She was right. He'd never been looking for a real relationship with any of those women.
"So you've had no word of her?" Anna asked. It was the first time she'd asked in the past two weeks.
"Norm calls me every day with an update from the investigator. He can't find her. She's been smart enough to use cash, we think, instead of credit cards."
"Damn. Okay, that's about all I want to hear about her. Tell me about the book. How's it going?"
Sam ran a hand through his hair. He should have gotten it cut by now, but Anna seemed to love running her hands through it so he was waiting. "The book. I think it's going well, but I'm going a different way than usual this
time around and I'm not sure how people will respond."
"What do you mean? You're not going to kill off Maurice are you?"
"No, no. There would be no series without him. You know how Maury meets women in his adventures. But nothing lasting. This time around I think Maury has met 'the one' and will end up with her. That is, unless she turns out to be the murderer."
Anna stared at him. "How can you not know if she will be the murderer? You're the writer!"
He laughed. "Not that simple, at least not for me, the way I write. I make plans, a rough outline, but when it comes to the actual writing my characters sometimes go off and do things I don't expect."
"Hmm. That sounds strange."
"Yes, well, imagine being me and suddenly finding your fingers typing out a completely different scenario than you'd expected. It's a bizarre feeling. But when you're tapped into the flow of creativity, the universe, whatever it is I get tapped into, it's best to just go with it and see where it leads."
Anna walked over to the cream-colored sofa and sat down, tucking one leg up under her body. "So you're telling me that Maury might get really serious about this woman? Like marriage and everything?"
Sam joined her on the sofa. He stretched out an arm along the back and played with the ends of her hair. "I'm not sure yet, but maybe. As a Maury fan, how would you feel if he settled down into a long-term relationship, or marriage?"
He watched the thoughts fly across her face. Lately he'd realized he loved to watch her think. Her face was so expressive. He saw surprise, then a serious look, then humor, and a sudden realization--
"Sam! Are you writing it this way because of us?"
"My relationship with you is definitely influencing the book. But I have to confess that I've considered it for the last couple of books. I don't know how much it will change the character to have someone permanently in his life, like a wife, to not be such a loner."
"It'll be a big change, that's for sure. Probably some readers will love it, even while others hate it. Do you consider what the reader might like when you're writing?"
"No, not really. Bottom line here is that I tell the story that's in my head, whichever way it goes."
She gave him a cagey smile. "So will you let me read what you've written so far?"