Love Finds You in Carmel by-the-Sea, California

by Sandra D. Bricker

  After several moments, the perfect kiss evolved into something else. Something…imperfect. His lips pressed down hard, and his hands traveled the express train toward Alarmville.

  “Colby,” she whispered, firmly pushing both palms against his chest.

  “Come on,” he replied, undeterred.

  “Colby, no.”

  “You don’t have to play that game, Annie.”

  “I’m not playing.”

  “What, you’re some sort of thirty-year-old virgin?” he asked, taking a full step backward and staring at her as if evaluating the level of her disease.

  Twenty-six! she corrected, if only in her own thoughts.

  “What are you protecting, Annie? It’s been a perfect night.”

  “Yes. It has.”

  “No reason for it to end now, is there?”

  “Well, yes, actually, there is. I know how cliché this will sound to you, but really…I’m not that girl.”

  “Are you kidding? You’ve been giving off signals all night.”

  “Signals?”

  Annie backed up. She could hear Sherman’s sniffing through the gap in the door. A different kind of dog might have inspired her to push open the door, letting him barrel out to protect her virtue. Being Sherman, however, he would probably barrel right on by in hopes of a little midnight roll in the grass.

  “What kind of signals, Colby?”

  “You know what I mean,” he replied, taking a step forward.

  “Those were not the kind of signals you’re thinking they were,” she assured him. “Those were romantic I-think-we’re-starting-something-here signals. Not let’s-go-home-and-well-you-know signals!”

  “Come on, Annie. Let’s go inside and get comfortable. We can talk about this.”

  “I’m serious, Colby. That isn’t the kind of person I am. If that’s what you’re looking for, you’d better just continue on with your search. But do it somewhere else.”

  With that, Annie swept her keys from the ground, turned, stepped inside the house, and bolted the door behind her.

  Annie’s adrenaline surged, along with a short burst of pride at making such a graceful exit. In the past, she’d wanted to kick herself later over stumbles into walls, words that didn’t come out, and fumbling with purses, keys, and what-have-yous. This time, however, it went smoothly and without incident, as if she’d practiced it. Which, of course, she’d never have thought to do.

  Annie held her breath and then jumped when Colby pounded on the door with his fist, just once. Once she heard his footsteps take him away from the house, she peered out the window from behind the curtain. Sherman hopped into the bay window beside her and watched to see what was so interesting on the other side of the porch. As Colby climbed into his flashy car, Annie’s hands started to tremble.

  “How was your date?” Gram asked, meandering out of the kitchen with her favorite china cup in hand.

  Annie reeled toward her, her mouth open but no words at the ready.

  “Oh, Annabelle. How lovely you look! That dress fits you like a glove.”

  She sighed. “Thanks, Gram.”

  “Would you like some tea? The water’s still hot.”

  “I don’t think so. I just want to go upstairs to bed.”

  “Didn’t you have a good time tonight?”

  “It was fine.” She kissed her grandmother’s cheek before starting up the stairs, her heart still racing. “Goodnight, Gram.”

  “Sweet dreams.”

  Annie wondered if there were any sweet dreams to be had for her just then. It wasn’t so horrible with Colby; it hadn’t gone too far. But his demeanor had transported Annie back to a time in college when she almost didn’t get the door closed between herself and a date. That night so long ago was much different, but she couldn’t help noticing the similarities.

  The tall clock at the top of the stairs struck midnight as she passed.

  Apparently my guardian angel’s watch needs new batteries. The pumpkin returned a few minutes early tonight.

  Chapter Ten

  “Mr. Allen, this may come as a shock to you, but there are some men who don’t end every sentence with a proposition.”

  Doris Day, Pillow Talk, 1959

  Saturday dawned as an unseasonably warm day, and Annie couldn’t think of a better way to spend the afternoon than floating around in Zoey’s pool. After a couple of hours in the water, Zoey made Diet Coke floats with vanilla ice cream, and the two of them lounged in the shade under the striped cabana.

  “What a life you have,” Annie told her, before taking a long draw from the plastic straw.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Seriously, Zoey, this is the life I dream about. A great husband, a fabulous house with a pool, Diet Coke floats whenever I feel like it…”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s my life in a nutshell,” she replied. “I just sit around sipping floats all day, every day.”

  Annie slipped her sunglasses down her nose and looked at Zoey over them, trying to decide if the flush on her skin came from the sun or the conversation.

  “I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “I know. Just forget it.”

  “Zo?” Annie broached. “Is everything all right?”

  “Peachy,” she replied, and she thumped her head back on the lounge chair and closed her eyes.

  “What’s going on? Something’s wrong.”

  Her eyes still closed, Zoey sighed. “Wrong, here in Emerald City? Don’t be absurd. What could be wrong?”

  “Come on.” Pulling her legs over the side of the chair, Annie faced her friend. “Talk to me.”

  “I can’t right now.”

  She almost missed it, but Annie did a double take just as one lone tear cascaded down Zoey’s cheek. Even with her eyes closed, it managed to escape, and Annie realized there was likely a whole waterfall in there that hadn’t.

  “I’m here when you’re ready, Zo.”

  “I know.”

  Annie couldn’t quite shake Zoey’s cloud as the day progressed; she worried, burdened by her friend’s obvious pain. Zoey had always been one of those people who didn’t just seem to live the good life. She embodied it, even gave off the vibe that she was born for it. Zoey consisted of laughter, good sense, and refinement. The intermittent sadness Annie had sensed lately just didn’t suit her.

  Zoey and Annie could always talk about anything, even if they didn’t agree. Or maybe especially when they didn’t. Annie couldn’t help wondering when that had changed.

  Aunt Henri had always said, “Show me your friends, and I’ll show you who you are.” Annie used to take great comfort in those words when she looked at Zoey.

  Annie arrived home to an empty house. Sherman didn’t show signs of needing to take a walk, so she climbed the stairs and crawled across the bed, flopping down on her stomach and stuffing a pillow under her chin as she gazed out the window. It took Sherman an extra try at the bed before he joined her, and they lay there in silence. Annie’s thoughts turned to the gala, and Sherman seemed to be considering something grand like a bowl of lettuce leaves or a ride in the car.

  Annie rolled over to her side and snuggled up next to him, and Sherman sighed. She rubbed her cheek against the velvety softness of his long ear and whispered into it. “Love you, Shermie.”

  He knew. She could feel it.

  The next morning, she awoke to the champagne-colored gown hanging on the back of the door. For a few minutes before sleep had found her, she’d considered returning it for a refund, but now it looked so stunning there on her door that she made the final decision to keep it in spite of the way her date turned out.

  Colby’s words came back to her so clearly, they were almost audible. What, you’re some sort of thirty-year-old virgin?

  So few people on the face of the earth knew the truth about Annie, and her stomach began to burn with shame at the reminder. Annie knew there was nothing much virginal about her, but those days were far behind her now. She’d made a choice at the a
ge of twenty-two that she would not be that adventuresome, boy-crazy Annabelle Louisa-Kaye Gray again, that she would trust God to drop Prince Charming into her lap in His own timing. And since that time, her new leaf had influenced her decisions about everything: intimacy, her investment in the relationships she pursued, everything. It hadn’t always been easy, of course.

  Annie realized at that moment how fortunate she had been to have three years of…whatever that was…with Evan. He’d respected her choices from the very first. Never once had he pushed her like Colby had the night prior. Never once did he ridicule her or mock her for wanting to wait and be sure about doing things that she couldn’t take back.

  Annie’s heart sank, heavy. Heavy at the loss of Evan; heavy for Zoey and the burden she carried around, the one she couldn’t share with her best friend; and heavy with disappointment as she gazed at the dress hanging on the back of the door.

  The gala tripped over her mind in quick flashes, and it screeched to a stop with the memory of—

  Dr. Biddle!

  Without another moment’s thought, Annie hopped to her feet and headed directly to the shower.

  After a quick change of clothes, she bounded to the office with Sherman in tow. She could find Nick Benchley’s phone number there.

  Nick had just come in from a run and dropped to the sofa when the phone rang.

  “Benchley.” He answered it abruptly, and silence hummed on the other end. “What?”

  “Oh, sorry. Um, Nick, it’s—”

  “Annie Gray. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I was wondering if you had some time?”

  “Changed your mind, have you?”

  “Nick, it’s serious,” she stated. “I need to talk to you in person.”

  And just like that, her voice trembling and concern coloring her demeanor across the phone lines, Nick dropped the attitude with a thud. “Where are you?”

  “The office.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Thank you, Nick.”

  After a quick shower, he changed into green khaki shorts and a black polo shirt, tucking his slightly shaggy hair into a black police department baseball cap. His Birkenstocks snapped against his heels as he made his way up the path and into the office, and he sat in the chair across from Annie’s desk.

  Propping an ankle atop his knee, he asked, “What’s up, angel?”

  “Something happened, Nick. I don’t know how to tell Deke. I’m just so—”

  He glanced around the room. “Well, you didn’t burn the place down. So what is it?”

  “I went to a gala at Carmel Plaza the other night.”

  “I read about that. Black tie, silent auctions. So who was your date?”

  “Please, Nick. Focus.”

  “Ah, I know. That Colby character, right?”

  “Anyway—”

  “Just tell me. Am I right?”

  “Yes. I went with Colby.”

  He almost wished he hadn’t pressed for an answer. “I’ll bet he cleans up just dandy for a black-tie event. Did he wear a tux?”

  Their eyes locked as they crossed paths, and what he saw stopped Nick in his tracks. Sadness, fear, and a little trace of panic drowned in a swirling greenish fire.

  “I’m sorry. Tell me.”

  “Nick, Dr. Biddle was there.”

  “Who?”

  “The doctor we’ve been investigating for Northern California Life and Casualty.”

  “And?”

  “And it turns out that my friend Merideth knows him. And she introduced me to him and told him I’m a private investigator.”

  “Eww.” Nick removed the baseball cap and ran his hands through his damp hair a couple of times before replacing it. “That stings. What did the good doctor have to say? Anything?”

  “Just that he didn’t remember seeing that on the forms I filled out. I tried to tell him I’m just a secretary, but then he mentioned my supposed car accident and Merideth went off about how could I be in an accident and not tell her.”

  Nick let out a guffaw before leaning back in the chair. “You sure know how to work a case there, Annie Gray.”

  “What should I do? Deke will flip if I tell him.”

  “We’re not going to tell Deke,” he said decisively. “He’s getting set for heart surgery. He doesn’t need to worry about what’s going on here.”

  “So—”

  “Let me think a minute.” He glanced over at Sherman in the corner and smiled. “Hey, buddy, I didn’t see you over there. You’re awfully quiet.”

  Taking that as an invitation, Sherman shoved himself to his feet and padded on over for a rub on the head.

  “Good to see you again,” Nick told him. Sherman wagged his tail in gratitude for the acknowledgment.

  “My stomach hurts.” Annie leaned down onto folded arms on the desktop.

  “Come on, now. It’s not that big of a disaster. We’ll handle it. It’s not like you got caught doing espionage or something, Annie.”

  She looked up at him curiously. Those hazel green eyes of hers killed him every time.

  “You just…called me Annie.”

  “Is that not your name?”

  “Yes. But you normally call me Annie-Gray, like it’s one word or something.”

  Nick’s mouth slanted upward on one side into what he felt certain took the shape of a smug, lopsided grin. “Thanks for noticing, Annie Gray.”

  “Nick, what are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to roll up our sleeves and put the reports together for NorCal. Then I’m going to go over to their offices first thing in the morning, tell them what happened, and encourage them to pursue the case as quickly as possible before Biddle has any more time to cover his tracks.”

  “I hope I haven’t ruined everything.”

  “You couldn’t ruin anything,” he told her. “Now let’s pull those files and get to work.”

  It took them four hours and three rounds of coffee, but Nick and Annie somehow managed to work as a team to pull the most pertinent information from Deke’s files into an organized mass of evidence proving insurance fraud. While Nick ran down to the station to use the police computer to add to the background checks on the key players, Sherman and Annie remained behind.

  After stopping to lap up the last of the water in his bowl, Sherman let out a little doggie belch and fell over on his side for a nap. Annie paused to watch him for a moment before tugging open the credenza drawer and producing a three-hole punch. For some very odd reason, the serene inactivity of her dog never failed to fascinate her.

  She closed the brackets on the final section of a six-sectioned file folder when Annie heard a car door slam outside.

  Perfect timing.

  Spinning triumphantly in her chair as the door opened, ready to allow Nick the opportunity to congratulate her on finishing the files, Annie didn’t have more than an instant to consider the fact that the door didn’t fly open with hurricane force in typical Nick Benchley fashion. She looked up to find Colby Barnes standing there instead, with what looked to be a whole shrub of scarlet roses overflowing in his arms.

  “Colby.”

  “Your grandmother told me where I might find you. Annie, can you forgive me?” he asked. “I was an idiot.”

  “Yes. You were.” It came out before she could censor it—not that she would have.

  Urging her to accept the flowers, he flashed a grin that looked so well-rehearsed that her stomach turned slightly sour.

  “I don’t want your flowers, Colby. I appreciate the gesture, but I’m not interested.”

  “I’m apologizing to you, Annie,” he said, slightly appalled at her unenthusiastic reaction.

  “And I accept your apology. But you can keep your roses.”

  “What about forgiveness?” he asked just before Nick blew through the front door.

  “Those for me?” he cracked. “For next time, I prefer tulips.”

  Me too.

  “I’m tr
ying to make up to this girl, but she doesn’t appear to be having any of it,” Colby told him, darting a quick glance at Annie.

  “Good for you, Annie Gray. What’d he do?”

  “Never mind,” she said before she turned back toward Colby. “Like I said, I accept your apology, but you can keep your flowers. Now, Nick and I have to get back to work.”

  Out of nowhere, Sherman lifted his head and let a grumpy bark rip, as if to reiterate that they had had enough and Mr. Roses could be on his way.

  “I’d say both Grays have spoken,” Nick said with a grin. Holding the door open for Colby, Nick shot him a “be on your way” stare.

  “Can I call you?” Colby asked Annie.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Annie, really.”

  “Take care of yourself, Colby.”

  Annie had the feeling Colby Barnes didn’t have much experience with rejection.

  “Do you need some help with carrying those outside?” Nick asked him, and after a long moment, Colby looked down at the bouquet and shook his head.

  “No, I’m good.”

  Colby slammed the door behind him and stalked down the side-walk toward his car. Annie watched him through the window for a moment before turning back toward Nick, with what she imagined to be a blush stain heating her cheeks.

  “So what’d he do?”

  “He has high expectations,” she told him finally. “I wasn’t able to meet them.”

  Nick seemed to think it over before raising an eyebrow. “You want me to run him in? A few hours in a holding cell might—”

  “Nick. Really, that’s sweet but…thanks anyway.”

  Nick grinned at her, and those dimples of his curved into crescent moons. Leaning across her desk, he put his hand atop hers and turned serious. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  “You’re too good for him anyway, Annie Gray.”

  “You really think so, Nick?” she asked him with a smile.

  “Yep. Besides,” he added, snapping his fingers several times for effect, “it was only a matter of time before he was knocked out of the ball game. I mean, really. How could he compete with this?”