And now that she stood back to get the full effect of her work, she had to admit that she’d really outdone herself this time.
She was glad of it, too. Now every time Sam looked at this wall, he would think of her. It was the perfect goodbye. Because she’d come to the conclusion only the night before that what was between them had to end. There was no future in it. And she was only hurting herself. Falling for Sam Hale had been inevitable. But she wouldn’t stay with him, knowing what she did about how he really felt about her.
Sex between them was incredible. She knew he felt the same way. But desire was a long way from any kind of real feeling. She’d been deluding herself into thinking that something could come of this, when the truth was, he would never allow himself to care for her because when it came right down to it, he didn’t trust her.
Well, she couldn’t keep fooling herself. It was better to get out now, while the pain was still livable. If she waited any longer, she knew the loss of him would kill her.
Pasting a bright smile on her face, she closed up the last of her paint jars, tucked them away in the carrier, then took a breath. Steadied as much as she was going to be, she opened the office door and called out, “Sam? I’m finished. You can see it now.”
He looked up from the car he was bent over and smiled at her. Anna’s heart jolted and she knew she would miss that smile of his.
“The big secret revealed, huh?” He wiped his hands on a towel, tossed it across the car fender and headed her way. “Can’t wait.”
She stepped back so he could enter and shifted her gaze to his face as he saw the finished painting for the first time. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He couldn’t have had a more perfect reaction.
“That’s incredible,” he said, walking closer to it.
“The ocean’s still wet, so don’t touch,” she warned.
“The ocean’s always wet, babe.”
“Very funny.”
Still shaking his head, he leaned in closer to the wall. “That’s really amazing, Anna.” He shot her a look over his shoulder. “I’m impressed.”
“Thanks.”
It had turned out well, she thought, studying her own work objectively. A gracefully arched window, shadowed from an unseen sun, opened up to a seascape that looked as vivid as life. Blue-gray sky, storm clouds on the horizon. Waves crashing against rocks, sending spray so high that it dotted the painted-on glass of the open window. A tumble of flowers and vines spread across the window sill, dripping color and motion onto a still life that made it seem all the more alive and real. “What’s this?”
“Hmm?” She glanced to where he was pointing. With a shrug and a smile, she admitted, “I was a little angry with you when I painted that part.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
He grinned anyway, though, so Anna was glad she’d left in the snake with Sam Hale’s features peeping out from the vines on the windowsill.
“You,” he said as he walked toward her with a familiar glint in his eyes, “are a very talented woman.”
“Thank you,” she answered, her voice hardly more than a whisper.
He pulled her into his arms, dipped his head to kiss her and then seemed to notice her hesitation. “What is it?”
She should tell him now, Anna thought. Tell him that whatever was between them was over. But damn it, she wanted one more time in his arms. One more glimpse of the magic before she turned her back on it forever.
“Nothing,” she said and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. “It’s nothing.”
Then he kissed her and she forgot everything but what he made her feel.
Her body blissfully humming with remnants of pleasure, Anna turned her head on the pillow and looked at the man beside her. How had she come to feel so much for him in such a short amount of time? And did that really matter? The simple truth was, she loved him and every moment she spent with him was only setting herself up for disaster and pain.
She had to end this while she still could.
“Sam,” she said abruptly into the quiet, “this isn’t going to work out.”
He grinned, rolled to his side and slid one hand down the length of her naked body, making her shiver even as new fires erupted inside.
“Seems to be working just fine.”
“No,” she insisted, rolling out from under his touch. If she didn’t say something now, she never would. Scrambling off the bed, she stood up and reached for her clothes. “It’s really not.”
“What are you talking about?”
She had his attention now, she thought, looking down into beautiful blue eyes that were narrowed in suspicion.
“Just that we can’t do this anymore,” she blurted.
“Why the hell not?”
She tugged her shirt over her head and shook back her hair. “I can’t keep being with you when I know exactly what you really think of me.”
He pushed off the bed and stood naked, facing her. He was amazing-looking and Anna had to fight hard not to be distracted. “What? What do you mean what I think of you?”
This was harder than she had expected it to be, but Anna kept going. She told herself that pain now would save her misery later, so it was best to just get this done so they could both move on with their lives. “I mean,” she told him, “Garret told me exactly what you said about me. Not only do you think I’m after him for money, but that you consider me flaky and immature and-why are you laughing?”
He shook his head, grabbed up his jeans and tugged them on. “Because this is so stupid.”
“Oh, thanks very much.”
“I didn’t say you were stupid,” he muttered, then spoke up more loudly. “Why is arguing with women so frustrating? The flaky and immature thing? That’s not what I think of you. It’s what I think of Garret. He refuses to grow up and I’m starting to wonder if he’s even capable of it.”
Only slightly mollified, Anna said, “But you did think I was after your money.”
He didn’t deny it. What would be the point? They both knew the truth. After a second or two, he said, “Okay, yeah. I did. Why the hell else would a woman like you be dating Garret?”
“You really believe I could do something like that? Use someone? Barter myself?”
He scowled and folded his arms over the chest she’d been draped across only moments ago. “I don’t have to remind you that your father’s company is failing-or that I’ve got more than enough money to save it.”
“No,” she assured him haughtily, “you really don’t.”
“Stop being so damn insulted. You wouldn’t have been the first woman to use sex to get what you wanted.”
She fisted her hands at her hips. “And is that what I’m doing now? With you?”
He glared at her. “How the hell am I supposed to know? You tell me.”
Stung to the heart of her, Anna’s unshed tears nearly blinded her. She stepped into her shoes and lifted her chin to match him glare for glare. “If you really do think so little of me, then I was wrong about you from the beginning.”
He didn’t say a word, just stood there, watching her. With every pulse beat, another tiny piece of Anna’s heart broke away and shattered. Gathering up what dignity she had left, she said quietly, “I never want to see you again. You can mail me a check for my work.”
“Fine,” he answered quietly.
Before she left, she took one last jab. “When you’re in your office, I hope you look at the snake often and remember why it has your features.”
Eight
Christmas Day was just awful.
The Cameron family holiday breakfast was strained as Anna watched her father strive to remain cheerful despite the deepening worry lines at the corners of his eyes. Clarissa made a big show of a supposed “cold” that kept her constantly sniffing and wiping her eyes with her handkerchief.
And Anna missed Sam desperately.
She hadn’t spoken to him in days, which only told her that she’d made the right decision. Sam
had no doubt realized that they were better off apart. Truth didn’t make the pain any easier to live with, though.
Yet, watching her father go through the motions on a holiday he loved was unsettling. She was worried enough about him that her own pain was taking a backseat.
After an exchange of presents, Anna joined her father in his study for a cup of coffee. Clarissa excused herself to take some cold medication.
“Dad,” Anna said, sitting beside him on the brown leather sofa, “is it really so bad?”
Her father frowned and Anna knew she was crossing into unexplored territory. Ordinarily, her dad preferred that she and Clarissa be happy and completely ignorant of his business dealings. But after a moment or two, he gave a resigned sigh.
Patting her hand, he admitted, “It’s not looking good right now, honey.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“I don’t want you worried about this, understand?” He gave her tight smile. “Things will work out as they’re supposed to. I’m sure the new year will bring plenty of opportunities.”
Her heart already aching from the loss of Sam, Anna felt another wrench. Her father had worked hard his entire life to build a company he was proud of. Was he really going to lose it? And if he did, what would it do to him?
“No sad faces,” he chided, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “We’ve got some Christmas cakes to eat, remember?”
Another family tradition. Decadent cupcakes covered in Christmassy icing were always eaten after breakfast in the Cameron house. She watched her father fight past his own disappointments and worries and knew she could do no less.
“Yes, we do, Dad. Want me to go get them from the kitchen?”
“Please. Take them into the living room by the tree.” He stood up, still smiling tightly. “I’ll just give Clarissa a hand finding her cold medication and we’ll join you.”
“Okay.” There was a knot in her throat but she wouldn’t let her father down. If he wanted to have a normal Christmas morning, then that’s exactly what they would do. As he started walking away, though, she said, “I love you, Dad.”
His smile was warm and real as he answered, “I love you, too, Anna. Now don’t worry, all right?”
She nodded, though her concerns were still there. But she wouldn’t contribute to her father’s worries, so she silently vowed to keep her anxiety well-hidden.
“Have you heard from him?” Tula asked later that night over a Christmas dinner of takeout tacos.
Because Tula had no family, the two of them always had Christmas dinner together-with only one rule. Nobody cooked. So every year, they looked around for any restaurant that happened to be open. This year, it was Garcia’s Familia. The food was terrific, but Anna wasn’t enjoying it anyway.
Hard to eat when it felt as though there was a ball of lead in the pit of your stomach.
“Sam?” Anna shook her head and took a sip of wine. She pushed the tines of her fork through the Mexican rice as if drawing a picture. “No. And it’s better that way. Really.”
“Yeah,” Tula told her. “I can see that. This is working out great for you.”
Sighing, Anna set her plate on the coffee table and sat back on her couch. Her gaze fixed blankly on the brightly lit Christmas tree, she wondered what Sam was doing. If he missed her as much as she missed him. And she wondered how he had become so important to her in such a short length of time.
“Anna, you’re miserable. Why don’t you call him?”
She glanced at her friend and ruefully shook her head. “What would be the point? Nothing’s changed. Even if it’s not a conscious notion, he still thinks I’m after him for his money.”
“That’s crazy,” Tula said with a snort of derision. Picking up her wine, she took a drink and said, “You had a fight. People always say things they don’t mean in a fight.”
“Or the truth comes out,” Anna suggested. She’d already had this same conversation with herself a dozen times. She’d thought about that last fight from every angle and each time she came to one conclusion. “Either way, it’s just over.”
The phone rang, but she didn’t move to pick it up. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone anyway. Her heart hurt, not just for what she’d lost in Sam, but for her father. And there was nothing she could do about either situation.
“You’re not going to get that?” Tula asked.
She shook her head. “Let the machine pick it up.”
Which it did a moment later. She listened to her outgoing message and then her heart jolted at the sound of Sam’s voice.
“Anna?” His deep voice sounded commanding. “If you’re there, pick up.”
Tula waved at her frantically, but Anna shook her head again. She had to curl her fingers into fists to keep from reaching for the stupid phone, but she did it. She couldn’t talk to him. Not now. Maybe not ever again. It was hard, but it would be even more difficult if she didn’t stay strong.
Sam sighed into the phone, then said, “Listen, I, uh, wanted to say merry Christmas-”
Anna’s heart tugged a little at that and the twisting pain made her close her eyes. If things had been different, Sam might have been here right now, with her and Tula, having dinner and laughing. But things weren’t different and they weren’t going to be.
“Talk to me, Anna. Don’t let it end like this.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered.
When she still didn’t pick up, he muttered something unintelligible and hung up.
“Yeah,” Tula said, every word coated in sarcasm, “I can see why you don’t want to talk to him. Sounds like a heartless bastard.”
“You’re not helping,” Anna told her.
“This time,” her friend said sagely, “I think you’re going to have to help yourself.”
Sam glared at the damn phone as if Anna not speaking to him were its fault instead of his own. “Idiot,” he muttered thickly, shoving one hand through his hair. He’d done nothing but think about Anna for the last few days. Their last argument was on constant replay in his thoughts. And every time he relived it, he saw the shock on her face and the hurt in her eyes. He still wasn’t sure how the damn argument had erupted and he’d like nothing better than to step back in time and bite back the words that had hurt her so badly.
Why the hell had he said something so stupid? He knew damn well that she wasn’t after his money. He had been convinced of that as soon as he saw how much time and effort and artistry she’d poured into the mural she had painted for him. No mercenary woman would have cared so much about doing a good job. She would have come in, slapped some color on a wall and cashed his check.
But Anna had pride. Integrity.
And his heart, damn it.
He poured a Scotch and took a seat on the sofa. The Christmas tree was lit up and soft jazz pumped through the stereo. It would have been perfect, he thought. If Anna were there.
Instead, there was a hollow spot in his chest that he couldn’t see being filled anytime soon. God, if he had to live the rest of his life with this emptiness inside…
“Sitting alone in the dark?” Garret said when he came into the room. “Not a good sign, Sam.”
“It’s not dark,” he protested lamely. “The tree lights are on.”
“Yeah.” Garret grabbed a beer from the wet bar, then sat down in a chair close to his brother. He took a long drink and said, “So, you want to tell me what’s eating you?”
“What?” Sam shot his brother a look.
“I was gone like a week or so, not years. You’re…” he tipped his head to one side and studied Sam “…different, somehow. Still mean as hell, of course, but there’s something else, too.”
This was a rare moment, Sam thought. His younger brother was noticing something outside himself. And maybe it was a sign that the younger Hale brother was finally taking a step toward maturity. God, he hoped so. Because Sam knew what he had to do.
He’d missed Anna like he would have an arm or a leg. Somehow, in the las
t couple of weeks, she had become as necessary to him as breathing. And he couldn’t live without her. So he had to tell his brother that not only wasn’t Garret going to get Anna back, but also that Sam was in love with her himself.
Love.
Wasn’t the first time he’d thought that word over the last few days. But it was the first time he’d welcomed it. And admitting the truth, if only to himself, made him feel…good. He looked at his brother and knew that what he was about to say could cost him the relationship. But he had no choice. He had to try to make things right with Anna.
“Actually,” Sam said, setting his glass of Scotch aside. He sat up, and braced his forearms on his thighs. Looking directly into his brother’s eyes he said, “There is something else.”
Garret paled at the suddenly serious tone. “Are you okay? You’re not sick are you?”
“No.” Sam laughed shortly and realized it was the first time he’d even smiled since losing Anna. That thought steeled him for what came next. “Nothing like that. But you remember when I told you to break up with Anna Cameron?”
Garret rolled his eyes. “You mean when you ordered me to stop seeing the man-hunting gold digger? Yeah, Sam. I remember.”
Sam bristled, hearing his own words tossed at him. God, he’d been an idiot. “She’s not, you know. A gold digger.”
One of Garret’s eyebrows lifted and he took a swig of his beer. “Interesting. I seem to recall trying to convince you of that.”
“Yeah, well. Things have changed.”
“I’m getting that. So let’s hear it.” He sat back, kicked his legs out in front of him and crossed his feet.
Sam couldn’t sit still. He jumped up and paced to the wide front window where the Christmas tree lights were reflected on the glass. Staring out at the night, he started talking.
“I was going to get her back for you,” he admitted.
“What?” Garret jolted upright. “Just a minute-”
“Was,” Sam repeated, turning now to look at his brother. “Look, I didn’t mean for this to happen, to go around you like this, but the truth is, I’m in love with Anna.”
Under the Millionaire's Mistletoe Page 6
