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

by Sandra D. Bricker

  Annie thought it almost ridiculous how happy that made her. Her work at Equity Now had been little more than a series of incoming calls, each of them pretty much the same as the last.

  While still recovering from the euphoric haze of a job-well-done surge of adrenaline, Deke said something that almost choked her with it.

  “I was expecting Bench sometime today.”

  Nick Benchley. The reference stopped traffic out on Alvarado Street.

  “He’s helping us out with a background check on Zach Gleason. Doesn’t look like he’ll get here before I leave, so why don’t you just go over the basics of his results with him and I’ll take a look later on.”

  “O–kay.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I hear you and Bench ran into one another at the movies the other night.”

  “You could say that,” she replied on a chuckle. “We ran into each other with a definite thud.”

  “Bench is a very good guy.”

  “How do you know him?” she asked Deke.

  “We volunteer with the same youth group,” he said.

  Annie resisted the rapid heartbeat she felt. Nick Benchley? A do-gooder?

  “What group?”

  “Community center, over in Santa Cruz.”

  She grinned curiously, realizing that it probably came off more as a disbelieving smirk.

  “Bench came a couple of years ago with a boy he mentored through the police force, and he’s been coming ever since.”

  A girl’s brain could easily topple into “overload” from this new and unexpected information. A nice guy? Nick Benchley?

  Once Deke left for his appointment with Zach Gleason, Annie grabbed a diet soda from the fridge and settled down at her desk with the insurance files. Deke had been working on the case for nearly six months, and he’d built a solid body of evidence linking car-accident clients of Gleason’s to astronomical medical insurance claims, all routed through Dr. Dwayne Biddle. And then there were the incriminating photos, affidavits, and investigation reports.

  Shara Himes, for instance, had injured her back so badly that she required intense physical therapy and had been out of work for over a year. But her file burgeoned with photo pages assembled by Deke that showed Himes playing volleyball, carrying boxes, and loading groceries into her car.

  Randall Dillon had had knee surgery and nineteen months of physical therapy. He’d been collecting disability benefits for nearly two years, yet the photo pages in his file revealed activities as diverse as football and parasailing.

  Every folder in the stack was chock-full of evidence that contradicted the associated medical reports. And the doctor for each of them was Dr. Dwayne Biddle.

  Annie had just closed the last of the files when the office door burst open.

  Does Nick Benchley ever enter a room like a normal human being?

  “Afternoon, Annie Gray. How are you?”

  “Very well, thank you. And you?”

  He regarded her carefully for a moment, narrowing his eyes and looking so deeply into her that it felt a bit like the poke of an injection.

  “My day has just gotten much better, seeing you,” he replied—and his face tilted into one of those crooked dimpled smiles of his.

  As hard as she fought against it, something about seeing Nick again brought with it an overwhelming urge to act like a girl.

  Playing with her hair and batting her eyelashes at him, well, that was simply out of the question. And so she resisted.

  “Deke around?”

  “He had to leave,” Annie told him, and Nick tapped the desktop several times with a large envelope.

  “I have an update for him.”

  “On Zach Gleason. I know. He suggested I meet with you and discuss your results, and I can update him when he gets back.”

  “Well, that little matchmaker,” he teased, and Nick made a mental note to pick up the check the next time he and Deke had lunch.

  “It’s all business, I can assure you,” she insisted.

  “Sure it is.”

  Nick grabbed a chair, scraped it up to the corner of her desk, and straddled it. As he opened the envelope, he noticed Annie looking at his hands. He hoped she thought how masculine and strong they appeared, but he grimaced, knowing full well she’d just noticed the nail on his right index finger, which was almost completely black.

  “What happened?” she asked him. Wiggling her own index finger at him, she added, “Your nail.”

  “Misfire on a handgun a few years back.”

  “In the line of duty?”

  Nick cracked a smile, and he felt the weight of the one she returned.

  “Yes, actually. What’s got you so nosy today, Annie Gray?”

  She picked up her soda can and toasted him with it. “Caffeine high?”

  And with that, she downed the last of it and tossed it past him. The can banked off the wall and bounced straight into the trash can.

  “She shoots; she scores!” he said in his best announcer voice. “And the crowd goes wild.”

  Nick made applause noises while she bowed slightly and thanked the imaginary crowd.

  “Next stop, Lakers,” he declared. “Annie Gray, center court.”

  Her laughter resonated all the way to Nick’s gut.

  “Yeah, Kobe and me next to each other. That would be a sight, wouldn’t it?”

  The reference surprised Nick. “What do you know about Kobe?”

  “Hey, now, what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You just don’t strike me as—”

  “As what, Nick? A basketball fan? I didn’t know that was gender-specific.”

  “No, it’s just—”

  “Mmm-hmmm. I see how you are.”

  He studied her for a moment and grinned. “What’s his number, then?”

  “You’re calling me a liar?”

  “Not straight out.”

  “All righty, then,” she mocked. “I hope you have some crow handy.”

  “If it becomes necessary,” he stated, “I’ll eat a little crow for you.” Giving her the come-on signal with both hands, he encouraged her. “All right now. No stalling. Let’s go.”

  “Kobe’s number twenty-four,” she stated. “Six foot six, just over two hundred pounds.”

  Nick leaned into the backward chair and folded his arms across the top of it.

  A woman that looks like this and a Lakers fan too? This is not possible.

  “And then of course there’s Andrew Bynum out of New Jersey. And the beautiful Spaniard, number sixteen, Pau Gasol. Shall I go on?”

  “No!” he exclaimed with a full-on laugh. “Please stop.”

  “And would you like that crow sautéed or broiled?”

  “What, you cook too, Kobe?”

  “Well, no, actually. But I’m sure my friend Evan would take care of it for you. He’s a chef.”

  “A chef, huh?” he repeated thoughtfully, remembering Evan from the other evening at Annie’s house.

  “How about we get to Zach Gleason?” Annie suggested. “What did you find out about him?”

  “Deke felt pretty sure there was something there, but when he couldn’t find it he asked me to look into it. The thing is, Gleason actually looks pretty clean.” He unfolded several pages of printout and set it before her. “He went to college in Miami and then law school in Boston and joined a prestigious practice in L.A.”

  “No small list of accomplishments.”

  “Exactly. I don’t find anything even slightly shady in his background. No complaints, not even a traffic ticket.”

  “Well…okay.”

  “Deke’s instinct is usually dead-on,” he told her. “I was a little surprised I didn’t find anything to back it up.”

  “What about Biddle?”

  “Who’s Biddle?”

  “He’s the medical connection,” she explained. “I wonder if we could find a link between them if we did the same kind of background check on him.”

  Nick produced a small notebook fro
m his jacket pocket and then snatched the pen right out of Annie’s hand.

  “Biddle?”

  “Dwayne Biddle,” she replied, double-checking the information inside one of the files. “He has an office right here in Monterey.”

  “I’ll find him,” he promised, snapping the notebook shut and sliding it back into his pocket. “Tomorrow morning all right?”

  “Great.”

  As he tucked the paperwork into the envelope, Nick let out a long, laborious sigh. Screwing up his resolve, he smiled.

  “Now let’s get to the heart of things, Annie Gray,” he said, plopping the envelope down on the desk with a smack. “Where would you like to have dinner tonight?”

  Standing in the doorway to her mother’s kitchen, holding back the bloodcurdling scream rumbling within her, Annie wondered if counting might help.

  One-hippopotamus. Two-hippopotamus. Three-hippopotamus.

  “Isn’t it wonderful news, Annie? I’m going to be a grandma!”

  Leave it to her younger brother to not only marry before Annie, but to make their folks grandparents before she even found a solid marriageable prospect.

  “I’d hoped you would be married by the time they started their family,” her mother continued, and Annie was tempted to cover her ears with both hands and make some noise to drown her out.

  La la la la la la.

  “Oh, Annie, I hope it’s a little boy. I’ve always wanted another boy in the family.”

  To make up for the defective girl, no doubt.

  “Can you stay for supper, honey? We’re having pot roast.”

  “No thanks, Mom. I really have to get home and walk Sherman.”

  “Carrots and onions,” she sang. “And those little round potatoes you like so much.”

  “It sounds great, but I really—”

  “Well, at least stay and say hello to your father.”

  Annie glanced at the clock. Her father wasn’t due for another hour, and she wasn’t sure she could endure an entire hour of “grandma” talk.

  “Give him my love,” she said, planting a kiss on her mom’s cheek and then heading toward the door with determination. “I’ll call you this weekend.”

  “Okay, sweetie. And I’ll be sure to tell your brother how happy you are for him.”

  Annie knew it was unfair to feel the way she did. But she couldn’t manage to see beyond how his happiness affected her.

  I know. Selfish. Terrible and selfish.

  But knowing this did not help one little bit in expelling the thoughts, despite how hard she tried to do so on the drive home. Her mind ruminated about weddings and babies, none of which she had in her near future. When she finally turned onto her gram’s street, she realized she hardly remembered making the drive. She parked her car and turned off the engine, then tilted her head back to the headrest and closed her eyes.

  What is wrong with me?

  Her brother’s wonderful news had her in a tailspin. Why couldn’t she manage to just be happy for him? Why couldn’t she rush into the house and call Linda and tell her how great it was that she would finally have the baby she and Ted had been hoping for?

  I’m a sorry excuse for a sister.

  When she really thought about it, Ted had never done anything to her except…be a little brother. It wasn’t his fault that he excelled over her in every possible way, was it? Or that their mother thought the sun rose and set because of him. Why couldn’t Annie be less competitive and more loving?

  She nearly had to peel herself off the roof of the car when a knock on the window next to her came out of nowhere. She knew she must have looked like a startled deer as Colby smiled back at her from the other side of the glass.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as she lowered the window. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  With her hand to her heart, she forced herself to breathe. “It’s all right. I just didn’t see you there.”

  “I should have called, but I was in the area for a walk-through at one of the galleries, and I saw your street. My car sort of steered itself over here. Have you had dinner yet?”

  “No, actually, I haven’t.”

  “What do you think of PortaBella?”

  “Love the place. I have to check on Sherman first, though.”

  Colby offered his arm as she slid out from behind the wheel; then he closed and locked the door behind her.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and walk your dog? I can still make it to the printer before they close and pick you up in about thirty minutes.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  He smiled, warm and sincere. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

  “Me too.”

  While she let Sherman sniff around in the grass, Annie wondered why she’d agreed to have dinner with Colby Barnes so quickly when she’d turned Nick Benchley down flat just two days prior. She felt certain that Colby’s timing had something to do with it, finding her in her car, lamenting over her unmarried, childless status. Looking up to find Colby on the other side of the window, all willing and eager and handsome, felt a bit like finding a warm appetizer on a silver platter.

  With that, Annie decided to rush Sherman through his walk so she could go inside and change into something appropriate for a first date at an upscale restaurant in the village.

  She applied first aid to the day’s makeup and headed to her closet to change her attire. She decided on a frilly black skirt and a vintage pink angora sweater that had an iridescent, beaded leaf pattern cascading from the shoulders. She sat down on the stairs and slipped into a pair of clunky, strappy sandals just as Colby arrived to pick her up.

  Perfect timing.

  Annie had been to PortaBella many times, and she never tired of the storybook cottage. They were led to one of several dining rooms and seated in one with climbing vines and an exposed ceiling overhead. Colby started with crab bisque, and Annie eagerly ordered her favorite salad of baby spinach, red grapefruit sections, and sliced apples.

  “I think I need to do something nice for Merideth,” Colby remarked later over his paella. “What kind of flower best says, ‘Thank you for introducing me to a dream’? Roses, maybe?”

  Although Annie didn’t really favor roses, she still thought they should be reserved for the angel herself.

  “Merideth is a little like a hurricane,” Annie told him instead. “When she gets a direction in her head, she’s unstoppable.”

  “Well, this was one of her better ideas.”

  “I have to agree,” Annie replied with a smile.

  “Tell me about yourself, Annie,” he said, as he folded his arms on the edge of table and leaned forward on them. “Did you grow up in Carmel?”

  “Monterey, really. My gram retired in Carmel.”

  “Is it true she’s an old, legendary film star?”

  “Don’t let her hear you call her old,” Annie said on a chuckle. “But yes, she was a true Hollywood film star back in the day. What about you? Where are you from?”

  “I never know how to answer when someone asks me that,” he replied. “My father was a lifer in the military, and we moved eleven times by my eighteenth birthday.”

  “That’s rough.”

  “It is, but it’s also an adventure. You get very good at making friends quickly and adapting to change.”

  “I envy that. I hate change.”

  “Well, maybe I can help you with that,” he suggested.

  “I’d appreciate it. Until recently, I’ve been kind of stuck in a rut. Dull job, dull life.”

  Dull hair.

  “Until recently?” he asked, leaning back in the chair and regarding her seriously.

  “Yes. I’ve been all about changing my life these days. I have a new job already, and I’ve been car shopping and thinking about where I want to live. Maybe even a new ’do,” she added, fluffing her curls. Then she let out a laugh and waved her hand in dismissal.

  “You shouldn’t change the hair,” he commented. “It really works for you.”


  “Thanks. But I’m thinking of something completely different. Maybe having it straightened.”

  Colby grabbed his chest with both hands and fell backward, wounded by an unseen attacker. “You’re going to straighten the life out of those curls? Why would you do such a heinous thing?”

  “I’ve had this crazy hair my whole life,” she explained to him. “I’d like to try something silky for a while. Something very Jennifer Aniston or Cameron Diaz.”

  He cringed. “No, don’t do it.”

  Annie couldn’t help but laugh at his animation, and Colby grinned broadly.

  “You know, the fund-raiser Merideth and I have been working on is next Friday night,” he told her. “It’s going to be a lot of fun. Black tie, very elegant.”

  “It sounds lovely.”

  “Would you be interested in going with me?”

  Her heart percolated. “That would be really nice, Colby. Thank you. I’d love to go.”

  Annie hoped Merideth hadn’t gone shopping for her dress yet. It would be so much more fun to go shopping together.

  And just like that, her fears and insecurities about Ted and Linda and their baby news flew gracefully through the window, bobbing their way through the village toward the ocean in the distance, replaced with thoughts of a new dress and killer shoes.

  And Colby Barnes in a tuxedo. The picture was almost swoon-worthy.

  Chapter Eight

  “Round up the usual suspects.”

  Claude Rains, Casablanca, 1942

  “Does this hurt?”

  “A little.”

  “How about this?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Annie nearly screamed as Dr. Biddle pressed harder into her lower back with both of his thumbs. “Y–yes!” she exclaimed. “That hurts.”

  “I suspected as much,” he stated. “Go ahead and sit up.”

  She gingerly pushed herself upright and perched on the edge of the examination table.

  “When was your accident?” he asked, flipping through the paperwork in the file before him. “Oh, here. January. And you haven’t seen any other doctors since then?”

  “No.”

  “Have you spoken with an attorney?”