Chapter 3
She didn’t walk, sheglided.Eyeing Jewel’s beautiful, long-legged stride, Colton was aware he wasn’t the only male avidly watching.
And quite possibly he wasn’t the only one who thought he recognized her.
But from where? Who was she? The niggling memory disturbed him. As a reporter, usually he excelled at remembering faces and names. But not hers. He couldn’t quite place her.
She wasn’t a model or a Hollywood starlet. Someone else would have already matched her face to her name if she’d been prominent in mainstream media circles.
Still, he would bet Jewel Smith, with her amazing poise and beauty, had been someone the media took notice of. Had she been the trophy wife of some millionaire? He couldn’t rule that possibility out. Odd how the thought of her with another man unsettled him.
Watching as she left Los Hombres Mexican Restaurant, the only quiet woman in a crowd of chattering magpies, he rubbed the back of his neck. She affected him, and he knew it wasn’t merely because of her astounding beauty. There was something else, some other connection he couldn’t remember. He’d have to keep digging.
The tortilla chip he’d been holding crumbled in his fingers, spraying crumbs all over the table. His lunch companion laughed.
“She’s a beauty, all right.” Roy chuckled, digging his own chip into the bowl of spicy salsa.
Sighing, Colton agreed. A friend from his Houston Channel Four days, Roy was in town to buy a boat. He’d called Colton, wanting to get together to talk about old times.
Colton had told him he’d come to Anniversary to forget them. Old times were all jumbled together with horrific pain. He’d agreed to lunch, as long as the past wasn’t mentioned.
Roy brought up his old job before the entrée was even served. “Do you ever miss working in a larger market, like Houston? You were something else. They’ve tried to fill your shoes, but no one’s been able to cut it. The guy working your old action segment is the fourth in two years.”
“Really?” Reaching for a second chip, Colton kept his tone noncommittal. “That’s too bad.”
“Yeah, it is.” Roy leaned forward. “Tell me you don’t miss it.”
“Miss what?”
“The bright lights, the notoriety. The money. All the perks that came with being a popular newsperson.”
“I don’t miss any of that at all. I’d prefer,” he said, taking a gulp of his Corona, “to concentrate on the present.”
“On this?” Roy regarded him with an amused smile, taking a swig from his own beer. “You don’t even have your own local television station here.”
“I like the newspaper.”
“Right. How big is the circulation of that rag you work for, a couple thousand?”
“Doesn’t matter.” With a shrug, Colton waved away his friend’s concern. “I didn’t come here for the glory. I came for the guts.”
“Come on now.” Tone disbelieving, the other man wiped his mouth with his napkin, motioning the waitress over for another round. “Iwork for the guts.” Roy was a field correspondent for the national news. He regularly traveled into war zones and other dangerous places.
“Okay, you got me there.” Colton kept his tone pleasant. “Even though my life is nothing like yours, I get my own kind of excitement here.”
“Right.” Roy snorted. “What kind of guts can possibly be had here in this Podunk little town? The occasional robbery? A boat accident? A bunch of tourists get too drunk and someone drowns in the lake?”
Since that pretty much summed up the stories he wrote these days, Colton didn’t answer. Instead, he drained his beer and scored the last chip from the basket before the waitress set down their meals.
The food effectively distracted Roy, and for a few moments both men ate in silence.
Roy polished off his enchiladas, his taco, and the beans and rice before pushing back his plate.
Pretending not to notice, Colton concentrated on his meal.
“They sent me to make you an offer,” Roy said.
Colton nearly choked on his taco. “What? Who?”
