Sue Fortin - United States of Love

She pointed vaguely in the direction of a building further along the road. ‘I also work in the tea rooms down there a couple of days a week, so I’m curious to find out if we have anything to worry about and what exactly this Nico Garcia has planned.’

He grinned. ‘You never know, you might be pleasantly surprised.’

‘I’m not holding my breath.’

‘I’ll be there tonight. Will be interesting to see your reaction.’ Had he blown it? She was looking at him strangely. He held out his hand, hoping to distract her. ‘My name’s Tex, by the way.’

‘Anna.’

As she put her hand in his, he couldn’t help noticing how small it looked and how soft it felt against his own rough fingertips.

Something akin to an electric shock zipped right through her when she shook his hand. The same something she had been fully aware of when he had leant on her shoulder to look at the camera. It was unnerving. Aware, too, that her heart was now doing its usual skippy thing it always did when she felt attracted toward someone. Anna made a supreme effort to walk calmly away from Tex. It only took several paces before her resolve weakened and she found herself turning round to look at him. He was standing there, hands stuffed in his jeans pocket, watching her.

‘Oh, by the way,’ she heard herself call out. ‘Thank you for saving me!’

He tipped his forehead in that lazy, mock-salute way he had done earlier and treated her to what she could only describe as a laconic Paul Newman smile.

As Anna walked away, she was already mentally going through her wardrobe wondering what to wear that night, and then chided herself. Of course, had he, Tex, not been going, she probably wouldn’t even be thinking about it, but now it seemed incredibly important that she looked nice. ‘Get a grip,’ she said out loud. ‘You’re thirty-five, separated from your husband and definitely don’t need another relationship just yet.’

Despite this pep talk, throughout the guided tour that afternoon, no matter how hard she tried to dismiss thoughts of him, her mind kept conjuring up images of the tall American. The dark brown eyes encased in thick lashes, the dark hair brushed back from his face, a few strands falling forwards. And all set off against a honey-toned complexion.

The main hall of the old United Reformed Church was beginning to fill up with guests, mostly local traders. It was probably out of curiosity rather than any real desire to welcome him into their community with open arms, but Tex wasn’t worried. This way he hoped he would be able to win them over. He had hired in a local outside catering company to organise the food and drinks, as a gesture of his willingness to fit in and support his new neighbours. The fact that the church kitchens were so primitive and in no fit state for him to be able to do justice to any food he cooked, was neither here nor there.

‘You all right, mate?’ It was Jamie, a long-established friend and former colleague of his. ‘Not a bad turn out, eh?’

Tex nodded, thinking yeah, sure it was going okay but shame there was no sign of the little blonde from earlier. Anna. Before he could commiserate further, Yvonne, Jamie’s wife, skipped over.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek before picking up a vol-au-vent from her plate and biting into it. ‘Hiya, Tex. I have to say this food is really lovely. I think this company could give you a run for your money.’

Tex gave her a look of mock reproach. ‘You hush your mouth there, little lady,’ he said, exaggerating his southern drawl.

Yvonne laughed. ‘I do love it when you go and get all cowboy on me, Tex.’

Jamie gave Tex a nudge. ‘That bloke over there, the one looking at your plans.’ He nodded towards the centre table where the architect’s drawings had been carefully laid out around a scale model and cross section of the new premises. ‘See him? I think I overheard him saying he was from the local Chamber of Commerce. Didn’t know if you needed to go and sweet-talk him.’

Tex followed his friend’s gaze, and sighed. ‘I suppose I’d better.’

Tiresome as it was having to suck up to the local hierarchy, he knew it was a necessary evil and so headed off towards the middle-aged, bearded man that Jamie had pointed out. It was then that he saw Anna coming in. He felt himself draw breath. She looked good – her hair styled a bit more choppy, fresh make-up, pretty soft blouse that showed off her tiny frame, skirt resting just above her knees, revealing a fine pair of legs.

She spotted him, broke into a smile and waved. He was aware that he waved back in some klutzy high school way. Damn it! Not only that, but she had noticed, judging by the giggle she made no attempt to hide. He walked over to greet her.

She was still smiling. ‘You made it then?’

‘Sure. Had no choice.’ He really should tell her, before it all got out of hand and she found out for herself.

‘Mr Garcia!’ Tex heard a voice behind him and groaned inwardly. Too late. Anna was peering about, no doubt trying to work out which one was Mr Garcia.

‘Mr Garcia!’There it was again, except closer this time. Then Tex felt a tap on his shoulder.

‘Argh, Mr Garcia, sorry to interrupt. I just wondered if we could have a quick word. I’m Richard Harrington, Arundel Chamber of Commerce.’ He was by the side of Tex now, holding out his hand.

Tex shook hands. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ He turned to Anna whose mouth was working but no sound coming out. ‘Could you just excuse me a moment, Anna? Maybe we can talk later?’ Her eyes hardened as she nodded. Computation complete. Oh yeah, she’d worked it out.

‘We certainly can talk later, Mr Garcia,’ Anna said, the smile now nowhere in sight.

So he thought he was clever did he? A proper smart-arse. Nico Garcia or Tex, or whatever his blasted name was. Anna glared at the American’s back as he chatted to the Chamber of Commerce guy. Despite her bad temper with Tex, she couldn’t fail to acknowledge the broadness of his shoulders underneath the crisp, dark suit. He looked even more attractive tonight, all spruced up, shirt and tie. He really did scrub up well. Stop! She must stop thinking like this about him.

‘Hello, Anna.’ It was Andy Bartholomew, the curator of the museum at Arundel Castle.

Great, just what she needed. Handy Andy, as he was unaffectionately known amongst the female tour guides, and it was certainly nothing to do with his DIY skills.

‘Hello, Andy,’ she replied politely as she shifted around him, looking for an escape route, someone else she could suddenly develop the urgent need to speak with.

Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on her side. Everyone’s attention now appeared to be focused towards the stage where Tex stood with a microphone in his hand. Feeling obliged to stand still and pay attention, Anna was dismayed to feel Handy Andy brush up alongside her.

‘Could I have your attention for one moment please?’ Tex began, flashing a killer smile around the room. Anna could almost hear the collective swoon of all the females there, his soft drawl was practically X-rated.

‘First, I would like to thank you all so much for turning up here this evening, it means a lot. Second, I must thank Forresters Outside Catering for the fabulous buffet they have provided. And my thanks also go to local architects Hanson & Williams for the excellent scale model in the centre there. Perhaps you could join me in a small round of applause.’

Everyone seemed more than happy to join in, Anna noted. Tex had obviously been working the room well leading up to this little speech.

‘You will see from the display,’ Tex continued, ‘that I intend to open a contemporary restaurant: high-class food for the working man’s pocket. Not a pizza delivery service with a horde of mopeds ‘whining up and down’ the road, as some of you might fear.’ A little ripple of laughter circulated.