“Nice to meet you, Sam.” She extended her hand. “I’m Annie Esposito, by the way.”
Sam shook her hand, sending a bolt of heat up her arm, straight down to her toes. Yowza. So this was instant attraction. She’d never felt it before this strongly. Not with Russell. And certainly not with Walter.
“I figured that out,” he said.
“Figured what out?”
“That you were Annie.”
“That I was …” She shook her head. “What are you doing here in Old Explorer’s Bay?”
“I have a couple of reasons. The main one is to get away from the press.”
“So you’re like undercover?”
“You could say that.”
“That’s very James Bondish of you. What’s the other reason?”
“You.”
“Me?” This was the second time he’d alluded to knowing her. “Sorry, but I’m confused. I saw you on TV at my mom’s house. That’s how I know who you are, but we just met fifteen minutes ago, so how on earth could you have come to town to see me?”
For one sickening moment, she thought back to the letter she’d written him. Thank God she’d never sent it. Not that she’d ever considered sending it even for a moment, but now she was doubly grateful that she’d thrown it in the trash. That letter was filled with her most vulnerable thoughts. To think if he’d read it, then to have to face him … Her face went hot just thinking about it.
Sam sat back in his seat and looked her. “If that’s how you want to play it, okay. I get it.”
If that’s how she wanted to play it?
Before she could ask him to clarify what he meant, Connie brought her a heaping serving of the meat loaf special. “Thanks,” she said. “And Connie? Don’t ever let me order the fish again on a Tuesday night. No matter what I say.”
Connie gave her a thumbs-up.
“Got your appetite back?” Sam asked as he watched her dig into the meat loaf.
“I was too nervous to eat before.”
“Oh yeah? Nervous about what?” There was a knowing look in his gaze that made her feel twitchy. Nothing about this scenario made sense, and it wasn’t merely the fact that she was now sitting face-to-face with a man she never dreamed she’d actually meet in person, let alone have a deep conversation with. She chewed slowly, considering how much she should share with him. Would Sam DeLuca be as easy to talk to in person as he’d been in that letter?
“I was going to break up with my boyfriend when you started choking. Or rather, when Connie and Walter thought you were choking. I was waiting for him to finish his dinner.” Before he could say anything, she added, “I know. I’m horrible at breaking up with people.”
“You have much experience with that?”
“None. Breaking up with Walter after dinner and before dessert was Bridget’s idea. That’s my dad’s personal assistant at work, but she’s more like the office know-it-all. She gave me some pointers.”
“Sounds like my personal assistant Stella. She worked for my father before me.” For an instant, he got the same look on his face that he’d gotten on the show when he’d talked to Hannah about his father.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how did he die?”
“Lung cancer,” he said flatly.
“I’m sorry. It must have been hard when Hannah brought that up on live TV.”
He brushed it off with a shrug.
“Can I ask you something? What on earth made you go on Single Gal? I mean, c’mon, look at you. If you need help getting a date, then the world as we know it is in serious trouble. Unless you’re some kind of whack job, but I’m pretty good at reading people, and you seem fairly normal. You like Die Hard. Plus, you’re a rich oil tycoon, so you’ve got that going for you too.”
“I was outmaneuvered by my sister.” He told her all about his sister Becks and how he’d made a deal with her. If she applied to colleges, then he’d apply to go on the show.
“She’s sneaky and smart. I like her.”
“She likes you too.”
There he went again. Saying things that made no sense. “Your sister has never met me. How on earth could she like me?”
He hesitated. “What I meant to say was that if she ever met you, she’d like you.” Annie was certain that it wasn’t what he’d meant to say, but she let it slide. Tonight was strange enough already.
“You already know what I do, so tell me about your job,” he urged.
“I work for the family business.”
“Another thing we have in common.”
“Only we’re not a family of oil billionaires. We sell used cars.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. It’s a pretty big dealership. And you’re the CFO.”
She stilled. “How do you know that? Have you been to the dealership?”
“I, uh, drove by it on my way to the hotel. I’m interested in getting a car. For my sister. The clerk at the hotel gave me your card and told me all about you and your brother taking over the business from your father.”
Annie relaxed. “That sounds about right. Everyone in this town knows everything about everyone else, and they love to tell anyone who’ll listen. Speaking of hotels, please tell me you’re staying at The Conquistador Inn and not the other one.”
“I am.”
“I didn’t know there was a route there from the interstate that took you by our dealership.”
“I must have gotten lost.”
She nodded, but it seemed unlikely this man couldn’t follow a simple GPS route. Maybe it was his one fatal flaw. After all, he couldn’t be rich, handsome, have a good sense of humor and follow directions, right? That would be asking too much.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” she said, still grinning.
He looked at her for what felt like the longest few seconds of her life, then cleared his throat. “Is working for the family business your dream job?”
“Not even close,” she said before thinking, then flushed. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“Yeah, you did.”
What was it about this guy? On TV, in person, it was like he could see right through her.
“I used to work for a big Fortune 500 company in their finance department. I loved it,” she admitted. “Even the long hours. It was exciting. You must know what I mean. The adrenaline surge when all your numbers come out right and you realize your profit margin is exactly where you want it to be.”
“That’s what you call exciting?”
“Don’t you? You work for a huge oil company. You’re the CEO.”
“Yeah, but I’d rather be wrestling cattle.” He frowned, like he hadn’t expected to say that. It made sense, though. This feeling of restlessness she’d picked up from him even through a flat screen.
“You want to be a rancher?”
“I am a rancher. At least, on the weekends.”
“But you want to do it full time.”
“That’s impossible. I have responsibilities.”
“Does this ranch have a name? Please tell me it does. Hold on. Let me guess. The Dusty DeLuca?”