or the other of them letting slip a reference to her location in a conversation with friends. However, it wasn’t too likely that any of them would mention it to Alan, and she hoped that it would take long enough for the information to work its way back in a general way to him that she would already have gotten through with her training and left College Station. When she had moved to Houston and then to Angel Eye, she had tried to impress on her mother yet again how serious and important it was not to reveal where she lived. Her mother swore that she had not told Alan, but obviously, from what her mother had said, Alan had learned through the grapevine that she lived in Texas.
Hopefully that was all he would ever know. Orwould ever want to know. Surely by now, she thought, he would have given up his obsession with her. She had not seen or heard from him in four years. Even if he had not straightened himself out, as he had told her mother—and Antonia had grave doubts about the truth of that statement—she could not help but think that he would have moved on. It might rankle that she had gotten away from his control, but it seemed unlikely that he would have strong enough feelings about it that he would go to the trouble of tracking her down this far away.
Still, she could not help but think of that phone call this morning. It had been very much in his style. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine.
No! Antonia clenched her fists. She refused to let the least little thing turn her into a frightened creature again. She had worked long and hard at building a new life for herself. She had defeated Alan and broken his control over her. She had had the courage to leave her family and friends and start all over again in a new place. She was careful, of course—she tried to keep her whereabouts unknown to Alan; she had a security system; she checked her doors and windows; she kept pepper spray in her purse—but those things were part of what helped her not be frightened. She did not leave herself vulnerable to attack, and she was prepared for it if it should happen, so she did not have to be afraid.
She would not let a little thing like a phone call or her mother’s talking about Alan make her start cowering under her sheets. She refused to live her life in fear, to worry about Alan and where he was, what he was doing, whether he might show up at any time. To do so would be to give Alan control of her again. That, she promised herself, was the last thing she would ever do. Even if Alan were to find out where she lived and show up here, he would find her very different. He would discover that she could take care of herself, that she was no longer intimidated by him.
She was her own woman now. Antonia turned and walked away from the window.
Daniel Sutton drove by the café a second time, slowing down for a good look. Yes, sure enough, that was the vet’s mobile truck in the parking lot of the Moonstone Café.
On impulse, he turned into the next entrance to the parking lot, then stopped, thinking. He had been driving home from the seed store when he had spotted the mobile van, and he had driven two blocks farther before he circled around a few blocks and came back by. Thinking about it, it seemed a little silly and high-schoolish, just as whipping his truck into this lot had been.
First of all, he reminded himself, he didn’t even know if Antonia Campbell was in the café. It could have been Doc Carmichael who had been out in the van and had decided to stop in at the café for lunch on his way back. Second of all, he wasn’t sure what he would do if Antonia was in there. Most likely she had someone with her, one of the technicians or Doc Carmichael or maybe even a client. And if she was alone, what did he plan to do? Just walk up and plop down on the other side of the booth? She would, he felt sure, find him rude and forward. If he went in, he would probably wind up sitting down and eating at some other table and watching her—unless, of course, she finished eating and left as he came in. That would be just his luck.
Daniel knew that he had never been much good at dating. He and Lurleen had gone steady from the beginning of their junior year. Before that he had had a few dates with Suzette Carpenter, who had been visiting her grandmother in Angel Eye the summer after his sophomore year. Looking back on it, though, he realized that Suzette, a year older and way more sophisticated than he, had more or less maneuvered him into asking her out. And he had known Lurleen since they were kids. It wasn’t like dating a stranger.
He had gone out some since his divorce, had even had one or two fairly long relationships, but he knew that he was a novice in the field of dating, and he always found the process awkward, especially in the initial stages. This time, however, it was even worse. He felt like he was back in high school, he was so full of nerves and doubts.
He could hardly remember the last time he had had this sort of reaction to a woman. When he walked out of the barn the other morning and saw her, he had felt as if someone had slammed him in the gut. It had been a surprise, of course, expecting Doc Carmichael and instead seeing a gorgeous blonde. But it hadn’t been only surprise. It had been the immediate, unmistakable kick of sheer lust.
She had looked pristine and untouchable, a Society girl with ice in her veins but a face so lovely it made his heart clench, and mile-long legs that drove everything from his mind but the thought of having them wrapped around him.
It had been unnerving. He was still unnerved. That was, he thought, one reason why he had gotten so angry at her presence. He was a man who prided himself on his calm and control. He liked his life on an even keel, without all the emotional turmoil that had marked it with Lurleen—the bursts of passion, the long, dark nights of pain, the worry and doubt. All that was far in the past, and he had found that it was much easier to live this way. He dated women he liked, but he never fell head over heels in love with them. He didn’t lose control, didn’t get carried away.
So to feel such an electric shot of longing was not only unexpected but also faintly frightening, and he had reacted with a swift surge of anger.
It still bothered him. He didn’t like the fact that he had been unable to get Antonia Campbell out of his mind. He didn’t like the way his thoughts kept lingering over that kiss as she left. Most of all, he didn’t like the fact that when he saw her mobile truck parked in the café parking lot, his heart had skipped a beat and he had been compelled to return.
On the other hand, he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this excited, eager and alive, either. It probably was foolish. He had decided long ago that most things connected with love were foolish. It was also, apparently, something he could not control with his usual ease. In fact, he found himself not wanting to control it.
It was kind of nice, in a way, to feel like a kid with raging hormones again.
Daniel opened the door of his truck and stepped out, reminding himself that it was even more foolish to sit out here in the parking lot, doing nothing. He walked across the asphalt and went in the front door.
Daniel paused inside the door and looked around the room. It was a typical lunchtime crowd; practically every table and most of the stools at the counter were full, and the air was vibrating with the noise of people talking. The Moonstone Café was a bit out of place in Angel Eye. It had been started three years ago by Jocelyn Kramer, a willowy woman with dark, wildly curling black hair, who had moved here from Dallas, seeking, according to the gossips, to get away from the big city. There were all sorts of rumors about why, ranging across everything from marital troubles to a nervous breakdown to some sort of New Age strangeness. But whatever had impelled her to come, she was a hell of a good cook, and her small restaurant had flourished.
For a moment it all seemed a blur of faces. Then Daniel spotted Antonia, sitting by herself in a booth in the back, a glass of iced tea and an open book in front of her. His stomach knotted. This was the moment of decision. He had to do it now. In another minute one of the waitresses would turn and see him and come lead him to a seat, and he knew that he would not have the nerve to tell her that he would rather sit with Antonia.
Swallowing hard, he started threading his way through the tables, nodding to people he knew. He stopped to talk to two of his father’s friends whom he knew would be offended if he didn’t. By the time he drew near Antonia’s table, she had looked up from her book and was watching him approach.
He had been rehearsing what he would say all the way across the room, but once he saw her eyes