Sea Glass Inn Read Online Free PDF Page A

she had no reason to reach for her, no excuse for fondling a relative stranger, except that she had been so long without intimate human contact and she craved even the fleeting warmth of a simple touch. And she wasn’t about to explain her lonely desire to Pam.
    But the Pamela Whitford of her fantasies—the intellectual artist Mel had conversed with so often in her mind—gradually fused with the real Pam. The Pam who stood right before her, looking strong enough to weather the waves she had painted, strong enough to help Mel. But Mel didn’t want help. She wanted, needed, to stand on her own. She struggled to control her racing thoughts and find a way to explain why she had rebuffed Pam’s attempt to hang the painting, without thrusting all her personal issues into the open where they didn’t belong.
    She rarely spoke without thinking as she had done, but she had been shocked to find someone in her house, staring at her with such intensity it made her skin shiver. And then to discover her elusive artist and the sexy gallery owner were the same woman—Mel’s emotions had been careening around so much lately she had started to react to every new problem or revelation without her usual calm and thoughtful approach. She had changed from a controlled woman to one of pure reflex, and the transformation was disconcerting. Her self-doubt and fledgling steps to make it on her own were bearable when kept inside. They stung when exposed to the air. “I guess I didn’t realize just how helpless I’d become until I tried to do the simplest thing like put a picture on the wall. I don’t want to feel this way anymore, and if it means I need to embarrass myself by asking a hundred questions in a hardware store, then that’s what I’ll do. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
    Pam uncrossed her arms as if relenting a little, and Mel relaxed as well. Pam looked the same as she had in August, but with long pants and a University of Oregon sweatshirt instead of her summer clothes. Mel inhaled. The same ocean-clean smell she remembered, but with an overlay of cigarette. A smoker, and in need of a nicotine fix if her fidgeting hands were any indication.
    “It’s okay. It’s cool that you want to do this stuff on your own,” Pam said. She looked pointedly around the room. “But by the time you’re done with this place, you’ll probably know the clerk in the hardware store better than you know your husband.”
    “Ex-husband,” Mel corrected. But Pam was more accurate than she could have realized. Mel had never really known Richard. “And I have a feeling you’re right.”
    “Oh, well, good luck with…everything.” Pam took a step backward. “I’m sorry I busted in on you like this. I should get going.”
    “Wait,” Mel said when she finally remembered why she’d been looking for Pam in the first place. “Assuming I ever get this first painting on the wall, I’d like to commission more for the rest of my rooms.” Mel followed as Pam edged toward the door. “That’d be four more, plus one for the common room.”
    “I don’t like to paint on commission,” Pam said, avoiding direct eye contact. “And it’s getting harder to find sea glass. And my prices are kind of high.”
    “There’s no rush, and I’ll pay what you ask,” Mel said stubbornly.
    For an artist who owned a gallery, Pam didn’t seem intent on actually selling any paintings. Even during yesterday’s phone call, Pam had been willing to help Mel decorate her inn, but not with her own work. False modesty? Coy self-deprecation to make Mel offer more money? Mel didn’t think so. Neither of those would explain the tight frown lines on Pam’s face whenever Mel mentioned her art. “I won’t try to tell you what to paint. Whatever you’re inspired to do is fine with me.”
    Pam grimaced. Mel wasn’t sure if her expression was one of pain or annoyance at Mel’s persistence. “Please,” she said, angry at the tearful quaver she heard in her own