A couple of people had looked at him with slight frowns, as if trying to place him, but had shaken their heads and turned away rather quickly, apparently convincing themselves they were mistaken. Much to Anne’s relief. “It’s the glasses. And the hair. No one would have expected you to cut off all those curls. Have your agent and your producers seen you like this yet?”
“No. I had it cut only a couple hours before I caught the plane to Little Rock.”
“Will they be upset with you? After all, your hair was so recognizable. So much a part of your image.”
Frowning a little now, he shrugged. “I’d like to think what success I’ve enjoyed has been due to my work rather than my hair.”
“I wasn’t implying differently,” she assured him quickly, her fingers tightening around his. “Like I said, it was just an image thing. Long, curly hair wouldn’t have gotten you this far. Your talent and your personality have made you such a hit with your viewers.”
Though his striking looks certainly hadn’t hurt, she added silently.
Somewhat appeased, he murmured, “Thanks. The hair will grow back quickly enough, if I decide to let it. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“I like it either way,” she assured him. “You’d look good to me if you were bald.”
He grinned sheepishly. “I don’t think I’ll take a razor to it anytime soon. I have to admit, I whimpered like a little girl when the stylist made the first cut with her scissors. I’m getting used to it, but it still feels strange.”
She laughed, delighted by his admission of vanity. She’d never made the mistake of thinking Liam was perfect, but the occasional reminder made her feel a little less daunted by the larger-than-life “image” she’d mentioned.
A commotion at a nearby table distracted them from their conversation. Turning her head to look, Anne saw a thirty-something man frantically motioning toward his companion, a young woman sitting at a table with both hands at her throat, her eyes wide and her expression alarmed.
“She’s choking!” the man said, looking around the room for help. “She’s choking on a pretzel.”
Anne started to rise. She sank back into her chair in relief when the woman grabbed a n
apkin, coughed into it and then coughed again, color returning to her face in a wave of embarrassed crimson. “I’m okay,” she said, waving a shaky hand toward everyone who gaped at her. “I’m fine.”
Her companion hovered over her, patting her shoulder and still looking a little frazzled, and a solicitous server approached them to offer assistance. The other patrons turned their attention back to their own business and the earlier lighthearted noise resumed.
Anne glanced at Liam. Rather than watching the other couple, he was studying her, a faint smile on his face. “You were ready to run to the rescue, weren’t you?”
She made a face. “Knee-jerk reaction, I guess. I haven’t learned much about treating actual patients so far in medical school, but I’ve known the Heimlich maneuver for years. You don’t have to be a licensed physician to stop someone from choking.”
“You’ll be a good doctor, Anne.”
She smiled at him. “Thank you.”
“Anne?”
Her attention drawn again, she looked around in response to her name. “Oh. Nick. Hi.”
Nick Paulsen was another member of her class. He and another man she didn’t recognize had paused on their way to the exit when Nick recognized her.
Nick jerked his chin toward the couple that had caused the excitement. “Were you getting ready to run to the rescue?”
She laughed sheepishly. “Yes, I was. You?”
Nick’s friend chuckled. “He was on his way. This guy can’t wait to be a hero doctor.”
“Stuff it, Grant. How’d you do on the test, Anne?”
She shrugged. “Won’t know until we get the grades, of course, but I think I did okay. You?”
“Same here. Tough one, wasn’t it?”
“Very.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you in class Monday.” He looked curiously at Liam, but Anne didn’t bother with introductions.