Release date December 09, 2011
LE-21 (light erotica)
“Sometimes it takes a human to save an angel.”
Gabriel lie on his back and dipped his chin to look at the bundle he held tight to his chest. Pansies. Big. Spring. Purple pansies, was his first thought. He’d never seen eyes that shade on a person. Her skin, almost translucent, made the dots of pink from the cold on her cheeks stand out like paint on a doll’s face. A red and green knit cap adorned hair as black and shiny as a crow’s wing, hair that swooped forward to brush and tickle his nose.
“Sir, are you okay?” said the bundle that wiggled against him stirring things down below that shouldn’t be stirring. After all, he was an angel, and angels weren’t supposed to have stirrings.
Buy link: http://www.whispershome.com
Paulette’s link: http://www.jpauletteforshey.com
33 Days Til Christmas
Excerpt from
Chapter One
Gabriel Archer hunched his shoulders in his bomber jacket bringing the sheepskin collar up further on his bare neck. His gloveless hands were thrust deep in its pockets. The cold air nipped at the tip of his nose, while his boots crunched the snow and ice beneath them as he made his way among the shoppers. This was his third trip up and down the crowded sidewalks. The people were thick on both sides pushing, shoving, and bumping into each other without an “excuse me” or “sorry.”
Most grumbled under their breath, some didn’t care and said one of several expletives common to the time. The masses seemed to have no thoughts on their minds other than finding that perfect gift, even if it meant maxing out their credit cards.
Yeah, they had the Christmas spirit all right.
He’d been sent here to find and protect one woman for the next thirty-three days. He hadn’t seen any sign of her yet, and day was quickly turning to night. To make matters worse, The Boss sent him here without his powers. He was to do this job as a human. Who said The Boss didn’t have a sense of humor? Many didn’t think The Boss did, when actually, He had a good one, and at times it could be labeled as twisted. One word came to mind about The Boss’s humor, platypus. Gabriel shook his head. He was still trying to figure that one out and why The Boss snorted and guffawed when the word platypus was uttered.
“Excuse me. Happy Holidays!”
The voice yanked him from his morose thoughts.
“Merry Christmas.”
The voice, clear in the crisp air, rang out over the clash of bodies and traffic. Gabriel focused on the sweet sound and zeroed in on her voice. A dark blur caught his peripheral vision amidst the colorful shoppers snatching his attention away from her for a split second.
A terrified scream yanked him back. His assignment was flying through the air…straight into the path of an oncoming car.
Gabriel vaulted a bench, hit the ground running, and didn’t think; he just dove. He was a warrior and fierce as they come.
His six foot six frame wrapped around her mere five foot seven one as he snatched her from the path of the car sliding on the ice straight for her. The throngs on the sidewalk had bumped her into its path.
Twisting his linebacker’s bulk to take the impact of the landing, he smacked the frozen ground, breaking their fall. They skittered across the slippery road, causing other pedestrians to scatter out of the way. He slid with her atop him to finally land in a heap against a pile of snow left by a plow.
Great puffs of white escaped from his mouth as his inside warmth met the frigid outside air. He’d never seen his breath before. Holiday lights danced above his head from strings on lampposts blinking their celebratory colors. Quarter-sized snowflakes drifted lazily down on his dark chestnut hair like an afterthought to splat on his nose and cheeks.
All new experiences for him.
“Wow! That was some ride.” She squirmed against him. “Hmm, sir, you can let go of me now.”
Gabriel lay on his back and dipped his chin to look at the bundle he held tight to his chest. Pansies. Big. Spring. Purple pansies, was his first thought. He’d never seen eyes that shade on a person. Her skin, almost translucent, made the dots of pink from the cold on her cheeks stand out like paint on a doll’s face. A red and green knit cap adorned hair as black and shiny as a crow’s wing, hair that swooped forward to brush and tickle his nose.
“Sir, are you okay?” said the bundle that wiggled against him, stirring things down below that shouldn’t be stirring. After all, he was an angel, and angels weren’t supposed to have stirrings. She was asking if he was okay, and he should be asking her that same question. For some reason the power of speech eluded him.
“Sir?” He sat up as she scooted off him.
“Did you hit your head?” Those eyes, huge with worry, searched his face.
Vanilla wafted to his nose and warm sugar cookies came to mind. Wait a minute, he’d never had a sugar cookie or any cookie for that matter, how did he…?
Her mittened hands framed his face, stealing the rest of his thought as she locked her gaze on his.
Gabriel raised his hand to cover hers.
“You have the most beautiful eyes,” he gushed. Wait! When did he ever gush?
A smile with enough wattage to light up the Eastern Seaboard flashed before him, followed with a laugh reminiscent of silver bells.
“Come on let’s get you on your feet. I don’t think you have a concussion, and there doesn’t appear to be any bleeding anywhere.” She stood and placed her small hands under his left arm near the elbow, urging him up. Gabriel shook his head at the audacity of such a slender woman assisting him, and scrambled up. The bundle began dusting off the snow from his coat and pants, front and back.
Jaw clenched, eyes scrunched tightly shut, he tried willing the stirring away. It retreated, but to his mortification didn’t completely dissipate. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice.
“Well there, no worse for wear.” She raised her face with those eyes to meet his and stuck out her hand. “Thank you for saving my life. I’m Zipporah, Zipporah Campbell, but everyone calls me Zippy.”
“Moses’s wife.”
“Nope, not married.” She stuck her tongue out to catch a snowflake, and Gabriel’s groin tightened. He concentrated on what she was saying. “Do I really look that old?” Zipporah laughed as she smoothed a lock of hair from her face. “Don’t answer that.”
Gabriel stuffed his hands into his coat pockets suddenly unsure what to do with them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it’s an old name, one I haven’t heard in a long time.”
“No apology needed. I was being a smarty. Blame it on my mother, the wit and the name.” She chuckled. “She had a weird sense of humor.”
“Excuse me?”
“My family is, was, Wiccan, and Mom thought it was funny to name me after a person from the Bible.”
“You’re Wiccan?”
“Nope, got back at Mom for the name by switching sides.” Zipporah giggled. “Don’t worry, Mom liked irony, and she was happy I found something to believe in.”
“So you do believe?”
“Of course, especially,” Zipporah raised her hands and face to turn slowly letting the snowflakes hit her cheeks and tongue, “this time of year.” Her eyes locked with his, and for a moment, Gabriel thought he heard clear sweet music.
He realized they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk. She shivered; the temperature was dropping. He, on the other hand, felt rather warm. He spotted an old- fashioned railroad car diner tucked between two buildings. It looked odd in the row of buildings because the rest towered over it. Gabriel grasped her arm, nearly pulling her off her feet in the wake of his lengthy stride. Zipporah’s mittened hand beat against him.
“Hey, where do you think you’re taking me?” One good swat missed his arm and hit his nose. Gabriel stopped, nose tingling, but didn’t let go of her. Those earlier gentle pools of purple now blazed and sparked. “Just because you save a person doesn’t mean you can treat them like…”
One brow rose. “Like?”
“Well, I don’t know, but nothing nice I’m sure.” Zipporah stamped one foot and, slipped. He caught her. He put his arms around her in a flash pinning her to him causing that stirring again.
“I just wanted to get you inside.”
Two delicate brows rose.
“It’s cold out; you’re damp from the snow, I thought.” Gabriel let go of her, stepped back to run a hand through his hair, then let the hand drop to his side. “You should be in where it’s warm, have a bit to eat, and a hot drink to chase away the chill.” He thrust his hands back in his pockets. “Maybe I should take you to a hospital to be checked out.”
Panic flashed in her face, but just as fast, determination replaced it.
“Nope, no hospitals, I’m fine.” She tucked her arm in his. “By the way, I’ll let you in on a little secret. A woman likes to be asked; the whole caveman thing of dragging a woman off and all, is a real turn-off.” With a tug, she started them toward the diner. “I know you saved my life and all, but I really hope you’re the one buying. I’m broker than broke.”
Gabriel adjusted his stride to match her smaller one. “Yes, of course.”
That million-watt smile flashed at him again.
J.Paulette Forshey/Genevieve Delacroix “Erotic Fantasy That Tantalizes…” www.jpauletteforshey.com
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New Release Book Title: Deck The Halls
Author: Shashauna P. Thomas
Publisher: Pink Petal Books
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Menage (Steamy/Erotica)
Rating: E – Erotic
Blurb:
Jake and Jason are identical twins who’ve known for a long time that
there would only be one woman for the both of them. One who loved each
of them equally and could handle both the pros and cons of being shared
by two men on a daily basis. As soon as they laid eyes on the beautiful
new file clerk Gloria they knew deep in their hearts that she was the one
meant to be theirs. They thought their only obstacle was to convince
her that their feelings were genuine. Quickly they learn they’re
mistaken when they find out the lovely Gloria’s been keeping a major
secret. One that not only jeopardizes the future they planned to share
with her, but also places her very life in danger.
Gloria found it hard not to have a positive outlook when she got to
see the delicious Jason and delectable Jake every day. On top of that
the merriment of the season all around her was infectious. It was the
first Christmas in a long time that Gloria was actually looking forward
to. That is until she learns the mistakes of her past, ones she tried
very hard to put behind her and bury, were now back. Back with a
vengeance and determined to destroy her. Now all she hoped for
Christmas was that the people she’d grown to love wouldn’t get caught in
the crossfire.
Purchase Link: http://pinkpetalbooks.com/Deck-The-Halls-by-Shashauna-P.-Thomas.html
Author’s Website: http://sptpassions.weebly.com
Deck The Halls First Chapter (First seven pages):
Chapter One
As
soon as Jake saw the two suits enter the police precinct he knew something was
wrong. He didn’t need to see their
badges to know they were law enforcement. Years on the force had taught him how
to spot officers outside their uniforms. Each carried the same authoritative
demeanor like they carried their badges. The real question was from what
branch? And what brought them here to this small town in Arizona?
Jake
watched as Tina, the front desk receptionist, escorted them directly to the sheriff’s
office. The little sprite of a woman was a red headed spitfire. The two average
height men towered over her in stature, but as usual Tina wasn’t intimidated in
the least. The serious looks on their faces as they passed by, however,
convinced Jake that whatever business brought them down to this neck of the
woods wasn’t good. He also wasn’t surprised to see that his brother Jason had
picked up on it. One look in his
direction told him they were once again on the same page.
“What
you think that’s all about?” Jason asked
as he strolled with coffee mug in hand over to his desk. Neither of them were morning people and even
though the coffee at the station wasn’t the best it would do ‘til they had a
chance to grab some from the local diner.
“I
don’t know, but whatever it is, it isn’t good.
Or they wouldn’t be here at seven in the morning to see dad.” Jake and Jason’s father was the local
sheriff. He followed in their
grandfather’s footsteps just as Jake and Jason were following in his. Jake watched as Jason got comfortable at his
desk directly across from his own. The
top of Jake’s old battered wooden desk was pushed up against Jason’s. The
arrangement of the few deputy desks was their attempt at making the most of the
limited space available to them. The
precinct was a small, odd-shaped building with only one floor. The only one with an office and room to
spread out was the sheriff. The glass front of the building allowed the early
morning sun to light up most of the precinct.
Jake and his brother Jason were the first deputies to come in and
relieve the three deputies that made up the overnight skeletal shift.
The
longer Jake watched the suits, the more uneasy he became. Keeping his eyes on
their guests, Jake asked in a low voice, “How far up the chain do you think
they are?”
“Not
sure. They’re suits, but I don’t think
too high up. I have better suits in my
closet then the ones they walked in here wearing,” Jason mumbled into his mug
before taking a sip of his coffee.
Jake
shook his head at his brother as the grimace on his face told Jake the coffee
tasted thick and bitter as always. It was one of the reasons Jake had yet to
pick up his own cup of coffee. Neither would drink it if they both weren’t
desperate for the caffeine fix.
As
identical twins they had a lot of things in common besides their mirror image
appearance, but they were still individuals. There were some areas of interest
they differed on. Jason’s clothing fixation was one of those areas. Half of
Jason’s closet was expensive designer shirts and suits. While Jake probably
owned two and even those were gifts from his brother. If Jason said he had more
expensive suits, then Jake believed him.
“Maybe
they’re detectives from one of the Phoenix offices,” Jason added as they watched the
visitors enter the sheriff’s office and the door close behind them.
Jake
nodded as that sounded plausible. They weren’t that far out from Phoenix. And with it being such a large city, there
were numerous departments; they could’ve easily come from any one of them. It
was possible they were here simply looking for a criminal on the run last
reported heading in their direction. The only problem with that theory was
they’d usually call or send a fax to give them a heads up. They wouldn’t have
come down here in person so early in the morning for a simple notification.
“Well
whatever it is, it appears we don’t have to wait much longer to find out,” Jake
said as he nodded in the direction of the sheriff’s door. They both turned as
the door opened to see their father standing in the doorway motioning for them
to join him. They looked back at each other for a moment before they both got
up and headed towards the office.
“Come
on in boys. Close the door behind you,” their father said as he retook his seat
behind his desk. The two suits were sitting in the guest chairs across from
him, leaving standing room only for Jake and Jason. “This is U.S. Marshals Thomas and Mendoza from New York.”
As
the marshals nodded their hellos to Jake and his brother, they nodded in return.
Seeing them up close Jake couldn’t help sizing them up. Marshal Thomas was an
African-American male of average height and build. His hair was cut so short he
was nearly bald. Jake figured he was around his and his brother’s age. Marshal
Mendoza was an older gentleman. He looked to be only a few years younger than
their father. Mendoza was a light-skinned Hispanic male with short
curly black hair. The thin mustache on his face was black as well with a few
speckles of gray here and there. A testament to his years. He too was average
height, but where his partner was lean he was on the chubby side. Mendoza had a slightly obvious gut that he tried to
hide, but wasn’t successful. Jake thought Mendoza looked more like a seasoned Marshal while
Thomas still had the fresh-out-of-the-academy look.
“New York? Aren’t you guys a little far from home?” Jason
asked, trying to lighten up the somber mood. He didn’t like the feel of this
early morning meeting anymore then Jake did. The longer they stood there, the
more Jake found himself waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop.
“They’ve
just informed me that we may have a situation that concerns Gloria.” And there
it was. Their father’s words immediately caused their hackles to rise. The
marshals and their father now had their complete and undivided attention even
though neither had finished their morning coffee.
“What
about Gloria?” Jake spoke up this time. He didn’t need to look at his brother
to know Jason was just as serious as he was. If Gloria was in trouble, they wanted
to know about it.
From
the moment Gloria Lopez seductively strolled into their station six months ago
to take over the available file clerk position, she’d managed to worm her way
into the hearts of everyone she met. It was a feat that still amazed Jake, not
to mention how easily she’d accomplished it. Like most small towns, the locals
here grew up with each other. They tended to be a tight-knit community that
didn’t open up readily to outsiders. Yet within a week of Gloria’s arrival,
she’d managed to make friends. By the end of her first month, she was deeply
woven into the fabric of their community. No one looked at her or treated her
as anything other than one of the locals.
For
Jake and Jason she was more. Much more. She was the woman they’d been searching
for. The one that would make them complete. The twins had fallen head over
heels in love with her though Jake doubted Gloria knew it. They had a plan to
correct any misunderstandings over Christmas.
“As
we just told Sheriff McCoy, we’re from the witness protection program,” Marshal
Mendoza answered as he turned his full attention towards Jake and Jason. “Six
months ago we placed the woman you know as Gloria Lopez here for her
protection. She was vital in helping us catch her ex-boyfriend, Manuel Ortiz.
Once we caught Ortiz we placed Gloria in the program to keep her safe until she
could testify at his trial.”
“What
is Ortiz charged with?” Jason asked. The
cold calmness in his voice a sure sign to anyone who knew him that he was
steamed. He might look relaxed, but Jake knew every muscle in his body was
tense. Jason was usually the laid-back, carefree twin. It was a completely
different story when he was angered. Jake knew his brother was pissed when he
grew quiet and his body language said he was preparing to pounce.
“Multiple
counts of drug trafficking, distribution of narcotics, murder, and
assault.” This time Marshal Thomas
answered.
“If
you have the man in custody then what’s the problem?” Jake asked. Finding out
that Gloria was in the witness protection program was mind blowing and he fully
intended to return to that in a minute. At the moment what was most important
was whether or not Gloria was safe. If she wasn’t, he wanted to know who the
threat to her was.
“Ortiz
has a number of wealthy and powerful connections. Connections that don’t want
him to go away for fear he’ll turn state’s evidence against them in exchange
for a lesser jail sentence. Not to mention the impact his incarceration will
have on the money and product flow in their network. We were worried they’d try
to intimidate Gloria into not testifying when what we should’ve worried about
was them breaking Ortiz out of prison,” Mendoza answered.
“While
being transferred from the prison he’d been placed in to await trial, the van
was ambushed. Both guards were killed during the escape,” Thomas added.
“When
did this happen?” Jason asked.
“A
week ago,” Thomas replied.
“A
week? And you’re just now coming here to let Gloria know?” Jason was definitely
having a tough time keeping his cool. Jake couldn’t blame him. So far these
marshals seemed completely inept.
“She’d
been successfully hidden for the last six months. There was no reason to
immediately up and move her when there was no evidence to suggest Ortiz knew
her whereabouts. Reacting prematurely would’ve worried her needlessly.” Thomas
was getting more and more on Jake’s nerves every time he spoke.
“Since
you’re here now then it’s safe to say something’s changed,” Jake added as he
crossed his arms. The longer they spoke with these marshals the more
incompetent they appeared.
“While
tracking down his whereabouts since the escape, we questioned one of his
girlfriends. She didn’t have anything on who helped break him out, but she
admitted he’d shown up on her doorstep two days after his escape. He stayed
there long enough to get clothes and to reach some of his contacts. She said
she didn’t know where he was, but she swore she was certain he was headed out
of New York. When we asked why, she reluctantly admitted to
overhearing a phone conversation he had where he mentioned something about
taking care of loose ends in Arizona before disappearing for a while.”
As
Marshal Mendoza finished his sentence, Jake felt a wealth of emotions rolling
around inside him. Cold fear for Gloria at the thought that her crazy ex could
already be in the area. Anger at this Ortiz guy for even thinking about laying
a hand on her. Incensed at the marshals for taking so long to come down here
and let Gloria know she might be in danger. For a week she’d been walking around
completely oblivious and the ones responsible for keeping her safe had slacked
on their job. They were out there busy chasing their own tails while some
psycho was out there searching for Gloria. If anything happened to Gloria, Jake
and Jason were holding Mendoza and Thomas personally responsible. Apparently,
they weren’t the only ones.
“If
you two had come to us earlier, when you originally placed Gloria here, and let
us know what was going on, we could’ve helped make sure she was safe until the
trial,” said their father. His words brought everyone’s attention back to him.
“We’d have kept an eye out for anything that might look suspicious or out of
the ordinary. And when Ortiz escaped, we
would’ve already been on alert. I don’t know how you guys do things in New York, but here in this community we protect our own.
And no matter what happened in her past, Gloria is one of us.” He spoke calmly,
but Jake knew he was upset too. He’d heard that tone enough growing up to know
his father meant business.
“Notifying
the locals that they have a witness protection participant in the area isn’t
the norm. There’s no way she’d be able to live a normal life if everyone knew
she’d assumed a new identity. Not to mention the more people who know, the more
likely her new identity falls into the wrong hands. And that would make it
extremely easy for the ones looking for her to find her,” Mendoza responded.
“The
list of ‘need to know’ is very short in every witness protection
placement. I’m sorry, but notifying the
local authorities isn’t on that list. There are even marshals we work with who
have no clue what her new identity is or where Gloria is,” Thomas added.
“So
Ortiz had to escape from your custody, killing two guards in the process, and
Gloria’s life had to once again be placed in danger for us to be added to that
short list of yours?” Logically Jake knew they were right. When a witness
enters the program, they can’t go around broadcasting the information, even to
law enforcement. Never know how far it will travel. But logic be damned. When
it concerned Gloria, he and his brother needed to know. It was a fact he was
going to make sure Gloria herself was well aware of when he had a chance.
“We’re
telling you now because we believe Gloria’s new identity may have already been
compromised. We’re sure Ortiz knows Gloria is somewhere in Arizona, but other than that we don’t know how much
more information he’s been able to obtain. In light of this, our only choice is
to collect her and place her in a safe house. This way we can ensure her safety
while we recapture Ortiz. Eventually we’ll figure out how, along with how much
of her information was leaked,” Thomas replied.
“Or
she gets killed. Whichever comes first?”
Jason didn’t like the marshals’ plan anymore then Jake did.
“We’re
going to make sure that doesn’t happen, deputy.”
“Well
you’ve sure done a bang-up job so far, Marshal.”
“Look
the only reason we’re even discussing this with you is because we wanted the
local authorities to be on the lookout for Ortiz in the area. He is a very
dangerous man even without his connections. If you see him, apprehend him
immediately. Then notify us or our agency at once. As a show of solidarity
between our two agencies as well as professional courtesy we didn’t want you to
worry when one of your employees suddenly ups and goes missing. Gloria’s
protection however is our concern, not yours,” Thomas spoke.
“Yeah.
And where was this solidarity and professional courtesy six months ago?” Jason
fired back.
“Ah,
but then they had Ortiz in custody. Now they need all the help they can get to
get him back. They figured give the locals a bone and they might give one back
by helping to apprehend their missing fugitive,” Jake added. Both of the
Marshals looked as if they were going to respond, but Jake cut them off.
“Frankly, I truly don’t give a shit what your reasons are for finally telling
us. What’s important is that you did. And now that you have there are a few
things we need to apprise you of.”
“Like
what?”
“Like
the fact that if you think you’re going to come down here, lay all this on our
plate, grab Gloria, and disappear with her to parts unknown to never be seen or
heard from again, all while leaving us to take care of your mess, you’re sadly
mistaken.” They could tell from Jason’s
voice that he was dead serious and a quick look at Jake and their father told
the Marshals exactly where they stood on the matter. “As my father told you,
here we take care of our own. Gloria’s safety and protection is very much our
concern. And from the looks of how you’ve handled everything so far, I’d say
our concern is even more so then yours.”
“My
brother is absolutely right. You think it’s fair to make Gloria pay all over
again by giving up the life she’s made for herself here? I don’t. It’s your
leak, your mess, and yours to fix. It’s not up to Gloria. She’s already paid
enough.”
“We
haven’t determined where Ortiz’s information came from, but unofficially I
completely agree with you. After everything he put her though I can’t see
Gloria doing anything that would compromise her new identity. You know that
assault charge against Ortiz? That’s from Gloria.” It was the first time since
this meeting began that Jake saw what looked like remorse in Mendoza. “And you’re positively right. It isn’t fair to
Gloria when she didn’t do anything wrong. But I’m sure you’ll agree when I say
keeping Gloria safe is of the utmost importance.”
“Closely
followed by the speedy apprehension of Ortiz,” Thomas interjected. Jake knew
where Thomas’s priorities lay and he didn’t like that the man seemed to put
catching Ortiz over Gloria’s safety.
Probably
sensing how unhappy Thomas’s comment made everyone else in the room, Mendoza
quickly responded with what he hoped would unruffle everyone’s feathers. “Yes.
The sooner we catch Ortiz and bring him to justice the sooner Gloria can begin
again. To live her life without fear or looking over her shoulders. Placing her
in a safe house may not be an ideal option, but it’s the best and only viable
one we have.”
“That’s
also where you’re wrong. There’s another option,” Jason stated. As soon as the
words left his mouth, Jake knew where his brother was going with this. And he
had a sinking feeling their father did too.
“Which
is?” Thomas asked.
“Let
her stay here. To keep the number of people in the know to a minimum my brother
and I will personally provide in-home protection until Ortiz is caught, tried,
sentenced, and delivered safely back behind bars. She works here at the station
so it won’t be hard to keep an eye on her during the day. We live here so it
won’t be hard for one or both of us to accompany Gloria around town as she runs
her daily errands. We’ll be her protective detail ‘til this whole situation
finally blows over.”
“No.
Definitely not.”
“Why
not? I think that sounds much better than the alternative. Whisking her away
every time the bad guys get near. Plus with Gloria still in the area it may be
your best bet at recapturing Ortiz. You and other Marshals can provide back up
by patrolling the area from afar. You know he wants her and is headed this way.
You may not know where he is now, but you know where he’s going. It should be
easy for you to arrest him even before he reaches the town and Gloria. And if
you don’t, my boys will be there with her making sure nothing happens,” the
sheriff interjected. The tone of his voice reflected just how much he supported
his son’s proposed plan. “Plus who can say how long it will take to recapture
Ortiz? At least this way she’d be safe and able to live some semblance of a
life while the U.S. Marshals focus their resources into finding the
escaped fugitive. With my boys accompanying her instead of one of your
marshals, it won’t draw undue attention while still keeping her safe.”
“Not
possible,” Thomas said once again as he shook his head no.
“Your
dedication to Gloria is admirable, but you can’t seriously think the two of you
could handle watching over her 24/7? Even in a safe house it’ll take a team of
marshals to watch over her. The two of you couldn’t possibly do it without
drastically changing your lives and your own daily activities. You’d virtually
have to move in together. Where would you stay? In her apartment or in one of
your homes? How long would you two find the arrangement bearable? As the
sheriff just said there is no way in telling how long it will take to find
Ortiz much less everything else. Do you really think you two would be able to
handle being Gloria’s security for the long haul?” If Jake wasn’t mistaken,
he’d swear Mendoza was actually considering it.
“Certainly.
My brother and I share a small ranch right on the outskirts of town. The house
is large enough for her to move in and accommodate the three of us for as long
as it takes for this whole situation to blow over. It also has a state of the
art security system that will make securing her much easier.” Jason glanced in
Jake’s direction for his support as he mentioned their home security. He and
Jake both were heavily into technology and were extremely savvy when it came to
computers, motion detectors, surveillance cameras, and alarm systems. Add to
that the large arsenal they’d manage to compile and all their outdoor gear.
There wasn’t a safer place on this earth for Gloria.
“No
matter how secure you say your home is, allowing a witness to stay in the area
once his or her cover has been blown is completely against procedure.” Thomas
once again reiterated his objection to their plan.
“Oh,
so the new identities of witnesses are blown often enough that you have a set
procedure to follow?” Jake didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
“Frankly
I don’t give a damn about your procedures. What I care about is Gloria, and
making sure she stays safe. To be completely honest, I’m not too happy that the
U.S. Marshals failed to provide Gloria the security
they promised and I’m willing to bet Gloria won’t be too happy either. I say
when you tell her how you guys fucked up we give her both options and let her
decide which alternative she wants to take,” Jason adamantly said.
“No.
When she agreed to participate in witness protection she agreed to listen to
us, follow our directions, and believe that we have her best interest at heart
in everything we do. You don’t enter into the program and then pick and choose
when you want to cooperate. She—” Jake was getting tired of listening to Thomas
and apparently so was Jason. He didn’t even let him finish before he began
speaking again.
“Yeah,
well you promised if she did as you said that she’d be safe here living as
Gloria Lopez. You didn’t hold up your end of the bargain so why should she? We
could go back and forth about this all day, but ultimately I believe the one
making the final decision should be Gloria. She’s already given up so much.
That’s the least you guys owe her.”
“He
has a point. The both of you can continue to go back and forth, but it’s Gloria
who should make the decision. It’s her life on the line.” Their father
interjected in an attempt to stop Jason and Thomas before their words grew
further heated. “She’s due to come into work in a few minutes. We’ll inform her
of the situation as well as her choices and let her make the decision. Whatever
she decides we all agree to abide by, right?” He said looking pointedly back
and forth between the Marshals and his sons. Both Jake and Jason nodded, but
remained silent. Thomas looked as if he were ready to protest once more when
this time his partner cut him off.
“Alright.
I’m willing to go against procedure.” He held up his hand to stay Thomas’s
further objections. “If anyone questions it, we’ll say there was extenuating
circumstances or something on the paperwork. We’ll allow Gloria to make the
decision as long as you can guarantee us that if she does decide to go along
with Deputy McCoy’s option that your sons will hold up their end. No matter how
long it takes. Their sole purpose in life from here on out is to keep Gloria
safe.”
Gloria’s
safety and happiness had been Jake and his brother’s concern long before now. A
fact they decided to keep to themselves. Gloria was theirs and they weren’t
giving her up without a fight. Not to the marshals and definitely not to her
psycho ex. So they stayed silent as their father responded to Mendoza.
“I
don’t know how many times I’ll have to remind you Marshal, but I will as long
as I have to. We take care of our own here and if my boys say they’ll protect
Gloria, then they’ll give their lives before they allow anything to happen to
her. We all would and you can trust that. We’re men of our words.”
Posted in Steamy/erotica | Leave a Comment »
THE WINDS OF
FALL is a paranormal science-fiction romance with a PG rating.
Back-cover Blurb-Unknown to Skye Worthington, the people most
important to her are keeping unearthly secrets from her. If not revealed and
faced, these secrets will cause death for untold billions of people, Skye
included. Rebelling against his family and their deadly, but necessary, secrets
which keep him a recluse in a Caribbean paradise, Joe Allen meets Skye. They
fall into a love forbidden to Joe. Can two people with unimaginable secrets—and
more in common than either know—overcome a force capable of entering dreams and
taking humans through outer space without life support to other planets? This is
the dilemma facing Skye and Joe as she fights to keep her sanity, and her
identity as a human being.
Long
and Short Reviews-“The Winds of Fall, a flight into fantasy full of science
fiction, mystery, suspense, and romance both sweet and explosive, takes the
reader away from the usual to view the universe in Technicolor and teeming with
activity. This novel entices the imagination to stretch and soar to amazing
heights—making one remember those ‘play-like’ games of childhood when all things
seemed possible.” 4.5 of 5 Books
from Long and Short Romance
Reviews!
4 of 5 Seals from WRDF Reviews.
Visit my website at www.sandywick.com
An
autographed copy of THE WINDS OF FALL can be purchased from me through my
website. An e-book or print version can be purchased through my publisher The
Wild Rose Press at www.thewildrosepress.com from their
Faery Rose line.
The Winds of
Fall
By Sandy
Wickersham-McWhorter
Chapter
One
Powerless to
resist, Skye Worthington watched her hand rise to the huge artwork in front of
her.
Her fingers
played through the tiny blades of blue plastic grass that swayed in a soft
breeze blowing from a tiny fan in the artwork.
Though she
didn’t want them to, her fingers caressed the little wooden people’s silky
clothes. Small green ceramic hills next drew her hand to them to enjoy their
cool enameled smoothness. From somewhere in her mind, she knew these hills
represented hills she’d really seen sometime before.
She heard the
people of the real hills pleading to her mind, Return home to fly with us on
your green hills.
Skye hated the
feeling of aloneness that flooded her mind because she couldn’t fly over these
familiar slopes as she’d somehow done many times before.
To be free you
must join the people in the artwork, her
inner-artist said.
No, that’s not a
true statement, her
inner-scientist said.
Her face started
moving toward the artwork, and she couldn’t stop it. Little fans in the hills
blew her hair around as she got closer. Tears flowed down her cheeks as a
nauseating homesickness overwhelmed Skye.
The
inner-scientist panicked, This isn’t logical! Artworks can’t talk. Fight!
She willed her
gaze to move from the canvas. It didn’t.
She tried to
scream. She couldn’t.
She tried to
back up. Her foot hit the wall in front of her instead.
She wanted her
fingers to leave the artwork. They didn’t move.
The painting’s
people shouted to her mind, Return home, or you will die!
Nothing could
break the magnetic bond between her hand and the white-capped acrylic
ocean.
Joseph Allen
liked the St. Louis’s gallery’s open arrangement. The main room’s many
partitions only went up eight feet of it’s fifteen-foot height. Three or four
artworks hung on each partition’s sides, giving private settings to ponder the
art; the part he liked best. Skylights, and the room’s shape, reminded him of
another room—one he didn’t see much since he became vice-president of his
family’s company.
He’d decided to
look at his contest entry before going to his hotel for the night, and he’d
waited until the gallery was almost empty. The gallery’s owner had hung his
entry in the best place, the back area. There, Joe could let his guard down. He
strolled casually around the partitions, looking at the other contest entries.
When he turned
the corner to his entry’s area, he saw a woman near his canvas. She appeared to
be touching it. How could someone be so rude in such an exclusive gallery? “Hey,
get your hand off my painting.”
“Leave me alone. I want to go home. I must go home,” she whispered in a
monotone.
He stepped closer, and his heart jumped into his throat when he saw her.
Her left hand had entered his artwork, and her forearm slid in as he watched.
Joe could hardly
breathe as he prayed they weren’t seen. The consequences would be unimaginable.
He moved closer and said, “Get away from my canvas.”
The woman slowly turned her head toward him. As in some nightmarish
horror movie, she looked at him with vertical cat’s-eye pupils.
A gasp escaped
his lips. He wanted to run, to hide from what he knew the future would now
bring, but horrified fascination glued his feet to the floor. A cobalt-blue
emptiness gradually replace her green irises and the cat’s-eye pupils. He’d
never seen human eyes do anything remotely like this. He blinked away his shock
and regained enough control to say, “You must get away from my painting! Move,
now.”
She didn’t respond.
The chance of
them being seen made Joe close the distance to her and shake her shoulder. “No
human’s ever done what you’re doing. If anyone sees–”
“Leave me alone. I want to go home. I must go home,” she replied in the
same monotone. Her arm moved further into his artwork.
As her face
turned back to his artwork, a knife of horrendous loneliness sliced through
Joe’s mind. He had to find out what made her feel that empty and alone. People
can’t survive such loneliness.
He began pulling
on her free arm with all his immense strength, but the force drawing her into
the picture exceeded his might. Her left shoulder disappeared into his canvas
even as he struggled.
Hearing faint
footsteps coming near kicked adrenaline into Joe’s nervous system, so he braced
a foot on the wall for leverage and pulled harder. He struggled until sweat
stung his eyes, and finally, she began sliding out of his artwork. But, would
she be out before those footsteps brought people with them?
Panic made him
pull harder, and soon his reward was a soft whoosh as she slid out. They fell to the
floor in a heap, rose perfume filling the air around them. He watched in awe as
the woman’s eyes changed from the empty cobalt pools to dark-green irises and
normal round pupils. Could such haunting depths ever be called
normal?
The brown eyes staring into her soul fascinated Skye, but she was
repulsed to find herself sprawled on top of a total stranger. How long had she
been in this ungainly position? While she jumped off and stood, she assessed
him. His beard and long brown hair were on the most gorgeous man she’d ever
seen.
She guessed his
height at six feet tall. The curve of his broad shoulders led her gaze to a
waist and muscular legs that belonged on a classical Greek god sculpture.
Scanning up to his eyes, their gazes magnetized together.
Three
richly-dressed older women came into the room, taking Skye’s and the man’s
attention from each other. Scandalized by the pair on the floor, one woman
muttered, “Shameless kids today!” before she and her friends disappeared around
a partition.
Brought back to
reality, a confused yet laughing Skye asked, “Who are you, and why was I on top
of you?”
“First, I’m Joe
Allen. Are you okay?”
“I’m Skye
Worthington. Nothing’s broken.”
“Good.” He rose
from the floor and their gazes locked again. “Ah, yes. I hoped to meet you after
I saw your entries. What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Stopping at
your painting.”
He glanced
quickly around the room, then said, “We were on the floor because I had to pull
off of my painting. You uh, touched it and cried on it. You wouldn’t move.”
Skye couldn’t respond to something so ludicrous except to say, “I didn’t
hear you.”
“You heard me because twice you said, ‘Leave me alone. I want to go home.
I must go home.’”
“I wouldn’t do such a thing! I’m always in control of myself. I haven’t
been crying!”
Eerie neon-blue flashes like Fourth of July sparklers flared in her
irises, but he didn’t mention them. “Your hand was on the ocean, and your
forehead rested on a cloud as you mumbled and cried.”
Skye touched her face. “My cheeks are wet. I’m so sorry. I’ll buy your
entry if I damaged it. I was upset and I, uh, did something stupid.”
He inspected his painting. “It’s fine.”
“What gave you the idea for it? It’s unusual to say the least.”
Joe thanked God she didn’t remember anything, and he wasn’t about to
mention her arm being in his art, until he knew more about her. But, why did she
changed the subject? “It is an unusual combination of media, isn’t
it? I started a canvas one day, and it just evolved into
this.”
“What can I say
except that I love it? I think the motor that moves things and the hidden fans
are the best parts. Tell me more about your techniques.”
This beauty’s knowledge of technique, color, and balance showed in her
compositions and impressed Joe. His male eye overcame his artist’s eye to judge
her. He guessed her height at about five-foot-ten. Those unbelievable green eyes
and long blonde hair complemented her slightly narrow face. Her age must be
about twenty-five, two years younger than himself. The white blouse with rose
print and ankle-length denim skirt she wore perfectly accented her pale
skin.
It was
imperative that he find out how she’d melded with his artwork, and why her eyes
had changed, so he asked, “Would you have supper with me?”
“I’d love to. Ristorante da Baldo is nearby if you like
Italian?”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
Da Baldo’s had
only a few patrons when Skye and Joe arrived. The scent of baking garlic bread
filled the darkened restaurant. A waiter gave them menus to peruse after seating
them in a secluded, candlelit booth. After ordering, Skye asked, “Where are you
from?”
“First, let me apologize for being so rude.”
“I must
apologize also. Considering I don’t remember it, I could have done what you
said.”
“Apology
accepted. I live on St. Kitts in the Caribbean. I’m here for the contest’s
awards ceremony, and you?”
“I was born in Westhampton, New York. I’m finishing doctorates in
astrophysics and aeronautical engineering at Oklahoma State near Tulsa.” Why
didn’t he say his birthplace?
“You’re not an artist?”
The waiter delivered their drinks, and as Skye took a long sip she
wondered if she should say more? His dreamy eyes said yes. “Those are my day
job. You know; the one you shouldn’t quit when you’re starting a career in a
creative endeavor?”
Joe laughed. “I know exactly. My day job doesn’t allow me enough free
time either. Why were you so interested in my painting?”
“Because of the fans, motors, sand, and cloth, all in one work. I’ve
never seen anything like it, yet I’m sure I’ve seen it
before.”
“I’ve never exhibited it anywhere else.”
Skye shook her head. “Then I couldn’t have seen it. Is the setting a real
place?”
“It’s the beach
beside my house. I was so drawn to the old plantation that I bought it, then
didn’t leave for several years while I restored it. I’m there nine months a
year.”
“So it feels like home?”
“More than any place I’ve ever been on Earth.”
“Only Tulsa and
San Antonio come close to feeling like home for me. I’ve never been to St.
Kitts.”
He smiled deeply. “I think you’d love it.”
His husky voice and penetrating smile sent Skye’s pulse soaring. She’d
have to analyze this new feeling later. “Why did you say I touched your entry
when I don’t remember it?”
“Because you did. You looked so desolate that I felt sorry for
you.”
With such honest, expressive eyes, how could she not believe him? But,
why couldn’t she remember something so drastic?
The waiter
delivered their salad and garlic bread, interrupting them. After they finished
dining, Joe escorted Skye to the gallery. He said goodnight at the door then
quickly disappeared.
The gallery owner wasn’t leaving immediately, so Skye decided to review
the other entries in the juried art exhibition. Maybe by critiquing the
competition she could figure out why she’d entered this weird contest, and
remember what had happened with Joe’s artwork.
Since, in her
opinion, only idiots believe in aliens, Skye saw no logical reason to have
accepted the invitation. Was it the prestige winning might bring, or did
something else draw her to it? Even the name, Impressions of Other
Worlds, had to be a ploy to draw gullible New-Agers.
A cursory glance
showed the other artists’ works to be a mélange of sizes, styles, and media. She
went first to a canvas of Mars, a popular subject because it had been so close
to Earth several years ago. The dry channels, round brick-red hills and houses
on the canvas appealed to her. But Mars isn’t my home, she thought.
Another artist’s
concept of Venus with crystal people, swirling yellow-white sulfur clouds,
orange mountains, and pits of red sulfury goo enchanted her. Venus isn’t my
home either.
Even the alien
worlds that existed only on the artists’ canvases were beautiful but not her
home. Why am I looking for home in art? Nothing lives in
art.
Because her
paintings fit in, Skye allowed herself a moment to imagine that her works
represented a real alien planet. She quickly dismissed the stupid notion.
When she came to Joe’s entry, her gaze immediately riveted to it. The
six-by-four-foot mixed-media work held all kinds of information. The green
ceramic hills made up the painting’s middle-right side. White paper palm trees
swayed to the left, dominating the hill area. Many tiny fans embedded in the
hills made the blue grass and multi-colored flowers sway lazily. An odd shade of
blue gave the sky its color, and green clouds covered the top half.
A backlit sun
made of green glass hovered above the horizon as a larger yellow glass sun sat
on the horizon. Three black wooden fish on hidden tracks jumped from the
crystal-clear plastic ocean. The ocean’s real water moved back and forth over a
white sand beach, creating waves. Purple cloth rocks on the beach gave the
foreground depth.
Small wooden
people wearing shimmery bodysuits flew large oval paths in the sky on hidden
tracks, each followed by their shadow. Other people lay in the grass speaking a
language Skye couldn’t understand.
Her hand went to
the painting, and she couldn’t stop it.
The people from
the hills she’d visited before in some unknowable past, spoke insistently to her
mind, Join us. Enjoy our freedom to fly without physical encumbrances. You
must return to the home that awaits you.
Parts of the
artwork began undulating sinuously in Joe’s canvas.
Fascinated, she
watched the ocean’s waves engulf her hand, unable stop it’s progress into the
canvas.
“You shouldn’t
touch things in a gallery,” a voice said from faraway. It jerked her back to
reality.
Skye found the
strength to turn her face: the owner. Mortified, her hand slipped from the
painting and covered her mouth to stifle a scream as she fled the room.
Joe had told the
truth!
A still shocked
Skye vowed to avoid Joe after the awards ceremony. Yet, when she went to her
entries, he was leaning against the wall, grinning smugly. The muscles under his
short-sleeve shirt said tough guy, but his beguiling gaze said something
excitingly different to her body.
“Hello. Walk
around the gallery with me?”
She forced
herself to look away from him. “Uh, I could take a few
minutes.”
They stopped at
her Flying Meadows painting, and Joe
stood close. “I like this piece. I feel like I must fly with the birds over the
waving blue grass and flowers or lose my freedom. The people and the wind seem
to be one entity. This is from your dream?”
Skye
nodded.
“More artists
should dream so beautifully.”
She looked at
him to thank him and their eyes met. A spark of icy electricity shot through her
mind. Her entire body shuddered with the strange cold feeling.
Joe felt her response to his mind’s touch. How is it possible!? Could
she be the… he dismissed the notion before he finished thinking it, and
broke eye contact to look at her painting. “The white buildings remind me of
adobe homes out West, but yours have open spaces instead of windows. Are they
from your dream?”
“Yes. The dreams changed before this show and centered on a city on
another planet. The city those buildings are in. I don’t believe in aliens, yet
something compelled me to paint them.”
Joe’s eyes darkened with sadness. “Compulsion drives many talented
people. It’s where many get their ideas.”
“Where did you
get the idea for your canvas? I felt that your earlier answer was evasive.”
“I know artists have specific inspirations, but as I said, I started a
new canvas, which just evolved into what you saw.” He turned the conversation
back to her, “Tell me more about your dreams.”
“I started having them at age eleven. I always fly in them without wings.
When they changed, I added the new details to these paintings: blue palm trees
and birds with four wings on that one,” she pointed to one painting, “and on the
other, a wave-billowed pond and blue triangular flowers to cover a hill. They
look alien enough to be on another planet, don’t they?”
“You sound like
you’re afraid they do. You don’t normally do alien artwork, do you?”
Skye shrugged
and wrinkled her nose. “Other artists may like it, but not me. I don’t even know
why I entered this silly competition.”
Joe grinned
wickedly as he said, “Maybe you thought entering these odd pieces would be such
a change from your usual works that you’d keep the critics
guessing?”
She looked at
her hands. “Maybe.”
Despite Joe’s
affect on her, Skye hid in secluded spots to watch him at the gallery’s public
question-and-answer session with him. He’d won best-of-show, so patrons
flocked around him. She watched him cut conversations short, fidget, and avoid
eye contact. He looked at every face like it belonged to a mortal enemy. Why was
he so unnerved? Was he a loner?
Memories of her childhood made her smile. She didn’t regret the time
she’d spent with her parents instead of with other kids. They weren’t as smart
or as much fun as her parents. Surely, by now Joe would be beyond such
shyness.
When the session
ended, she turned to leave the gallery and found Joe standing beside her. She
gasped. When had he snuck up to her?
“I didn’t mean
to scare you, Skye. You were watching me all day so I figured we should end the
day together. How about da Baldo’s?”
“With such loud
rumbles coming from my middle, how can I refuse?” All the way to the restaurant,
Skye wondered how Joe knew she’d watched him. It didn’t matter because they’d
not see each other again after tonight.
Between bites of
lasagna, they debated the merits of arts-and-crafts shows to sell artworks
versus invitational and juried events. Skye was adamant, “Arts-and-crafts are
invaluable! They teach beginners to handle customers and learn what’s popular
with real people, not just upper-class snobs at
galleries.”
He grinned, with
hooded eyes. “Am I a snob?”
“I’m not sure
what you are. You’re a mystery. I’m just saying that arts-and-crafts shows are
good experience.” She looked in his eyes to emphasize her point. “One near San
Antonio four years ago is a good example. I can’t describe how the crisp air and
pre-dawn sky made me feel. I felt like I could touch the million stars in that
black velvety expanse. The stars made me homesick, and have ever since. Not
being a morning person, I was surprised that I got up early every day to enjoy
it. Even a skunk that hung around my motel lent an exciting accent to
those mornings. I’ve sold several pieces based on them.”
His eyes gleamed
with understanding. “I love the adventure of stargazing.”
“Urban girls
like me don’t usually like such adventures, but I think the open sky and
landscape are what drew me to Tulsa. I sense that you’ve had some adventures of
your own.” She leaned closer without realizing it.
Sandy Wickersham-McWhorter
Posted in Paranormal romance | 1 Comment »
Blurb for A New Dream Contemporary romance/ PG rated
What do you do when you lose everything?
After an auto accident destroys his NFL career, Matt McCallum struggles to find a new dream for his life, but nothing engages him the way football did. After a stint in rehab, he takes a job managing a grocery store where he meets Violet Emerson.
Violet works in the bakery department, but her dreams carry her far beyond the doors of Chef’s Pantry. As soon as she can save the money, she plans to open a catering business. And she thinks the new manager’s broad shoulders and blue eyes are simply divine.
Thrown together at work, Matt and Violet find a common dream for their lives, but a loose end from Matt’s past returns to jeopardize their future. Will love be enough to save their new dream before it turns into a nightmare?
Buy Links:
http://www.astraeapress.com/#ecwid:category=662245&mode=product&product=2676585 electronic book
http://www.amazon.com/New-Dream-Elaine-Cantrell/dp/1461091047/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1311199769&sr=8-1 paperback book
http://www.amazon.com/A-New-Dream-ebook/dp/B004TAWHO4/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1311199769&sr=8-2 Kindle edition
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/new-dream-elaine-cantrell/1102710733?ean=2940012395245&itm=1&usri=a%2bnew%2bdream%2bby%2belaine%2bcantrell Nook book
Website: http://www.elainecantrell.com
Excerpt:
Prologue
The red convertible cut a path through the moonlight, its headlights dancing along the arched limbs of the trees above the road. “Oh, Matt, it’s such a beautiful night,” Stacey declared with a sigh. “I’m going to miss you when you leave tomorrow.”
Matt reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ll miss you too, but if I don’t report on time, I’m in trouble with the coach.”
“That’s what I get for falling in love with a pro football player,” Stacey teased, her blonde hair turned to frosted silver by the light of the full moon above them.
Matt squeezed her hand that wore his engagement ring. “It’s too late to back out now,” he teased. “You’re mine.”
“Mmm, do I like the sound of that!”
The car rounded a curve, and without warning a deer bounded across the road. “Look out!” Stacey screamed.
Matt braked sharply to avoid the animal. The tires slid on a patch of loose gravel in the road, and he lost control of the convertible. It fishtailed and started to spin in the road.
Matt hauled the steering wheel to correct the slide, but it was useless. The car turned around once more and skidded backwards for a short distance before it charged off the road. It jumped a steep ditch and went airborne. All Matt could see was a blur of trees and darkness as the car careened into the woods. It made a lazy turn in the air and came to rest bottom side up.
The last thing he remembered was the sound of Stacey’s screams.
****
Marilyn McCallum drew a deep, shaky breath and groped for her husband’s hand. “We’ve been waiting for hours now,” she quavered. “What could be going on in that operating room, Rod?”
Rod never answered. His face contorted and he sprang to his feet as a nurse approached. “Would you like some more coffee?” she asked.
“We’d like to know about our son,” Rod answered. “Is everything okay? He’s been in there so long.”
Nurse Whittaker patted him on the shoulder. “Please, don’t worry. Dr. Williams is the best doctor on staff. He’ll do everything he can.”
As she bustled away, Stacey Thomas, who sat beside Marilyn, dropped her head into her hands. Marilyn tried to ignore the smear of blood across the girl’s back. She swallowed hard against sudden nausea. Stacey was fine even though Matt’s fate was still up in the air. “Hang on. It can’t be long now.”
Tears slid down Stacey’s face. “This isn’t the way the day was supposed to end. Matt and I had a beautiful time, but now…”
A tall man in sweat-stained surgical scrubs approached them. “Mr. and Mrs. McCallum?” The doctor’s voice brought all three of them to their feet.
“How is he?” begged Marilyn, her eyes anxious, wide, and staring in her white face.
“Better than I expected,” the doctor admitted. “His left leg was mangled from the knee down. It took a long time, but I think we’ve saved it. He has four screws and two plates, and he’ll undoubtedly have a limp for the rest of his life, but we did save his leg.”
“He kicks with his right leg anyway,” Rod muttered.
“Ah, well, that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I’m sorry, Mr. McCallum. I saw him play last year, so I know he had a wonderful career in front of him, but in spite of everything we did, his right leg was hurt too bad to save. We had to amputate right above his knee.”
“At least he’s alive,” Marilyn sobbed as she rhythmically shredded a tissue. “I don’t care about his leg; I just want my son to live.”
“I can almost promise you he will,” the doctor comforted her. “Barring unforeseen complications, he’s going to be fine, and as soon as his leg heals we’ll fit a prosthesis on him and teach him how to walk again.”
“When can we see him?” Marilyn begged as she wiped away her tears.
“He’s in Recovery now. We plan to put him in ICU until he’s stable. The last thing we need is an infection, and we can watch him better there. We’ll let you know as soon as he gets there. Then you can see him for a minute.”
Rod groped for the sofa and fell backwards onto the miserable thing. “The best kicker in thirty years,” he whispered, quoting what a sports announcer had said on TV only hours earlier. “The best kicker in thirty years, and now they have to teach him to walk again.”
He jumped up as if he’d sat on a porcupine. “I’m going home, Marilyn. Are you coming?”
Marilyn’s eyes bugged. “Are you serious? I’m not leaving until I’ve seen him.”
“Stacey?”
“I… I’ll… go with you. I need to tell my parents Matt’s out of surgery.”
Marilyn watched in amazement as Rod and Stacey hurried away and sat back to continue her vigil alone.
****
Matt awoke early the next morning because the dull, aching pain in his legs made him sick to his stomach. Must have been one rough practice, he thought. He didn’t much want to get up yet. He still felt tired out and kind of …heavy. Yeah, that was it; he felt heavy. Too heavy in fact to bother opening his eyes, but Stacey was holding his hand, so he forced himself to wake up.
A short, round, little woman, not Stacey, held his wrist. The way she looked at her watch he decided she must be taking his pulse. Where was he? What had happened to him? He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Who are you?” he croaked.
She beamed at him as if he had done something wonderful. “Oh, you’re awake now. I’m Nurse Whitaker. How do you feel?”
“I’m tired, and my legs hurt. Where am I?”
“You had a car accident last night, Mr. McCallum.” She pulled a sheet and a thin white blanket across his chest. “You’re in the hospital.”
“Stacey…”
“Your girlfriend is fine. Don’t worry about her.”
Matt closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his throbbing temples. “I don’t remember what happened.”
“That’s normal. You may never remember everything.”
Matt tried to sit up, but he couldn’t muster enough energy. “What’s wrong with me? Why is it so hard to sit up?”
“Oh, that’s because of the medication we gave you to help you rest.” She patted his arm and checked an IV that he hadn’t noticed until she touched it. “We didn’t want you tossing and turning all night.”
“What’s wrong with me?” he repeated.
“Shh, don’t worry about that now. The doctor can talk to you later when you feel better.”
Matt didn’t like the blank expression on the nurse’s face at all. I must be hurt pretty bad. “No, tell me now,” he insisted.
Nurse Whittaker stuck a thermometer in his mouth. “You have some trauma to your legs, Mr. McCallum, but the doctor says you’re going to be fine.”
Matt spit the thermometer out. “Trauma to my legs?”
“Yes, sir, and I’d rather you talk to Dr. Williams about it.”
It’s bad. It has to be. “Tell me,” he demanded.
“Mr. McCallum…”
Matt forced himself to sit up. His head spun and made his stomach turn over, but he managed to pull the sheet off his right leg. Wow, he must really be out of it. It looked like most of his leg was gone. He shook his head to clear away the cobwebs and looked again. His leg was gone!
He started to shake and grabbed the nurse by the arm. “Where’s my leg?” he cried.
The nurse took a look at one of the monitors in the room and called, “Jenny, would you bring me another dose of Mr. McCallum’s medication?”
A nurse arrived with a syringe which she injected into Matt’s IV. “There you are,” she soothed. “You’ll be comfortable in a few minutes.”
Dizziness washed over Matt. “What did…you…give…me?”
“Something to make you rest,” Nurse Whitaker answered. “You go to sleep and don’t worry about a thing. We’re taking very good care of you.”
****
Stacey shuddered and splashed some more water on her face. The nausea had passed now. She staggered back into her bedroom and threw herself across her bed. Matt’s legs looked horrible! She’d give anything not to have been at the hospital when the bandages came off. It had been bad enough when a sheet covered Matt, but to actually see his mutilated legs turned her stomach and made her feel faint.
She knew one thing, though. Until this afternoon she hadn’t really understood that Matt’s football career had ended. Oh, she realized he had lost a leg, but somehow it hadn’t been real to her until she saw it for herself.
Rolling over, she curled into a tight, little ball. She had had such fun going places with Matt. People always recognized him and wanted his autograph. He had plenty of money too, and he wasn’t stingy with it. The fame and money had thrilled her, but it was all over and done with now. No more autographs or big money.
Her stomach lurched again. She had more than just fame and money to worry about. Matt had wanted to kiss her this afternoon. In fact, when the doctor came in to take off Matt’s bandages he had caught her sitting on the edge of the bed kissing Matt. The doctor had kidded him about it, but she hadn’t minded being interrupted at all. She…didn’t like to touch him too much now.
Her thoughts drifted to the afternoon of their accident. Their parents wouldn’t approve, but she and Matt had gone to Greenville and checked into a luxury hotel that morning. They had spent his last day of freedom in bed together. She drew a deep, shaky breath. The day had been everything she’d dreamed it could be. Her body tightened with the faint echo of passion. Matt was a good lover.
Oh, why did they have to have such a terrible accident? What would happen to Matt now? Her engagement ring winked and twinkled as it caught the light. She stared at it for a moment and began to cry.
****
Matt stared at the empty physical therapy room and took a sip of the hospital brew the physical therapy assistant had given him. It could use a little work, but it did have a much needed jolt of caffeine in it. He sighed, blinking away sleep. Why’d they schedule him so early in the morning? He could have slept a little longer. It wasn’t like he had anything to do.
The door opened with a click, and a tall, well-built, young man with dark hair entered the physical therapy office. The man poured himself a cup of coffee. “Who’s the new guy?”
The physical therapy assistant, Betty she’d said her name was, shoved a folder at him. “Matt McCallum.”
“Oh, yeah. Man, that’s a shame.”
Betty scowled at him. “It’s always a shame when people are hurt as bad as he was. Being a football player doesn’t make him any different from anyone else.”
“I know and I didn’t mean anything bad. It’s just that he played one year of pro ball, and it looked like he was going to be one
of the greats. Now, he’s here to get fitted for a prosthesis.”
“Well, I think he needs some counseling. He has that dull, withdrawn, shell-shocked look on his face.”
“Most amputees feel that way in the beginning,” the man answered. “We can schedule him with Dr. Whitney if we need too.”
Matt’s fists clenched. Didn’t they know he could hear them? Didn’t they know how it made him feel for them to talk about him like he was an old, washed up nobody?
The man picked up a file and joined him in the waiting area. “Hi, Matt. I’m Sam Dickson.”
He held out his hand, and Matt took it briefly.
Sam indicated the file in his hand. “It says here you got the bandages off yesterday and that the stump is nicely healed. Is that right?”
Matt shrugged. “I guess.”
“Your other leg is banged up pretty bad too, so we have to work with that as well, but the sooner we get started, the better off you’ll be.”
“That’s what they say.”
Sam nodded. “Okay, today I’ll show you how to take care of yourself. After that we’ll fit you for a temporary prosthesis.”
Matt’s head spun; he swallowed hard and focused on a bar mounted on the wall to steady himself. “All right.”
Matt was a quick study. He paid close attention when Sam showed him how to clean and protect the stump. Then, Sam passed him the sock that went over it. “You put it on,” he said.
Matt repressed the shudder that shook him as he pulled the sock on and smoothed it.
“Very good,” Sam approved. “I hope your motivation is this good once we get you up to walk.” He laughed. “As a former athlete, a physical task might be more appealing than what you just learned.”
Matt drew a deep, shaky breath. Of course he was motivated! It humiliated him when anybody saw his legs or had to help him get around. He was desperate to regain some control over his own body.
A tall, striking brunette passed through the room and waved to Sam who grinned and waved back at her. “Gorgeous isn’t she?” he asked Matt, the look on his face reminding Matt of a gamboling, goofy puppy. “Layla is her name. I’ve been trying to get her to go out with me.”
Matt barely glanced at her. “Yeah, she’s pretty.”
Sam eyed Matt with a quizzical expression on his face. “That was sure lukewarm, buddy. A woman that drop dead gorgeous ought to get your heart pumping. Are you worried about women now that you’ve lost your leg?”
Matt’s face colored, but he made no reply.
“Man, you need to think about how lucky you are. I know you’ve lost a lot, but you can still be with a woman and father children. Hurting your legs doesn’t mean the romantic side of life is over for you.”
Matt raised his eyes to Sam’s for the first time. “You left out one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Not too many women are interested in having sex with a cripple. Seeing a stump like mine is a good way to kill the romance.”
Sam squatted down so he and Matt were on eye level with each other. “Matt, the nurses said you’re engaged. Have you talked to your fiancée about all this?”
“That won’t be necessary. Stacey was with me yesterday when the bandages came off. She turned as white as a sheet and said she
had to go home. A messenger brought her engagement ring to me this morning.”
Matt cringed when he saw the look of pity of Sam’s face. His stark, unemotional rendering of the facts hadn’t fooled the
therapist.
Sam slapped his shoulder and said, “Not all women are like that, buddy. Some of them will stand by a man through thick and thin. Next time you’ll choose better, right?” He stood up and took hold of the handles on Matt’s wheelchair. “Let’s see about fitting
that prosthesis so we can get you walking again.”
Elaine Cantrell
http://www.elainecantrell.com
http://www.elainepcantrell.blogspot.com
Posted in Contemporary romances | Tagged a new dream, elaine cantrell, hometown hero, NFL, romance, romance authors, romance novels, romantic novels | Leave a Comment »
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Susan Lyons/Fox http://www.susanlyons.ca http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Susan-Lyons-Fox/134094693294553 Heat Waves: take a sexy pre-wedding cruise to romance in the Greek islands. Heat Waves By Susan Lyons http://www.susanlyons.ca From Berkley Heat Erotic Romance Rating: E – contains explicit language and sex scenes, and is erotic romance, not erotica Blurb: Liz and Peter can’t think of a sexier, more fun place to get married than the Greek Islands. And they’re not the only ones looking for a steamy holiday, cruising into the sunset… In charge of her first destination wedding—a Greek Island cruise—sex is the last thing on widowed wedding planner Gwen Austin’s mind. But Santos Michaelides might be the perfect man to help her rediscover herself as a single, sensual woman. At least until Gwen finds out that there’s more to the charismatic cruise director than meets the eye—in more ways than she believed possible… Kendra Kirk wasn’t expecting to meet up again with Flynn Kavanagh, the sexy IT consultant she had unsuccessfully prosecuted for white-collar crime—especially on what was supposed to be a pleasure cruise. Even so, The two novellas intertwine, and take place during the same time period. In fact, Santos is an undercover investigator—and he’s investigating Flynn! Purchase trade paper or Nook at Barnes & Noble (http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/heat-waves-susan-lyons/1100322072?ean=9780425241240&itm=1&usri=heat%2bwaves%2blyons) or Penguin (http://us.penguingroup.com/nf/Book/BookDisplay/0,,9780425241240,00.html). Purchase trade at Amazon (http://www.amazon.com/Heat-Waves-Susan-Lyons/dp/0425241246/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1310823701&sr=1-1; Kindle: ) or an indie store (http://www.indiebound.org/book/9780425241240). Excerpt (Chapter 1 and Chapter 2): Chapter 1 Athens,Greece—Friday, May 13, 8:00 a.m. After seventeen hours of travel fromVancouver, Gwen should have been tired, but an equal measure of excitement and nervousness drove her to hurry from customs and the baggage claim. She tightened her grip on her purse and the carry-on bag that held her laptop and files—crucial items she’d never have entrusted to her checked luggage—as she burst into the arrivals area of theAthensairport. She was inGreece! The place was bright, noisy, and bustling. An airport, yet a totally foreign one, with signs in Greek and strangers talking in languages she didn’t understand. And she was here alone. She caught herself running her thumb over the now-bare spot on her left hand, a habit she’d thought she had finally kicked. “Oh, Jonathan,” she whispered under her breath, “we were supposed to come toGreecetogether.” When he had slid the wedding ring onto her finger, he’d promised to look after her forever. Six years ago they’d begun to plan their big trip for his sabbatical year:ItalyandGreece, with all the ancient sites and museums to please her philosophy prof husband, and all the scenery, restaurants, and shopping that she craved. Like everything else in their lives, the holiday would be the perfect blend of both their interests and tastes. Instead, they’d spent his sabbatical year and the two after it fighting a losing battle with his cancer. In some ways, it didn’t seem right that the first exotic destination wedding she was in charge of as a wedding planner with Happily Ever After would be inGreece. But maybe it was good. Organizing and imposing control over the myriad details that went into putting together the perfect wedding would distract her from the melancholy that descended whenever she found herself wishing Jonathan was at her side. Right now, though, it was less melancholy than anxiety that made her heart race as she scanned the crowd of strangers. With relief, she spotted a sign bearing her name and the Dionysus Cruises sailing ship logo. It was held by a pretty, young Greek woman in a short-sleeved white blouse, teal blue skirt, and sandals. Gwen hoped she’d make as good a first impression in her lightweight taupe pants and jacket worn over a silk tee the color of her flaxen hair. Gwen waved a hand and towed her wheeled bag toward the woman. “Kalimera. I’m Gwen Austin. Are you Elpida Drakos?” Elpida was the rep who’d dealt patiently with dozens of e-mails, phone calls, and faxes. “Kalimera, Gwen.” The woman shook her hand, smiling as she returned the greeting for good morning in Greek, then continued in perfect, lightly accented English, “Welcome toGreece. Yes, I am Elpida.” “Thanks for coming to meet me.” “It is my pleasure.” Elpida took the handle of Gwen’s wheeled bag. “Come. Our van is in the parking lot.” Carry-on and purse slung over her shoulders, Gwen followed her outside. The dazzling sunshine, the wall of heat, brought her to an abrupt stop. Greece, oh my God, I’m actually inGreece! It was the first time she’d been anywhere outsideCanadaand theU.S.She and Jonathan had taken a few short holidays, but mostly they’d been saving for their big European trip. She lifted her face to the sun’s kiss and greedily sucked in air that hadn’t been climate controlled and recycled. Though research had told her the temperature would be only a few degrees hotter than back home, the air felt drier on her skin and the light was more blinding. She slipped sunglasses from her purse and peeled off her jacket, savoring the warmth on her lightly tanned arms and shoulders. Elpida waited patiently. “Nice to be off the plane?” “Yes, and nice to be inGreece.” Though, as she glanced around, she had to admit that an airport was pretty much the same anywhere in the world, and not the most scenic of sights. “Wait until you’re on the ocean.” Elpida led her past bright yellow taxis toward a parking garage. “It is a short drive to Zea Marina at theportofPiraeus.” Liz Tippett and Peter Kirk had chosen to charter a small motor sailer to cruise theCycladesIslands, including stops onMykonosand Santorini. The trip would end inCretewhere, a week from tomorrow, they’d be married on a pink sand beach. When Gwen thought about the entirety of what she’d be handling, she tended to hyperventilate. However, over the past eight months of working with Sarah and Andi at Happily Ever After, she’d developed an approach that worked for her. She broke each project into its individual tasks and details and developed a plan for each, plus a contingency plan. So what if she was a control freak? In this business—in life—it was the safest way to be. “I wish I could go with you on the cruise,” Elpida said. “It sounds so exciting and romantic.” “It will be if I do my job right.” She believed that every bride and groom deserved a romantic, utterly fabulous start to their married life, just as she’d had when she married Jonathan at age nineteen. Her childhood had been unstable, with a dad who was charming but a total jerk, and a mom who both loved and hated him. In her teens Gwen had gone a little crazy, until that one tragic night. The next year, Jonathan had come along and she’d found love, happiness, and her place in life. At least until he’d fallen ill, and life had spiraled out of control again. Elpida stowed Gwen’s luggage in a small white van bearing the Dionysus name and logo, then they both climbed in. “I am sorry to not have better scenery to offer you on your first day in Greece, but development is such that”—Elpida shrugged as she pulled away—“really it is almost one city from Athens to Piraeus.” “That’s okay. I’m eager to get to the Aphrodite.” “You will enjoy our Greek love boat.” When Gwen had first spoken to Elpida, the Greek woman had mentioned that Aphrodite was the goddess of love, beauty, and sexuality. When Gwen had relayed that information to the bride and groom, Liz had laughed with delight. “A love boat,” she said, in the English accent that was still pronounced after two years of living inVancouver. “Brilliant.” “You understand, though,” Elpida now went on, “that the Aphrodite has just returned from a week-long cruise and at this moment passengers are disembarking? They’ll be gone by the time we get there and the new crew will have boarded, but the cleaners and maintenance people will be busy giving her a spit and polish.” Gwen smiled at hearing that expression come from Greek lips. “I’ll stay out of the way. I just want a quiet corner to meet with the captain, chef, and cruise director.” She’d been e‑mailing with them as well as with Elpida, and had arranged her schedule so as to arrive at the ship several hours before everyone else to run through everything in person. With any luck, she’d even have time for a nap. Then, when Liz, Peter, and their guests arrived at two, she’d feel calm and in control. Or at least that was the plan. “Of course,” Elpida said. “I’m particularly looking forward to meeting Giorgos, the cruise director.” He had worked with Sarah and Andi before, and his knowledge of the islands had been invaluable in planning this trip. She’d be relying on him for so much over the next week. “Am I pronouncing his name correctly?” “Er, yes, but—” Elpida broke off, blasting the horn and cursing in Greek at a taxi driver who’d swung in front of her. “Bad drivers and no scenery. A fine introduction for you.” “It’s okay.” “It is a pity you couldn’t come earlier and seeAthens, but I’m glad you’re planning a couple of days at the end of the trip. There are so many wonderful sights, from the shops of the Plaka to theNationalArcheologicalMuseum. And of course the Acropolis.” “I’m looking forward to it. But later is better. Now I wouldn’t be able to relax. I’m so focused on the cruise and the wedding.” Besides, she’d get emotional seeing the Acropolis without Jonathan. It had been one of the spots he’d most looked forward to. Best to leave that experience for the end of her trip, when she could afford to indulge in sentimentality and— Elpida cleared her throat, breaking into her thoughts. “I must tell you, Gwen, there has been a small change. Giorgos will not be on the Aphrodite. He had—” “What?” No cruise director? Panic swelled quickly, her breath speeding up so she could barely force out words. “That’s impossible.” Giorgos was supposed to lead the shore excursions, provide details of Greek history, give language lessons, and do a hundred other things she couldn’t possibly handle on her own. “I need him. I can’t do this by myself.” It had never occurred to her that she’d need a contingency plan for his absence; he’d seemed one hundred percent reliable. Damn, she was having trouble catching her breath and her heart was racing. Realizing she was starting to hyperventilate, she forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply. She hated this feeling, reminiscent of the days when Jonathan’s cancer treatments had failed, and the days after his death when she was terrified of facing the future alone. “No, no,” Elpida said quickly, “we have another cruise director filling in.SantosMichaelides.” “Whew.” Gwen sank back, heart still pumping madly. Breathe. Everything’s going to be fine. “You scared me.” Okay, I can handle this. It was only a small change in plan. What a pity, though, because she and Giorgos had worked well together, at least by e-mail. “I assume Mr. Michaelides is equally experienced?” “Er, well, he does have Giorgos’s notes.” “His notes? What do you mean? Hasn’t Mr. Michaelides handled these cruises before?” “Not actually. He’s brand-new to Dionysus. But I’m sure it will be fine.” “Oh my God.” She was new at her job and so was the cruise director. And, though she wasn’t superstitious, she couldn’t help but remember that this was Friday the thirteenth. “How did this happen?” “Giorgos’s grandmother is in ill health and he had to go visit her onCorfu.” “Poor Giorgos. I hope she’ll be okay. But doesn’t Dionysus have other experienced cruise directors?” “Yes, of course.” Elpida glanced in the mirrors before changing into the right-hand lane, and Gwen glimpsed a frown furrowing her brow. “It is up to the manager of the company to allocate crew. He assigned Mr. Michaelides to the Aphrodite, so I am sure he’s confident of his ability.” “Have you even met Mr. Michaelides?” The other woman glanced her way, the frown now replaced by a knowing smile. “Oh yes, he has been in the office. I must say, in some ways he’s an improvement on Giorgos.” “In what ways?” “Let me say”—she winked—“the single ladies will enjoy the excellent . . . is the expression eye candy?” “That’s the expression.” And it wasn’t one bit reassuring. “This man will be professional, won’t he?” Gwen needed him to do his job, not play the shipboard Lothario and seduce the wedding guests. She knew that type very well. Her dad, who she rarely saw, had always been a player—superficially charming and completely unreliable. “Look, here is Zea Marina.” Distracted from her concerns, Gwen gazed ahead, seeing that the ocean beckoned from between thickly clustered buildings. She leaned forward eagerly as Elpida drove closer. This was more like it, and much better than the traffic-clogged industrial strip. Zea Marina was a large bay with several docks, ringed with light-colored buildings that seemed to include apartments, restaurants, bars, and shops. Sunlight reflected off the walls of the buildings, the surface of the ocean, and the white hulls of numerous luxury yachts, making her glad she wore sunglasses. Though the place was spectacular, what Gwen really longed for was a more rustically picturesqueGreecewith small villages and ports, tavernas by the ocean, ancient ruins, and shops full of local crafts and jewelry. Elpida parked, hoisted Gwen’s bag out of the van easily, then led her to the dock. They boarded a Zodiac that could hold a dozen or more people. Gwen commented, “I remember you saying that Dionysus chooses not to dock their ships here, but anchors them out in the bay.” “Yes, it’s more exciting for the guests to approach from the water.” Elpida started the engine, cast off the lines, and steered away from the dock. A fresh breeze tossed Gwen’s straight, shoulder-length blond hair and she scented the tangy air. “This is invigorating after the heat and traffic.” Elpida nodded, then pointed. “There she is. The Aphrodite.” “Oh my, she’s beautiful.” The ship was close to 150 feet long, tiny compared to the massive cruise ships that could run to 1000 feet or more. All the same, she loomed large as they approached and was dramatically lovely with her indigo hull and shiny wood cabin. Gwen clicked a few pictures, imagining the ship with her sails raised, flying with the wind. On deck, Liz and Peter would be hoisting drinks, laughing with their family and friends, creating wonderful memories. “Your home for the next week.” Elpida slowed the Zodiac. “She will be good for you, I’m sure, our love boat.” Gwen hoped so. This was a huge career step. While the captain and crew would be responsible for the guests’ safety, it would fall to her—assisted by the brand-new cruise director—to ensure that everyone had a fabulous time. She had plans and more plans, and contingency plans, but each day would bring a dozen new challenges. Sarah and Andi had taken a chance on her, a woman who’d been out of the workforce for four years. She didn’t want to let them down. Nervousness fluttered through her and she focused on her deep breathing. It didn’t help that she now realized Elpida had never actually answered her question about Santos Michaelides being professional. It was too late to ask again, though, because a stocky, middle-aged Greek with a neat beard and a white cap with gold braid and insignia was smiling down from the deck. Pleasant looking, but not eye candy, so probably not Mr. Michaelides. She climbed up the ladder and he helped her on board, his grip firm and warm. “Welcome aboard, Ms.Austin. I’m Captain Aristides Papadopoulos. But as I said in e-mail, everyone calls me Captain Ari.” He was only two or three inches taller than her five foot seven, and he looked fit and strong in his uniform of white pants and short-sleeved shirt with the Dionysus logo. She thanked him in Greek. “Efkharisto, Captain Ari. I’m Gwen.” Elpida swung aboard. “Yassas, Captain Ari.” Gwen recognized the casual word for hello or hi. “Yassas, Elpida.” “Everything on track?” the Greek woman asked. “Ne.” It sounded like no, but Gwen knew it was Greek for yes. “Gwen, your cabin is all ready for you. We thought you might want to unpack and change out of your travel clothes. Then perhaps a snack?” “That sounds wonderful.” A shower, too, would be heaven. “As soon as I’ve changed, could I meet with you, Chef Ilyas, and the new cruise director, Mr. Michaelides?” “If Michaelides has arrived by then.” “He’s not aboard already?” Anxiety pinched her again. She glanced around the wooden deck, noting a couple of people at work washing windows and polishing brass, somehow expecting the new cruise director to materialize. “I thought the three of you were going to be here. That’s what I arranged with Giorgos.” Captain Ari exchanged uneasy glances with Elpida. “We are, uh, expecting him any moment.” It didn’t sound as if Giorgos’s replacement was reliable, and that was definitely not a good thing. Minor glitches Gwen could cope with, but the cruise director was critical to the success of this week. She hated when things got out of control. It took her back to the worst days of her life, to the panicky feeling that nothing would ever be right again. As she struggled to take a deep breath of ocean air, Captain Ari glanced past her and said, with some relief, “Ah, there he is now.” Gwen let out her breath in a low whoosh and swung around to size up the man she hoped she’d be able to count on. A small water taxi was approaching the Aphrodite, a young Greek at the wheel and a slightly older one sitting beside him, his longish black hair whipping in the wind. Sunglasses hid his eyes, then he took them off and studied the threesome on board. A smile flashed, even brighter than Elpida’s. Before the boat had stopped, he stood, balancing with the natural grace of a sailor. His black T-shirt and pale, much-washed jeans weren’t tight, but the breeze plastered them against a lean, muscled body. Well, how about that? Reliable or not, he was the sexiest thing she’d seen in . . . maybe ever. Disconcertingly, she felt a twinge of lust in female parts that hadn’t twinged in years. That feeling gave her a new awareness of herself as a woman—an awareness that made her wish she’d had a chance to freshen up. Not that she cared one bit whether this man found her attractive, but a girl did have some pride. She straightened her shoulders and resisted the urge to tidy her windblown hair. The water taxi bumped up against the Aphrodite. The man paid the driver, slung a duffel bag over his shoulder, and stepped onto the bottom rung of the ladder. His bearing was confident, almost arrogant. His eyes, so dark they might be black, sparkled with something that hinted at devilry, and a gold earring winked. There was a rakish air about him, and for a moment she envisioned him in pirate’s garb. She stepped back as he came aboard. “Yassas,” he said casually. “Elpida, Captain Ari.” He rattled off something quickly in Greek that turned their rather skeptical looks to grins. In that moment, disconcertingly, he reminded her of her father, a man who was handsome, confident, and had lots of charm but virtually no substance. Then she shook her head. No, there was no reason to jump to that conclusion. Maybe he had a legitimate reason for his lateness. He turned that sparkling gaze on her. “And Ms. Austin? It’s a pleasure.” His voice was husky, a little rough to match up with his hair and earring, and he used it like a caress. “I’m Santos Michaelides.” He held out his hand. “Sorry to be late. My taxi had a flat tire.” He was obviously Greek, yet his English was colloquial and only slightly—charmingly—accented. A flat tire. Yes, it was a reasonable excuse from what she’d seen of the road to Zea Marina. “Call me Gwen.” She took his hand, intending to shake briskly, but an odd sensation rippled through her: heat, dizziness, and an inappropriate and disconcerting arousal. Realizing she was clinging to his hand, she quickly drew hers away and rubbed her forehead. “Sorry, I must be a little jet-lagged.” “I’m sure that’s it.” His black eyes danced, indicating he was used to women reacting this way. She had the fanciful thought that if he’d really been a pirate, he wouldn’t have to take women captive; they’d throw themselves at his feet. As for her, she was here to work. She turned away from those far too seductive eyes and said to Captain Ari, “Could you point me toward my cabin? I really could use a shower and a change of clothes, then that snack you promised.” Without risking another look atSantos, she said, “Could we all get together in twenty minutes to go over the details of the cruise?” Everyone murmured agreement, then the captain hefted her bag easily. “Right this way. As you requested, you’re on the lower deck. We have lots of singles sharing cabins, so those folks have the twin-bed rooms and you’ve got a double.” A double bed. Where she’d sleep neatly on one side, the way she always did now. As for Santos Michaelides, she only hoped his considerable charm proved a useful addition rather than a disruption to her carefully planned cruise. Chapter 2 A double bed. Damned if those words didn’t send a surge of lust straight to Santos Michaelides’s groin. So did the rear view of the wedding planner as she walked away: a spill of pale gold hair, straight back, narrow waist, curvy butt, long legs. He couldn’t wait to see the woman in a bikini. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?” “Huh?” He turned to Elpida, who was studying him with amusement. “The Canadian? Yeah, I guess.” So was Elpida, but it was Gwen Austin who got to him. Elpida tossed the thick black hair that curled around her face and said knowingly, “Greek men always go for blondes.” “Like Greek women don’t?” he shot back. Not that he cared about the color of a woman’s hair. He’d dated blondes, brunettes, and redheads in equal numbers. With Gwen, it wasn’t so much the blond hair as the way it combined with lightly tanned skin, huge eyes the rich caramel of Metaxa brandy accented by lashes and brows a shade or two darker, and a full, mobile mouth that was the stuff of wet dreams. It was her manner, too. He was used to women flirting with him but Gwen, who clearly felt the same attraction he did, was doing her best to deny it. It only made her more intriguing. No wedding ring—he’d checked that out—so probably she was just being professional. The folders of notes he’d been given by Giorgos and the manager of Dionysus Cruises told him she was compulsive about her job, to the point of being anal. And he, too, should be thinking about work, not whether Gwen’s mouth tasted as lush as it looked. He was here to do a job—or, rather, two jobs: his real one as an insurance fraud investigator, and his cover job of cruise director. Elpida wound up a commentary on the merits of guys of different nationalities, then studied him appraisingly. “Your taxi really had a flat tire? That wasn’t just an excuse for being late?” “No, it did. And that’s after the hotel messed up my bill and I had to stand in line forever to get it fixed.” He’d wanted to board the Dionysus with Captain Ari and the rest of the crew so he’d blend in as if he were one of them. “Friday the thirteenth,” she said. “Here’s hoping it improves.” Arriving late had set him off on the wrong foot with Gwen, a woman he had to work with, and had to deceive. A woman who stirred inconvenient lust. And that was bizarre, because only three days ago, inToronto, he’d shared a night of steamy sex with his “friend with benefits.” Now he was as horny for the wedding planner as if he hadn’t had sex in a year. Gamoto, he cursed silently. As if the coming week wouldn’t be complicated enough already. Though he loved undercover work and was happy to be back inGreece, he usually had more prep time to get his head around an investigation, do research himself rather than rely on an intern, and develop his cover. “Where’s my cabin?” he asked Elpida. “I should stow my gear and get into uniform before the meeting.” “I’ll take you to crew quarters. You’re sharing with the cook.” “Thanks.” He’d known he’d be sharing a cabin and would have little privacy. All his confidential files were on his laptop, well password-protected. He followed as she led him belowdecks. Last week, his employer, Insurance Assured, had turned up information that Flynn Kavanagh was flying toGreeceto attend the wedding of a friend, Liz Tippett. Kavanagh, a Vancouver IT consultant, had been charged with using his technological wizardry to steal five million dollars from a client, but was acquitted at trial a few months ago. Insurance Assured had paid out but kept an eye on the man. The female undercover agent who’d gotten friendly with Kavanagh’s mother at her fitness club had found out about the trip toGreece, and that had raised enough of a flag to put an investigator aboard the Aphrodite.Santos, a Greek who lived inTorontobut had grown up on one of the Greek islands, was the logical choice, and he’d just wound up an assignment where he’d nailed an auto insurance fraud ring. Elpida showed him to a small cabin with two twin beds, one with jeans and a shirt tossed across it, and a small desk that doubled as a bureau. “You’ve done this before?” she asked. “Been a cruise director?” “You bet.” He told the lie with a flash of smile, the persuasive one he’d perfected in his work. “Don’t worry.” He slung his duffel on the vacant bed. “I have the files, contact names, all the information I need.” The manager of Dionysus Cruises had also given him an intensive briefing. Sworn to—and paid for—secrecy, the man had treated it as a cloak-and-dagger adventure. When Giorgos, the real cruise director, had returned from his last cruise, he’d been ordered to pretend he’d had a family emergency and take a week’s vacation, the bill footed by Insurance Assured. “A lot of work has gone into planning this cruise,” Elpida warned. She moved to the door. “Change into uniform and bring your files when you come up. You’ll want to refer to them. Gwen’s meticulous about details.” She gave a lopsided grin. “Have a fun week.” He groaned. Yeah, that was the impression the files had given of the wedding planner. Himself, he was more the intuitive type. If you concentrated too hard on the details, you could miss the broad picture.Santoslooked at patterns, the odd things that didn’t quite fit. Unzipping his duffel, he thought wryly that today, on the Aphrodite, the piece that was out of place was he himself. Lucky that most people took things at surface value and that he was good at his job. Though he hated uniforms, donning the white pants, Dionysus-logoed white shirt, and rubber-soled sandals helped him get into character. He studied his reflection in the small mirror. He’d asked the manager of Dionysus whether he should cut the hair he’d grown for his last assignment and the man had said no, the company’s image was contemporary, not overly formal. Lugging Giorgos’s bulging file folders, he headed up to the main deck. Captain Ari was in the dining room, seated at the head of a rectangular wooden table, with Elpida on his right. The two were absorbed in conversation and didn’t notice him, soSantoshad a chance to survey the room. It had a Greek simplicity and attractiveness: wooden furniture with cushions in that vivid, particularly Greek shade of blue, white walls with wood trim, brass accents, and a well-equipped bar in one corner. At the table, a portly, balding man set out fresh fruit, rolls, and orange juice, together with two classic Greek breakfast items: a bowl of thick, creamy yogurt and a pitcher of dark, liquid honey. WhenSantoswent over, the man gave a genial smile and introduced himself as Ilyas, the chef,Santos’s roommate. Ilyas poured everyone small cups of strong coffee from a bikri, the traditional pot for making Greek coffee. AsSantostook a sip, Gwen stepped into the dining room and walked toward them. Damp hair, falling long and straight to her shoulders, told him she’d had a shower and not bothered with a hair dryer. A shower. Naked. Water streaming over the curves now hugged by tan capris and a sleeveless knit top in a pretty coral shade. His body tightened at the thought of her naked. Focusing on her face didn’t help either. A touch of makeup made her eyes even larger, and the coral on her lips had the same effect. Those lips could drive a man insane. They widened in a delighted smile—not at the sight of him, but at the spread on the table. “This looks delicious.” She took the chair at the foot of the table, opposite the captain, and slung her huge shoulder bag over the back. A scent drifted on the air, something tropical and flowery. Spicy. Sexy. She reached for the glass of orange juice and took a long swallow, tilting her head back in an unconsciously seductive motion that made him want to trail kisses down her exposed neck. “Mmm, I needed that.” At the moment, what he needed was way more intimate. Next she reached for the coffee. “I could make you a cappuccino or caffe latte if you prefer,” the chef offered. She shook her head. “Greek coffee is perfect.” Chef Ilyas beamed. “You know Greek coffee?” He took a seat across fromSantos. After taking a sip, she gave an appreciative smile. “I’ve been doing my homework. Online, and also in Greek coffee shops and restaurants. My hometown,Vancouver,Canada, has some great ones. I’m guessing you’re Chef Ilyas Petrakis?” “A pleasure to meet you, after all those e-mails.” She wrinkled her nose charmingly. “Sorry if I was a bit obsessive, but I really want things to go well.” “And they will,” Captain Ari broke in with a reassuring smile. “We have done this before, you know.” “Of course.” Finally, she turned toSantos. “Although I understand you’re new, Mr. Michaelides.” She pronounced his name well for an English speaker. He tapped his files and gave her his persuasive grin. “Call meSantos. I’m new, but prepared. I aim to please. Just let me know what you need.” Her eyes widened, and delicate color tinged her cheeks. He realized his words had come out with a double meaning that he hadn’t intended—at least consciously. Even when he tried to focus on work, he was affected by her. Damn, he had no business being affected. No business gazing into intoxicating brandy eyes or thinking about kissing full, coral lips. Much less lifting the hem of her top and reaching under it to cup a sweet, firm— “Help yourselves to breakfast.” The captain’s voice broke into his thoughts. “We can talk while we eat.” Santoshad already had room service at the hotel, and the thing he most wanted to nibble on was Gwen’s lush mouth. But he couldn’t resist yogurt and honey. The Greeks made the best in the world. Gwen served herself some of everything and dug in. He liked a woman who wasn’t afraid to eat, especially if she was fit and curvy like this one. And he liked the way her white teeth nipped into the flesh of an orange segment, neatly separating it from the rind; the way she chewed slowly, eyes half closed as if she was concentrating entirely on the flavor. He raised a piece of orange to his own mouth so he could taste what she was tasting. Flavor burst on his tongue, sweet and tangy. The inside of her mouth would taste the same. She swirled a little honey into her yogurt, then lifted the spoon and slowly sucked the yogurt into her mouth. If she’d been another woman, he’d think she was teasing him, but Gwen didn’t cast sly glances from under her lashes; she focused on her breakfast. Her sensual gusto made him guess she was like that in bed, too. His cock pulsed at the thought of her wide mouth wrapping around him, her pink tongue licking him as thoroughly as she was licking that spoon. He shifted, feeling growing pressure beneath his fly. Pity they weren’t both here on holiday. They could have a lot of fun. Maybe she wasn’t into holiday flings, though. A wedding planner with a company called Happily Ever After might well be looking for one of her own. In which case, she sure as hell shouldn’t look in his direction. As his grandparents had told him with bitter disappointment, he took after his parents. For him, life was about adventure, not stability. He always made that clear before hooking up with a woman. He hated when people got unrealistic expectations and then were hurt when he didn’t live up to them. While they all ate, Captain Ari reviewed their itinerary and the weather forecast, which promised sunshine and light breezes. “We’ll have the sails up much of the time,” he told them. “Passengers like that.” “Wonderful,” Gwen said. She’d polished off the last of her yogurt, thank God, and now took another sip of coffee. “There should be no problem staying on schedule?” “None at all.” “Great.” She cleared space on the table in front of her, then took a file folder from her bag. From it, she extracted a paper-clipped bundle with a spreadsheet on top. “Elpida, is everything on track for picking people up at the airport and from the hotels?” “Hotels?”Santosasked. “Some guests arrived a few days early, to exploreAthens,” Gwen explained. “We have airport and hotel pickup under control,” Elpida said. “I brought you a copy of the spreadsheet.” Gwen peeled off the paper clip. Elpida waved a hand. “I have a more recent one.” She handed Gwen a folded sheet. “I brought you a copy. One flight was delayed, but it will still arrive on time for our two o’clock departure.” She glanced at her watch and rose. “I must go now.” “Thanks.” Gwen skimmed the paper, then put it down and picked up another paper-clipped bundle. “Chef Ilyas, let’s confirm menus.” Unobtrusively,Santostook the sheet of paper Elpida had given Gwen and quickly scanned it. Yes, Flynn Kavanagh was still on the list, his flight and arrival time unchanged from the information Insurance Assured had supplied. He replaced the sheet and listened while Gwen and the chef reviewed their plans. He concentrated not on the details but on impressions. Gwen struck him as a control freak who had to organize every tiny detail. It was an interesting contrast to the sensual, uninhibited way she’d dug into her breakfast and the excitement on her face when she gazed out at the ocean. The Dionysus Cruises people seemed efficient as well, but far more relaxed. He sensed that, while they respected Gwen, they were humoring her a little. He certainly hoped things ran smoothly, because it would give him more time to mingle with the passengers, particularly his suspect. What he really wanted to do was mingle with Gwen, between the sheets. He spooned up the last of the delicious concoction in his bowl. If he painted his cock with yogurt and honey . . . Would she be gentle, or a little rough? Would she suck him between those full lips, take him deep into her mouth? And why was he indulging in lustful fantasies when he—and she—had a job to do? Over the years he’d learned there was no explaining attraction, but the way Gwen got to him was . . . unique. Now, there was a disconcerting notion, one that didn’t make the least bit of sense. “Santos?” Her voice made him raise his head from rapt contemplation of that last spoonful of yogurt. “Yeah?” He put the spoon into his mouth. Her throat muscles rippled as if she was swallowing, too, then she cleared her throat. “I’ve gone over everything I need to with Captain Ari and Chef Ilyas. In fact”—she gazed at the two other men—“feel free to get back to work, if you want.” They both departed, then she fixed those captivating brown eyes onSantos. “Those are Giorgos’s files? You’re familiar with everything in them?” He opened the top folder and riffled through a pile of papers that outlined this afternoon’s and evening’s activities. Though he’d only had a day and a half to get up to speed, he was a quick study, plus he’d grown up on theCycladesIslands. He grinned at her. “It’s not exactly rocket science.” The corner of her mouth curved. “Is that a Greek expression, too?” “Uh . . .” He hadn’t lived inGreecesince he was seventeen, when he’d pissed his grandparents off by going toLondonto work. After that, he’d attended college in the States. Currently, he lived inToronto, where Insurance Assured’s head office was located. “Greecehas picked up most of the Americanisms,” he hedged. “Small world.” Her smile faded and her arched brows drew together, creating a furrow up the center of her forehead. “What’s wrong?” The lips he’d been fantasizing about, still pink though she’d eaten off most of her lipstick, pressed together. “It may not be rocket science, but I need you to take this seriously.” “No problem,” he tossed off. At the moment, his most pressing concern was the pressure in his groin. Her frown deepened. She glanced around as if ensuring no one was nearby, and lowered her voice. “Santos, I’m sure you’ve done this kind of thing many times, even if not with Dionysus Cruises. But for me, this is a big deal. This is the first time I’ve been in charge of an exotic destination wedding.” “Yeah?” The word exotic was perfect for her scent—like sultry, spicy flowers. “I’ve never been toGreece, never handled a wedding where the guests were all together for a week before the ceremony, never even been on a cruise. This is all new to me.” Her breathing had sped up and there was a pleading look in her soft brown eyes. Then she took a deep breath and firmed her jaw. “I’ve organized every last detail and I’m prepared for anything, but I was counting on Giorgos’s experience. I need to know I can rely on you.” Despite the lust that clouded his brain, he was paying attention. Her frankness had a certain appeal. Him, he was more of the “baffle them with bullshit” school, but then his undercover job had made him adept at deception. Playing his role, he held a file folder. “Of course you can. Here’s all the information.” Those brandy eyes didn’t even glance at the file, they remained fixed on his own eyes. “Having the information is different from being committed to doing the job well.” “Gwen, when I commit to doing something, I can be relied on.” It was when people wanted things he wasn’t prepared to give—like staying in Greece to take over his grandparents’ restaurant, or being a husband or dad—that he couldn’t be relied on any more than his parents. In his work, he lied all the time to get the job done. In his personal life, he was up front with people so no one would expect more than he was prepared to give. Her gaze remained fixed on him, telling him without words that he hadn’t reassured her. He sighed. “You and I may not have Giorgos’s experience, but we can do this together. I hear how important this is to you and I won’t let you down.” And damned if, when he said those last words, the promise didn’t seem more like a genuine one, a personal one, not just role-playing. What was it about this woman? This time, she seemed to believe him, because she gave a warm smile. “Thanks,Santos.” She touched him, just a gentle press of warm fingers against the back of his hand, but it resonated all the way through him. Sexually, of course, and it made him realize that staying away from her would take willpower he likely didn’t possess. But there was something more, something he couldn’t define. Her eyes were warm with gratitude and trust. She trusted him, the man who was deceiving her. He studied her face. Lovely, a little stressed, and with a maturity he hadn’t noticed at first. She was likely two or three years older than his own twenty-seven, not that it lessened her attractiveness. Deception was his job. Rarely did he think twice about the dishonesty of playing an undercover role. Again, he asked himself what it was about this woman. The combination of vulnerability and strength? The trust she placed in him? Normally, he’d have been annoyed if a woman wanted to rely on him, and yet, bizarrely, he wanted to deserve Gwen’s trust. All she was asking was that he partner with her the way Giorgos would have. He could do that—had intended to do it—and still deceive her about his real identity. He drummed the fingers of his other hand on the table, deliberating. It was within his discretion to tell her about his real mission. In the past few days, since Insurance Assured had learned about Kavanagh’s trip toGreece, one of the law student interns at his office had run basic background checks on all the passengers and crew. The criminal record checks had turned up a few minor infractions that the intern had investigated in more depth.Santoshad that information and also a list of the people who’d come up squeaky clean, Gwen included. He turned his hand over and captured hers, which made her give a soft gasp and made his own flesh tingle disconcertingly. “Gwen, let’s go to your cabin.” She jerked her hand free, her huge eyes widened further, and color tinged her cheeks. “What?” “No, sorry, that’s not what I meant.” Though his erection sure as hell liked the idea. “I need to talk to you privately.” “Talk?” she asked skeptically. “Yeah, just talk.” An irresistible demon made him say, “Unless, of course, you have something else in mind.” Her mouth opened, lips quivering, and the color on her cheeks deepened. “Of course I don’t.” “Never play poker.” “What?” “Your body gives you away.” “Oh! How dare you . . . ?” she sputtered. “A gentleman would never say—” The old-fashioned term made him grin. “You seriously think I’m a gentleman?” Her chin stuck out. “No, probably not. When I first saw you, pirate was more the word that came to mind.” He gave a surprised laugh. “I’m kind of flattered.” A life of adventure? Yeah, that was what he’d always sought. Her eyes narrowed. “Did I say it was a compliment?” There was an edge to her voice. “Oh, okay.” Weren’t women supposed to like pirates? Johnny Depp and all that? But her comment made him think past the superficial. “Yeah, I guess there’s not a lot to admire about pirates.” “Not at all,” she said stiffly. She studied him a long moment, then her face softened. “Well, the earring’s kind of cool.” He touched the small gold hoop, its band engraved with a Greek key design. He’d worn it since he was seventeen—the one thing he’d taken as a reminder of home when he left—unless he was on an undercover job where he had to remove it. “I may not be a gentleman, Gwen, and I like adventure, but I’m no pirate. I take my job seriously.” He took her trust seriously, too, a fact that was disconcerting enough that he wouldn’t share it with her. “It’s my job I need to talk to you about.” “In private?” she asked skeptically. He leaned closer and indulged himself by hooking silky blond hair behind a delicate ear, then he whispered, “It’s about the real reason I’m here. It has to be our secret.” |
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