Viola snatched the sleeping bag out of his hands and tossed it on the couch. “I’ve had my Goth Gabby sleeping bag since I was fourteen. There is nothing wrong with Goth Gabby.”
“She’s creepy,” Sebastian said, panting and sweat-soaked. He dropped a handful of bags onto the floor by Viola’s feet and collapsed on the recliner. “It’s those big, black eyes. I hated the posters you used to have in your room.”
“Big baby.” She stuck her hand in the nearest bag and pulled out a package of rapid-dissolving toilet paper. Her eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. “Really? Seriously, Tobias? That’s it. You are not allowed to shop when you’ve been drinking. I’m instructing Wiff to confiscate your wallet next time.”
Duke's cheeks turned a bright pink. He wished his father were around to offer up an explanation. “Just in case there’s poison ivy or something like it in Wylan.”
She leaned across the canyon of purchases between them and pressed her lips to his scratchy cheek. “Aww, that’s very sweet, honey.”
Buoyed by her kiss, he wrapped his good arm around her waist and hauled her onto his lap. “Well, you’ve got delicate skin, skin I happen to be very fond of, and I’d hate for something to happen to it while I’m not there to care for it.”
Sebastian gagged. “I think I liked it better when you two were fighting. Ow!” He rubbed the side of his head and tossed the throw pillow back at his grinning sister. “I like the pink water bottle best. You’ll look like a pretty, pretty princess, sis.”
“Hey!” Wiff scaled Sebastian’s leg and poked him in the belly button. “I picked that out.”
“And it’s lovely,” Viola declared, glaring her brother into submission. “I’ll think of you every time I use it, Wiff.”
“So does that mean you’ll think of Duke every time you use the toilet paper?”
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Soundtrack Tuesday - Both Sides Are Even
Good Tuesday morning! I hope everyone recovered from the weekend.
This next song fits in with the third book. Without wanting to give away too many spoilers, here it is:
Both Sides Are Even from The Boxer Rebellion.
Later this week, I'll post another snippet from Mistress of Malice and Mercy. Progress has been great on Somtimes it is Rocket Science, too.
Here's hoping it's another great week (heat index be damned!).
This next song fits in with the third book. Without wanting to give away too many spoilers, here it is:
Both Sides Are Even from The Boxer Rebellion.
Later this week, I'll post another snippet from Mistress of Malice and Mercy. Progress has been great on Somtimes it is Rocket Science, too.
Here's hoping it's another great week (heat index be damned!).
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Mistress of Malice and Mercy previews
It's Sunday. It may mean the end of the weekend and time to get ready for work again, but fortunately it's meant a day of writing. To celebrate, I'm offering up two previews of Mistress of Malice and Mercy.
Now, I've already mentioned that we'll see Duke's mother. And you thought Viola had the only dyfunctional family in the series...
There was an unfamiliar car parked in his driveway. Duke motioned for Wiff to crawl into his front pocket. The wards around the house hadn’t gone off, so the uninvited guest wasn’t a demon or a person with malicious intent. The small, nondescript sedan was empty. He took note of the sticker on the back bumper. The car was a rental.
After parking the truck, Duke dropped the tailgate and managed to get Finn onto the ground without tearing his stitches or injuring the dog. Duke’s hand inched around so that it rested on his FN Five-Seven USG. Rather than race towards the house, Finn remained pressed against Duke’s legs. When they neared the porch, Finn’s lips curled back to reveal sharp, white teeth. He growled warningly at the figure in red reclining on one of the wrought iron chairs.
The tension slipped off Duke’s shoulders. His hand fell away from the gun. The intruder was going to ruin the rest of his day, but she wasn’t going to hurt anyone. He sent a quick alert to Viola letting her know that he was going to have to skip their lunch. When Finn tensed, he patted the dog’s head. “It’s okay, boy.”
Finn growled again. He lifted his large head and snapped his teeth at the blonde, middle-aged woman. Duke huffed, swatted Finn’s ears. “That’s enough. You really are Vi’s mutt, aren’t you?”
Finn sat on Duke’s foot to prevent him from moving any further.
“I didn’t know you had a dog, Toby,” the woman on the porch said. She gracefully rose and walked to the edge of the first porch step. She curled her hands around the painted beam and leaned against it.
In the attic was a picture of the woman in a similar pose. The artist, a local talent who’d done the painting as a birthday present, had captured the blonde’s soft facial structure and ivory skin. Dressed in a flowing, butter-yellow sundress, she looked like the goddess of the dawn caught in a moment of quiet reflection. Paul Duke consigned the painting to a dusty corner of the attic the same day his wife of thirteen years presented him with divorce papers.
“What are you doing here, Mom?”
- - -
And this one takes place a little later. I just love Duke and Viola.
- - -
The pressure and anxiety that had settled on Viola’s shoulders dissolved like fog in the sun when she saw Duke waiting on the steps of his grandmother’s front porch. As soon as the car rolled to a stop, she flung open the door and raced up the driveway. Duke stood up, opened his arms in invitation, and braced for impact.
“No, no, that’s okay, Vi. I’ll get the door. It’s not like I’m going to have my hands full or anything.” Sebastian avoided the sight of his friend and baby sister making out like teenagers under the bleachers after a football game. He didn’t want to ruin his appetite for Aggie Duke’s gumbo. After kicking shut the door Viola had left open in her haste to greet Duke, he grabbed the two boxes of chocolate meringue pie from the backseat.
He deliberately bumped Duke’s shoulder as he passed the kissing couple on the way up the stairs. Neither broke for air. “If you’re not inside in two minutes, I’m going to get the garden hose,” he said. Viola stopped holding the back of Duke’s head long enough to flip Sebastian off; Duke did the same with the hand that had been gripping his wife’s hip. Sebastian rolled his eyes and stalked into the house.
At the slamming of the screen door, Duke unglued his lips from Viola’s. “Wait…,” he panted, glancing around for Sebastian. He’d been on the porch watching for them for a reason. Not that getting to enthusiastically greet his wife wasn’t good enough motivation all on its own.
“What? Why?” Viola scraped her short nails across his skull, tugged on his left earlobe when he didn’t immediately turn back to her. She unwound her legs from around his waist and dropped lightly to the ground.
“Never mind, I can’t remember.” Duke dipped his head to kiss the sharp jut of Viola’s collarbone. The unexpected tickle of soft, short hair thwarted his plans to kiss every inch of skin exposed by her v-neck shirt. He ran the tip of a finger from the point of her chin to her navel. It was a good thing he wasn’t allergic to cats, demonic or otherwise.
“Sugar…”
Her arms tightened around his neck. The gravelly way he murmured endearments weakened her knees and set her blood on fire in the most delicious ways. “Yeah, Tobias?”
“You’re covered in Chaisan hair.”
Viola glanced down at her shirt. She hadn’t noticed the white and brown fur stuck to the front of her gray shirt. No wonder Tom had been reluctant to hug her when she’d left Burkeholt.
“One of the little monsters took one of my bracelets. I had to get it back.” She held her wrist up and flicked at the small charms dangling from the sturdy silver chain. The ghost-themed bracelet had been a graduation present from her Network mentor. “After wrestling with Finn for over a year, it was like taking candy from a baby.”
Duke tucked a wisp of dark hair behind her ear. Catching something off in the symmetry his mother had pointed out earlier, he took a small step back to get perspective. It only took a second to pinpoint the source of the imbalance. She had two holes in each ear but only three earrings. “You’re missing one of your hoops.”
Her hand flew to her ear. She’d worn cheaper earrings because of the Chaisans, but having been so easily duped still rankled. She slumped forward and thumped her head against Duke’s shoulder. “I hate cats.”
Now, I've already mentioned that we'll see Duke's mother. And you thought Viola had the only dyfunctional family in the series...
There was an unfamiliar car parked in his driveway. Duke motioned for Wiff to crawl into his front pocket. The wards around the house hadn’t gone off, so the uninvited guest wasn’t a demon or a person with malicious intent. The small, nondescript sedan was empty. He took note of the sticker on the back bumper. The car was a rental.
After parking the truck, Duke dropped the tailgate and managed to get Finn onto the ground without tearing his stitches or injuring the dog. Duke’s hand inched around so that it rested on his FN Five-Seven USG. Rather than race towards the house, Finn remained pressed against Duke’s legs. When they neared the porch, Finn’s lips curled back to reveal sharp, white teeth. He growled warningly at the figure in red reclining on one of the wrought iron chairs.
The tension slipped off Duke’s shoulders. His hand fell away from the gun. The intruder was going to ruin the rest of his day, but she wasn’t going to hurt anyone. He sent a quick alert to Viola letting her know that he was going to have to skip their lunch. When Finn tensed, he patted the dog’s head. “It’s okay, boy.”
Finn growled again. He lifted his large head and snapped his teeth at the blonde, middle-aged woman. Duke huffed, swatted Finn’s ears. “That’s enough. You really are Vi’s mutt, aren’t you?”
Finn sat on Duke’s foot to prevent him from moving any further.
“I didn’t know you had a dog, Toby,” the woman on the porch said. She gracefully rose and walked to the edge of the first porch step. She curled her hands around the painted beam and leaned against it.
In the attic was a picture of the woman in a similar pose. The artist, a local talent who’d done the painting as a birthday present, had captured the blonde’s soft facial structure and ivory skin. Dressed in a flowing, butter-yellow sundress, she looked like the goddess of the dawn caught in a moment of quiet reflection. Paul Duke consigned the painting to a dusty corner of the attic the same day his wife of thirteen years presented him with divorce papers.
“What are you doing here, Mom?”
- - -
And this one takes place a little later. I just love Duke and Viola.
- - -
The pressure and anxiety that had settled on Viola’s shoulders dissolved like fog in the sun when she saw Duke waiting on the steps of his grandmother’s front porch. As soon as the car rolled to a stop, she flung open the door and raced up the driveway. Duke stood up, opened his arms in invitation, and braced for impact.
“No, no, that’s okay, Vi. I’ll get the door. It’s not like I’m going to have my hands full or anything.” Sebastian avoided the sight of his friend and baby sister making out like teenagers under the bleachers after a football game. He didn’t want to ruin his appetite for Aggie Duke’s gumbo. After kicking shut the door Viola had left open in her haste to greet Duke, he grabbed the two boxes of chocolate meringue pie from the backseat.
He deliberately bumped Duke’s shoulder as he passed the kissing couple on the way up the stairs. Neither broke for air. “If you’re not inside in two minutes, I’m going to get the garden hose,” he said. Viola stopped holding the back of Duke’s head long enough to flip Sebastian off; Duke did the same with the hand that had been gripping his wife’s hip. Sebastian rolled his eyes and stalked into the house.
At the slamming of the screen door, Duke unglued his lips from Viola’s. “Wait…,” he panted, glancing around for Sebastian. He’d been on the porch watching for them for a reason. Not that getting to enthusiastically greet his wife wasn’t good enough motivation all on its own.
“What? Why?” Viola scraped her short nails across his skull, tugged on his left earlobe when he didn’t immediately turn back to her. She unwound her legs from around his waist and dropped lightly to the ground.
“Never mind, I can’t remember.” Duke dipped his head to kiss the sharp jut of Viola’s collarbone. The unexpected tickle of soft, short hair thwarted his plans to kiss every inch of skin exposed by her v-neck shirt. He ran the tip of a finger from the point of her chin to her navel. It was a good thing he wasn’t allergic to cats, demonic or otherwise.
“Sugar…”
Her arms tightened around his neck. The gravelly way he murmured endearments weakened her knees and set her blood on fire in the most delicious ways. “Yeah, Tobias?”
“You’re covered in Chaisan hair.”
Viola glanced down at her shirt. She hadn’t noticed the white and brown fur stuck to the front of her gray shirt. No wonder Tom had been reluctant to hug her when she’d left Burkeholt.
“One of the little monsters took one of my bracelets. I had to get it back.” She held her wrist up and flicked at the small charms dangling from the sturdy silver chain. The ghost-themed bracelet had been a graduation present from her Network mentor. “After wrestling with Finn for over a year, it was like taking candy from a baby.”
Duke tucked a wisp of dark hair behind her ear. Catching something off in the symmetry his mother had pointed out earlier, he took a small step back to get perspective. It only took a second to pinpoint the source of the imbalance. She had two holes in each ear but only three earrings. “You’re missing one of your hoops.”
Her hand flew to her ear. She’d worn cheaper earrings because of the Chaisans, but having been so easily duped still rankled. She slumped forward and thumped her head against Duke’s shoulder. “I hate cats.”
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Sometimes it is Rocket Science snippet 2
I hope everyone had a wonderful weekend. It was hot here, of course, but we made it through just fine. I dragged JT to garage sales looking for the perfect piece of furniture to go in my newly redecorated living room. After three hours, we went to WalMart and I picked up a pretty, cherry cabinet. Now if only I could keep the Terrors off it!
I have been busy, busy working on Mistress of Malice and Mercy (half-finished, yay!) and Sometimes it is Rocket Science (also half-finished, another yay!). Here is another snippet of SiiRS:
Georgiana paused in the doorway to Yvonne’s office to let her assistant know she was giving Robert a tour of the building. The elevator ride to the lobby was uncomfortable. Despite his earlier laughter, she was afraid he was still hung up on her comment about trust. The orange indicator light switched from 12 to 11. She slammed her hand on the emergency stop button.
“Dan has joint custody of Ken,” she blurted, throat tight and eyes fixed on the closed doors. “Not his stock or trust, that’s all on me, but over Ken’s wellbeing. It’s how Dad set it up. Dad trusted your father with one of the most important things in his world. I’m following Dad’s example.”
Robert was silent, but she knew he was listening. She exhaled shakily and, glad she’d worn heels that made their height difference negligible, met his inscrutable stare. “Daniel was there when Mom died and again for Dad’s death. Trusting him is like breathing because he’s always been there. I’m sorry, Bobby, but I just don’t know you that well any more.”
“I know you would have wasted away your freshman year if I hadn’t dragged you out of the library for meals.” Robert held up a hand to stave off the impending rebuttal. “You would have been late to every one of your classes if I hadn’t given you that tour or drawn you a map.”
Her lips curved upwards at the mention of the last time she and Robert had spent quality time together. Her first year at MIT had been his last. He’d taken time out of his busy schedule wowing professors and seducing undergrads to show Georgiana around. As children, they’d bonded over the isolationism of being the children of wealthy, famous parents and the tribulations that went along with genius. In college, they’d commiserated about expectations and overprotective fathers. After Robert’s MIT graduation, he’d gone to Oxford for an additional year of study. Their friendship rapidly faded to polite nothings at social functions and impersonal holiday cards.
I also know you wouldn’t have passed that Elements of Software Construction class without my help,” he continued.
Georgiana shook off the melancholy to glare at him. “Oh? And who was it that helped you with that Statistical Physics class when they were, oh I don’t know, in high school?”
Robert’s rumbling laughter bounced off the elevator’s metal walls. “You are aware that when you say ‘high school’ it does not mean the same as it would for anyone else, aren’t you?”
I have been busy, busy working on Mistress of Malice and Mercy (half-finished, yay!) and Sometimes it is Rocket Science (also half-finished, another yay!). Here is another snippet of SiiRS:
Georgiana paused in the doorway to Yvonne’s office to let her assistant know she was giving Robert a tour of the building. The elevator ride to the lobby was uncomfortable. Despite his earlier laughter, she was afraid he was still hung up on her comment about trust. The orange indicator light switched from 12 to 11. She slammed her hand on the emergency stop button.
“Dan has joint custody of Ken,” she blurted, throat tight and eyes fixed on the closed doors. “Not his stock or trust, that’s all on me, but over Ken’s wellbeing. It’s how Dad set it up. Dad trusted your father with one of the most important things in his world. I’m following Dad’s example.”
Robert was silent, but she knew he was listening. She exhaled shakily and, glad she’d worn heels that made their height difference negligible, met his inscrutable stare. “Daniel was there when Mom died and again for Dad’s death. Trusting him is like breathing because he’s always been there. I’m sorry, Bobby, but I just don’t know you that well any more.”
“I know you would have wasted away your freshman year if I hadn’t dragged you out of the library for meals.” Robert held up a hand to stave off the impending rebuttal. “You would have been late to every one of your classes if I hadn’t given you that tour or drawn you a map.”
Her lips curved upwards at the mention of the last time she and Robert had spent quality time together. Her first year at MIT had been his last. He’d taken time out of his busy schedule wowing professors and seducing undergrads to show Georgiana around. As children, they’d bonded over the isolationism of being the children of wealthy, famous parents and the tribulations that went along with genius. In college, they’d commiserated about expectations and overprotective fathers. After Robert’s MIT graduation, he’d gone to Oxford for an additional year of study. Their friendship rapidly faded to polite nothings at social functions and impersonal holiday cards.
I also know you wouldn’t have passed that Elements of Software Construction class without my help,” he continued.
Georgiana shook off the melancholy to glare at him. “Oh? And who was it that helped you with that Statistical Physics class when they were, oh I don’t know, in high school?”
Robert’s rumbling laughter bounced off the elevator’s metal walls. “You are aware that when you say ‘high school’ it does not mean the same as it would for anyone else, aren’t you?”
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Sometimes it is Rocket Science snippet
I know I've mentioned this often enough, but I am working on a contemporary romance/romantic suspense story. It's a challenge trying to avoid demons and magic, but that's what science is for! I had contemplated publishing this under a different name to avoid confusion, but nixed that idea (though I have posted a draft under a different name). Since I love family dynamics, Georgiana's relationship with her younger brother features heavily into the story, as does Robert's relationship with his father. This is also set in Houston and features talking houses, robots, and quirky assistants.
Sometimes it is Rocket Science
(working title, natch)
Already overwhelmed by responsibilities, robotics whiz Georgiana doesn't have time to deal with traitors, murderous CEOs, or Robert's persistent seduction.
Here's a snippet from Chapter Two:
Robert spotted Georgiana seated on the hood of his hired town car chatting with the chauffeur. As soon as he was within earshot, Georgiana shook her head and slid off the hood. He was disappointed to note that her slight smile had disappeared and her face was once again closed off.
“Are you staying at Dan’s or at a hotel?” she asked.
“Mmm,” Robert hummed. “Angling for a dinner invitation, already? I will admit that I am not used to dining solo.”
Georgiana rolled her eyes, shoved her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “I don’t know why you bother flirting with me. It’s never going to work.”
Robert leaned forward so that the tip of his nose grazed her cheek. The citrusy tang of her perfume was light and intoxicating. “I never say never, Georgiana.”
He was rewarded by a shiver and the dilation of her pupils. Despite what she claimed, she wasn’t completely immune to him. He rocked back on his heels and grinned rakishly. “I’m in the mood for a nice, juicy steak. You look like you could use the iron.”
“I don’t need… I’m not…” Georgiana’s cheeks were red. Irritation sparkled in her eyes. Her face scrunched up a moment before smoothing. “I wasn’t asking you to dinner.”
“That’s a shame. Now I’m heartbroken and hungry.”
She snorted. “You’d have to have a heart first.” She leaned against the town car and jerked her pointed chin towards a blue Audi sports coupe parked nearby. “I’ll follow you to the house. Dan changed the locks last year, and I should explain about NORA.”
“Who is she? I wasn’t aware Dad had a housekeeper on staff.”
Georgiana’s lips twitched. “Oh,” she said, “I think this you’re just going to have to see. NORA is something you need to experience to understand.”
Sometimes it is Rocket Science
(working title, natch)
Already overwhelmed by responsibilities, robotics whiz Georgiana doesn't have time to deal with traitors, murderous CEOs, or Robert's persistent seduction.
Here's a snippet from Chapter Two:
Robert spotted Georgiana seated on the hood of his hired town car chatting with the chauffeur. As soon as he was within earshot, Georgiana shook her head and slid off the hood. He was disappointed to note that her slight smile had disappeared and her face was once again closed off.
“Are you staying at Dan’s or at a hotel?” she asked.
“Mmm,” Robert hummed. “Angling for a dinner invitation, already? I will admit that I am not used to dining solo.”
Georgiana rolled her eyes, shoved her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “I don’t know why you bother flirting with me. It’s never going to work.”
Robert leaned forward so that the tip of his nose grazed her cheek. The citrusy tang of her perfume was light and intoxicating. “I never say never, Georgiana.”
He was rewarded by a shiver and the dilation of her pupils. Despite what she claimed, she wasn’t completely immune to him. He rocked back on his heels and grinned rakishly. “I’m in the mood for a nice, juicy steak. You look like you could use the iron.”
“I don’t need… I’m not…” Georgiana’s cheeks were red. Irritation sparkled in her eyes. Her face scrunched up a moment before smoothing. “I wasn’t asking you to dinner.”
“That’s a shame. Now I’m heartbroken and hungry.”
She snorted. “You’d have to have a heart first.” She leaned against the town car and jerked her pointed chin towards a blue Audi sports coupe parked nearby. “I’ll follow you to the house. Dan changed the locks last year, and I should explain about NORA.”
“Who is she? I wasn’t aware Dad had a housekeeper on staff.”
Georgiana’s lips twitched. “Oh,” she said, “I think this you’re just going to have to see. NORA is something you need to experience to understand.”
Soundtrack... Thursday? "Spectacular Girl" - Eels
Oh, I know I'm very late with this. Blame it on the pre-vacation craziness, the vacation itself, and the post-vacation laziness. This is just a sweet song that fits perfectly for Viola and Duke.
I am still working furiously on Mistress of Malice and Mercy and my romantic suspense. More Duke and Viola to come soon. I hope y'all have a wonderful holiday weekend.
I am still working furiously on Mistress of Malice and Mercy and my romantic suspense. More Duke and Viola to come soon. I hope y'all have a wonderful holiday weekend.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Birthday Present
Okay, so it's my birthday, but I thought I'd give y'all the present.
I have been utterly swamped with work, getting ready for my trip, and working on both Mistress of Malice and Mercy and my contemporary romance (which I may start posting snippets of, if you'd like). I did manage to get this very short, early Duke & Viola piece done.
2007
A noisy, crowded outdoor party in The-Second-Wheatfield-Beyond-The-Middle-Of-Nowhere, Oklahoma was the last place Duke wanted to be. Since he’d stopping traveling with the Ashwoods, though, Bert had made it clear that Duke needed to make sure his Trackers remembered his name and his face. Tommy Calhoun, Duke’s eyes and ears in the Oklahoma City area, had invited him to their pre-busy summer season bash.
He took a sip from his plastic cup of warming beer and ignored the sweat trickling down his spine. Though the sun had set over an hour earlier, it was hot even a good distance from the bonfire they’d lit before the first stars twinkled. He nodded at a pair of Trackers he remembered attending one of his database training sessions.
He opened his mouth to start a conversation, when an unforgettable, feminine laugh reached his ears. His jaw snapped shut. Muscles tense, he whipped out his phone and tapped out a text message to his high school best friend Sebastian Ashwood: Where are you?
‘Shreveport,’ came the one word answer.
Duke blew out a sigh of relief. He was always happy to have a six-hour drive between him and Sebastian’s little sister, his nemesis/friend/sorta-trainee. Relaxed, he asked the two closest Trackers about the funniest thing that had happened on their last rotation and forgot all about hazel-eyed, Goth-wannabe imps.
Forty minutes later, he edged closer to the bonfire. The heat was no longer unbearable, and the sweat drying on his back was actually a little cool. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of that impossible, unmistakable laugh. His head swiveled around as he tried to find the source of the laughter. If the party hadn’t been so crowded, or full of people with unique abilities like his own, he would have dropped the extra-thick walls surrounded his mind. Her mind was usually the most chaotic in any room, and he knew the feel of her brain as well as he knew his own.
His feet carried him to a grouping of fifteen or so men a dozen feet from the fire. Salsa music, oddly enough, blared from the open windows of the ancient pickup truck that doubled as the bar. A smaller fire had been built specifically for the smokers in the group. The heavy blend of cigarette and cigar smoke made his eyes water, but it was what he saw near the center of the circle that made the breath catch in his throat.
A slim, dark-haired gypsy in a long, gauzy pink skirt, matching halter, and jingling bracelets grabbed the hand of the nearest Tracker and dragged him into her dance. Her skirt whipped around her calves and her loose hair, curling in the humidity, bounced around her grinning, elfin face. When her dance partner planted large, calloused hands on the bare skin between the hem of her skirt and her shirt and dipped her, she threw her head back and laughed merrily.
Duke’s plastic cup crumpled in his hand. He shook off the warm beer and elbowed his way into the circle. It was obvious that every man watching her dance was under her spell. He longed for a water hose or a bucket of ice. A growl rumbled low in his chest.
He expected her to notice him right away. He waited for her eyes to widen with surprise, for her cheeks to flush with shame and not giddiness, and for her to gravitate to his side like she always did. He mentally prepared a lecture on attending parties like this without a chaperone.
Viola Ashwood, lost in the music and the three sweet, high-octane drinks she’d downed earlier, never glanced in his direction. When her dance partner shuffled back to his friend, she simply spun and grabbed the nearest arm. The short, stout man was good for a turn around the fire before he pecked her flushed cheek and slipped out of her grasp.
Freer than she’d felt in over a decade, she giggled to herself and reached out blindly for a new partner. Fingertips hitting skin and coarse hair, she trailed her hands down until she was able to lace her fingers between rough, warm digits and yanked. The palms pressed against hers were familiar, but she chased away that thought as soon as it skittered through her mind. She was at the party to forget about Tobias Duke, not pretend that every man was him.
Her newest partner was surprisingly good. He lacked the awkward reluctance of the others and seemed to anticipate her moves. She smiled beatifically at her partner and lifted her mascara-laden lashes. If she was lucky, it was one of the downright edible Cooper boys who’d been flirting with her all night.
She gasped at the furious blue eyes blazing back at her. The hands twined with hers tightened until they were almost painful. Her heart sped up and her knees turned to jelly momentarily. Courage, bolstered by alcohol, stiffened her spine when Duke dragged her out of the circle. She dug her heels into the soft, red clay.
“Wait a minute, Tobias!”
He didn’t pause for a second. She twisted her hands quickly and pulled herself backwards with surprising strength. Before Duke could grab her again, she disappeared into the crowd. Bewildered, Duke rubbed the back of his neck. It wasn’t like Viola to run away from him.
He found her an hour later slumped on a hay bale next to a dozing, behemoth of a farm boy. The man’s thick, tanned arm was wrapped around Viola’s waist and his beefy bicep acted as her pillow. Four empty cups were piled near her feet; she’d lost one of her delicate, silver sandals and her pink-painted toes were dusted with red dirt.
“Knew you’d fin’ me,” she slurred, peering at him through half-lidded, bloodshot eyes.
He exhaled slowly, reined in his temper. If he came across too harsh, she’d only run. Or get the behemoth to break his jaw. She was unpredictable when mad or drunk.
“I will always find you, Vi,” he responded, not sure whether he meant that as a threat or a promise. Given the rollercoaster of emotions she evoked in him, it was a fifty-fifty split.
“Now who’s th’ stalker?”
Duke perched on the edge of bale in front of Viola. He leaned in close only to pull away at the alcohol fumes wafting off her. “Woah! You’re plastered.”
Her head shot up at the accusatory tone. Her nose crinkled and she kicked half-heartedly at his shins. “’M legal,” she reminded him archly. “Nothin’ you can do ‘bout it now.”
The behemoth’s arm snuggled her back against his chest. Duke’s hackles rose. He stuffed his fists in his pockets to keep from knocking the farm boy away from Viola. “What are you doing here, Shortcake?” He hoped the old nickname would get her to open up. He wasn’t used to not being able to read her thoughts or have her babble on about every idea racing through her mind.
“I,” she started, voice quiet but resolved, “am getting over you.”
Duke’s stomach twisted. He tried to tell himself that he was glad Viola was finally going to stop pestering him with her crush, but something like disappointment settled heavily in his heart. “Vi, sweetheart…”
“And Mikey here’s gonna help me,” she continued.
“It’s Gil.” The behemoth didn’t even open his eyes as he corrected her.
“Whatever.” Viola reached up to tickle the short hair at the nape of Gil’s neck. “Gil is gonna help me f’get all about your stupid face and your stupid hero’sm and your stupid smile and your stupid…”
“Eyes?” Duke suggested helpfully when she floundered.
“Everything,” she seethed.
Duke’s patience was wearing thin. He surged to his feet and grabbed her arm. “Come on, Vi. I’m driving you to Shreveport.”
“Wha’s in Shreveport?”
“Your brother.”
She shuddered. “He and Amy are cel’bratin’ their ann’versary.”
“Where’s Olivia?”
Viola shrugged. “I dunno.”
Duke sighed. He was glad his hotel room had two beds. He’d drag Viola back with him, but she was going to have to deal with the hangover on her own. His charity only extended so far.
Gil slowly opened an eye when a Viola disappeared from his grasp. He stared at the swaying, sleepy girl and the angry, blond man holding her up. He recognized the regional head and scratched his chin speculatively. “She yours, boss?”
Duke hesitated. If he said no, there was the potential for jaw-breakage. Saying yes meant… a lot of things he didn’t want to think about surrounded by drunkards and cow patties. “In a way.”
“Am I going to regret letting her go with you?”
“Not as much as I am,” Duke groaned. “Trust me, not near as much as I am.”
The next morning, Viola awoke to a dark, quiet room. A bottle of Tylenol, a bottle of water, and the keys to her rental car were on the nightstand. The trash can was on the floor beside her head. Duke wasn’t in the room, but the faint scent of his soap lingered in the air. She clamped the pillow over her face. Her plan had been a complete failure. She didn’t remember much of the party, and she was dirty, nauseous, sore, and as in love with Duke as she’d ever been.
I have been utterly swamped with work, getting ready for my trip, and working on both Mistress of Malice and Mercy and my contemporary romance (which I may start posting snippets of, if you'd like). I did manage to get this very short, early Duke & Viola piece done.
2007
A noisy, crowded outdoor party in The-Second-Wheatfield-Beyond-The-Middle-Of-Nowhere, Oklahoma was the last place Duke wanted to be. Since he’d stopping traveling with the Ashwoods, though, Bert had made it clear that Duke needed to make sure his Trackers remembered his name and his face. Tommy Calhoun, Duke’s eyes and ears in the Oklahoma City area, had invited him to their pre-busy summer season bash.
He took a sip from his plastic cup of warming beer and ignored the sweat trickling down his spine. Though the sun had set over an hour earlier, it was hot even a good distance from the bonfire they’d lit before the first stars twinkled. He nodded at a pair of Trackers he remembered attending one of his database training sessions.
He opened his mouth to start a conversation, when an unforgettable, feminine laugh reached his ears. His jaw snapped shut. Muscles tense, he whipped out his phone and tapped out a text message to his high school best friend Sebastian Ashwood: Where are you?
‘Shreveport,’ came the one word answer.
Duke blew out a sigh of relief. He was always happy to have a six-hour drive between him and Sebastian’s little sister, his nemesis/friend/sorta-trainee. Relaxed, he asked the two closest Trackers about the funniest thing that had happened on their last rotation and forgot all about hazel-eyed, Goth-wannabe imps.
Forty minutes later, he edged closer to the bonfire. The heat was no longer unbearable, and the sweat drying on his back was actually a little cool. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of that impossible, unmistakable laugh. His head swiveled around as he tried to find the source of the laughter. If the party hadn’t been so crowded, or full of people with unique abilities like his own, he would have dropped the extra-thick walls surrounded his mind. Her mind was usually the most chaotic in any room, and he knew the feel of her brain as well as he knew his own.
His feet carried him to a grouping of fifteen or so men a dozen feet from the fire. Salsa music, oddly enough, blared from the open windows of the ancient pickup truck that doubled as the bar. A smaller fire had been built specifically for the smokers in the group. The heavy blend of cigarette and cigar smoke made his eyes water, but it was what he saw near the center of the circle that made the breath catch in his throat.
A slim, dark-haired gypsy in a long, gauzy pink skirt, matching halter, and jingling bracelets grabbed the hand of the nearest Tracker and dragged him into her dance. Her skirt whipped around her calves and her loose hair, curling in the humidity, bounced around her grinning, elfin face. When her dance partner planted large, calloused hands on the bare skin between the hem of her skirt and her shirt and dipped her, she threw her head back and laughed merrily.
Duke’s plastic cup crumpled in his hand. He shook off the warm beer and elbowed his way into the circle. It was obvious that every man watching her dance was under her spell. He longed for a water hose or a bucket of ice. A growl rumbled low in his chest.
He expected her to notice him right away. He waited for her eyes to widen with surprise, for her cheeks to flush with shame and not giddiness, and for her to gravitate to his side like she always did. He mentally prepared a lecture on attending parties like this without a chaperone.
Viola Ashwood, lost in the music and the three sweet, high-octane drinks she’d downed earlier, never glanced in his direction. When her dance partner shuffled back to his friend, she simply spun and grabbed the nearest arm. The short, stout man was good for a turn around the fire before he pecked her flushed cheek and slipped out of her grasp.
Freer than she’d felt in over a decade, she giggled to herself and reached out blindly for a new partner. Fingertips hitting skin and coarse hair, she trailed her hands down until she was able to lace her fingers between rough, warm digits and yanked. The palms pressed against hers were familiar, but she chased away that thought as soon as it skittered through her mind. She was at the party to forget about Tobias Duke, not pretend that every man was him.
Her newest partner was surprisingly good. He lacked the awkward reluctance of the others and seemed to anticipate her moves. She smiled beatifically at her partner and lifted her mascara-laden lashes. If she was lucky, it was one of the downright edible Cooper boys who’d been flirting with her all night.
She gasped at the furious blue eyes blazing back at her. The hands twined with hers tightened until they were almost painful. Her heart sped up and her knees turned to jelly momentarily. Courage, bolstered by alcohol, stiffened her spine when Duke dragged her out of the circle. She dug her heels into the soft, red clay.
“Wait a minute, Tobias!”
He didn’t pause for a second. She twisted her hands quickly and pulled herself backwards with surprising strength. Before Duke could grab her again, she disappeared into the crowd. Bewildered, Duke rubbed the back of his neck. It wasn’t like Viola to run away from him.
He found her an hour later slumped on a hay bale next to a dozing, behemoth of a farm boy. The man’s thick, tanned arm was wrapped around Viola’s waist and his beefy bicep acted as her pillow. Four empty cups were piled near her feet; she’d lost one of her delicate, silver sandals and her pink-painted toes were dusted with red dirt.
“Knew you’d fin’ me,” she slurred, peering at him through half-lidded, bloodshot eyes.
He exhaled slowly, reined in his temper. If he came across too harsh, she’d only run. Or get the behemoth to break his jaw. She was unpredictable when mad or drunk.
“I will always find you, Vi,” he responded, not sure whether he meant that as a threat or a promise. Given the rollercoaster of emotions she evoked in him, it was a fifty-fifty split.
“Now who’s th’ stalker?”
Duke perched on the edge of bale in front of Viola. He leaned in close only to pull away at the alcohol fumes wafting off her. “Woah! You’re plastered.”
Her head shot up at the accusatory tone. Her nose crinkled and she kicked half-heartedly at his shins. “’M legal,” she reminded him archly. “Nothin’ you can do ‘bout it now.”
The behemoth’s arm snuggled her back against his chest. Duke’s hackles rose. He stuffed his fists in his pockets to keep from knocking the farm boy away from Viola. “What are you doing here, Shortcake?” He hoped the old nickname would get her to open up. He wasn’t used to not being able to read her thoughts or have her babble on about every idea racing through her mind.
“I,” she started, voice quiet but resolved, “am getting over you.”
Duke’s stomach twisted. He tried to tell himself that he was glad Viola was finally going to stop pestering him with her crush, but something like disappointment settled heavily in his heart. “Vi, sweetheart…”
“And Mikey here’s gonna help me,” she continued.
“It’s Gil.” The behemoth didn’t even open his eyes as he corrected her.
“Whatever.” Viola reached up to tickle the short hair at the nape of Gil’s neck. “Gil is gonna help me f’get all about your stupid face and your stupid hero’sm and your stupid smile and your stupid…”
“Eyes?” Duke suggested helpfully when she floundered.
“Everything,” she seethed.
Duke’s patience was wearing thin. He surged to his feet and grabbed her arm. “Come on, Vi. I’m driving you to Shreveport.”
“Wha’s in Shreveport?”
“Your brother.”
She shuddered. “He and Amy are cel’bratin’ their ann’versary.”
“Where’s Olivia?”
Viola shrugged. “I dunno.”
Duke sighed. He was glad his hotel room had two beds. He’d drag Viola back with him, but she was going to have to deal with the hangover on her own. His charity only extended so far.
Gil slowly opened an eye when a Viola disappeared from his grasp. He stared at the swaying, sleepy girl and the angry, blond man holding her up. He recognized the regional head and scratched his chin speculatively. “She yours, boss?”
Duke hesitated. If he said no, there was the potential for jaw-breakage. Saying yes meant… a lot of things he didn’t want to think about surrounded by drunkards and cow patties. “In a way.”
“Am I going to regret letting her go with you?”
“Not as much as I am,” Duke groaned. “Trust me, not near as much as I am.”
The next morning, Viola awoke to a dark, quiet room. A bottle of Tylenol, a bottle of water, and the keys to her rental car were on the nightstand. The trash can was on the floor beside her head. Duke wasn’t in the room, but the faint scent of his soap lingered in the air. She clamped the pillow over her face. Her plan had been a complete failure. She didn’t remember much of the party, and she was dirty, nauseous, sore, and as in love with Duke as she’d ever been.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Recommendations
I am... wait for it... going on vacation. Not a "get together with the family for a holiday" type of vacation, either. I am going to South Padre Island to relax by the pool with my Mom and drink margaritas. Now, normally I read everything on my phone, but I am afraid of having my lifeline phone so close to the pool. I am opening myself up for good, pool-side book recommendations. I'll read anything except for horror, but I'd prefer something light to read out while I'm soaking up UV rays.
Thanks in advance!
Thanks in advance!
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