Tag Archive: holiday


( Photo credit: _demare.thibaut_ via Foter.com / CC BY-SA )

I’ve seen a lot of the view above this weekend.  Yes, the weather’s been nice, but when the words are coming, why would I not take dictation, right?  Okay, yes, I did get my regular household chores done yesterday, but still got new words into my manuscript.  Yes, I spent two solid hours in the kitchen today, but I still got to write.  That makes me happy.  I think work is going to be kind of crazy at least the next two days, and possibly longer.  My team at the day-job is short-handed at the moment, and vacation season is going to pick up soon, so my writing time may be impacted a bit.

The weather’s been very nice this week, though I haven’t touched the flower bed yet.  Maybe next weekend?  Today, it was actually hot, which made the kitchen rather unpleasant when I turned the oven on.  But dinner was already planned before I knew it would be 85 degrees.  The warm weather is probably going to have some of my flowers blooming early.  My lilac doesn’t look like the ones below yet, but the buds are much closer to blooming than they should be in the middle of April.  I love the smell, though.  I actually miss the honeysuckle that used to bloom in the neighbor’s yard in the spring–the scent would waft all over the neighborhood, and it reminds me of my grandma, who used to wear a honeysuckle perfume.

( Photo credit: RichardBH via Foter.com / CC BY )

Before I go back to the manuscript, how about a little snippet of tiger shifter?

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But Vivi was climbing into his bed in nothing but a pair of black panties trimmed in grey lace, and looking like he’d kicked her.
He yanked at his already-loosened tie and shrugged out of his blazer. By the time he climbed into bed beside her, Vivi had curled up with her eyes closed and her back to him. He rolled onto his side, sliding his hand down her arm to where her hand covered her belly.
“I’m sorry, Vivi.”

She made an indistinct sound, and her shoulder jerked a little, the rest of her stiff.
He put his face into her hair and inhaled. “I’m not angry at you.”
She didn’t say anything.
“I’ve been worrying about you being so sick, and with the rogues stirring up more trouble, well, I’m being a dick. I’m sorry.”
She exhaled roughly.
“And Berdine evidently tried to call her mom earlier and got hung up on for her trouble.”
Vivi rolled to face him, startling him. “What?” Outrage flared in her golden eyes.
“Mari said she was busy and hung up.” He still wanted to put his fist through a wall, just as he’d wanted to do when India had told him earlier.
“Why would she do that to her child? What kind of woman would–” She stopped. “Never mind.” She glared up at him.

Boris smiled and smoothed a wisp of dark hair back from her cheek. “Because she’s selfish.”
Vivi looked like she wanted to add something more to his observation, but she pinched her lips together instead.
“What did your parents do to you, Vivi?” he asked softly.
Her lips parted, and surprise widened her eyes.

________________

So how did you spend your spring weekend?  Doing lots of work, or playing hooky to enjoy the new season?

 

 

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We are missing out on the snow, again.  Our weather here this week has been extra-messed-up–mid-week it was 60, before the temps plummeted and we got a couple inches of heavy, wet snow that melted already, because the temperatures went back up into the 50s.  I want a real winter! Right now, it’s raining and looks like an early spring day more than a mid-winter day.  Of course, if we were a few states north, we would be getting buried in snow, and I would be thrilled about it.

So, what is a rainy Sunday good for?  Plenty, I suppose, like household chores and reading. Or visiting with family.  My day will probably combine some of the latter and a few of that first item.  And hopefully later some writing time before the second half of The Walking Dead season begins and our whole family settles in to watch.

I’m going to miss seeing some reader and writer friends today, but I got to see a whole lot of them yesterday, at the annual Valentine’s Day booksigning.  This was my third year of participating, and they’re always a lot of fun.  Talking books with readers and other authors is one of the best ways to spend a few hours, right?  This one was a little sad for me, though, because earlier in the week, we got the official news that my publisher is going to close up shop at the end of the month.  So I have to figure out what to do with Hunting Medusa (and the other two books in the trilogy, finally!) when I get my rights back.

Most publishers don’t want to publish a book that’s already been available from someone else, though it happens.  A better option, I suppose, is self-publishing the trilogy.  Scary thought!  I have to give this more time, to figure out the best thing to do, and then devising a plan to get it done.   Guess I’ll be reworking my writing goals for the year, once I figure this out.

Now, though, I need to go do some of those things on my rainy-Sunday list.  The pics below are some of what you missed if you weren’t at the booksigning yesterday.

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And, before I go, maybe a little bit of Hunting Medusa for you…

_______________

“Aristotle Tassos.”
The elderly man started, jumping from his chair so the papers he held fluttered to the floor beside his desk.
Athena remained standing in the doorway to his office, watching his olive skin pale before he dropped to his knees, bowing his head.
“My Lady.” His voice shook.
“Your nephew has taken the Medusa away, Aristotle. How could a Tassos do that?” She glared, noting his silver hair was thinning far more than the last time She’d deigned to visit him.
“My Lady?” He straightened slightly, though not far enough to actually look directly at Her. “My nephews burn to kill the Medusa.”
“Not Kallan.” She watched his mouth drop open. “He has helped her escape.” She narrowed Her gaze on his stunned face. “How could you not know this about him?”
Her Harvester shook his head slowly. “I am so sorry, My Lady. I assure You I will find him. And her.”
“I am sure you will. I expect you will.” She set Her hands on Her hips. “Do not fail Me, Aristotle. It has been many years since your family has fulfilled its duty. It may be very bad for you and yours if you fail again.”
Aristotle nodded, bowing, his face flushed a ruddy color. Embarrassed, She was sure, by the reminder of the failures of recent years. Good. He and his should be humiliated to have been outwitted by the Medusas of the past several generations.
“I would hate to have to return to see you on this matter again, Aristotle,” She said, gentling Her tone just a little. “I understand you are loyal to Me, even if one of your number is no longer.”

His mouth tightened. “I will make sure we get her this time, My Lady.”
Athena nodded. “I will be monitoring your progress.”
She was gone before Aristotle looked up.

_______________

Oh, one last thing!  If you’ve been meaning to pick up a copy of Hunting Medusa (or any other Samhain title) you’re running out of time now.  Plus I just realized this morning (2/12/17) that it is on sale in the Samhain store for half price, so it’s probably a really good time to grab it in its original form.

Valentine’s Day is this week, so here’s hoping for a much better week this week, full of love and chocolate!

 

7024607531_cc3a6b87cc_z( Photo credit: RDECOM via Foter.com / CC BY )

It’s been a long month here.  Aside from the crazy first few weeks of the year at the day-job, things otherwise have been both busy and awful, and I have taken a real butt-kicking.  Until I got the ick and cough last week, though, I was still doing really well with my daily writing.  Last week kind of messed that up, and the best I could manage toward the end of the week once the fever finally went away, was working on revisions, and I’m sure I’ll need to look over those again before I actually finalize them, just to be on the safe side.

So this week, I have got to get back into my routine.  I am still coughing, but I feel like it’s slowly going away.  (Which is good, since I have the booksigning on Feb. 11; it would be terrible to still be hacking all over the place then.)  So I will ignore the coughing.  Harder to ignore will be the other distractions in my life, the family members who are ill, as those are ongoing and not going away like my cough.  If I thought they would help, I’d find myself a set of blinders, to keep my attention on the pages in front of me, but that doesn’t do anything for the constant flow of thoughts in my brain.

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( Photo credit: ** RCB ** via Foter.com / CC BY )

Hard to concentrate on one thing with that going on in your head.

So I’m looking for ideas on regaining my focus.  The things that are going on aren’t going to stop any time soon, which means they’re going to remain on my mind, but I still need to get back to being a productive writer.  So when you have a lot going on and still need to get things done, how do you manage to make your brain cooperate?  Meditation?  (I’ve tried it and am terrible.)  Something completely different?  Give me your suggestions.  I’m game to try some new things, as long as I end up back where I need to be.

And before I go, just wanted to remind those of you in the south-central Pennsylvania area, come see me and a whole lot of other romance authors the weekend before Valentine’s Day!

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Writing Hot

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( Photo credit: Frank Lindecke via Foter.com / CC BY-ND )

Yes, I’m sick this week.  Coughing from an annoying tickle in my throat.  I don’t do sick days.  The last time I had a day off for a medical issue of my own was when I had my gallbladder out a number of years ago.  I took a day off last month for someone else’s medical issue.  Today, I actually left work early because I felt so terrible, just so I could come home and rest.  So that blog title isn’t just about the sort of stories I write, but about the fever I’ve had on and off all week.  I would love it if went away now.  My brain doesn’t have room for creativity right now, when it’s full of hot and headache.  So, instead of thinking so hard I make the headache worse, I’m going to tell you about the Valentine’s Day booksigning I’ll be taking part in this year.

Saturday, February 11, 2017 from noon to 3 pm at Ashcombe Farm & Greenhouse, I’ll be hanging out with around 18 other romance authors, talking books and signing them, too.  This is the third year I’ll be participating, and they are always so much fun.  Plus for the readers attending, there are always giveaway goodies.

And now, so my feverish brain can rest, I think just a little snippet of Hunting Medusa for you.

______________

Perhaps he was a sick bastard, he mused, slowing his pace as they went deeper into the woods and the trail narrowed. Realizing the woman he wanted most was his enemy had just turned his world upside-down. His family’s enemy, a monster created by the Goddess.
He frowned up at the dark canopy of leaves above them. He wondered if any other Harvester had ever been tempted by his quarry. Or had surrendered to the temptation. If so, he was certain he’d never find that in the lore.
“Wait.”
He stopped walking at her quiet command, his gaze shifting in the same direction she looked. A doe and her fawn looked poised for flight several yards away, the mother watching them closely. Kallan held his breath as the fawn bent back to the small patch of grass. From the corner of his eye, he saw Andrea’s smile. He caught her hand in his without thinking about it first.
Her fingers were stiff in his for a long moment, then relaxed a little.
He turned to look down at her, studying her. The top of her head reached his chin, her dark hair curling in the slight humidity. Her bright gaze stayed fixed on the deer, but he knew she was aware of him by the way her pulse skittered in the hollow of her throat.

“Did I hurt you?” He kept his tone low, trying not to frighten the nearby animals.
She didn’t move anything but her eyes, shifting her questioning gaze up to his face.
“Earlier. Was I too rough?”
Color washed up her cheeks, and she swallowed, turning her attention back to the doe and her fawn. “No.” It was barely a whisper, her reply.
His heart pounded a little harder as he thought about taking her here, right here in her forest. It was foolish. He couldn’t. She would never agree to it anyway.
But he couldn’t stop the images behind his eyes, not now that he knew what she looked like, what she felt like around him, the way she sounded.

When she turned to look up at him again, he realized he’d tightened his grip on her fingers. Her expression was quizzical, then awareness surfaced, turning her eyes darker, like midnight velvet.
Kallan lifted their joined hands slowly, giving her time to stop him. When she didn’t, he dragged his open mouth along her knuckles.
Her lips parted slightly.
He bit one of her knuckles lightly and felt her shiver. “Maybe I am sick,” he breathed. “But I still want you.”
She shut her eyes, her throat working as she swallowed. “Bad idea, Harvester.”
His jaw tightened. For some reason, hearing her use the name his family had claimed many generations ago made him angry. He wanted to hear her use his name instead. Preferably while they were naked in her bed, bodies joined intimately as they had been earlier.
Instead of protesting, though, he nibbled his way down her finger until he could capture the tip in his teeth, then sucked it into his mouth.

_______________

 

My shiny new cover art! isn't it pretty?

 

I hope you all stay healthy! And if the ick strikes your house, I hope you have a sufficient stash of reading material!

 

 

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( Photo credit: Kelly Colgan Azar via Foter.com / CC BY-ND )

We have a pair of foxes that wander in and around our development.  I’ve seen them nearby recently, but not in the back yard lately, and not this close.  Of course, I have been putting in some extra hours at the day-job this week.  Probably next week, too.  But I have still been getting in ‘book time’.  Maybe not much, but still writing daily as I plan to do all year.  And working on revising the first shifter.  I’ll be working on that all day tomorrow.  Today was more overtime at the day-job, though, so not as much writing work as I would have liked.  But I’ll make up for it.  Also on my schedule for tomorrow:  figuring out if I’m all set for the big Valentine’s Day booksigning next month.

I found an interesting new-to-me show:  River.  The detective who is the main character talks to people who aren’t actually there, and he’s trying to figure out who murdered his partner.  Interesting story, but it looks like there was only one season, so I’m afraid I’ll be sad when this one comes to an end.  Tonight, though, I’m sneaking in one more viewing of Love Actually.  Yes, I know I watched it about ten times last month.  but it always makes me feel better, and with some of the awful things I’ve been seeing in the news, who doesn’t need to feel better?  My husband might be making fun of me, but I don’t care.  I love the stories and the characters.  I’m one of those people who will recite dialogue along with the characters (which my sons and sometimes my husband really hate–my kids won’t watch Princess Bride, or Robin Hood Men in Tights, or most of the Harry Potter movies with me), and there are whole sections of this that I have to do just that.  And of course, I’ll be crying by the end of it, but happy, satisfied crying.  Plus all this romance will get my brain into romance-writing mode again for tomorrow.

What do you do to get your mind-set into work-mode?  Jog around the block?  Take a long, hot shower?  Eat chocolate?

And while I’m finishing my inspirational movie viewing, how about a little snippet from Hunting Medusa?

_______________

Silence greeted him, and he took that as a good sign. No creaking came from upstairs, as there would be if she’d wakened. Good. Nevertheless, he stepped inside cautiously, listening hard. He took another step after a few heartbeats, trying to remember just where the kitchen table and chairs stood from his limited view the day before.
He made it past the furniture and paused to listen again. Still nothing. He frowned. With the power off, the house was too quiet. Surely the sudden and complete silence would wake her, even if she hadn’t heard the brief noise of the alarm shutting down. He slid one foot forward on the smooth wooden floor, and suddenly she was there. Fiery pain shot up his left arm. He grunted, realized she’d stabbed him deeply. He swung his other hand up, managing to hit her on the side of the head.
She cried out but didn’t go down, swinging her blade again. He caught her wrist, but she managed to get another slice to his already-injured forearm before he yanked her arm behind her.
Her booted foot connected with his knee—hard—and he bit back a string of curses at the pain, but didn’t let her go. Why wasn’t she barefoot? If she’d been sleeping, she should be barefoot. His left arm was nearly useless, blood pumping steadily from his wounds, so he crowded her up against the nearest surface. The refrigerator. He shoved hard, hearing her moan when he twisted her arm a little more.
Her blade hit the floor between them. She kicked backward again, and her foot hit his knee from the other side this time.
“Dammit,” he muttered, flattening her between his body and the appliance’s cool metal surface. His arm burned, warm blood dripping from his fingers.
“Get off me, you murdering bastard,” she said, her words slurred slightly from her face being mashed into the refrigerator.
“Well now, that’s not very nice. Especially since I’ve never murdered anyone. Yet,” he added darkly, tightening his grip on her wrist. The bones in her arm were fragile and he was fully aware he could crush them, render her arm as useless as she had his. But he didn’t. He wasn’t Stavros.
“You’re not going to start with me, either, Harvester.”

_______________

My shiny new cover art! isn't it pretty?

So, back to inspiration–how do you get yourself inspired?

 

 

 

Kicking Off 2017

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( Photo credit: Claudio Gennari …”Cogli l’attimo ferma il tempo” via Foter.com / CC BY )

So, I finished working out my writing goals last week for the new year, and a big chunk of the year is going to be spent on writing/rewriting/revising tiger shifter manuscripts, hence the big, annoyed cat above.  First up will be finishing one last rewrite of the first shifter story.  And I have a fresh copy right now, waiting for my red pen starting on New Year’s Day.  One of my other goals for the year is to write every single day, even if it is only a paragraph or two.   And while I finish my New Year’s Eve champagne, I have a little snippet to share below to share with you.

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He didn’t even protest when she remained mostly quiet for the drive back to the house in the dusky summer evening. They walked into the house in silence. She shot him a curious glance when he continued at her side up the stairs. “Thank you for feeding me, Harley,” she said when they reached the first landing.
“No problem.” He touched her elbow, and she resumed walking along the hallway to the guest room she always used.

She swallowed as she turned to face him.
He gave in to the urge to brush a strand of hair away from her temple, and watched her eyes widen, surprise darkening them.
Harley bent nearer. Her hand shot up, so his mouth ran into it. He lifted one eyebrow.
“What are you doing?” Her voice quavered just a little.
He smiled against her palm, enjoying the warmth of her skin. “Kissing you good-night. It’s customary at the end of a date.”
Her eyes widened still more. “We’re not dating.”
He kissed her palm. “I believe we just returned from a dinner date. Dancing and drinks.” He inhaled her scent, and his desire kicked up a few more notches.
Her throat worked as she swallowed, color tinting her cheeks. “I think this is a bad idea.”
He stifled another smile at the way her voice shook and instead flicked his tongue out to taste her skin.
Her breath caught.

“I think it’s a fantastic idea.” He nibbled his way across her palm to her thumb. “You taste good. I can’t wait to taste your mouth.”
Her breathing resumed, much faster now. “Harley.”
He caught her hand and eased it to the wall beside her head as he closed the distance between them so only an inch separated their lips. “Yes, Tessa?”

Emotion swirled in her wide green eyes. He scented her burgeoning arousal in the air, and his body tightened in response.
He waited several heartbeats, watching her gaze slide to his mouth, and noted the way her tongue slid out just a little at the corner of her lips. Then he ducked in to kiss her.
She tasted better than he’d imagined. Warm and sweet. Her lips parted easily under his, but he deliberately kept the kiss light. She was already spooked, wary. If he dove in head-first, she’d run faster.
Not that he doubted he could catch her. Easily.
When he finally lifted his head, her eyes were shut, and her lips parted and wet. Tempting him to bend back and take them again. Just briefly. Then he released her. It took a few seconds before her lashes fluttered up, and her hand slowly dropped to her side.

_______________

So how are you starting the new year?

 

 

How many of you make New Year’s resolutions?  Or goals of some sort, even if you don’t call them resolutions?  Hands up!

 

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( Photo credit: Randy Heinitz via Foter.com / CC BY )

I learned a long time ago that making resolutions doesn’t really work for me, so I quit that a long time ago.  Instead, I focus my efforts on goals, broken down monthly, and sometimes weekly,  and mostly writing-related.

I’ve taken part in a goal-setting workshop the last couple of years with Delilah Devlin and her sister Elle James (which is wonderful, if you’re a writer looking to set better, more achievable goals for yourself).  I’ve whittled down my writing ‘wish-list’ each year to something I can actually do, as well as building in time to allow for unexpected things cropping up.  But this year, even though my writing output was really good, I had some serious distractions in my personal life pop up that put a huge damper on my  achievements.  Some of those things, I have mentioned here in previous blog posts, so I won’t go into them again.

So right now, I’m reworking my goals list for the new year while allowing for these big, personal things to still impact my plans (and I already know they will, unfortunately), but still actually achieving my goals.

 

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( Photo credit: Randy Heinitz via Foter.com / CC BY )

Part of my planning is to figure out everything that I want to accomplish, then break down the list by month, and sometimes even by the week within that month depending on what is going on.  I started with a pretty good list, but I’ve pared it down a bit, knowing that things that impacted my plans for 2016 will still be ongoing (and possibly bigger goal-killers than they already have been), and I’m fine-tuning now so that by the end of the week, I will be ready to kick 2017’s ass!

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( Photo credit: C. VanHook (vanhookc) via Foter.com / CC BY )

How do you work out your plans for the new year?  Just a vague list of things you want to achieve, or a day-by-day breakdown of everything you’ll have to do to make it happen?  If you share by Friday, December 30, 2016, I’ll put your name in a drawing for an ebook of Hunting Medusa.

My shiny new cover art! isn't it pretty?

 

 

 

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( Photo credit: BarbaraWilli via Foter.com / CC BY )

 

Usually, I look forward to the end of the year.  December is family time for us, plus lots of good food from Thanksgiving through the new year.

This year is different.  Right now, I have two close family members who are sick, and our not-quite-17-year-old kitty is going downhill in a hurry.  In fact, it’s been a really crappy week and a half here, and I am not looking forward to seeing what comes next.

So.  Tell me something awesome that’s happened to you since December 1st.  I could use some cheering up, plus everyone who shares their ‘awesome’ happening from the past 17 days by this Friday, December 23, 2016 will get their name entered into a giveaway for an ebook copy of Hunting Medusa.

My shiny new cover art! isn't it pretty?

Bring on the awesome!

 

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( Photo credit: Nicholas_T via Foter.com / CC BY   )

It’s been a long week, and a really long couple of days.  I took a ride this morning for a visit and the scenery looked a lot like that picture above.  It was cold when I left the house, but the sun was out.  About halfway through the drive, the flurries started.  When I reached my destination, there was snow on the ground.  Not a real accumulation, but enough to dust the grass and driveway.  The first actual snow I’ve seen so far this year–the couple of flurries we got a week or two ago don’t really count.  The snow today made me happy.  The rest of the day, not so much.

So, while I’m working on adjusting my mindset for a fresh start tomorrow, tell me what has made you happy this week.  It can be anything, big or small, as long as it made you happy.

And how about a little bit of hot tiger shifter?

_______________

Boris had his head propped on one hand, watching her emerge from the smaller room.
“I’m sorry,” she said automatically. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He patted the mattress in front of him. “Come here and talk to me.”
Her pulse stuttered, then quickened at the look in his pale eyes. “Bad idea, Boris.”
He smiled a little. “I never have bad ideas.” He patted the same spot again. “We never finished our discussion last night.”
That. She took a slow breath, then realized he was shirtless. She tried to remember if he’d still been wearing his trousers when she got out of bed.
He started to push himself to a sitting position, and the sheet slid down his wide chest.

“Fine,” she said, hurrying to the side of the bed. Gods, if he was naked under there… Her heart beat faster. She sat on the edge of the mattress, and he eased back to his elbow before the sheet dropped to his waist.

Vivi took a slow breath and dragged her gaze from the hard ridges of his abdomen to his face.
She expected a smirk, but his expression was somber, though his blue eyes were alight with heat.
She swallowed and glanced at the clock beside her bed–seven-ten. She had a standing date at ten o’clock. “You wanted to talk?” she said finally, looking at him again.
“We need to make arrangements to move you.”
She frowned. “I don’t want to start the day with an argument.”
“Then don’t argue.” He caught her arm and tugged her toward him, startling her.

______________

So tell me what made you happy this week.  And I’ll keep working on regaining my own.

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(  Photo credit: Moyan_Brenn via Foter.com / CC BY )

 

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( Photo credit: James P. Mann via Foter.com / CC BY )

Things are kind of weird at this point on the calendar year–my day-job schedule is very light, but we’re heading into peak holiday season, so there are lots of other activities to take up the slack in our schedules.  I’m finalizing my goals for the next year, and working on a few last things to wrap up before the end of this year.  While I keep writing my shifter story. And watching good holiday movies, some of them more than once.  Some more than one time in a single day, if I can get away with it.

We have a day-trip to NYC planned soon, and I’m looking forward to that.  I like visiting New York, but have never been there during the holiday season, so I’m anticipating all sorts of fun there.

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In the meantime, I have a little snippet to share with you from Hunting Medusa.

________________

She pushed to her feet. “Are you making fun of me?”
He shook his head and felt water drip down the back of his neck. “Just making an observation.” He waited while she shimmied past him, and she seemed very careful not to touch him as she went. Kallan followed her out into the main area of the cave again, where she set the lantern on a ledge midway up the wall.
She faced him, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, her eyes troubled.

“Go ahead.” He’d been waiting. Ever since he’d opened his foolish mouth along the trail.
She caught her lower lip in her teeth, a tiny frown lining her brow. “You should get dry too,” she whispered at last.
When she turned away, grabbing her pack and retreating to the smaller chamber at the back, he felt some of the stress leave his shoulders but his stomach knotted painfully. Trying to figure out his next move, he dragged his wet shirt off over his head, then bent to unknot the wet laces of his boots.
It would never work. He knew it. If anyone had suggested to him that he’d fall for the Medusa, he would have laughed at them and then punched them bloody.
From the rear of the cave, he heard the same wet shushing noises of clothing hitting the stone floor, and he clenched his jaw, trying not to imagine her wet and naked. And failing.
“Andrea?”
Sudden silence.
“How many sleeping bags do you have back there?” He had to know.

The soft sounds resumed, this time more quietly so he assumed she was quickly pulling on dry clothes. “One. But there are extra blankets.” The reply was unsteady, as if she might be imagining the same things he was.
One sleeping bag. Of course. He shut his eyes for a second. As he went to his backpack, he unbuttoned his cargo pants, then tugged out dry clothing. His fingers were clumsy on the heavy material, made clumsier by the enticing images floating behind his eyes.
He shucked his wet pants and moved toward the front of the cave to dress.
A choked sound from Andrea made him freeze as he stuck his foot into his dry cargo pants. And every nerve in him hummed to life, zinging electricity to his groin.
Slowly, he straightened and turned just far enough to see Andrea still as a statue only a couple yards away. Her wide eyes were dark with surprise and something else.

________________

I hope you find a little time this week for relaxing amid all of the craziness.