“I should have fought the inn harder. I value privacy, mine and yours as well. It will never happen again if I’m physically able to put a stop to it.”
I can’t fight the sly grin pulling at my mouth, but I don’t speak the words floating in my head.Too tempting for you, vampire? Why not see if this project can be especially fun?
No, I won’t say it. He obviously wants nothing to do with me. At least, that’s what he says, although I know he was physically attracted to me. Maybe I’ll drop my quill and see how he reacts. He might just need a little push. Perhaps this vampire isn’t allowing himself to have a good time. Too much time spent in stories about darkness and pain.
“You said you have an idea for a premise?” I let my quill slip from my fingers and it falls to the flower-patterned rug at my feet.
Chapter 8
Archer
Itap my quill lightly on the table. “I thought perhaps we could straddle our two genres and do a dark mystery with a romance subplot. The elements of the story…”
She’s bending over to pick up her quill, and her breasts swell over the edge of her corseted dress. They look so soft, and I would give both my kidneys to nibble my way across them. Blood rushes to my groin. I fight a growl that builds in the back of my throat.
When she rises, her lopsided grin tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing. I look away and attempt to gather my thoughts. Aside from the fact that she is not at all my type, I can’t get involved with her because of the work project, and moreimportantly, my hideous betrothal. I would be putting her at risk.
“As I was saying,” I continue at last, hoping I didn’t just hear the quiet giggle that I think I heard, “oftentimes there is a mystery element to my thrillers so I can wrap my head around that. You’re obviously the romance expert.” Is she laughing at me? “Basically, there is a couple who end up trapped in a wine cellar beneath a manor house during a robbery. They have to figure out how to escape before the group of thieves burns the place to the ground to cover their tracks.”
My gaze drifts to her fingers wrapped around her retrieved quill. Her hands are fair and slender and I wonder if her fingers are cold or warm right now.
She bounces in her chair. “Ooo, I like it. They’re scared, but also, they’re surrounded by wine so it’s not all bad.”
I snort a laugh. “Yes, I…” Her happy bouncing and smiling oddly make me want to gather her up into a hug. I’m not much of a hugger, so I have no idea where that idea came from. “But you do like the premise?”
“Yes. Now, let’s try to write a messy draftand see what happens.”
I flinch. “Messy draft? We haven’t even started an outline, let alone the color coding I like to do to ensure we cover proper character development and pull our theme all the way through.”
Her grimace tugs at her rounded lips. “Ew, color coding.”
She stands and paces between our work spots, her dress whipping against her body with each quick turn. Her scent envelopes me and I attempt to hold my breath.
Continuing, her brow wrinkles. “I like starting with the spark of an idea, a scene, or a small moment, and then writing on through to the end.” A flush rises over her lovely face. “I love when that spark grows into a wildfire that illuminates the entire story,” she says, spreading her arms wide and smiling so hard that dimples appear in her cheeks, “and flings our characters into exhilarating situations that push their buttons in all the right ways.”
I raise my eyebrows, impressed at her passion. But she must be reined in if we are to finish this short story before our deadline.
“Can we compromise?” I ask.
She sits again, her hands on her jiggling knees and the feather of her quill dancing as she holds it tightly. “Oh, of course. That’s a lovely idea.”
Her polite words don’t match her expression though. She’s frowning like I told her she can’t keep a cave lizard she found in the forest.
“We will do a loose outline, all right?” I say. “Then we can draft. You can draft the female lead’s chapters and I’ll pen the male’s.”
“Like a skeleton draft? I’m open to trying that.”
“A what?”
“When you draft fast and just set up the most important bits,” she says. “Then you go back and fill it in.”
My stomach rolls. I imagine my characters slipping from one scene to the next like they’re on the cracking surface of an icy pond. “No.”
“No, what?”
“No skeleton drafts.”
A sparkle dances through her eyes like she’s up to something. “Fine. A loose outline, it is.”
