The Final Champion Left Standing in the Ring

We have our winner - KARMA!

Congratulations to everyone who took part in the contest.  

Thanks to everyone who visited.

Karma - Part 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Selene drew in a sharp breath, his unexpected kiss taking her by surprise, but nothing could have prepared her for the onslaught of sensation that washed over her, sending swirls of delicate chills dancing along her spine.  Her initial reaction to pull away was replaced with a subtle need to savor this intimate contact with another human being.

His warm breath brushed against her lips as his hand moved up to the nape of her neck, fingers slipping into her thick hair, tightening within its depths.  His mouth slanted over hers, and his bottom lip brushed across hers before he drew it gently between his teeth.

The searing frisson of desire that assaulted her drew her out of the moment and she raised her hands between them, pressing her palms against his shoulders and pushing away from him.  Her stunned gaze met his.  “What … what the hell was that?” she asked evenly, trying to catch her breath.

Oh my God.  She wondered if he could hear the pounding of her heart.

Max stared at her for a long moment, his gaze seemingly unfocused.  His lips parted as if he intended to reply but he remained silent.  He could still feel the warmth of her lips on his.  He wasn’t sure what had come over him and he braced himself for a well-deserved berating. “I’m … sorry Selene. That was out of line.”

Selene saw the confusion in his eyes and decided to cut him some slack.  “Let’s chalk it up to the after effects of your panic attack.  If it happens again, though … you might just find yourself walking back to Anchorage,” she warned gently as she leaned down and dug around in her pack.   

“Here … drink a little water … slowly, though,” she added, handing him the bottle.  She was still reeling from his kiss and suddenly the interior of her small plane seemed as if it were closing in around her. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked as she opened the side door, a rush of fresh air encircling them.

“Better.  How did you know it was a panic attack?” he asked, curious, if not a little embarrassed.

She smiled.  “I have had them myself now and again.  You must really hate flying,” she teased a little as she let her gaze meet his for a moment before looking away.  In the distance, she could see the Sherriff’s truck approaching.

Max groaned but didn’t answer.  You have no idea.

“The Sherriff is almost here,” she piped up, relishing the idea of escaping these close quarters.  She climbed out first, turning back to Max only to find him watching her intently.  Her brows knit together and she sighed.

“Are you going to keep doing that until we get back to Anchorage?”

“Sorry … still a little out of sorts,” he lied.  Truth was all he could think about was kissing her again.

“Do you need a few minutes? I could stall a bit?” she offered.

“No, no … I’ll be fine,” he replied as he climbed out of the plane.

“Good morning Sherriff,” she called out as the older, teddy-bear of a man walked towards them. 

“Good morning, Ms. Deveraux.  How was Detective Thorne’s first flight to Kenai?”

Max gave her a sideways glance and she smiled reassuringly.

“I hope it was enjoyable.  The Alaskan landscape provides a breathtaking distraction regardless,” she replied.

“Welcome to Kenai, Detective.  I’m glad you were willing to taking a look at this case for us.  I’ve heard quite a bit about you, son.”

Max groaned inwardly.  I’m sure you have.

“Please, call me Max,” he said, stepping up and offering his hand.

“Would you care to join us today Ms. Deveraux?” the Sherriff inquired.

She smiled but shook her head.  “No, I was planning on heading over to Kenai Landing.  I have a few deliveries and thought I’d visit Fiona and Isabelle. Has Gabriel been around?” she asked.

“Don’t tell him I told you, but he’s been waiting for you,” the Sherriff quipped conspiratorially.

Max felt an unexpected stab of jealously.  Who the hell was Gabriel?  Boyfriend? Lover?  And why the hell did it matter to him?

“I bet he has,” Selene laughed and shook her head as she walked back to the Cub. 

The lyrical sound of her laughter drew him from his reverie and he watched her retrieve their packs and a few packages from the plane before heading towards the Sherriff’s truck.

The short ride to Kenai Landing was amicable and the Sherriff pointed out some of the local sites to Max, including the old Russian Orthodox Church.

“Here you are Ms. Deveraux,” the Sherriff announced as he pulled up to the Landing. 

“Why not come with us Selene?” Max suddenly chimed in, catching her off guard.  “You could take care of Resolution 87,” he challenged her when she shook her head.

Number eighty-seven on her list of resolutions; don’t be afraid to venture outside your ‘box’.

She glared at him, again wondering just how long he had been standing behind her in the café.

“I would venture to say I already have, detective” she replied pointedly.  They both knew she was referring to his unexpected kiss in the plane.

Sherriff watched their exchange with a humorous expression.

“What time are you boys planning to be back?” she turned and asked the Sherriff.

“Around one or so,” he replied.

Selene leaned forward and handed Max her business card.  “Just call if you are running late.” 

At the precinct, the Sherriff led Max to his office and shut the door behind him.  “Coffee?” he offered as he poured himself a cup.

“Sure, thanks.” Max reached out for the proffered mug. 

Unlocking his desk, the Sherriff pulled out a thick file and handed it to Max.

“We found her two weeks ago.  We’re still waiting on the autopsy report but see here … looks like she suffered some sort of neck trauma.  Note the unusual pattern of the discoloration across her throat?”

“Could have been caused by a necklace maybe,” Max suggested.  “Where was she found?”

“On the west side of Cook Inlet.  A local air taxi flew her out there.  It’s remote but a favorite with photographers.”

“Was her camera recovered?” Max asked, thinking she might have left a few clues to her demise.

“That’s the odd thing.  We found her camera but the memory card was missing.  We searched the river banks, the campsite and her room at the lodge.  Nothing.  Why would a photographer come all the way to Alaska with only one memory card?”

Max frowned as he scanned the crime scene photos again.  Something wasn’t sitting right with him.  “Can I take the file back with me?”

“Sure.  I’ll have the autopsy report sent to your office as soon as it comes back.”

It was nearly one o’clock as Selene walked back towards the Landing.  A reflection in one of the shop windows stopped her mid-stride.  She stared in disbelief at the distorted image of the all-too familiar face that haunted her dreams.  Innate terror rendered her immobile while her heart drummed painfully within her chest.

No, it couldn’t be.  Remember … he’s dead!  Breathe, Selene. Breathe.

Finally able to move, she spun around to face her ghostly nemesis but there was no one there.  Her imagination was playing tricks on her … again.

The scarf around her neck suddenly felt like a hand tightening around her throat and she tugged frantically in an effort to get it off.

“Selene! What’s wrong?” a familiar voice reached her through the panic and she looked up to find Max running towards her, his amber eyes filled with concern.  She wanted to answer, but she couldn’t find her voice. 

“Here, let me do that,” he said as he gently tried to pry her trembling hands from her scarf.  At first she resisted him, her fingers tightening over the fabric, but then she relented.

With the same tenderness she had shown him, he undid her scarf, carefully unraveling it from around her neck.

It wasn’t until he was brushing her hair out of the way that he noticed the long scar that wrapped around her delicate throat.  He had seen that type of wound before. 

His eyes widened and he looked up at her with a questioning gaze.

“Hey … there’s a coffee shop over there … let me make good on that cup I owe you,” he suggested and she didn’t turn him down.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Max asked as he sat down across from her.

At first she didn’t say anything, just stared into the dark liquid in her cup.  “No.”

“Selene … I’m a cop … I can help.”

Her head came up and she stared at him.  “You would be the first one who did.  They didn’t help me in New York or Nashville, and they sure as hell didn’t help me in Denver!” she snapped and instantly regretted her tone. 

“I’m sorry … this isn’t your fault.”

“What happened?” he pressed.

She drew in a ragged breath.  It had been a long time since she talked about it.  “I … was attacked several years ago … he had been stalking me … following us from city to city,” she began.

“Us?” Max asked.

“My fiancé, Ben.  He was a writer so he was able to move with me as I tried to hide from this nut job.

“Every time I thought I lost him, he’d find me again.  The local police didn’t help either.  Said there was nothing they could do.  He hadn’t made any direct threats and he was elusive … a ghost.

“Until he caught up with me.  Ben had gone out for pizza and while he was gone …” A shudder ran through her at the memory.

“I didn’t see his face. He came up from behind and …” she swallowed hard and moved her hand over throat.

“My God, Selene.  Did they catch him?”

“A few weeks later … he was supposedly shot and killed while trying to outrun the cops.  Turns out he was one of my students.  I had been giving him flying lessons for years.”

“And your fiancé?”

“He’s gone.  It was too much for him … maybe because I thought I kept seeing him everywhere I turned … like today,” she explained, shrugging her shoulders.

Max tentatively reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers.  She didn’t pull away.

“It seems you have good reason to be afraid of the dark.”

Number 103 on her list of resolutions; don’t be afraid of the dark.

Selene hadn’t noticed the skies darkening and it wasn’t until she heard the first rumble of thunder that she realized a storm had moved in.  Pulling out her cell phone, she checked the weather reports. 

“Damn, it’s a squall.  Looks like we’ll be here a little while longer,” she said apologetically.

Max could think of worse things than being trapped with Selene Deveraux for a couple of hours.

While he called his precinct, Selene called Ruby at the cafe.

“Ruby … it’s me.  I’m in Kenai and a storm is moving in so I don’t know when I’ll be able to fly out.  Would you mind taking care of Snowshoe and Grasshopper for me?”

“Not at all.  Are you going to be back in time to watch Vampire Diaries?”

“I hope so.  If not, record it and we’ll watch it when I get in.”

“Cool.  Oh, I almost forgot!  A delivery came for you today.”

Selene felt an icy chill snake through her.  “What … what was it?”

“Rainbow freaking roses! We’ve never seen anything like them … have you?”

“Yes,” she answered, her voice barely a whisper.  Selene’s blood ran cold and she felt a wave of dizziness come over her.  She reached out and grabbed Max’s hand to keep from slipping off the chair.

He was still alive. And he had found her.  

Read the Competition - No More Resolutions

No More Resolutions - Part 4

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

“What are the odds that both of my cars break down on the same damn day?” Stella seethed as she slammed the car door shut.

“Hey!  Easy there.  This thing’s not paid for yet and unlike you, I only have ONE car,” Gillian replied as she put her new Lexus SC430 into gear and pulled onto the street.

Duly chastised, Stella let out a huge sigh of frustration and leaned her head back.  “Sorry ‘bout that.”  She looked at her friend’s profile and continued, “Thanks for picking me up by the way.  You know how hard it is to get a cab in the morning.” 

Gillian, Stella’s best friend from college, doing her best Danica Patrick imitation, quickly shifted into a power gear as she got on the freeway, “Hey.  No worries.  Your panic SOS text hit me as I was just getting into my car.  And, even if I had left already, you know I would have circled back for ya.”  She shifted the car into “F” for fly as she zipped in and out of lanes. 

Even though Stella had her own sweet little fast car, she never did drive as fast as her best friend.  Wait for it.  Wait for IT.  Yep.  Here it comes.  Stella’s stomach was officially in her throat as Gillian maneuvered in and out of traffic.  At this point, they’d be at their office in plenty of time for their nine o’clock conference call, with none other than the Dragon Lady herself, their boss, Andrea-the-husband-hunter.

Gulping down her apprehension at their rate of speed and trying not to focus on just how fast Gillian’s car was approaching the car just a few feet in front of them, Stella turned her head from the traffic.  Look at anything.  ANYTHING other than the oncoming cars.  Take a deep breath. “Tell me again who taught you how to drive, Gilly?” Stella joked.

“Can it, toots. I’m giving you a ride, aren’t I?”  Gillian turned and smiled at Stella.

“Hey.  HEY!  Keep your eyes on the road there.  I need to be in one piece for this conference call,” Stella said as she put her hand over her eyes.  Think about anything.  Anything other than Gillian’s driving.

“So, Stella.  With your luck lately, I’m thinking you must have a relative who spit in the eye of the village witch back in the old country or something.  Seriously.  What kind of bad mojo are you generating? Didn’t I tell you to stop sticking pins in the Andrea doll?” Gillian teased her.  Her friends words hit her close to home, though, because Stella had been thinking much along the same lines.  She was having some funky luck lately.

“I don’t know.  Cars breaking down, me getting a speeding ticket and now the Andrea thing.  It all started with me making that crazy New Year’s Resolutions list.  My life hasn’t been the same since.  That’s it.  NO more resolutions for me.”  There.  She said it.  She felt better already.  Right up until the moment Stella heard her phone chirping in her purse.  She debated answering it, but felt like the g-forces from Gillian’s high rate of speed were keeping her pinned against the seat.

“Hey, Stell.  Your purse is ringing.”

“Yeah, I know.  I’m sure it’s the nut bag calling to see where I am.  She wants to give me a download on her impression of Mike.”  Stella debated on whether or not to answer her purse.  Or pick up her phone.  Damn IT.  There was something so maddening about that woman that totally rattled her thoughts.

“Screw it.  She can talk to voice mail.  I’ll deal with her when I get to the office.” 

Gillian spit out a particularly foul epithet, slammed on the breaks and downshifted all at the same time.  Already buckled in, Stella too, slammed on what would have been a break pedal, had she been driving, and clutched the door and Gillian’s arm simultaneously.

“Make that, IF I get to the office,” Stella squeaked.

Gillian smiled as she put the car back into “F” for fly.  “Hang on there, girl.  We’ll be there before you know it.  Don’t want to deprive Andrea the chance to wax poetic about her future husband.”

Stella closed her eyes and cursed that damned ancestor of hers for pissing off that damned village witch in her damned ancestral home.

*

Stella believed she looked as rattled as she felt after that hair-raising ride from Gillian.  Feeling the slightest bit queasy, she couldn’t wait to get some coffee to try and calm her tummy and her thoughts.  Walking quickly to her cubicle, she flung her purse and briefcase on her chair and turned in the direction of the coffee room.

“Stella!  Get in here!” Andrea bellowed from the conference room.

“Yep.  This day is gonna be one for the record books,” she grumbled as she heard her battle axe of a boss shrieking her name.

“On my way, Andrea,” Stella sighed.  “My life has FUBAR written all over it,” she grumbled to herself, almost bumping into Simon in her haste to the conference room. 

“How would a nice woman like yourself, know such a nasty word like FUBAR?” Simon, the man who seemed to occupy most of Stella’s thoughts these days, stood before her.

“Oh!  Sorry!” Stella apologized for the second time in less than an hour. She wasn’t sure if she was more embarrassed from his hearing her say ‘FUBAR’ or from the fact she always felt so clumsy with him.  She thought back to her near miss of almost clocking him in the head with a bowling ball, and felt her face get even hotter.  Yeah.  Her blush-meter was in high gear when Simon whispered in her ear as she slipped past him, “We’ll talk more later, my little tomato.”

His laugh was all Stella could remember, despite sitting in the conference room with her bi-polar boss for the next several hours.

*

Simon wanted out of the office.  It had been one long day, made far longer by his thinking of Stella all damned day.  He’d never felt this way, not even when he’d had long overseas deployments.  Stella was different.  She was on his mind from the first time he saw her.  Simon hadn’t much opportunity to interact with her, though.  Not until this past week when he’d overheard Andrea telling Stella she had to find her a husband by the end of the month.  Hooo-yah!  He didn’t envy Stella that little task.  Andrea was a nightmare.

Simon chuckled at the ironic situation Stella was in.  She had a rule about not dating co-workers, yet her boss was forcing her to find her a husband.  And because of that situation, Simon and Stella were now seeing one another, albeit by accident.  Hello, irony.

Simon sensed someone in the doorway of his office and looked up.  He worked hard to not smile at Stella’s expression on her face.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey yourself,” he said, standing up.  He smiled, but not too broadly.  He didn’t want to scare her off.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I was wondering if we could plan a date for tomorrow night with your friend and Andrea.  She’s really wearing me down about her deadline, which as she likes to remind me, is really MY deadline,” Stella explained in a rush.

“Don’t mind at all.  I’ll email Mike and see if he’s got plans for tomorrow night,” Simon said, taking his seat behind his desk and clicking on his mouse to bring up his email program.  Simon finished typing and clicked “send” before turning his attention fully to Stella.  “Assuming he’s available, what did you have in mind for the four of us?  Before Stella could answer, he heard a quiet “ping” sound from his computer.  “Hold on a sec, this might be Mike,” he said, clicking on the message.

“Yep, he’s available tomorrow night. Said he looked forward to seeing Andrea.”  Simon shook his head at his friend’s message.

“No accounting for taste, is there?” Stella asked.  “I shouldn’t say that.  I should be thrilled he’s willing to go out with her.  She’s not the easiest person to be around.” Stella let out a deep sigh.

“No, she’s not.  How’s she been treating you lately?”  His stomach tightened as he watched Stella take a deep breath and pursing her lips at the same time.  He noticed her brow crinkle the tiniest bit as she let her breath out slowly.  Simon saw she was taking a moment to give some thought to her answer.

“She’s not a nice person, and never has been toward me, but lately she’s really struggling to be nice to me.  Although, she knows she has to be if she wants me to find this mystery man for her.”  Stella stood up and began pacing around his office.

“What I can’t figure out is why she feels she has to get married.  I mean, what if I’m helping her do something that’s illegal?  I can’t do that and I sure as hell can’t risk my security clearance over something like that.”  She stopped in front of the open door and turned to Simon, “Mind if I close this?” she asked. 

Surprised, Simon replied, “No, not at all.”  I like being in a room with you all to myself.  He inwardly grimaced.  Easy, old man.  No need to sound like a lecher.  He’d really scare Stella off if she knew how much he liked being with her.  At the office, at her house with that fur ball  pet of hers, or even dodging bowling balls at the local alley … Simon didn’t care.  He just wanted to be with her.  He hoped she felt the same way about him.  Lost so deeply in his thoughts, he stopped hearing the words Stella spoke to him and just reveled in being so close to her that he could reach out and pull her into his arms.  He wondered what she’d do if he reached over and kissed her.  Right here.  Right now.  In his office.

*

He’s not listening to a word I’m saying.  Stella never thought of herself as an authority on men or anything, but she knew enough to know when someone wasn’t listening to her.  If she didn’t like this guy so much, she wouldn’t care that he wasn’t listening to her.  He was looking at her though.  He looked so intently at her,  she felt he could see right through her.  That little thought sent white hot electricity straight down her spine and into her stomach.  Another heat flash threatened to consume her. She knew it.  She was at DefCon Four on the emotion meter.  Retreat.  Party of one.  Your table is ready.  Oh yeah.  She was losing it.  FUBAR really WAS written all over this situation.  She needed to get a handle on her thoughts and she needed to do that right bloody now.

She stood up, not realizing that Simon was just two inches in front of her.  He wasn’t talking and the office was quiet … oh so quiet, well, except for that sound of the roaring ocean in her ears.  Simon took one of her hands in his and the exact split second her skin made contact with his, heat flushed over her.

The heat went from fire engine red to white hot intensity when Simon leaned in close to Stella and put his mouth on hers.  The joining of their mouths lasted maybe two seconds when Simon pulled back from her and looked her square in the eye.  Stella smiled encouragement at him and with a groan, he pulled her to him.  Wrapping both of his arms around her and pulling her body flush into his, his mouth found hers again in a welcoming kiss of discovery.  Their mouths slanted against one another, Stella felt his lips moving against hers.  The ocean kept roaring in her ears and it was pretty much official.  She was on the verge of melting into a puddle on his office floor.

Oh my God!  The office!  Shock overcame Stella as she realized she was locked in a heated embrace with Simon, in their damned workplace!  Flustered, she pushed against him and stepped back from him.  Her mouth felt hot and raw and she put her hands to her mouth in horror.

“Stella.  I’m sorry,” Simon began to say.  He put his hands up in front of his chest in a position of apology, and immediately dropped them.  “Oh hell no.  I’m NOT sorry.  I’ve been wanting to do that ever since we ate pizza in your living room.”

Stella tugged at her hair as she gathered her thoughts.  “Simon, please, you misunderstand me.”

Simon had turned slightly away from Stella to give her some space.  Space he thought she wanted, but when he heard her words, he turned back towards her.

“What do you mean?”  He stood in front of her.

“I’m glad you kissed me,” she said with a smile.  “I like you, Simon.  More than I should. Umm, I, umm, I mean,” she stammered.  She shook her head.  “I don’t know what it is about you, but when I’m around you, I can’t seem to string three words together in coherent thought.”

Relieved, she wasn’t going to kick him to the curb, he took a deep breath and took her hands in his.  “No worries, Stella.  We’ll take it slow.  He brought her hands to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on them.  I know you’ve got concerns about dating a co-worker,” he began.

Stella interrupted him with a laugh, “Trust me, Simon.  I no longer think of you as a co-worker.” She laughed again as he kissed her hands.

“No?  You don’t think of me like that?  What do you think of me, then?” He could not seem to stop kissing her hands.  Granted, he’d rather kiss something else, but he didn’t want to scare her off.

“I think of you as a friend, a man I can’t seem to stop thinking about.” She smiled when his mouth stilled against her hands. 

Delighted by her words, he started to kiss her back, but suddenly remembered Andrea’s situation.  “What DO you want to do about your list of New Year’s Resolutions?  Especially number 103?”

“Forget about it.  We introduced Andrea to Mike.  We’re done.” Stella started kissing Simon again.

Simon shifted his head from hers and asked, “Aren’t you even remotely curious why she needed to get married?”

Stella shook her head.  “No.  She’s got her man,” she said as she stole a look at Simon.

Simon smiled as he kissed the side of her neck and murmured into her ear, “And you’ve got yours.”

Stella didn’t say another word aloud, but from the intensity of her kisses she pressed against Simon’s mouth, he knew exactly what she was feeling.  A single thought did pop into his head though, and he pulled back from her one more time, looking her square in the eye, “Are you ever going to tell me about that stripper pole in your living room?”

Stella just smiled and pulled Simon to her again.

THE END

READ THE COMPETITION - KARMA

And The Final 2!!!

KARMA VS. NO MORE RESOLUTIONS

Our Finalists!

Show them your love and come back for the Final Match-up!

Semi Finals Line Up

Karma vs. 103 Resolutions

No More Resolutions vs Mackenzie's Secret

Karma - Part 3

Read Part 1 - Part 2

Selene observed the play of emotions on his face.  His overt rejection of her stung but she schooled her features, resisting the urge to walk away.  She had caught a glimpse of something familiar hidden in the depths of those amber eyes; fear. 

“I see … you’re absolutely certain that there is no one else available?” he finally asked, breaking the uneasy silence between them.

“Absolutely certain.  As it is, we have a waiting list a mile long from overbooked sightseeing charters.  It would seem you are stuck with me.  Do you need to get to Kenai or not?” she asked, her tone leaving little doubt of her waning patience.

His face blanched and avoided eye contact with her. “I promised the Sheriff I would meet with him but …”

“No offense but I really don’t have time for this sexist bullshit,” she snapped, picking up her gear.  Shoulders squared, she moved past him and stalked towards the hanger. 

“I’m not sexist! Hey, wait a minute,” he called out and she heard him running to catch up with her.

“No.  I have already waited ten minutes … nine minutes too long.  I’m not getting paid to take you to Kenai.  I was doing a favor for Charlie.  If you have a problem with me, then find yourself another means of transportation.”

“It’s not you I have a problem with,” he argued, feeling himself sinking deeper into the mire of his fears.

She stopped short and whipped around to face him, nearly causing him to run into her. 

“Really?  Because it sure as hell seems like you have a problem with me,” she challenged him, her green gaze tearing into his.

He swallowed hard and Selene found a modicum of satisfaction at his unease. 

“You aren’t from around here, are you?”

“No.  I was transferred here a couple of months ago.”

“I see.  Here’s a little advice … if you want to fit in around here and be trusted by these people, you need to ditch that arrogant, sexist attitude you seem to have brought with you.”

“You don’t seem like you are from around here either, if we are dishing out personal judgments, that is,” he retorted, his amber eyes blazing in the sunlight.

Selene stilled.  She thought she had done an unquestionable job of blending in over the last several years.  How was it that he could tell otherwise?  Granted, he was a cop, but the realization unnerved her, peeling away a few layers of the safety nets she had cast around her.

“This isn’t about me.  You know what?  This asinine debate is over.  I would suggest you find yourself another pilot,” she snapped as she turned away. 

“I see you aren’t doing so well with resolution 99,” he accused and she turned to look at him.

Number Ninety-nine on her list of resolutions; curb her newfound habit of swearing. 

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?  You look at me and all you can see is the train wreck you ran into at the coffeehouse,” she confronted him as the painful realization hit.  Selene held her ability to fly in high regard and she resented anyone questioning her skills.

He held her fiery gaze this time, refusing to back down.  “Can you blame me?”

Selene’s breath caught and her jaw dropped.  It felt as if he had delivered a fierce blow right to her gut. 

“Maybe not, but let me tell you something.  I have moved around more times than I care to remember but the one place I feel at home is in that plane!  The woman you met in the coffee shop is who I am most of the time; I can’t seem to get out of my own way,” she admitted, pulling her grandmother’s flight jacket more tightly around her as if doing so would shield her from his scrutiny.

“But when I’m flying, detective, I am a different person.  Flying is in my blood and I have been at it since I was nine years old.  I have a perfect safety record and have logged in more hours than the population of Kenai.  If that isn’t good enough for you, then we are done here,” she raileduncharacteristically. 

Selene felt the sting of tears and turned away.  She’d be damned if he would see her cry. 

“That is good enough for me,” he replied quickly as a reassuring sense of kinship came over him. 

Selene kept her back towards him for a minute and drew in a deep breath.  She was intuitive enough to know that trusting her wasn’t easy for him; he was taking a huge leap of faith.

“Let’s go then,” she finally replied, turning and heading towards the Super Cub.

While Max stored his gear in the Firman pod, behind the extra fuel, tent, survival gear, and rations, she ran her fingers over the replication of the WASP insignia emblazoned on the fabric of her plane; a ritual she performed before every takeoff.

When they were finally seated in the aircraft, Selene slipped on the headset and adjusted the interphone.  Reaching forward, she depressed the ignition button and the plane purred to life. 

She turned to hand Max a headset when she noticed he looked ashen.

“Are you alright?” she asked, grasping the notion that there might be more to the issue of flying with her other than first impressions.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, doing his best to appear calm and unaffected by the fact that he was about to face one of his worst nightmares.

Within moments, they were cleared for take off and taxiing down the runway.  Selene’s take off was swift and flawless.

It was late July and the Alaskan landscape was in full bloom, teeming with brilliant colors and wildlife, and the majestic realm below infused the tenuous peace between them. 

The Kenai Fjords came into view, the glacier-blue hue of the water breathtaking.   Selene finally broke the silence by pointing out a few black bears as they soared over the Wildlife Refuge.

When there was no response, she looked over her shoulder.

“Oh my God … what’s wrong?”

Max looked at her, his expression one of fear and uncertainty.  His breath was coming in rapid gasps and his knuckles were nearly white from the death grip he had on the safety belt.

“I need to get off this plane … now!” he shouted as his face turned a lighter shade of pale. 

“What? No!  Don’t you dare have a panic attack in my plane!” Damn it! She knew the signs of a panic attack well enough and regardless of how irritated she had been with him, she sympathized.

“Selene … please …”

His plaintive plea tugged at her heart.  “Take that small bag and empty it … then breathe in and out of it slowly.”  She watched as he picked up one of the paper bags next to him. 

“What the hell … is … this … supposed to do?” he asked, gasping between breaths.

“Just empty it and put the damned bag over your mouth … come on … breathe Max.”

A few moments passed.  “It’s not helping …” he muttered from behind her, one hand closing over her shoulder in desperation.

“That’s because you keep talking, detective …”

“I liked it better when you called me Max.”

Selene shushed him and focused on landing at the airfield.  “Snowbird 119 requesting clearance to land.”

“Copy that Snowbird.”

Normally, Selene would come in hot – high and fast – but given the situation, she took care with her landing.

“How are you doing back there?” she asked as she taxied towards the hanger.

“Betta,” came the muffled reply.

“You can remove the bag.  Just keep taking slow, deep breaths.” 

Selene killed the engine and unclipped her belt.  Moving over to the edge of her seat, she turned towards Max.

With gentle hands, she undid his belts, and then removed his headset.  He watched her in silence, his gaze never leaving her face.

“Did anyone tell you that you have the most incredible green eyes?  Have you ever seen Columbian emeralds?  Your eyes look like Columbian emeralds,” he muttered.

It was obvious he was still out of sorts so Selene let his comments pass without remark. 

“And your hair … black as a Raven’s wing,” he continued as he closed his eyes and ran his trembling fingers through her long hair.

A fierce shiver coursed through her and her breath caught. 

“What are you doing?” she asked carefully.  It had been a long time since someone had touched her; no less elicited such a powerful response.  

Max opened his eyes and stared at her as if she should know the answer. 

“What I’ve wanted to do since the first moment I saw you,” he managed to reply through erratic breaths.

Without much more warning than that, he pressed his palms against both sides of her face, urging her towards him and capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss.

READ PART 4

103 Resolutions - Part 3

 Read Part 1 - Part 2

'You think you know a person, and he goes and pulls a stunt like this!' Carrie threw the Sunday papers on Penelope's desk.

'Look, dahling, I don't mind you getting me out of bed on a Sunday, but I do object to you messing up my desk. Calm down, and let's see if we can grow some roses from this pile of manure.'

'How can you talk about being calm? Have you read these interviews?' Carrie picked up one of the newspapers, her hands shaking with anger, 'Look, this one has a photo of me and Jerome. He looks fine, and I look like some crazed idiot.'

'Let me see,' said Penelope, putting on her spectacles, 'oh that is a funny photo, I remember you both showing it to me, still makes me laugh. That face of yours. Hilarious.'

Carrie was in no laughing mood. 'It's not so funny when it's coupled with Jerome discussing our bedroom secrets. Talk about kiss and tell. And look at this article - he's telling everyone that the only reason I'm famous is because I surround myself with famous talented people, in the hope that some of their talent might rub off.'

'Jerome is a very jealous, naughty little boy who can't stand anyone else having glory,' said Penelope, pouring out a brandy, 'here, get this down you, and look on the bright side - there's no such thing as bad publicity.'

'How can you say that? All the hard work you've put into getting me interviewed, reviewed, all those photo shoots for magazines,' Carrie said, taking a large gulp of brandy.

'That's what I get my ten percent for, isn't it, dahling?' Penelope poured some more brandy, 'making sure you're out there, in all the right places, talking to the right people.'

'Why did Jerome do this and ruin all the hard work we've put in?'

'Money and jealousy, dahling, pure and simple. But what he doesn't realize is that it's all food for the gossip columnists, and if they're writing about you, dahling, then the world is reading about you and talking about you,' Penelope clapped her hands, 'and the more column inches you get, the more I can charge for you.'

Carrie sat quietly sipping her brandy, and letting her anger subside. Marching over to Jerome's and punching him in his smug little face wasn't the answer, tempting though it was. She knew what she had to do. She stood up and handed Penelope her empty brandy glass. 'No offence to you, Penny, but I am sick and tired of being a commodity that people can buy and sell. I need to get away from everything. Take some time out. Retire for a while. I've had enough.

'But we're riding a wave to glory, dahling, you can't simply jump off.'

'Actually, Penny, I can, and I will. You arrange it anyway you like, put any spin you want to on the story, but get me out of here,' Carrie shook her head and started to laugh, 'it's as though that resolution is turning into a prophesy.'

'What resolution?'

'Resolution one hundred and three: after this exhibition I am going to stop everything and live in a cottage in the country. I've had enough. I can't go on like this.'

Penelope took off her reading glasses and looked closely at Carrie.  'Crikey blimey, you're serious, aren't you?'

'Please Penny,' said Carrie, walking to the door, 'a cottage in the country for the summer. I need to recharge my batteries, I need to be away from London, and I need to be able to find myself again.'

Penelope laughed 'My god, you've gone from 'wounded victim of media hype' to 'New-Age disciple' in less than ten minutes. You arty types are such drama queens. I'll see what I can do, dahling. Ciao.'

'Bye, Pen.'

Within a week, Penelope had everything arranged. 'Is this spooky, or what, dahling?' she said, watching Carrie pack her belongings, 'I met that Lady Everington at your exhibition opening, and she just happens to have a cottage for rent.'

'What's spooky about that?' said Carrie, deciding not to take her wild flamboyant clothes, and only pack jeans, t-shirts and some pretty floral print dresses, 'Is it haunted or something?'

'No, much more exciting. I googled the address, to find out where the cottage is, and guess how far it is from your flat?'

'I have no idea.'

'One hundred and three miles.'

'No way!'

'Yes, way.  This is going to be the start of something extraordinary, it's like fate is calling you.'

'Now who's getting all New-Agey?'


Carrie made Penelope promise not to tell a soul where she was going, as the last thing she needed was journalists turning up to interview her, or her fellow artists calling in for some serious partying. Penelope was in her element, enigmatically hinting of Carrie's whereabouts, and feeding all kinds of rumors to the gossip columns. On the day Carrie left London, a newspaper article speculated on whether Carrie had checked into rehab or was off working for the VSO helping malnourished children in the Sudan.

Carrie knew that without her usual outrageous clothes, arty makeup, the wild coloured wigs and hair extensions, she could blend in with a crowd, and nobody recognized her. No-one equated the beautiful willowy brunette leafing through the newspapers at the train station with the photographs of the eccentric extrovert girl dancing, flinging her arms about and laughing wildly under the headline: 'Rehab? VSO? You decide.'

The train rumbled slowly through the countryside, leaving the commuter towns behind, and passing through stations with improbable sounding names; 'Whortle-cum-Chuting,' 'Tidpit', 'Petersfinger-on-Towney'.

'This is the England I came to discover,' Carrie said to herself, as the train passed  by a group of rosy-cheeked schoolchildren on their way home from school, skipping and waving at the passengers.

Carrie got off the train at a tiny station. There was a white picket fence, flower beds, and a station master with a cap and a whistle who telephoned for a taxi.

'What a beautiful little village,' she said to the taxi driver, as he loaded her suitcases into the cab. Carrie wasn't prepared for just how remote the cottage was. Five miles off the beaten track, at the end of a lane, with no neighbours, no electricity, and not a chance of anyone passing by.

'You sure this is the place, Miss?' said the taxi driver, as they stood outside the tiny front door, almost hidden behind the rambling roses, 'it don't look like it's been lived in for years.'

'I'm sure,' said Carrie, heart pumping with excitement. The door was unlocked, and someone had obviously been in to make the cottage welcoming for her and leave a supply of basic food.

Carrie paid the taxi driver, and spent the next five minutes exploring her new home. That's all it took, five minutes, to see the kitchen that doubled up as a living room, the bedroom nestled in the roof, and the tiny bathroom.

'Perfect,' she said out loud.

It took less than twenty-four hours to discover that living in an isolated cottage deep in the English countryside wasn't quite as perfect as she thought it would be.

Read the Competition - Karma

No More Resolutions- Part 3

 Read Part 1 - Part 2

Simon didn’t like cats.  He didn’t particularly like women who had pet cats, either.  And that beast masquerading as a cat in Stella’s house was ridiculous.  He thought for sure that hairy feline looked at him and thought “Lunch!” when she sidled past him.  Darned cat seemed so smug to him.   He knew it sounded crazy and this Nikki took the proverbial cake. Or kibble, as the case may be.  Dude.  Get a grip.  It’s a cat.   Who was he kidding?  Simon didn’t think he’d see Nikki again.  He’d never been to Stella’s house before tonight and hadn’t really planned anything else with her.

Problem was Simon couldn’t shake Stella from his thoughts.  He’d always been struck by her.  Hell, who wasn’t?  He’d never seen a woman less affected by her unbelievable beauty than he had when he first met Stella.  Gorgeous ebony hair, startling violet eyes and a porcelain complexion so pure that he had to look away from her just to catch his breath.  She was a classic beauty right out of a Walt Disney story, with a figure to rival any of old Walt’s princesses.  Although, her looks weren’t what drew him to her. 

No, it was more her spirit and the way her eyes smiled when she spoke.  He’d never met a person who liked to laugh as much as Stella did.  He liked to watch her laugh so hard that tears would stream down her face.  Although, the first time he saw that happen, he really did think she was nuts.  A real candidate for the loony bin.  He soon realized just how wrong he was.

Stella was quite the catch, who had a catch … some silly rule about not dating men she worked with.

A woman with convictions.

Guaranteed to intrigue him even more.

It wasn’t until Simon returned from his second tour of duty in Iraq, that he had a chance to interact with her.  While Stella worked as an engineer, Simon was an active duty US Air Force Captain assigned to the firm as a security specialist on loan from the DOD. He may have been out of touch with the rest of the world while he’d been fighting the War on Terror, but he still recognized a special woman when he saw one.  She was an enigma.  Her reputation as an aeronautical engineer was excellent, to the point where she was a bit of a rock star in the engineering world, if that was even possible.  Combine that with her fun spirit and outlook on life and Simon had the sinking feeling he was hooked.

All that aside, Simon really did have a plan when he popped in on Stella tonight.  He laughed aloud when he remembered her reaction to his match-making plans.

“I thought you said this guy was your friend?” Stella quizzed Simon after he told her his idea. 

“Mike is perfect for Andrea.  Same age, similar interests.” Simon placed a slice of pizza on a plate and handed it to Stella.  He smiled as she sank back into her recliner with an “Ooof!”

“Tough day?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

She tugged her hand through her hair in that utterly adorable manner she had.  She didn’t just tug at her hair, but rather seemed to twirl strands of hair through her fingers at the same time.  Simon could sit and watch her do that all night.  Easy, buddy.

Ignoring his question, “Why would you want to do that to one of your friends?  You know what a ballbreaker Andrea can be.” She smiled her thanks for the pizza.  Taking a bite, she proffered, “Mmmm.  Good.” She swiped at the string of cheese that clung to the corner of her mouth. 

Simon was enthralled.

Get a grip, man.  You’re about to lose it over a woman eating a slice of pizza.

“She just hasn’t met the right guy yet, that’s all.” He opened a bottle of beer and handed it to Stella.

“Th-th-thanks,” she stuttered, reaching for the bottle, stunning Simon in the process by the electric zing that hit him in the pit of his stomach when his fingers brushed against Stella’s.    What the HELL?

Focus.  Simon shook his head to calm his rattled thoughts.  “Mike is perfect for her.  He’s been to the Sandbox on three different tours.  He can handle Andrea.  Besides, I’ve got the perfect place for the date,” he said, still buzzing from her electric jolt to his senses.

“Whoa there.  Now hold on a minute.  Who said anything about a date?” Stella almost shouted. 

Hmmm. That rattled her. 

“The woman wants to be married by the end of the month.  You don’t think she needs to go on a few dates before her trip down the aisle?” Simon grumbled as he plowed his way through two slices of pizza.  He was a little hurt by her reluctance to go on a couples date.

Stella jumped up, knocking her paper plate to the floor.  Flustered, she didn’t seem to notice, nor did she notice when Simon leaned over and quietly picked up the plate and put it on the coffee table.

“Nervous?  I’m not nervous,” Stella stammered.  “Is it hot in here?” she asked as a myriad of emotions crossed her face.     

Hmmm.  Interesting reaction out of her.  “We could do a double date and oh, I don’t know, go bowling or something.”  He inwardly groaned, Bowling.  Ugh. When did I turn into my uncle?

She gave a wan smile that seemed to say to him, ‘Great.  A sports date.’  “Seriously?  Bowling?  Why not go to a concert or out to dinner?”  She got up quickly.  “In fact, I think I saw that Celine Dion will be at the US Bank Arena next week.  How’s that sound? Let me find that newspaper.”

His stomach actually flipflopped.  Yeah.  He needed to re-gain control over this conversation and right bloody now.  He cleared his throat.  “Stella.  Umm, no.”

She looked at him in surprise and horror.  “What do you mean, no? You don’t like Celine?”

He stood up and walked over to her.  “Look.  I’m not a Celine Dion kind of guy.  No way.  No offense to Ms. Dion, but, umm, NO.”  He wasn’t budging on this one.  There were some things he couldn’t tolerate and ‘chick music’ was one of those things.  Celine Dion definitely fell into the ‘chick music’ category. 

He didn’t want to tell her that, though.  Simon smiled at Stella and tried a different approach.  “Think about it.  A bowling date is a great couples activity and will give plenty of opportunity for the two of them to interact,” Simon turned to retrieve his beer and drained the last of it before returning the bottle down to the table.

*

The room was quiet, so much so that Stella realized Simon was waiting for her response.  “Hmmm, great couples activity, you say?”  Stella suppressed an involuntary shudder at the thought of bowling. 

She really sucked at bowling.  Simon would never believe her, if he told her.  She was positive she was one of just a few women in the world who did not possess a shred of sports talent.  None.  Nor did she really want any.  To this day, she couldn’t tell the difference between a half time, a goal post, a pitcher’s mound, a touchdown, a ref, an ump or a hoop.  And she never could figure out what folks meant when they called an audible.  Stella never played sports and really believed that high school football games existed to provide the school’s marching band an opportunity to practice in front of a live audience.

But, if Simon thought organizing a couples bowling outing would help Andrea get married before the end of the month, Stella wasn’t standing in the way.  Her bowling skill might be another story.  Stella prayed no one got hurt, or at the very least, everyone’s health insurance included hospitalization.  Unlimited hospitalization.

*

Stella wasn’t kidding.  She DID suck at bowling.  Simon became a believer when she walked to the end of the lane, raised her bowling ball and aimed.  It was kind of cute to watch her throw every bit of power in her body behind her bowling ball and let it fly down the lane. Cute went right out of the window though when before any of them knew what happened, the ball flew out of her hand and winged its way back behind the lounge area and landed in the snack bar with a sickening thud.  That innocent looking ten pound metallic blue bowling ball took out an order of chicken wings, two orders of cheese fries and one entire serving tray of full-to-the-brim beer cups, not to mention the fact that it scared ten years off the life of two employees taking an innocent dinner break.

Nope.  Stella was right.  She had no athletic prowess at all.  Even though he literally did fear for his life for just a moment when he saw that ball sailing through the air, watching the look of abject horror on her face change into mirth when she realized no one was hurt was worth it.  Her eyes sparkled.  He was a goner.  Forget about Mike and Andrea.  Simon had the sinking feeling he’d just met his match in Stella.  He only had to convince her of that.  Those damned convictions of hers.

He knew a challenge when he saw one, what with her belief that she couldn’t date anyone she worked with.  And he still wanted her to let him see her zip around on that stripper pole in her living room.  The one she ignored when he asked her why she had one in her house.  The thought of Stella on that thing excited him and terrified him at the same time.  If she could make bowling balls whiz through the air, what in the Hell could she do on a stripper’s pole?  He sincerely hoped that cat stayed out of the way if Stella started up the dance music.  He grimaced at the thought of that brutish feline getting caught up in the mix.  No doubt Nikki-the-Maine-Coon-Cat would come out the winner.

READ PART 4

Mackenzie’s Secret – Part 3

Read Part 1 - Part 2

 By the time that Sterling had finished telling Mackenzie all about the Alero family’s connection to her own family, the sun was higher in the sky and their breakfast plates were empty.  She now understood that Nino had not come into his cruelty by accident.  His grandfather, Sebastian, had been a cunning, immoral businessman, a ruthlessly cruel human being, and, it turned out, the whole reason that they were sitting in the small cabin.  Fate, it seemed, had just stepped-in, bringing Mackenzie closer to not only healing the wounds of the past ten years, but also to ending the suffering of the last three generations. 

“Have my parents heard all of this?  Has my sister?”  Her voice seemed far away. “Did they know about it all before they sent me in to marry Nino?  Is that why I was there?”  She stared unwaveringly at the swirls of cold milk and coffee at the bottom of her mug.  She didn’t want to see Sterling’s face if the answer was “yes.”   

“No, Mack, they had no idea.”  There was no hint of hesitation in his voice, no obvious attempt to conceal.  “They would never have sent you in if they knew that the danger of discovery ran so deep.”  He leaned closer to her, his voice laced with frustration.  “We all knew that you would have to face cruelty, but we never imagined the extent of the connection, or the amount of torture that you would have to endure.” 

She looked up into his eyes and found nothing but sincerity and sympathy.  Where was the annoying sarcasm that she had grown to expect from him?  Right now he was telling nothing but the truth, and he felt for her.  She and the rest of the Walkers were not his blood family.  His family name was Walsh.  But after his parents died, when he was only a child, her father had become his mentor.  Mackenzie expected that Sterling loved them all as family, even though she and he had been at each others’ throats since day one.

They held eyes for a moment, and then she laughed softly.  “Sorry.  I guess that six months in the devil’s lair has made me paranoid.  I should never question my family’s motives.  They have never steered me wrong yet.”

“Understandable.  You have always tended to over-think things,” he said with a grin.  “But, seriously, don’t lose faith.  Your sister is safe and she found out all of the details that she needed to in order for you and me to continue with the plan.  We are so much closer than we were six months ago.”  He tightened his grip on her hand.  “It took longer than anticipated, and for that I know everyone is sorry.  No one ever wanted to see you stuck there for that long.” 

“I know,” she said quietly.  “But, it was necessary.”

Sterling released her hand and stood up, busying himself with putting the breakfast plates in the sink.  “Want me to make more coffee?”

“Sure.  That would be great.”

Silence stretched between them as Sterling prepared another pot of coffee, and Mackenzie stared out the window, thinking about all that she had learned that morning.  It had been Sebastian Alero that had conned her grandfather into entering the illegal business deals that had eventually destroyed her family’s good name.  It had been Sebastian that had pointed the finger at her grandfather, landing him in jail, leaving her grandmother alone to raise her father and run the company that was, by then, almost completely dismantled.  And most disturbingly, Sebastian had been the architect behind the blackmail scheme that had plagued Mackenzie’s family for three generations, and driven her grandmother to suicide.   

Annabelle had entered into the Aleros’ world, posing as a systems consultant, seeking information and answers on financial matters.  Mackenzie had been the big sister, sacrificing herself for her family – offering herself up to the grandson so that they could eventually bring the villains to their knees.  If they didn’t succeed now, the danger would all have been for nothing. 

“Mack?  Hey, Earth to Mackenzie.” 

She looked up to see Sterling standing over her, a steaming cup of fresh coffee in his hand. 

“Jeeze,” he said, placing the cup on the table in front of her, “you have smoke coming out of your ears.  You alright?”  His light tone did nothing to hide the concern etched into his face. 

“Yeah.  Sorry.  I was just thinking about everything you told me.  How did Annabelle find out all that history by the way?  It doesn’t seem like something that would be common knowledge in the company.” 

“It wasn’t Annabelle.  That information came from Maxwell Alero,” Sterling’s eyes flicked from her to the window behind her. 

“Nino’s father?”

“Yeah.”  His eyes fixed on the window. 

“Well, how did we find out about it?”  When he didn’t answer, she turned to look out the window, as well.   

“See that dust?” he said, pointing toward the road.  “Someone’s coming.”  He reached into the rear waistband of his jeans and pulled out a small gun.  Mackenzie could not help but notice how the muscles in his arms contracted.  The small, slender boy that she remembered had become a powerful, dangerous, and seriously sexy man.  “A currier is supposed to bring us the financials this morning.  I just want to make sure that’s him.” 

“Why would it be anyone else?”  A sharp jolt of panic shot through her chest as she suddenly realized the reality of her situation.  “Do you think that Nino might be able to find me?” 

“I don’t think so, but it never hurts to be cautious.”  His sharp blue eyes focused on the black SUV that pulled into the driveway, and his hand relaxed.  “It’s the currier.  I’ll be right back.  You stay here.”  He shoved the gun back into his waistband, and hurried outside to meet a tall, skinny blond man that she did not recognize.      

The man handed Sterling a black leather computer case and a banker box stuffed with binders.  They exchanged some words that Mackenzie could not hear, and Sterling returned with the materials in his arms.  He rounded the corner and placed the box and bag on the kitchen counter. 

“Why don’t you go and take a nap while I get organized.”

“Well,” she said in her most superior tone, “because you are supposed to be here to help me, not the other way around.”   

“Oh for the love of God, Mack,” he groaned, looking up from the papers. “You just drugged and walked out on your husband, drove six hours through a rain storm, found out devastating news about your family, and ate my cooking.  Don’t you think that you should drop the haughty act and just get some damned sleep before you drop dead from exhaustion?”  He waved his hand at her as if shooing away a bothersome fly.   

She stepped into his space and began waving her arms as she spoke.  “Listen, Walsh.  Don’t think that you can just…”            

Sterling grabbed her arms by the elbows and brought them to her sides, gently but firmly.  There was such a difference between his touch and that of her husband for` the last six months.  Sterling was not threatening in his strength as Nino had been, only powerful.  “Listen, Walsh?” he asked incredulously.  “Pulling out the big guns, huh?”  He was smiling as he looked at her. 

“Let my arms go.”  She thrust her chin into the air. 

He did as she had asked, but remained standing close to her.  “I was just trying to calm you down,” he said, holding his palms out in surrender.  “I was charged with not only helping you on the next phase of the plan, but with making sure that you take care of yourself for the next couple days.”  He grabbed her arms again and pulled her into him for a long, slow kiss. 

In an instant, all of the exhaustion that she had been denying was there flooded over her and she felt as if she could fall to the ground and sleep for a week.  She wanted to hit him, to yell at him for being an arrogant jerk, but as he pulled away and looked her in the eyes, she was too tired to speak and actually felt some genuine affection for him. 

“So, please, Mack, just take a nap.  The bedroom is through there.”  He let her arms go and pointed behind her.  “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”       

“Is that a threat?” she mumbled as she walked down the hall. 

His voice carried through the already closed door.  “Depends on your point of view, I guess.” 

She chuckled to herself in the dark room.  Sterling Walsh was going to be nothing but trouble.   

 

 Read the Competition - No More Resolutions