Another Tempting Teaser
ETHAN, from the California Dreamy Series, will be available later this month. In the meantime, I hope you will enjoy this small excerpt from the novel:
Shae liked Ethan’s sister. She wasn’t pouting. She didn’t look at Ethan or Shae with indifference. She had none of that attitudeShae had come to expect from the age group. Entitlement. Just the thought left a bad taste in her mouth. But Eva Abrams was bold and mischievous and it was a beguiling combination.She extended her hand to Shae and introduced herself. “I haven’t seen all of your movies,” she admitted, “but I loved ‘At Long Last.’ It was beautiful and painful and so right.” And then she quoted a line from the movie, just seven words, but Shae had agonized over them for hours. Maybe even days. The words had become a mantra among select groups. They were tweeted and tumbled and smashed and pinned, and words Shae had written had become urban lingo. She couldn’t help smiling into Eva’s exuberance.“Thanks. I love when that happens.” It was true. It wasn’t often, but when Shae was fed words she had written, it made her world spin a little faster.“I’ll try to come up with a few more,” Eva promised.But Shae shook her head. “Not necessary.”Eva glanced over her shoulder and Shae followed her gaze. Ethan stood back a few feet, hands stuffed into the front pocket of his jeans.“He’s a little nervous,” Eva confided in a stage whisper.“Eva,” Ethan warned.“He’ll start rolling back on his heels soon,” Eva predicted. “That’s his one and only nervous habit. You see, the problem is—““That I have an interfering sister,” Ethan finished for her and moved close enough he could slide between them.Eva stood on tip-toe and gazed at Shae over her brother’s shoulder. “And no writing talent. Our sister, Emme, wrote all his papers for him in high school.”Shae watched a hint of color climb into Ethan’s cheeks. A blush, on a man of his size, was, well, endearing. “That’s true,” he admitted. “But I paid well for them.”Eva nodded. “He had a job at the Chevron station.”Silence ensued and then Shae laughed. It was a deep, from the belly laugh, and it felt good. This was it. Exactly what she wanted to return to. Family. The squabbles and the tender moments. She wanted to be there now. She should be there tomorrow. And she had a plan. This time next year, a baby—or almost.A smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Don’t encourage her.”“You guys remind me of home,” Shae said. “And knowing how siblings argue, I’m inclined to believe only half of what I’ve heard.”“What half?” Ethan asked.“That Eva is interfering, of course.” It was obvious, but the younger woman crossed her arms over her chest and her smiled wavered. She had the grace not to protest her innocence, though. “And that you can’t write. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”“I’m stuck,” he reminded her.“But not nervous?” Shea probed.“Hell, yes, I am.”“Why?”“We’ll get to that,” he promised. He turned and looked pointedly at his sister. “Eva has a few things to do.”“What things?” Eva asked, but her cell phone squawked again, with a few notes of a Rolling Stones tune. “Those things,” he said. “You don’t want to keep Kent waiting. Men aren’t any better with that than women.” He turned back to Shae. “My office is at the back of the house. I converted the sunroom, sort of.”He picked up her laptop and started walking.“You want something to drink before we start?”Something to drink and eat, she thought. It was, after all, twelve-thirty. Definitely within the lunch hour. And didn’t Stevie say something about food?“Ice tea?”“Sure.”They passed through the kitchen which was small for Hollywood standards, but then they weren’t in Kansas anymore. He had a few modern conveniences, granite and a breakfast alcove. He opened the refrigerator, grabbed two bottles of Arizona tea, and continued to the back of the house. The sunroom/office was all windows. Outside, clutches of fuchsia- and lavender-colored flowers bloomed in pots and a lap pool glistened under the sun. Shae glanced around the room. One desk. One chair. Desk top, printer, and a Synonym Finder that was about ten inches thick and frayed around the edges. There was a pile of paper on the floor that had been printed from the computer—the top sheet had several lines crossed out and notes written into the margin.Shae dropped her purse on the floor—there was nowhere else to put it—and turned full circle. The hemline of her blouse flared around her. The wedged heels of her sandals squeaked on the wood flooring. “Nice work space.”“Describe nice,” Ethan demanded.“Uncluttered?” she tried. She had a few other words that would do but each of them felt like criticism.“You can do better than that,” Ethan prodded. “What does this place reveal about me?”Because there was revelation in every thought and action… “Are you a minimalist?”His bark of laughter was a surprise. Shae had been trying for a neutral tone.“Evidence?”She shrugged. “Small house. I saw a toaster and a blender in the kitchen, but no espresso machine.” She nodded toward his desk. “There’s nowhere for me to sit.”“I can fix that.” He placed her laptop on the only chair and strode across the room. He disappeared through the door and Shae could almost see the air ripple with his passing. Weird. The man could move. Nothing flashy, but strong, economical progress that left her a little dizzy. He returned with a chair from the kitchen table. Wood lattice back but the seat was cushioned.“I just moved in,” he explained. “Well, seven months ago.” He smiled, abashed. “Redecorating, remodeling any of that will have to wait.”“Until you’re done with this project?”“Yes.” He stared at her. “What was the other comment? Oh, yeah, ‘small house.’ There’s only me, so I don’t need a lot of room. Never really had any. I grew up in a ranch house and had my own bedroom only because gender singled me out. Then it was the military—you never get more than elbow room in the service. It also makes a guy something of a minimalist. Your possessions are whittled down to what you can carry.”“I didn’t mean it as a judgment.”He ignored that. “Notice anything else?”Well, since he asked, “You move a lot.” Not really a nervous energy, because Shae recognized a contained kind of strength in Ethan. He had a stunning physique, with well-defined muscle and sleek lines, broad shoulders and chest, thighs that strained against the material of his faded jeans. Powerful was a more apt description of him. And yet, she got the impression that he was feeling a little edgy.What was up with that? she wondered. Exactly what had he called her here to wrestle with?She remembered Stevie’s words, that Ethan had first-time jitters—another description she had a hard time applying to the man. He was just too . . .together. “That’s pretty much a state of being for me,” he admitted. “I’m in constant motion. I think I have a vestibular thing going on,” he explained.Shae tilted her head, considering that. She’d heard the term before but couldn’t quite come up with its meaning.“It’s one of our senses, it’s all about movement. I think I need more than the average person.”“No transcendental meditation for you?”His smile was big and full of amusement. It made her heart cartwheel. “No. Although it would be a viable form of torture should you need to use it.”“You’re giving away your secrets?”“I haven’t even begun.” His voice thinned and Shae realized the man had a true case of the nerves. “I promise to go easy.”But he shook his head. “I want honesty.”“The truth doesn’t have to draw blood.”“You have to sink your teeth into this,” he returned. “Otherwise we’re wasting time.”She sat in the chair he’d brought in and lifted her hands. “So give it to me.”He opened a desk drawer and pulled out an Apple Tablet. “I converted it for you.”“It would have been easier if you’d just e-mailed it to me,” she pointed out. “I could have come in ready.”But he shook his head. And he was still holding onto the Tablet, his arms crossed over it and pressing it to his chest. This wasn’t going to be easy.“You’re going to have to give it to me,” she prompted.“I know.” But he looked grim about it.Again, unexpected. Standing in front of her was Ethan Abrams, award-winning director. Man of arms. He’d faced down the enemy, tackled Hollywood and was now King of the Mountain, and yet the man who stood before her was acting a lot more like Clark Kent than a super hero.“Why don’t we talk first? Tell me the storyline.”“It’s autobiographical,” he confessed.Shae nodded as understanding moved deeply inside her. “That’s never good.”Ethan’s eyes flared slightly. “What happened to the gentle approach?”“That was gift-wrapped in kindness. You should know better,” she pointed out. “How long have you been in this business? Ten years?”“Eight.”“The first rule of success, no one cares who you are.”“Until you’ve made it.”“Is that your angle?” She felt a little dip of disappointment. “You’re going to capitalize off your name?"“Absolutely not.”
Shae liked Ethan’s sister. She wasn’t pouting. She didn’t look at Ethan or Shae with indifference. She had none of that attitudeShae had come to expect from the age group. Entitlement. Just the thought left a bad taste in her mouth. But Eva Abrams was bold and mischievous and it was a beguiling combination.She extended her hand to Shae and introduced herself. “I haven’t seen all of your movies,” she admitted, “but I loved ‘At Long Last.’ It was beautiful and painful and so right.” And then she quoted a line from the movie, just seven words, but Shae had agonized over them for hours. Maybe even days. The words had become a mantra among select groups. They were tweeted and tumbled and smashed and pinned, and words Shae had written had become urban lingo. She couldn’t help smiling into Eva’s exuberance.“Thanks. I love when that happens.” It was true. It wasn’t often, but when Shae was fed words she had written, it made her world spin a little faster.“I’ll try to come up with a few more,” Eva promised.But Shae shook her head. “Not necessary.”Eva glanced over her shoulder and Shae followed her gaze. Ethan stood back a few feet, hands stuffed into the front pocket of his jeans.“He’s a little nervous,” Eva confided in a stage whisper.“Eva,” Ethan warned.“He’ll start rolling back on his heels soon,” Eva predicted. “That’s his one and only nervous habit. You see, the problem is—““That I have an interfering sister,” Ethan finished for her and moved close enough he could slide between them.Eva stood on tip-toe and gazed at Shae over her brother’s shoulder. “And no writing talent. Our sister, Emme, wrote all his papers for him in high school.”Shae watched a hint of color climb into Ethan’s cheeks. A blush, on a man of his size, was, well, endearing. “That’s true,” he admitted. “But I paid well for them.”Eva nodded. “He had a job at the Chevron station.”Silence ensued and then Shae laughed. It was a deep, from the belly laugh, and it felt good. This was it. Exactly what she wanted to return to. Family. The squabbles and the tender moments. She wanted to be there now. She should be there tomorrow. And she had a plan. This time next year, a baby—or almost.A smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Don’t encourage her.”“You guys remind me of home,” Shae said. “And knowing how siblings argue, I’m inclined to believe only half of what I’ve heard.”“What half?” Ethan asked.“That Eva is interfering, of course.” It was obvious, but the younger woman crossed her arms over her chest and her smiled wavered. She had the grace not to protest her innocence, though. “And that you can’t write. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”“I’m stuck,” he reminded her.“But not nervous?” Shea probed.“Hell, yes, I am.”“Why?”“We’ll get to that,” he promised. He turned and looked pointedly at his sister. “Eva has a few things to do.”“What things?” Eva asked, but her cell phone squawked again, with a few notes of a Rolling Stones tune. “Those things,” he said. “You don’t want to keep Kent waiting. Men aren’t any better with that than women.” He turned back to Shae. “My office is at the back of the house. I converted the sunroom, sort of.”He picked up her laptop and started walking.“You want something to drink before we start?”Something to drink and eat, she thought. It was, after all, twelve-thirty. Definitely within the lunch hour. And didn’t Stevie say something about food?“Ice tea?”“Sure.”They passed through the kitchen which was small for Hollywood standards, but then they weren’t in Kansas anymore. He had a few modern conveniences, granite and a breakfast alcove. He opened the refrigerator, grabbed two bottles of Arizona tea, and continued to the back of the house. The sunroom/office was all windows. Outside, clutches of fuchsia- and lavender-colored flowers bloomed in pots and a lap pool glistened under the sun. Shae glanced around the room. One desk. One chair. Desk top, printer, and a Synonym Finder that was about ten inches thick and frayed around the edges. There was a pile of paper on the floor that had been printed from the computer—the top sheet had several lines crossed out and notes written into the margin.Shae dropped her purse on the floor—there was nowhere else to put it—and turned full circle. The hemline of her blouse flared around her. The wedged heels of her sandals squeaked on the wood flooring. “Nice work space.”“Describe nice,” Ethan demanded.“Uncluttered?” she tried. She had a few other words that would do but each of them felt like criticism.“You can do better than that,” Ethan prodded. “What does this place reveal about me?”Because there was revelation in every thought and action… “Are you a minimalist?”His bark of laughter was a surprise. Shae had been trying for a neutral tone.“Evidence?”She shrugged. “Small house. I saw a toaster and a blender in the kitchen, but no espresso machine.” She nodded toward his desk. “There’s nowhere for me to sit.”“I can fix that.” He placed her laptop on the only chair and strode across the room. He disappeared through the door and Shae could almost see the air ripple with his passing. Weird. The man could move. Nothing flashy, but strong, economical progress that left her a little dizzy. He returned with a chair from the kitchen table. Wood lattice back but the seat was cushioned.“I just moved in,” he explained. “Well, seven months ago.” He smiled, abashed. “Redecorating, remodeling any of that will have to wait.”“Until you’re done with this project?”“Yes.” He stared at her. “What was the other comment? Oh, yeah, ‘small house.’ There’s only me, so I don’t need a lot of room. Never really had any. I grew up in a ranch house and had my own bedroom only because gender singled me out. Then it was the military—you never get more than elbow room in the service. It also makes a guy something of a minimalist. Your possessions are whittled down to what you can carry.”“I didn’t mean it as a judgment.”He ignored that. “Notice anything else?”Well, since he asked, “You move a lot.” Not really a nervous energy, because Shae recognized a contained kind of strength in Ethan. He had a stunning physique, with well-defined muscle and sleek lines, broad shoulders and chest, thighs that strained against the material of his faded jeans. Powerful was a more apt description of him. And yet, she got the impression that he was feeling a little edgy.What was up with that? she wondered. Exactly what had he called her here to wrestle with?She remembered Stevie’s words, that Ethan had first-time jitters—another description she had a hard time applying to the man. He was just too . . .together. “That’s pretty much a state of being for me,” he admitted. “I’m in constant motion. I think I have a vestibular thing going on,” he explained.Shae tilted her head, considering that. She’d heard the term before but couldn’t quite come up with its meaning.“It’s one of our senses, it’s all about movement. I think I need more than the average person.”“No transcendental meditation for you?”His smile was big and full of amusement. It made her heart cartwheel. “No. Although it would be a viable form of torture should you need to use it.”“You’re giving away your secrets?”“I haven’t even begun.” His voice thinned and Shae realized the man had a true case of the nerves. “I promise to go easy.”But he shook his head. “I want honesty.”“The truth doesn’t have to draw blood.”“You have to sink your teeth into this,” he returned. “Otherwise we’re wasting time.”She sat in the chair he’d brought in and lifted her hands. “So give it to me.”He opened a desk drawer and pulled out an Apple Tablet. “I converted it for you.”“It would have been easier if you’d just e-mailed it to me,” she pointed out. “I could have come in ready.”But he shook his head. And he was still holding onto the Tablet, his arms crossed over it and pressing it to his chest. This wasn’t going to be easy.“You’re going to have to give it to me,” she prompted.“I know.” But he looked grim about it.Again, unexpected. Standing in front of her was Ethan Abrams, award-winning director. Man of arms. He’d faced down the enemy, tackled Hollywood and was now King of the Mountain, and yet the man who stood before her was acting a lot more like Clark Kent than a super hero.“Why don’t we talk first? Tell me the storyline.”“It’s autobiographical,” he confessed.Shae nodded as understanding moved deeply inside her. “That’s never good.”Ethan’s eyes flared slightly. “What happened to the gentle approach?”“That was gift-wrapped in kindness. You should know better,” she pointed out. “How long have you been in this business? Ten years?”“Eight.”“The first rule of success, no one cares who you are.”“Until you’ve made it.”“Is that your angle?” She felt a little dip of disappointment. “You’re going to capitalize off your name?"“Absolutely not.”
No comments have been added yet.
