
Have you ever met someone that embodied your secret fantasies? Someone who made your breathing go shallow and your nerve endings tingle just by being in the same room? That's what happened to me when Alan showed up at my door.
Gavin went straight into "full on crushing" mode, but underneath my plastered on smile and modulated tone, I wasn't faring any better. Sometimes, it's good to be an actor. Not that I spend a lot of time pretending in real life. I hate that kind of thing, but there are moments when self-preservation kicks in and you have to hide your initial reaction or be embarassed to death. I mean, seriously...what would Alan have thought if I had invited him upstairs to check out my dildo collection. Okay, three different sizes does not an entire collection make and with him around I would need any of them, but you get my drift.
The guy was a walk-on stand-in for Henri Castelli and available! And in my own house. That first day, I don't know how I stopped myself saying something absolutely humiliating or doing something even worse. It didn't take long to realize that despite the weird aura of danger surrounding him, Alan was also a truly nice guy. And insightful...man, he sees things everyone else (including me) misses. It's strange. He says it's his reporter instincts, but it feels like more to me. Like there's a layer to this guy I'm missing.
But hidden layers, or not...he's the first ever in the running to actually make me think I might be breaking my own rules. Especially the one about no sex with my boarders.
What do you think? Should I go for it, or stay safe and keep his naked body where all good fantasies reside...in my imagination?
Gavin thought you all might like a signed photo of me. He's really good at the publicity stuff and I'm confident that he's going to go far in his career. So, well...anyway, if you'd like a picture of me, just
click here.
And Lucy, that scheming diva that tossed Alan and I together (oh sure, you thought it was someone else?) suggested I post an excerpt from my story as she got behind in her blogging this weekend and didn't get around to it. I told her, "No problem." After all, anything for a friend...but then do you know what this
friend told me?
I can't read it until the book is out. What kind of friend is that? The scheming diva kind. Didn't I tell you? Between her and Alan, I'm going to lose my hold on my sanity...or other things.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
DEAL WITH THIS
Excerpt #4 by Lucy Monroe ©2007
Kensington Brava - November 27, 2007
ISBN 0-7582-1180-5
Alan was on his cell phone in the middle of Stanley Park, supposedly on a run. Not that he wouldn't get a solid jog in, but first he had to connect with his boss.
"So, you think she's a suspect?" the Old Man asked.
"She's got access to some of the most advanced computer technology before it goes public through her relationship with Simon and Amanda Brant. She wants money to pursue her dreams of becoming a producer and she knows her own industry inside and out. And she would definitely know how to use the production company as a cover for passing on high tech secrets."
The Old Man harrumphed.
"Excuse me?"
"What does your gut tell you, Hyatt?"
"That she's too honest to get dirty that way," he said without hesitation. "But..."
"But?"
Bile swirled in his stomach, making it cramp. He hated admitting this. It was as bad as telling his grandfather what a monumental mistake he'd made with Beth. "My libido could be influencing my gut," he admitted.
"You're falling for this Jillian Sinclair?"
"I didn't say I was falling for her."
"But you want her?" There was an interesting note in his boss' voice...almost enthusiasm.
Alan dismissed the thought as incredibly unlikely. However, because of the nature of the job, he was used to discussing subjects and reactions that most employers would consider strictly off limits so he didn't hesitate to answer. "Any red blooded man would."
"Is that going to be a problem with the case."
"No." But damned if he didn't sound less certain than he meant to.
"You need a lecture on focus and getting the job done?"
"No." Frustration with himself surged through him. "I know my priorities."
"Priorities change, son."
"Mine haven't," Alan said from between gritted teeth.
"Your grandfather was a hell of an agent."
"Yes, he was, sir."
"He ever tell you how he met your grandmother?"
"No."
"Maybe you should call him and ask."
"Maybe I will someday." But not today.
Any feelings he had for Jillian were strictly sexual. Overwhelming. Distracting. Intense. But definitely sexual. That's all he would ever allow them to be too. He'd made all the mistakes he ever wanted to make in the romance department. No chance he was making another one. No matter how alluring he found his landlady.
The Old Man sighed, like something about Alan's answer disappointed him. "Any other suspects?"
"Who isn't one? We don't know what the technology that Prescott was supposed to broker is. We don't know who his accomplice wanted to sell it to. We don't know if his contact here was a man or a woman." The only thing they did know was that whatever it was, Prescott had a timetable attached to brokering the information.