Rewrite on In The Dark

I’ve been sick for a couple of years and didn’t get any writing done. At least not in the physical sense, but I worked through this story and have gotten more than half way through my rewrite. Here is a little of it.

Texas, Present Day

The darkness held no sign of life. At least not human life. Memphis’ muscles tensed as a cold breeze flew past her.

Her lips twitched in pleasure as tingles of electrical current slithered from the nape of her neck, down her spine, and caught fire at the clawed fist of the griffin which started appearing on her hip after her first kill. The image had started out as what she’d believed was a birthmark in the shape of an eye, but over the years it had spread into the griffin. With each kill, another element of the beast appeared.

Laughter erupted on all sides of her and she braced for battle, her hand on the hilt of the short dagger sheathed on her thigh. Just as the first shadow shifted into a crouch, a strong, lightly calloused hand grasped hers and pulled her at top speed out of the dark alley.

She tried dragging her feet, but the body attached to the hand must have been solid muscle, outweighing her by at least fifty pounds.

“Let go.” She yanked her hand, but only managed to have the hold tightened. Memphis knew not to pull against the hand but push into it, but at the angle she was currently in, she couldn’t do that.

“Don’t be stupid,” the deep, masculine voice said, sending a purely sensual shiver through her body. He stopped long enough to look over his shoulder at her and say, “Little girls shouldn’t play in dark alleys,” and he was tugging her behind him again.

Giving in to the knowledge that she couldn’t very well fight with this idiot-turned-hero, she raced with him into what seemed to be an abandoned building, up a flight of stairs, through a hall, and back down another flight. Flinging open the door, back into the night and on the street, they ran for a few miles before a click sounded in the silent night air and a car door slung open.

“Get in,” the deep voice yelled.

Working on keeping her cool, Memphis slumped into the passenger seat of a very clean, very sleek sports car. Mr. Grab-Women-Out-Of-Dark-Alleys hit speeds near eighty miles per hour as he made his way through the sleepy streets of Austin. Working to find some sort of gratitude that might displace her anger, Memphis sank back into the leather seat and, by the lights of the console, studied the man. Dark hair, black as pitch, hung loosely over a high forehead and curled at his neck and around his ears. A square jaw, clenched in what seemed to be anger, added masculinity to high, defined cheekbones.

Her heart sputtered in her chest, caught in a frenzy of longing and fear, two feelings she had no use for. A normally brilliant mind blanked. He was beautiful. Not in a pretty, female way, but in a god-fallen-to-the-earth kind of way. And the sense of recognition stunned her. But how? If she’d ever laid eyes on him before, she’d have remembered. There wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t have a clear recollection of this strong man.

After what couldn’t have been more than minutes, he slowed and glanced at her. “What the hell where you doing out at this time of night?”

She raised a brow at the growl of anger in his voice and bit back a harsh laugh.

“Have you any idea how dangerous it is to walk around a place like that in the light of day, let alone on a moonless night?”

She stiffened at his use of the phrase ‘a place like that.’ Obviously, Rich Boy didn’t think her neighborhood was livable, but she had a good two bedroom apartment that met her needs just fine. If he thought this was bad, he should’ve seen some of the roach infested dwellings she’d laid her head over the years.

His slur didn’t deserve a response, so she turned and stared out the window. A low rumble echoed through the car and Memphis could feel the searing heat of his anger as if it were something solid. Her own anger stirred and before she let it spew, she bit her tongue and focused on where she was and where they were heading. Although why she sat there and said nothing was beyond her. Under normal circumstances, she would have fought tooth and nail.

She glanced at him again and realized she felt safe with him, which made no sense, seeing as how Mr. Macho was all but kidnapping her. Forget the fact that he was dragging her away from Night Shadows. Not that he would have seen them. So why drag her away?

The city had given way to suburbs, the single family homes yielding to grand estates of the wealthy. What a shock that the man driving a car probably costing more than her childhood home lived here. The gated, white brick house sat back on what had to be five acres of land and had an honest-to-goodness statue of two fairies, one boy, one girl, playing in a fountain of water in front.

Memphis rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding, right? You live here?”

He shot her a heated glare, but didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled in front, killed the engine, and climbed out. As he skirted the hood, Memphis opened her door and stepped out onto a cobbled stone drive lit up with solar lights that surrounded the long drive and the fountain.

He grabbed her hand and tugged her up the wide steps, over a tiled porch, and through a mahogany door that slammed behind them. He then pushed her against a wall and typed a code into a keypad. She opened her mouth to protest his manhandling, considering she’d taken things so well up to this point, but he covered her mouth with his open palm and growled. “Just shut up.”

Memphis hadn’t said but a few words to the Neanderthal in the half hour of their acquaintance. She’d let him drag her away from a group of Night Shadows she’d trailed for over an hour, one of whom had been stalking her her whole life, and now he was telling her to shut up. Not likely.

Her steel-toed boot slammed down on his foot as she jabbed an elbow into his kidney. His hand fell away, but he didn’t crumble, or even bend over for that matter; he gripped her wrist, spun her around and smashed her into the brick wall.

“Oh, hell no,” she yelled, banging the back of her head into his mouth.

His curse was vicious and loud as he swept her legs, flipping her to her back before ramming her against the hardwood floor. “I. Was. Trying. To. Help. You.” His voice was low as he drawled out the words, a hint of Irish behind the Texan accent.

The room was suddenly filled with light and a clear Irish, masculine voice thundered, “What the bloody hell is going on here?”

New beginning to In The Dark

PROLOGUE

Sweat poured down Áinle’s face, his tunic had long been cast aside and now he wore only a leather apron and gloves to protect his dark skin from the flames he’d called upon from the elements and the molten metals used to cast the third sword of Chosaint ó na Scáthanna Oíche… Protection from Night Shadows.

He’d poured over the ancient text passed down from his great-great-grandmother, Brigid, daughter of Dagda, son of the goddess Danu and Bilé, the god of death. Only one of the Tuatha Dé Danann, People of the Goddess Danu, had the power to fashion such swords, and since fairy blood and the magik of the Druids oozed through his veins, Áinle had the knowledge to craft the new swords needed to fight the Scáthanna Oíche and defeat them. For, so far, only the Magik Sword of Nuada could inflict a mortal blow to an immortal, and it had been long ago hidden from the Order of the Druids.

The one he labored over, a bastard sword, was fashioned to be used in either hand of a Guardian. Bronze, cobalt, nickel, and manganese, along with seven drops of his powerful blood were poured into the mould and had been forged. Áinle now went through the process of annealing the short sword. This process of softening the weapon would take him the rest on the night.

The magiks used to produce the special metals into the basic form were draining Áinle of his strength, yet he could not stop until the weapons were completed. The devils from the dark had few weaknesses, and only a Guardian could defeat those who followed Darkness. It took the magik past down to Áinle by his Druid father and the blood of Dagda to be granted such guardianship, a guardianship he would pass down, Dagda willing.

The small bundle in the corner rolled and a pink face peered out. Áinle smiled, and prayed he’d have the time to teach his daughter the ways of the Caomhnóirí na hOíche.

The Guardians of the Night.

The fate of the world might just depend upon it.

CHAPTER ONE

The darkness held no sign of life. Memphis’s muscles tensed as a cold breeze flew past her.

Her lips twitched in pleasure as tingles of electrical current slithered from the nape of her neck, down her spine, and caught fire at the clawed fist of the griffin, tattooed at her hip. The image had started out as what she believed was a birthmark of an eye, but over the years had spread into the griffin. With each kill, another element of the beast appeared.

Laughter erupted on all sides of her and she braced for battle, her hand on the hilt of the short dagger sheathed on her thigh. Just as the first shadow shifted into a crouch, a strong hand grasped hers and pulled her at top speed out of the dark alley.

She tried dragging her feet, but the body attached to the hand must have been solid muscle and outweighed her by at least fifty pounds.

“Dammit, let go.” She yanked her hand, but only managed to have the hold tightened. She knew you never pulled against the hand but pushed into it, but at the angle she was currently in, she couldn’t do that.

“Don’t be stupid,” the deep, masculine voice said, sending a purely sensual shiver through her system. He stopped long enough to look over his shoulder at her and say, “Little girls shouldn’t play in dark alleys,” and he was tugging her behind him again.

Given in to the knowledge that she couldn’t very well fight with this idiot-turned-hero around, she raced with him up a flight of stairs, through a hall, and back down another flight. Out the door, back into the night and on the street, they ran for a few miles before a click sounded in the silent night air and a car door slung open.

“Get in,” the dark knight yelled.

With a half sigh, half laugh, Memphis slumped into the passenger seat of a very clean, very sleek sports car. He hit speeds over one hundred miles per hour as he made his way through the sleepy streets of Austin. Working on finding some sort of gratitude that might displace her anger, she sank back into the leather seat and studied the man by the console lights. Dark hair, black as pitch, hung loosely over a high forehead and curled at his neck and around his ears. A square jaw, clenched it what seemed to be anger, added masculinity to high, defined cheekbones.

Her heart sputtered in her chest, caught in a frenzy of longing and fear, two feelings she had no use for. A normally brilliant mind blanked. He was beautiful. Not in a pretty, female way, but in a god-fallen-to-the-earth kind of way. And the sense of recognition stunned her. But how? If she’d ever laid eyes on him before, she’d have remembered. There wasn’t a woman alive that wouldn’t have a clear recollection of this strong, manly man.

After what couldn’t have been more than minutes, he slowed and glanced at her. “What the hell where you doing out this time of night?”

She raised a brow at the growl of anger in his voice, and bit back a laugh.

“Have you any idea how dangerous it is to walk around a place like that in the light of day, better yet on a moonless night?”

The “place like that” had her stiffening. Obviously, Rich Boy didn’t think her neighborhood was livable, but she had a good two bedroom apartment that met her needs just fine. If he thought this was bad, he should’ve seen some of the places she’d laid her head over the years.

Well, his slur didn’t deserve a response, so she turned her head and stared out the window.

A low rumble echoed through the car and Memphis could feel the searing heat of his anger as if it were something solid. Her own anger stirred and before she let it spew, she bit her tongue and focused on where she was and where they were heading.

The city had given way to suburbs and the single family homes yielded to the estates of the wealthy. What a shock that the man driving a car that probably cost more than her grandmother’s home lived here. The gated house sat back in what had to be five acres of land and had a real to goodness statue in a fountain in front.

Memphis rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding, right? You live here?”

He shot her a heated glare, but didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled in front, killed the engine, and climbed out. As he skirted the hood, Memphis opened her door and stepped out onto a cobbled stone drive, lit up with solar lights which surrounded the fountain.

Yanking her through a mahogany door, which slammed behind them, he pushed her against a wall, typing a code into a keypad. As she opened her mouth to protest his manhandling, he covered her mouth with his open palm and growled. “Just shut up.”

Well, that did it. Memphis hadn’t said but a few words to the Neanderthal. She’d let him drag her away from a group of Night Shadows she’d trailed for over an hour, one of them who had been stalking her her whole life, and now he was telling her to shut up. Not likely.

Her steal toed boots slammed down on his foot as she jabbed an elbow in his kidney. His hand fell away, but he didn’t crumble, or even bend over for that matter, he gripped her wrist, spun her around and smashed her into the brick wall.

“Oh, hell no,” she yelled, banging the back of her head into his mouth.

His curse was vicious and loud as he swept her legs and plastered her against the hardwood floor. “I. Was. Trying. To. Help. You.” His voice was low as he drawled out the words, a hint of Irish behind the Texan accent.

The room filled with light and the masculine voice that followed was pure Irish. “What the hell is going on here?”

Excerpt from WIP–Mediator

As I twisted the deadbolt, a large hand came down on my shoulder. I froze. My heart slammed into my ribcage.

The hand moved. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” The voice was strong, deep. Very masculine.

I wheeled around and my heart nearly stopped.

Beautiful.

That was the only word that formed in my mind as I took in all six plus feet of him. Sandy blond hair fell into his hazel eyes. A crimson red rugby jersey fit snuggly against his broad chest, slim waist, and large biceps.

“Closed down computer,” I mumbled.

“What?” He looked at me like I belonged in a loony bin.

I shook the stupor from my head. “I’ve already shut down the computer. I’m closed. I can’t sell you any books tonight.”

He smiled, his eyes dancing. “I’m not buying a book. I’m looking for Jace Durham? Is he here, I need to do business with him.”

Great, another college kid that thought he could score drugs. I’d kill Suz for starting that rumor, even if it were a joke. And why did everyone assume Jace had to be a boy?

“Jace doesn’t do business with piss-ants like you, so just leave.” I turned and unlocked the door. What a waste. I guess good looks doesn’t mean smart.

He grabbed my arm and spun me around. His nostrils flared. “First off, you know nothing about me. And second, let Jace make up his own mind if he wants to do business with me.”

“Look,” I said, trying to defuse the situation, no need to get someone who could squash me like a bug all riled up. “No matter what you’ve heard, you can’t get anything stronger than Tylenol here. And that’s only if you’re a friend. The whole drug dealer thing was my idiot friend Suz thinking it was funny to tell some guy that wouldn’t take a hint and leave me alone that I sold drugs. I don’t. So just leave please.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Listen, pumpkin, I don’t know who you are or anything about drugs, but I need to talk to Jace. And if you go find him for me, I’ll make it worth your time.”

Fav New Singer

Okay, I have a fav new singer who’s debut album will come out sometime this fall, I’ll let you all know when it’s available. Her name, Sonnet Simmons. And she is the inspiration not only to a new novel, but also to my nephew singing it on a video.

and my nephew singing her song You’re So Good For Me

Now Sonnet’s version.

Surviving

So I’m almost finished with the first draft of Surviving, and then I’ll lend it to my new crit group Rumored Romantics for the shredding of said novel.

Here’s the characters, at least what they look like in my head.

Adriadna Ivonovna Sidorova a.k.a. Drew

Talmage LeGrand Shell

Benjamin Carr

Sonja Abilhão

Steve Jameson

Angela Hansen

There you have my characters. At least the one’s I’ve found pictures for.

I will put up some scenes and such over the next little while.

How to edit a novel

With all the writing we do, that much more time is spent editing.

In editing Legend of the Protectors, my first manuscript, I went through it with a specific task in mind each time.

First, I went through for passiveness, trying to take out as many TO BE verbs as possible and replacing them with stronger vowels. The TO BE verbs are ARE, IS, WAS, WERE… They are sometimes necessary, so don’t take them all out, but if you’re new to this, you will want to see if taking them out won’t make the story stronger.

Some examples:

Passive:  Sam was sitting in the chair watching Andrew.

Active:  Sam sat in the chair watching Andrew.

Okay, I know these are weak, but you get the idea.

Next thing I did was to go through and look for REPETITIVE words. (On both of these use the find/search feature–or you can simple read through, but you’ll see, if you use find, that you’ve missed a lot.)

I had many words, that I wouldn’t think I used tons, used TONS. So if you us SO 352 times, you might want to take some of them out.

Now, what are some common writing mistakes that you want to avoid? SoYouWanna.com has listed them here for you, and linked to more detail on each one. I will post them again, but encourage you to read the links.

1. MAKE YOUR SUBJECTS AND VERBS AGREE.

2. MAKE PRONOUNS AND ANTECEDENTS AGREE.

3. DON’T MISUSE APOSTROPHES.

4. DON’T USE NOUNS AS VERBS.

5. USE SIMILAR WORDS CORRECTLY. (Like accept and except.)

6. DON’T SPLIT INFINITIVES.

7. STOP MISUSING “HOPEFULLY”. (This is one I just learned. And yep, I have to go fix that one.)

So here you have a place to start. Take things one step at a time, and it will make things easier. And soon, you’ll see the mistakes, and fix them without having to LOOK for them. And one day, as you continue to write and practice your skills, you simply won’t make them.

Here’s to EDITING!  Good luck!

Random scene from WIP: Surviving

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE

“Miss Sidorova, can we have a word?” the DEA from the chopper asked.

I nodded, trying with everything I had to ignore Talmage and picked at my sandwich. My feelings toyed between rage and heartbreak. Did I really believe he was responsible for Danny’s death? Not the man that I had gotten to know over the last two days. But what about the man I didn’t know? Was he the kind of person that put his ego and career over everything? What about his wife? What was her take on him being gone all the time? Having a husband in this line of work couldn’t be easy.

“We just have a few questions to ask and then you can get some sleep.”

Talmage went into the room across the hall. Southridge was a pit bull. Why had they sent him down? I prayed Talmage really wasn’t involved. The DEA man pulled out a chair for me, so I sat.

“Miss Sidorova, my name’s Jameson. Can you tell me about your meeting with Abilhão?” his southern accent did nothing to help him pronounce the Latin name. Jameson sat in the chair next to me and smiled.

“Well, I can tell you what it was supposed to be. We were negotiating a trade, more or less. Abilhão had a large quantity of pure heroin he wanted moved. He said he had another buyer, but if we could get him weapons, he was willing to talk.” I sighed. My eyes hurt.

“What kind of weapons did he have in mind?”

I slumped a little in my chair, eyeing the bed. What I wouldn’t give to lie down for even thirty minutes. “AKMs with GP-25 40mm underbarrel grenade launchers. Among other things. Mostly older guns. Russian. Said he liked how we did things in the Mother Country.”

Jameson raised his eyebrow. He had a certain charm about him. Blond, shaggy hair, green eyes, and a nice smile. I had a feeling he knew how to charm women. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to charm me though. “Mother Country?”

“Меня зовут Adriadna Ивоновна Сидорова. Мой отец – русский. Разве Вы не услышали? я быстр. Возможно Вы должны сделать вашу домашнюю работу.”

Jamison smiled. “I have no clue what you just said, but it turned me on.”

How single minded some men seemed to be. Strange thing with this man, it was hard to take offense because of how he said it. I believed that he held the same powers with the opposite sex that Danny had had.

I didn’t say anything else, just looked at the man’s face. He was not the man I wanted to have that affect on.

He finally asked, “So what did you say?”

“My name is Adridna Ivonovna Sidorova. My father is Russian. Have you not heard? I am fluent. Maybe you should do your homework.”

His grin deepened. “Maybe you could teach me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe you can tell me what else you need and I can get out of here.”

“Sure. Okay.” He leaned back in his chair, two of the feet came off the floor. “What other weapons?”

“AK-47s, APS underwaters, Korobov TKB-408s, 517s, and 022s. What can I say, he liked Russian. One reason he dealt with me.” This time I was the one turning it on. I heaved my chest as I stood up.

Jameson’s gaze followed me as I slowly walked around his chair.

“Do you like Russian?” I asked in a Russian accent.

“Uh-huh. Yes, ma’am.”

I kicked the two legs of the chair still on the floor and it tipped over backwards. “Good, then learn to speak it and you go figure out what Abilhão wants.” And I walked out of the room. I was too tired to deal with this moron and his crotch.

WIP

I have a new WIP that I’m calling SURVIVING right now. Today, I wrote 3000 words so far. I love when the story just flows.

Here’s the beginning. And remember this is raw.

CHAPTER 1. THE FALL

He wrapped his arms around me and held on tight. At times we hit ground, but mostly just fell through open air. Our screams tangled with the rushing wind. I focused on the changing colors behind my closed lids, not willing to know the exact moment of our death. Or even worse-if we lived.

The fall lasted too long already, and I had to fight the instinct to look down. As I gave in and my eyes opened, a bed of white foaming water appeared. I had just enough time to take a deep breath when we sliced through the twisted surface. He still held me, pulling me up with him. My ankles ached and my lungs felt on fire. The man swam hard with the current, tugging me along.

After what seemed like an eternity of fighting to stay afloat, the man had us to the rocky shore of the raging river. We lay intertwined with one another for some time, both trying to catch our breath. Finally, the man asked, “Is anything broken?”

I lifted my head off his shoulder and looked into his large, milk chocolate eyes. “Um, I’m not sure. You?”

He slowly started moving his body beneath me. “I don’t believe so. But do you mind getting off me so I can make sure.”

I fought back an embarrassed smile. “Sure.” I rolled to my side, wincing at the pain my whole body was racked with. I watched the man as he stretched his long muscular body. He shook water from his black curly hair.

“Just bruised up really good. But other than that…” He looked at me sprawled on the ground and frowned. “So, want to explain why we both nearly died? Who are those men, and why did I almost take a bullet for you?”

I knew that was coming, even had the perfect rehearsed answer. But for some reason, staring in this man’s eyes, I couldn’t give it. So I did the next best thing. Kept my mouth shut.

I sat up and inspected my ankles. Sore, but not broken. The left was sprained, but I could walk. We couldn’t stay put, it wouldn’t take long for ARCOVE’s men to find us. I pushed off the ground, steadied myself, and asked, Can you walk?”

The man’s glare could’ve cut through glass. I looked away. “We need to move.” I hoped he’d follow as I trekked into the trees. I needed to get my bearings and find a way out of this mess.

“Hey, wait.” He grabbed my arm. His grip was strong, but I could’ve gotten way. “I’m not going anywhere unless I get some answers.”

I shrugged off his hand. “Suit yourself. But if you stay here, those men won’t answer your questions, they’ll kill you.” I caught the blaze in his eyes and the glare before I turned and hobbled towards the trees.

Twigs snapped behind me. His heavy steps would make finding us that much easier for Abraham Maller and Mr. Clean. “Hey, mind treading lighter? I’d like to live to see another day.”

He grumbled something under his breath, and I assumed, stopped. I turned back and he nearly plowed me down. When I started walking again, I felt his breath on my neck on occasion, but rarely heard him. A normal civilian wouldn’t know how to walk through the jungle that way. And he was definitely American, no doubt about it. He didn’t belong in the Amazon.

I almost laughed out loud. Neither did I.

Have a great weekend!

Another attempt at the synopsis

Okay, hopefully this is it. But let me know what y’all think.

Synopsis:

When seventeen-year-old SAMANTHA SANDERS’ parents are killed in a car accident, she is forced to move half way across the country to live with the blind Cherokee grandfather she hardly knows. After a nightmare where she finds herself inside the mind of a killer, she’s positive she doesn’t want to stay in Oklahoma.

Sam falls for twenty-one-year old hottie, Deputy ANDREW CLEARWATER, and he returns the affection at first. But his behavior soon changes, becoming erratic and standoffish. Missing Andrew, Sam finds solace in her math tutor, JAMES PETERSON.

The close relationship her grandfather has with Andrew and his mother throws them together often. During a game of backyard football, Andrew tackles Sam, pinning her to the ground. Before they can kiss, her mind is overcome by an inhuman presence. Sam is rushed inside, away from Andrew, and through her confusion, darkness takes over her mind. She sees through the eyes of a monster who wants to destroy them. A searing pain shoots through her body, ending her vision. Frantic and scared, Sam demands explanations, only to discover some answers aren’t easy to swallow.

Andrew explains to Sam that they both come from a long line of Cherokees Protectors with special gifts that aid them in destroying Flesh Eaters-monsters in human form. She figures out her recurring nightmares are more than just bad dreams. They are a window into the mind of the monster, leaving her with a lust for blood-and for the Flesh Eater.

Andrew and Sam’s mutual attraction continues to grow and they begin dating. After sneaking out, and going way further than either intended, Andrew decides it’s best to take a break from Sam for a while. The lack of attention from Andrew makes resisting James’s advances that much harder. To complicate feelings further, another admirer emerges from the shadows-COLIN, the all-too-real monster from her dreams.

Although Colin is bound by his kind to kill her, he becomes obsessed with Sam and manipulates her thoughts and dreams. Eventually he shows himself, speaking only in her thoughts, and vows to watch over her. Sam hates herself for the attraction she feels when the monster calms her fears, and for the desire that fills her in his presence and through her dreams.

The other Flesh Eaters are angry with Colin for allowing Sam to live. Colin’s long time lover tries to destroy the newest Protector, but Andrew arrives in time to save her. When Colin steps out of the woods, Andrew believes they are doomed, but instead, Colin murders his mate in order to save Sam.

After the near-death experience, Andrew breaks things off with Sam for good, telling her he thinks his attraction is just physical. Heartbroken, she again turns to James, who’s more than willing to comfort her. Sam struggles to deal with the love of her life dumping her, and tries to understand why the Flesh Eater saved her life. But her hardships are nothing compared to the hell Andrew is living through trying to keep up the lie.

Andrew keeps the real reason he left Sam from her. Her grandfather’s visions revealed that if she didn’t remain pure, the Underworld could gain control of the Protectors, ultimately destroying them.

Random Scene from Legend

Friday morning before I left for school, Andrew called. “I don’t work tonight. Do you want to do something?”

“Um. I kinda promised James that I’d go to his basketball game. Vincent wants to go so he can talk to Laura. He met her last night.”

He sighed, but then in what I knew was a forced, pleasant voice said, “Okay. Some other time then.”

“Come with us,” I blurted.

“Yeah right, Sam.”

“I’ll cancel.”

“No. Then I’m being a jerk. Go to the game, and maybe we can go to the Tulsa Zoo tomorrow.”

I sat on my desk chair. “Because Paw-pa’s suddenly forgotten that he doesn’t want us alone and will gladly give his permission?”

He laughed. “No. Because I’m going to bring Mark and the new love of his life, Elizabeth, with me, and beg. We won’t ever be alone, and I’ve really made up my mind this time that the no French Kissing Rule is back in affect. So nothing will happen.”

“Oh. Then I bet he says yes.”

“He will.” His voice became like a dancing flame, melting me. “I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

“I know. So, can I see you after the game?”

His voice changed back to normal. Still sexy. That deep Southern accent always got to me. “I should probably go to bed. I do have to work Sunday morning. I’ll get plenty of sleep tonight so I can spend all day with you tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”