Showing posts with label Cari Z. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cari Z. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

Review Tuesday: Ladies Only anthololgy (#lesfic #ff #eroticromance)

Ladies Only cover


Ladies Only Anthology

By Cari Z, Helena Maeve, R.A. Padmos, HK Carlton, and Lucy Felthouse
Pride Publishing, 2016

Ladies Only is a new lesbian erotic romance anthology from Pride Publishing. I requested a review copy when I saw a post about it on HK Carlton’s blog. The authors featured in the book include some of my favorites (including HK), plus I was delighted to see Pride putting out some F/F fiction.

The book includes five tales in the 10-15K word range. (Overall the PDF version is 205 pages.) Each one focuses on the relationship between two women.

The heroine in “Worth a Shot” by Cari Z has a lucrative business detailing racing cars. Samara dreads the idea of getting a housemate to occupy the other side of her duplex, but when Katie shows up, the young woman seems a perfect fit. Katie and Sam have lots in common—including a strong mutual attraction. As they grow closer, Sam starts imagining they might build a life together. However, Katie’s past is full of secrets. An innocent error on Sam’s part exposes them both to danger and tears them apart, apparently forever.

In “The Woman Next Door” by Helena Maeve, an artist confronts the neighbor whose noisy renovation is preventing her from working, only to discover that the occupant of the condo next door is an old enemy. Eight years before, Yvonne Barros destroyed Ziva’s business and brought Ziva close to bankruptcy. There’s no way Ziva wants her as a neighbor. However, Yvonne has suffered her own reversals. The elegant executive seems to have changed, and to want Ziva as a friend—and more. Ziva’s equally drawn to her nemesis. But can the woman who ruined her once be trusted not to do it again?

R.A. Padmos’ “The Tiny Blue House” is a luscious lesbian fable about love, loss, and wonderful food. Young chef Molly Knowles roams the country in her mobile home, working in kitchens, picking up new recipes, and enjoying the women she meets along the way. When she experiences the cooking of Chiara Loss, it’s love at first taste.

HK Carlton’s “In the Flesh” offers a gritty tale of exotic dancers, mob bosses and undercover cops. ATF officer Kate infiltrates a skin club run by the Traviano crime family, posing as a dancer. She falls hard for Carly, a stunningly talented stripper who’s linked to the mob boss’s son. In a world where the slightest mistake can be deadly, Kate struggles to do her job without giving up her incendiary relationship with Carly.

In “Window Dressing”, Lucy Felthouse creates a feisty young woman who is building a career as a shop-fitter. Jessie is sent from Leeds to London to create an elaborate display for an Oxford Street shop. It’s the most important job she’s ever undertaken—and it’s being supervised by a woman with a legendary reputation for being critical and nasty. At first, Edith lives up to the stories about her dragon-like personality, but as the long night wears on, Jessie gets to see another side of the dragon lady. She finds that Edith is a woman with strong desires—and those desires include Jessie herself.

Overall, Ladies Only is a very enjoyable book. The quality of the writing is uniformly high, while the styles of the authors are sufficiently diverse that I didn’t get bored. I particularly liked the slightly fairy-tale quality of R.A. Padmos’ tale. She creates a happily-ever-after world where you find yourself exactly where you’re supposed to be: in seaside town where a long-time lesbian couple has the ideal spot for parking your trailer, and where your soul mate works in the kitchen.

HK Carlton’s story features wonderfully intense sex scenes. “In the Flesh” captures the sensual quality of dancing and reflects my personal experience that dancing is often the first step toward making love. Actually, I found the plot in this story rather implausible. However, the chemistry between Kate and Carly more or less distracted me from that weakness.

The characters in the other three stories pulled me in, especially Ziva. I loved the portrayal of her artistic talent, the fact that she never knows what she’ll paint until she’s standing in front of the canvas. To be honest, however, I found the erotic aspects of these three stories a bit perfunctory and unconvincing. Compared to other lesbian erotic romance I’ve read, these stories seemed a bit thin.

One reason for this, I think, is the rather awkward length of the stories in the collection. They’re neither true short stories nor novellas, but something in between. Too long to have the stunning immediacy of a vignette, they’re still too brief to really explore the development of an emotional and sexual relationship. I’ve encountered the frustrations of this length myself. More than once reviewers have commented on what seemed like abrupt endings in my 15K stories. The fact is, I more or less ran out of word count.

In any case, I’m delighted to see Pride Publishing releasing more lesbian fiction. Ladies Only is a solid collection which I think may be particularly appropriate for readers of other romance subgenres who are curious about F/F relationships. There’s nothing scary or foreign here—just pairs of women who fall in love, like anyone else.


Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Passionate Women! (#lesfic #lgbtq #eroticromance @AuthorHKCarlton @PridePublishing)

Ladies Only cover

By H K Carlton (Guest Blogger)

Thank you, Lisabet, for inviting me back. This time I'm bringing a few friends along. Shhh, they don't know it yet. My latest release is a part of an anthology. My first one! I'm excited to see my name alongside the lovely Lucy Felthouse, Helena Maeve, RA. Padmos and Cari Z as a part of the Ladies Only Antho from Pride Publishing.

For me, it all started with the submission call for Ladies Only. The specs: Passionate women who stand up for what they believe, strong female leads and exciting plots...

Oh the possibilities.

Lately, writing wise, I've been on an organized crime and exotic dancer kick. And what else goes hand-in-hand with the mob than the Feds.

I'm also a big fan of episodic cop shows which often feature strong female characters. For my contribution to the Ladies Only antho, In the Flesh, our female protag is an ATF agent who's next assignment takes her into the seedy underworld of organized crime. Even when it came to the naming the lead, Kate Benson, I combined the names of my favourite female TV detectives, Olivia Benson (SVU) and Kate Beckett (Castle). Two tough yet feminine women who kick ass and clean up this messed up world on a weekly basis. Who's with me? Any Castle and Law & Order fans out there?

I have a deep respect and appreciation for all law enforcement. Often a thankless job, and in this day and age, a scary and unpredictable one.

In the Flesh is a nod to the phenomenal woman who fight crime, right the wrongs and make this world a better place and in this case, look damn sexy doin' it.

Meet Kate & Carly...

Blurb: In the Flesh by H K Carlton

Working undercover, nothing is ever as it seems…

Assigned the unenviable task of taking down the untouchable Travino crime family, undercover ATF Agent Kate Benson and her veteran partner Mike Pennington are thrown into the seedy underworld of organized crime.

Kate is asked to draw on her past experience as a dancer and infiltrate one of Travino’s skin clubs, In the Flesh.

Posing as Vivienne, Kate meets exotic dancer Carly. From the moment they first dance together, she can’t seem to keep her mind or her greedy hands off the dynamic dancer. Together they sizzle on stage and off. She soon realizes she’s falling for Carly but knows from past experience that beginning a relationship built on half-truths is a recipe for failure.

As Kate attempts to straddle the line between doing her job and being as honest as she can be with Carly, while still maintaining her cover, Kate and Mike are caught snooping around the club after hours by none other than the mob boss himself.

And Kate knows there’s not a two-step in the world that can save them now.

Excerpt

“Bring on Carly,” one guy shouted, inciting the horde into a steady chant.

“Carly. Carly.”

“My God.” Kate rolled her eyes. “Could they drag this out any more?”
“I believe this is called fever pitch, baby.”

The entire place plunged into darkness. A hush fell over the audience. Several seconds ticked by before the spotlight hit center stage.

In the circular glow stood a woman with her back to the crowd, dressed in a navy croptop and high-cut leather shorts, barely covering her shapely bottom. Thigh-high black boots hugged long beautiful legs, spread wide in a provocative stance.

Shrill whistles and lewd comments ensued, but Kate hardly noticed. A low hum of excitement began in her stomach.

An obscure warble pulsed through the sound system. The dancer rolled her shoulder to the weird rhythm.

It was a strange song. The beat seemed off for the kind of bump-and-grind expected.

With an impressive one-eighty, Carly faced the crowd, dressed as a cop. What Kate had mistaken for a crop-top was, in fact, a standard blue, beat cop’s dress shirt, tied at the waist, giving a tantalizing view of her belly. Pinned to one breast pocket was a shiny gold badge. On her head, an official-looking cap. Dark-lensed, gold-rimmed aviators topped off the look.

Oh, yeah, there was a twinge.

Another round of catcalls faded when the beat of the music tripled, fast and loud. It pounded in Kate’s chest.

In an exaggerated runway walk, Carly strutted the long catwalk splitting either side of the audience. A set of handcuffs swayed at her waist. She had a rockin’ body. A dancer’s body. Strong and muscular in all the right places, not bulky or angular.

She removed the sunglasses, tucking them at her ample cleavage, again diverting Kate’s attention to the swell of breasts pushed up in the vee of the shirt.

After inventorying her lovely assets, Kate zeroed in on her face. At that moment, Kate realized she’d met this gorgeous woman before. Several times. But always in another capacity. She was the sexy-as-fuck woman from the office. Body and brains.

Awesome investigative work, Kate, she berated. Granted, she always seemed to have a different hair color and style, along with slightly altered makeup. A true chameleon, an asset in this sort of work.

Carly looked down at her and winked before making her way back to the main stage. Kate’s gaze went straight to her shapely ass, following the long line of her dynamic legs.

There's already a wonderful review from Alpha Book Club, if you'd like to check it out. In the Flesh received 5 stars and a 'Holy Hotness' from reviewer Arlyna and I'm thrilled! Read the full review here:




Ladies Only Anthology

Genre: contemporary lesbian erotic romance
Release Date: September 27
Publisher: Pride Publishing

With stories by:

Lucy Felthouse - Window Dressing
RA Padmos - The Tiny Blue House
Cari Z - Worth a Shot
Helena Maeve - The Woman Next Door
H K Carlton - In the Flesh

Grab your copy today!


Also Available in Print

About H K

H K Carlton is a multi-published Canadian author of romance and its varied sub-genres and couplings.

* * * H K * * *

I enjoy writing in many different genres. I write where the muse takes me and make no apologies for it. By now, it’s quite safe to say I will never pick just one genre and stick to it. There are just too many possibilities and stories left to tell. I hope you’ll join me for the ride.

Social


Check out the Ladies Only Authors here:


Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Wow, That's Ironic

By Cari Z (Guest Blogger)

Actually, the current situation is both ironic and funny, for me at least. Last year during this month, I blogged for Lisabet about the concept of feast or famine. I was experiencing a lull in my life, both in my writing and in the rhythm that was working in Sub-Saharan Africa during any season that wasn’t the rainy season. It was a dry, windy, dusty, generally dull kind of time that left me spending a lot of hours lying on my cot and contemplating the overall nature of the universe. Yes, imagine that esoteric joy. What did I wish for? Maybe a little excitement? Maybe something to talk about other than the fact that I didn’t have anything current to talk about?

Let that be a lesson to me! The world has turned, the pendulum has swung back the other way and I now have so much going on in my life that it’s almost impossible for me to parse it out in a palatable way for you, so I’m not going to try. That would be boring, possibly even whiny. Just let me assure you: between getting back to America, getting a job/apartment/car, rolling around with hot, sweaty men on mats (jiu jitsu classes, to clarify for the pervy-minded) and copious amounts of writing, I’ve been busy.

I would describe the situation as a definite improvement, though. Last year I had no new releases in November to talk about. This year, I just published my longest erotica story to date with Dreamspinner Press, titled A Blinded Mind. Funnily enough, this is the story that I spent all of last November writing when I wasn’t counting the threads on the aforementioned cot. It’s a futuristic, semi sci-fi adventure set in a post-World War 3 Europe, but when you read it you can definitely see places where the life I lived in Africa bled into my fantasy world. For those who have read the book, how do you think I became so knowledgeable about the bird scene? Yeah, done that. Life really does inspire art. For those of you who haven’t read the book, maybe you’d like to! Here’s the link to my book at Dreamspinner Press: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2587.

Last year I had a good excuse for not having an awesome website. This year I don’t, so much, but I do still have a blog and all sorts of good stuff happens there, including a lot of free fics, occasional contests and plenty of links to all my work. I love hearing from people, particularly people who have something to say about writing or something to share about travelling. And while my website isn’t solid gold, Lisabet’s is, and so I thank her on bended knee for the opportunity to blog in this beautiful space again. The synchronicity of it makes me smile. If the timing works out, who knows what I’ll be talking to you about next November?

Meanwhile, here's a snippet from A Blinded Mind for you to enjoy.

****

“You’re thinking way too hard,” Sam grumbled in Jonathan’s ear as he shifted around on the cot, trying to find a position that wouldn’t irritate his already irritable upper back. “I can’t sleep when you think like that.”

“Well, I can’t sleep when you roll around the bed like a ball,” Jonathan replied. “And you can’t hear my thoughts. You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“I can see it on your face,” Sam said gently, finally finding a position that would do for a while. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“If you say so.” That was one of the nice things about Sam. When you didn’t want him to pry, he didn’t pry. Of course, that wasn’t a virtue when Jonathan suddenly realized that he really did want to tell Sam what was wrong.

“Are you going to change your mind?”

Sam frowned. “What?”

“Are you going to change your mind? About me? I understand if you will. I did force you into this situation, and I don’t deserve your sympathy, but….”

"Will I change my mind about leaving you be when I’m healed up, or about sleeping with you right now?” Sam asked.

“Either. Um, both.”

“I haven’t done a good job of convincing you of my sincerity,” Sam said easily. One large, strong hand reached out and began to stroke Jonathan’s chest, rubbing in soothing circles right over his wildly beating heart. “That’s my bad. I’m used to being taken at face value.”

“And I’m used to verifying everything by swimming through people’s heads, so if anyone’s to blame for lack of clarity, it’s me,” Jonathan sighed, relaxing under the touch. “It’s a rude habit to have developed. I never did it when I was with PsyCo.”

“You’ve got a lot more to worry about out here than hurting someone’s feelings, Jonnie. It’s no problem clearing the air.” Sam’s hand slowly moved south, smoothing over ribs and onto the skinny, hollowed planes of Jonathan’s abdomen. “I’m not going to do anything to give you away when I go. I don’t want you back in the Bureau’s hands, not knowing what you can do. You’re scary talented, man, but you do a good job of regulating yourself. I don’t think you’re about to try and take over EuroCo or assassinate hapless civilians or anything like that. I worry about leaving you alone more for your sake than anyone else’s. It’s still a fucking war zone out here.” His fingers clenched briefly before continuing their rhythmic caresses. “Lots of shit could happen to you.”

“I did fine for ten years before you came along,” Jonathan reminded him, defending his pride even though the thought of being alone again did make him feel unsettled, and not just for reasons of safety. He was getting dangerously used to company, good company, someone he actually enjoyed, someone he… liked. Yes. Liked.

“I know,” Sam agreed. His face was relaxed, but his eyes were very serious. “I know you can handle yourself. I’m living proof of that.” His mouth quirked in a half smile, taking away the sting that came with the reminder of what Jonathan had done to him. “But that doesn’t mean I can stop myself from thinking about it. As for the other worry….” Sam changed tacks quickly, his smile becoming full and genuine and more than a little lascivious as he leaned over Jonathan and let his questing hand slip further down, over hips and under cloth until his fingers ghosted against needy flesh, teasing ruthlessly. He kissed Jonathan, his lips staying soft as his grip became harder, and Jonathan reached his arms around those broad shoulders and tried to make Sam be closer, faster, harder, anything.

“As for the other,” Sam said breathlessly when he pulled back a few moments later, “I think the pros totally outweigh the cons sleeping with you. Don’t you?” They kissed again, and Jonathan carefully pulled Sam on top of him, mindful of Sam’s wound but hungry for him, for the warmth and the weight and the feel of him holding Jonathan down.

Bio: Cari Z is a Colorado girl who loves snow and sunshine. She just got back from two years of living in West Africa and is still delighted by the magic of hot running water and the glory that is Wi-Fi. Check her blog for info on new releases, upcoming projects, and works in progress at http://carizerotica.blogspot.com.

You can contact Cari at carizabeth [at] hotmail.com. In fact, please do. She’d love to hear from you.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Bittersweet Endings

By Cari Z (Guest Blogger)

When it comes to my own writing, I personally am a fan of the “Happily” convention. Happily Ever After or Happily For Now, or even just whoever I’m writing about being satisfied and, well, happy. I don’t like to leave uncomfortable hooks, and even if I don’t resolve every line of tension in a story, I try to leave things more positive than conflicted. Sometimes it takes a while to get there, though. Stories can hit the back burner as life intervenes, and life is about to intervene in a really big way.

After more than two years, my Peace Corps service is coming to a close. In a little over a month my husband and I will be packed up, all our worldly possessions stuffed back into the duffel bags we brought to Africa with us originally, our dog crated and ready to fly, and that will be it. We’ll be out of here. Back to America. I haven’t stepped foot in America for two years, and I’ve only spent a few weeks of that time span outside of Africa. It’s an ending, and it’s one that I’m feeling kind of conflicted about.

Living in rural West Africa has been incredibly tense, boring as hell, beautiful, frightening and eye-opening. I’ve learned more living here in two years than I ever thought I would, and I’ve done a lot of my best writing to date because, in part, of all the damn learning I’ve had to do. You can’t do this kind of work and not experience the full range of emotions, from deliriously happy to so enraged that you want to scream and break things. Everything is magnified here because life is fairly austere. You can’t take solace in American comfort food or television or your vast library of books, so most times you have to just feel whatever you’re feeling and try not to let it carry you too far off. It’s been more emotion and drama and excitement than I’ve ever sought in my life, and in a lot of ways I’m looking forward to the end.

It’s also scary. We’re going back to America and while that’s incredible, and I can’t wait to see family and friends and go out to my favorite places, it’s also hard. We’re leaving a place where we’re established, where we’re respected, and where our work makes a difference. We don’t have a house to go back to, a car to drive, and I don’t have a job waiting for me. Is it time for me to think more seriously about writing? Time to go back to school? Time to scramble for anything to pay for all the things we’ve been helped with here? (Health insurance and rent, yeah, I’m looking at you.)

Sometimes endings aren’t unequivocally happy. Sometimes they feel like a death or a separation, and this is a level of realism that a lot of writers incorporate in their work. You have to take the pain with the sweetness and pleasure, and sometimes things just don’t work out the way you’d like best. I wish we were leaving our community with more tangible results from our work here. I wish we could have done more. I wish fewer people had tried to take advantage of us and more of them had wanted to learn. I wish we had tried harder, even though at the time it felt like we were trying as much as we could. We’ve made a lot of friends and made a difference for some people, though, and that has to be enough now, because there’s no more middle. It’s the end.

A story of mine was recently published in the anthology Wild Passions by Storm Moon Press. It’s called "Opening Worlds", and it touches on the difficulty an ending can pose, both for characters and for their authors. Originally I thought to end this story with the main characters going their separate ways, with no intention of them coming together again. It just seemed like a logical place for the plot to stop, but the siren call of Happily overtook me, and I rewrote. The reviews I’ve read of my contribution to the anthology have been mostly positive, but they’ve also called me out on the “too perfect” ending for my conflicted lovers. On the other hand, one reviewer said if it hadn’t ended that way that she would have cried, which sounds like a decided conundrum to me. You can find read an excerpt of my story here and find out more about the book (even buy it!) here. If you like variety and creativity in your m/m romance, this is a good book for you!

Lisabet, you are entirely a gem, rare, precious and enduring. Thanks for hosting me yet again. You make visits to the internet café far less onerous. I will be a better e-neighbor soon.

Bio: Cari Z is originally from Colorado, but she and her husband have been living and working in West Africa for the past two years. That’s all coming to an end soon, though, and she’ll be off to America once more. It’s been a craaazy ride. Cari has been writing for many years, publishing for a few years and trying to get the hang of blogging and the like for less than a year, but it’s slowly coming together. She loves visitors, but she doesn’t expect you to fly to Africa to see her. Come and visit her blog instead: http://carizerotica.blogspot.com.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Too much? Not enough?

My husband and I currently live in a small town in West Africa, and occasionally we send out a mass email to our family and friends talking about the highlights of the past few months. A lot of people come back with, “Wow! That’s so interesting! Why don’t you write more often?” Well, because in actuality all the interesting things have already been distilled for their reading pleasure. The rest would be a droning monologue on heat, the lack of fresh food, heat, interminable insects, and did I mention the heat? Sure, there’s more to tell, but they don’t actually want to hear about it. Dissecting the interesting from the banal can be tricky for someone who lives with all of it all the time. This challenge crosses over into my fictional life as well.

One of the problems I come up against when I write any sort of story is deciding how much of my background research to put into it. For example, when I write about a city I’ve never been to before, I read books and look at pictures and find blogs written by people who’ve been there to get a feel for the place. This is harder from where I’m living right now, but I still try to be thorough. I’m the child of a professional historian, and my dad’s mantra has stuck with me: research is crucial. Do I want my readers wondering why I’m writing about the picturesque Roman ruins in Heidelberg when there actually aren’t any? Or why my Desert Eagle has a thirty round magazine? “It just does” isn’t an answer that sticklers are going to accept.

One would think that writing about a wholly fictional world would bypass these difficulties, and to a certain extent that’s true. A lot of the fun in writing speculative fiction is building your own background, making your own world. That’s not to say that, for example, science fiction doesn’t have its own tropes with regards to something like faster-than-light travel, but one assumes the reader is mostly willing to roll with what you put out there. If you want trisexual, shape-shifting space vampires, you can have it. However, this is the time when the problem of background in the story can reverse. The issue becomes not a dearth of information, but a glut.

My newest release is an example of the battle between too much and not enough. Nothing Ventured is a m/m steampunk romance set in semi-Victorian London concerning an inventor and his latest creation, an entirely new type of airship. The ship is powered by the force of vacuum, of nothingness rather than helium or hydrogen. My scientist husband helped me look up historical references (that there actually are historical references to such a thing thrills me), and then proceeded to detail to me how it would work, draw me several pictures, and generally get me excited about the engineering of an airship that runs on nothing. I wrote my first draft, read through it again and wondered, “Um…is this a technical manual or an erotic romance?” Just because I liked learning about pulleys and winches doesn’t mean my readers will.

Finding the balance between too much and not enough can be a difficult thing, but I hope I struck it with this story. Nothing Ventured was released earlier this month along with three other novellas in the anthology Silver Wings, published by Phaze Books. You can find it here: http://www.phaze.com/book.php?title=Silver+Wings.

I valiantly struggle against the forces of oppression, circumstance and, you know, laziness to maintain my own blog at http://carizerotica.blogspot.com. There are links to my work, free serial stories, and occasional rants in which I swear I’m going for humor. Visit. Peruse. Follow me to the other bizarre places I like to invent. To Lisabet, who is not only delightful and generous but also seems to be the reigning queen of multitasking: you rock. Thank you for having me.

Bio: Cari Z is originally from Colorado, where she imagines it snowing with guilty pleasure. She and her husband currently live in Western Africa, where snow is so foreign that it defies the capacity of her poor French to describe. She’s been writing for many years, publishing for a few years and trying to get the hang of blogging and the like for less than a year, but it’s slowly coming together. She loves visitors, but she doesn’t expect you to fly all the way to Africa to see her. Come and visit her blog instead.

Excerpt from Nothing Ventured

The man insisted on watching the construction. It irritated Sean to no end. He wasn’t an engineer or a technician, he was a pilot, damn it, and he should bloody well restrict himself to that sphere. It didn’t help that he asked the technicians intelligent questions or stayed out of the way, either. As long as he was there Sean thought about him, and as long as he was thinking about him he couldn’t devote himself to thinking about the ship. So Sean ignored him as best he could until the man literally invaded his personal space one afternoon a week after the party.

“I’d like to see the specs,” he said without preamble, his soft drawl lengthening the vowels in an unfairly enticing way.

Sean glared at him. “What on earth could you get out of looking at those?”

“I might get an understandin’ of why this bird’s being built the way she is,” he replied, pausing to sip at a cup of coffee. Coffee, not tea, Sean noted. He must have brought it with him. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure out there’s a lot that’s different about her.”

Good thing, too, Sean longed to comment, but he managed to restrain himself. “I can explain to you everything you need to know, Mister Winters.”

“I want,” he said emphatically, “to see the specs. In the flesh, so to speak. Not secondhand, not even from you. You can answer any questions I have after I’ve taken a look. And it’s Nick, by the way.”

Sean flushed at the man’s confident, peremptory tones. He picked up the pages of blueprints lying on the drafting table and thrust them at Nicholas—he couldn’t think of the man as “Nick”—not even trying to hide his contempt as he said, “Good luck understanding them.”

“Thanks,” Nicholas said with a smile.

“Do keep in mind the privacy clauses in your contract—”

“I won’t go spoutin’ off about anything I see here, don’t worry.”

“Not that I expect you to make head or tails of what I’m building, but nevertheless—”

“You don’t listen real good, do you?” Taking another sip of his coffee, Nicholas turned and made his way back to his seat along the wall, looking over the blueprints as he did.

Sean watched him go, unable to tear his gaze away until Nicholas turned to sit, and then jerking hastily back down to his work. Unfair. It was unfair he should be able to distract Sean that way. Why couldn’t he be more like James? Portly, middle-aged, married and above all familiar James, who knew when his presence was required and when it wasn’t? James, whom he’d known since he was a first-year student, James who was comfortable and non-threatening and didn’t make Sean want to nuzzle his lips into the enticing space just behind his jaw…oh, bloody hell.

Mercifully, the blueprints seemed to occupy the American well enough for the next few hours, and Sean was finally able to concentrate. He was concentrating so hard, in fact, that he didn’t even realize that the time had slipped away from him until the growing darkness made him aware that he was working by lamplight now, not sunlight. Sean straightened up, twisting his neck to work the kinks out as he turned to examine the lab. He was alone again. The blueprints were folded neatly on his work table, and there was a plate of food and a cup of tea, now cold, sitting next to him on the floor. Sean mournfully examined the tea and then bit into the meat pie, which was still faintly warm.

“Refill?”

Sean nearly choked on his food. He glared up at the American, who came slinking in out of the shadows like a wraith. Well, perhaps not slinking, but there was a certain sinuousness to his movements that was reminiscent of a cat, and he shouldn’t have been so quiet. It was rude not to give one some warning of one’s presence.

“Do you enjoy sneaking up on people, or is it simply a habit?”

“Hardly sneaking,” Nicholas said mildly as he came closer. He held two cups in his hands, both steaming. Without preamble he sat down on the floor next to Sean and handed him a cup. “One of the kids you’ve got workin’ here said this is how you liked it.”

“How I like what? Sneaking?”

“No.” There was a slight smile on the smug bastard’s face. “How you like your tea.”

Saturday, November 13, 2010