Excerptstravaganza! Day Two

(Note: I originally had a different excerpt planned for today, but since the last one inspired so much discussion I decided to put up the very next scene instead.)

“I’ll walk you to your car, if you won’t let me call a cab.” Dante faked concern pretty well.

“I’d rather walk.” She was tempted to tell him she didn’t need his company, but it was after dark in the city and she wasn’t stupid. Why walk alone when she could have a man she trusted—okay, a man she was fairly certain wouldn’t attack her—to walk with her?

“What exactly do you want, Mr. Dante?”

“Call me Grey.” His footsteps fell in time with hers as they passed groups of revelers still out, most of whom looked like professional partiers. Megan, with her pallid face and businesslike suit, felt out of place, a grandma trying to hang out with teenagers. Which was ridiculous. At thirty-one she was still in the age range the stores and clubs catered to, but she didn’t think she could ever go to them. It simply wasn’t her scene, aside from how difficult it was to keep her shields tightly closed after spending hours in a hot room and having a few drinks.

“Megan?”

“What?”

“What happened back there in the restaurant?”

“What do you mean?”

“Before you ran off, you were staring at a woman behind me. I got the feeling something about her disturbed you.”

Megan forced herself not to gag. She didn’t even want to think about what she’d seen, that squirming mass, the sense of malevolence radiating from it. She certainly wouldn’t discuss it with Greyson.

“I wasn’t feeling well, that’s all. I’ve been feeling off all day.”

“Before you went to the hospital?”

“Yes, I—” She stopped short and swung to face him. “How the hell do you know that? Are you following me? Who the hell are you, anyway?”

Greyson raised his hands and stepped back. “Hey, hold on. It’s not necessarily—”

“Don’t tell me what it necessarily is or isn’t. You tell me how you know all this about me. Who are you, Mr. Dante, and what do you want from me?”

If she’d hoped to disarm him, it didn’t work. His face went carefully blank and he put his hands back in his pockets. “I just want you to listen to my—client’s offer. That’s all.”

“Why are you following me? And you’re either a moron, or you’ve been going out of your way to let me know you’re following me. Why? What are you up to?”

“I want to help you.”

“Help me what?”

“Sudden fame can be very difficult. You could attract some . . . unwanted elements.”
“Stop lying to me!”

“I’m not lying. Stalkers—”

“Stalkers? Like, for example, you?”

“I’m not a stalker.”

“Oh? Let’s see. What does a stalker do? Follows someone around, tries to insinuate his or her way into the target’s life, maybe drops some vague hints and threats along the way? Sound familiar? Are you going to start telling the press you’re my secret husband next?”

His face darkened. “Megan, if you would just listen—”

“Fuck you.” She turned and started walking away. “Leave me alone, Mr. Dante,” she called over her shoulder. “You might be a lawyer, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still have you arrested.”

“I never said I was a lawyer,” he called after her.

Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait...

She turned around when she reached the end of the block. He was gone.


We have two new reviews!

Bac has a great review on her MySpace blog.

Danette B gives the book some love here.


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