In my stories, my heroines are usually carrying on very hectic lives and are not watching what they are doing when they stumble into the hero. I hate to admit this, but I have done this more often then I count. Walking down the hall, see a good looking man and run into a door jam, great impression, and right? But hey, it makes for a great story.
In this scene, my heroine, Heather Bowen, has returned from a harrowing interview with two police detectives who believe her sister was a psychotic killer and now they suspect Heather to be involved in murders connected with her drug and alcohol treatment center, Serenity House. She is supposed to interviewing a new drug and alcohol counselor and in walks the hero.
“Good morning, Heather,” her secretary, Stephanie Rampart said. She had on one of her usual bright smiles, a cheery yellow sundress and wore her brown hair in a neat ponytail. The aroma of coffee filled the air. “You’re first appointment is here.”
“I need coffee first.” She grabbed a mug and poured herself a generous cup and doctored it with cream, lots of Italian cream. She turned to greet her first appointment and froze. No, it couldn’t be. Her breathe caught her in her throat. As her hand shook, she spilled hot liquid on her hand. She dumped half the coffee on the floor. “Shit!” Stephanie rushed over to her with a paper towel. “Heather, are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Heather said even though her fingers hurt like a bitch.
Sitting on the couch, the dark haired man cocked his eyebrow as if amused. He was identical to the one who appeared in her nightmares, showing her the hellish future. He had the same colored dark hair, but instead of being braided, his flared over his massive shoulders. He had the same fine chiseled face as if he had been sculpted out of granite. Only his eyes were different--glowing silver. As a slow smile spread across his face, her heart beat hard.
She put her coffee cup down and wiped her hands with the paper towel. “You?”
He stood. Damn, he’d dwarf the Denver Nugget’s center.
“Hello, you must be Heather Bowen?”
Like the man in her nightmares, he had the familiar sultry voice. Her words abandoned her. How could this be? With a trembling hand, she threw the paper towel into the waste basket and avoided his eyes. She shook her head and turned to face him. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Scythe Angel. I have an appointment with you.”
With his long hair and a diamond stud earring in his right ear, he reminded her of a pirate. He wore a black leather jacket, tight black jeans, and a black tee shirt--not exactly dressed for an interview. George Thorogood’s song, Bad to the Bone, blared in her head.
The thought this man could make a woman rich, good and old, do the exact opposite of what they were, just like the song implied, went through her mind as she stared at him.
Looking into those silver eyes, Heather’s face warmed. God, did the man know what she was thinking? Forget that. A bad boy around Serenity House? Quadruple her troubles. Damn, her female patients would climb all over each other to get to him. Trade one addiction in for another. She ran her hand through her hair. “Of course.” She stopped. His white aura radiated around him like a soft, blinding light. She’d never seen one so bright. As it grew in intensity, she shielded her eyes with her palm.Cocking his eyebrow, he gave her a curious look. As if by magic, his aura dissipated, but she could still feel its power. Power that could any minute burst forth again. The color white meant purity and truth and usually meant angels were nearby. She slowly lowered her hand. Rosemary? Had she come to visit her? She glanced around the room, but sensed nothing else. Something was amiss.
Poor Heather. Her troubles have just begun and Scythe will be in the middle of them. In order to clear her sister’s name, she must learn to trust the mysterious man who brings chaos and mayhem to her already insane life.
Prize: Sinful Delight, a novella