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And the winner is??? Contest Entry #1. Bare Essentials by: Chessie The prize is a copy of "Unearthed" by CJ Barry. Tori dragged her suitcase across the marble floor of the hotel lobby, trying to assess the damage the wind had inflicted on her hair. She was not one to worry about her looks. Hell, she was a jeans and tank-top girl all the way, but this was her first conference, her first book, her first pitch to an editor. If there were ever a time in her life she needed to make a first impression, this was it. She fussed with her short blonde cut. In an attempt to look older and more professional, she had cut it short, but she missed twisting it around her finger. Oh well, one less nervous crutch. She bit her lip instead. Gazing around, her heart stuttered in her chest. The hotel lobby seemed vacant, like a cemetery with the sprinklers on. She wasn’t really surprised considering she was more than an hour early, but she figured someone should be milling about. It didn’t help her nerves at all. And yet, the trilling excitement rushing through her blood was new and invigorating. She was really doing this thing. She was officially a romance novelist. “Can I help you miss?” She turned to the girl behind the front desk and smiled, hauling her suitcase over. It protested by tipping precariously on two wheels. “I’m here to check in for the writer’s convention,” she announced, flopping her purse on the counter, and shoving a lock of her hair behind her ear. The girl gave her a smug look, the one that said in no uncertain terms, “Oh, you are one of those women.” It made Tori want to scream, “Yes! I write about sex, God damn it! I’ll howl it to the moon, bitch!” The temptation was almost too much to bear. But she didn’t think that would create the best impression to the other conference-goers. Then again, maybe it would. She was feeling a bit punchy after the long drive. Instead she opted for, “I am a writer, and staying here for your conference along with one-hundred-fifty others. That is a good deal of business during the off season, is it not?” “Your name please?” the desk clerk snapped, her dilated eyes narrowing. Clearly she didn’t appreciate the unspoken threat. “Victoria Milton,” she responded, fishing for her driver’s license and credit card. The girl yawned then snapped her gum as her fingers flicked lazily over the keyboard to the computer. She took the cards, processed a key while rubbing one eye, then yawned again handing the cards back. “Room 540,” she mumbled, handing Tori the key cards. She thought to ring up the management. The girl was both rude and unprofessional. She had obviously had a long night, and Tori was certain it was not from studying. She looked hung-over. Instead she took the envelope with the cards and room number without protest, determined to put the clerk behind her. She was going to have a great weekend. So what if it was a small conference? She had an appointment with the editor of the publishing house she deeply believed her book belonged in, and nothing was going to deter her from her goal. She would get a request, she could feel it in her bones. She stepped into the elevator, anxious to get settled in her room, then go back downstairs to try to figure out where registration for the conference was, and where the speaker would be later on that evening. She also had no idea what she was going to do for dinner. The conference didn’t start until seven-thirty. She sighed. She could worry about that later. First things first. The elevator bell dinged as the light blinked on behind the five, and she charged from the elevator like a racehorse springing from the gate. Her suitcase was not quite so enthusiastic. It fell with a heavy thump onto its side. “Damn it.” She heaved the suitcase out of the way of the closing door, then bent down to lift it back on its wheels and straighten her flirty little skirt. She needed to get a handle on herself. She was going for mature and professional, not overeager nerd in her mid-twenties. Unfortunately, overeager nerd was what came naturally. Shaking off a wave of doubt, she wandered down the long hall and slipped her key card in the door lock. A do not disturb sign hung on the handle, which struck her as odd, but she figured the maid must have forgotten to put it back on the inside of the door. At least she knew she had one. The lock whirred then clicked as the little light flashed green. Shoving open the door she entered the large comfortable room, dragging her suitcase behind her. She listened to the hiss of water running in an adjacent room, and crinkled her nose. The walls had to be paper thin. It sounded like her own shower was on. Either that or someone had installed a waterfall in the room next door. Deep rooted foreboding dropped into the pit of her stomach, then rushed in a wave of unsteady adrenaline through her legs. The bathroom door was closed. The water shut off with an ominous clunk. Fear rushed through her blood, rooting her to the spot while her brain wailed at her to get out of the room. Her feet fixed onto the floor, and she could not find the strength to move them as the bathroom door creaked open. Tori gaped in fascinated horror as one proud male foot landed solidly on the dark and garish carpet followed by a long lean muscular leg, feathered with downy black hair up to his powerful thighs and . . . Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!!! Frozen like a deer caught in the headlights, she snapped her eyes up to his head, which was lost somewhere in a flimsy white hotel towel. She couldn’t breathe as she watched the muscles in his arms and chest stretch and flex as his hands rigorously rubbed the towel. Taking an unconscious step back, she raised a hand to her mouth unable to speak through her collapsed throat, or hear anything above the thunderous beat of her heart. She caught a glimpse of herself gaping like a blowfish, as well as an ample eyeful of his backside in the steamy bathroom mirror. Holy Lord, the statue of David did not have an ass like that! Not to mention that other attributes seemed distinctly out of proportion compared to the miniscule statue. David had nothing on him. What was she doing!? Scream or something, stupid! Don’t stand there like a pervert! As if trapped in the middle of a train wreck, time slowed to an agonizing crawl. Thump. Her heart echoed in her ears, as the towel fell from his face. Thump. His clear Nordic blue eyes flashed up at her from beneath dark Mediterranean features. Thump. Fury and horror rose in those crystal clear eyes. The towel dropped out of his hand. “What the…” his voice boomed in her ears as time shot into warp speed. The scream in her head erupted out of her lungs. She slapped her hands over her eyes, and leapt forward, only to stumble over her suitcase and tumble headfirst toward him. His string of expletives rang in her ears as she fought to her knees, keeping one hand clasped tightly over her eyes. “I’m sorry!” she cried, groping for her suitcase. “Who in the Hell are you, and what are you doing in my room?” he shouted. “Your room!” She dropped her hand in anger as he whipped the undignified towel around his naked waist. “What are you doing taking a shower in my room?” she demanded. “What are you talking about?” he growled, his icy eyes flashing. She shoved her key card envelope with the room number written on it in his hand. He put one hand on his hip, clutching the towel together, and stared down at the envelope like an angry Scottish chieftain, lord of his castle, in his dinky white kilt. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he looked at the envelope, opened the door, and glanced at the number, then stared back down at her. “It seems there has been a mistake. Are you okay?” He reached down and offered a hand to help her up. She took it reluctantly. Now that the shock had worn off, she was pissed. She almost stumbled again on her wedge heels, and one of her ankles ached as she tried to put pressure on it. “No, I’m not.” “I’m sorry I yelled. This clearly wasn’t your fault. I’m sure you were just as shocked as I was.” “That is the understatement of the millennia,” she snorted straightening her skirt. He let out a strained chuckle. “Let me get some pants on, and we can go downstairs to straighten this out. My name is Adam, by the way.” He offered his hand again with a flashing smile. His eyes now seemed light and amused as if he found the whole situation funny. “Tori.” She shook his hand and smiled back as her brain began to process that she got to see this Greek god on earth in his birthday suit. “Could you wait for me in the hall? I think it best if we form a united front.” He lifted her suitcase with easy grace and placed it in the hall. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes, and sat down on it, resting her hot cheeks in her hands. Adam’s hands shook as he pulled on his slacks, then buttoned up his shirt. He certainly hadn’t prepared for this when he’d agreed to come. Slipping his feet into his shoes, he straightened his collar and opened the door. His breath caught in his throat. Tori looked like a forlorn pixie lost in the forest, sitting on her suitcase with her flyaway blonde bangs falling in her enormous hazel eyes. She was young, vibrant, and a strange shade of pink from her neck up. The poor thing was mortified, and he hadn’t helped. He felt bad about that, but he wasn’t about to hold back on the hotel manager. She blinked up at him and tried to smile, her eyes shining unnaturally in the dim light of the hall. Had she been crying? His heart twisted in his chest. Offering a hand to her he sent her his most charming smile, the one he used with people suffering from nerves, and he had plenty of practice dealing with that. He also had plenty of practice getting what he wanted, and he was going to have someone’s ass in a sling. She returned his smile, but it was subdued, he could tell. Something in him wanted to see her natural smile. He reached out his hand, and she took it, rising gracefully to her feet. She was tall and willowy, a perfect pixie. Unable to help himself, he pulled her closer to him by her trembling palm, and brushed an eyelash off her cheek. “Make a wish,” he said, as he held it out to her on one finger. “I wish whoever made this mistake would break out in a painful rash in a very embarrassing place.” Her full lips pursed as she blew it off. God he wanted this vengeful little sprite. Tori watched in amazement. He was like a panther who had cornered some poor jungle monkey. The manager was beginning to look like a monkey too, or at least he was jumping around like one trying to appease Adam. Dance, monkey, dance! She was impressed by what he had done so far. Not only did she have the nicest hotel room in the place on the house, but it sounded like he was pushing for free stays at the chain for the rest of the year. She wondered if he would go for life. He hadn’t pulled out the “I’ll talk to my lawyer,” card yet. She dazed off watching him rebuke the quality of the entire hotel chain. He was magnificent. She was having a hard time trying to get the image of him naked out of her head. Perhaps she didn’t want it out of her head. It gave her a warm, tingly feeling all over. “Tori?” He knelt down in front of her. She shook herself out of her reverie and smiled at him. “It looks like everything is taken care of. The hotel is being very gracious now.” He winked at her, and she fought a laugh. “They included dinner for both of us at a very nice restaurant down the way. I was wondering if you wanted to share it.” He was asking her out on a date? A strange thrill ran up and down her spine. “I have to be back at 7:30.” Was this a date? “Don’t worry. Come on. I’ll help you with your luggage, then you can get cleaned up and settled in. I’ll meet you down here at five. Sound good?” He lifted her hand to his lips. Oh God, it was a date. “It sounds great.” “So, tell me about yourself,” Adam coaxed, putting his menu down and looking at her with such intensity it made her shiver. “What do you do?” Guilt sank in her stomach like a stone as she thought about concealing what she considered her real occupation. She wanted nothing more than to make it her career, but she didn’t have a book published yet. Saying she was an unpublished writer sounded flaky to her, and she wanted to impress Adam. Besides, she didn’t want him to get the wrong impression, and for as uninhibited as she was about telling women she wrote about sex, she didn’t want him to think she was either a hopeless romantic with her head in the clouds, or a sex-starved nympho. “I work in a law office.” She dropped her eyes, ashamed of her self-consciousness. She would tell him sometime, if they even hit it off. “Where?” “Eastern Pennsylvania. I live in a little place in the country my grandparents left me.” “It sounds beautiful.” The candlelight flickered in his pale eyes, and her heart almost stopped. “What are you doing all the way out here?” he asked, turning the little jar holding the candle on the table. “I’m visiting my cousin. She’s having her first baby.” It wasn’t a lie. She was going to the shower later that week while she was out west. It was one of the reasons she chose that particular conference, it was close to her extended family, and she hadn’t seen them in ages. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asked, genuinely interested. His attention made her cheeks feel flushed. She lifted her hand to fiddle with her hair and ended up toying with the strand of pearls around her neck. “No. What about you?” she asked, diverting his attention. “Any family?” “I have four younger sisters. Two are college, one in grad school, and one is a senior in high school.” He smiled, a very different smile than the hungry one he occasionally flashed at her. It was warm and loving, content in a way that made her heart turn over. “So in other words, you are a professional at strong-arming boyfriends.” She smiled back as he laughed, hiding his bright eyes behind relaxed fingers. “What is your last name, anyway?” “Jorgensson.” Tori laughed in surprise. “What? Don’t I look Swedish?” He twisted one of his thick dark curls and grinned. “Not at all.” She laughed again as the waitress brought them a bottle of wine. “My mother is Greek. I take after her, though I’m glad I got my father’s height. My mother is a tiny woman. The blue eyes also come from Dad. Everyone accuses me of wearing contacts. Blame the Swedes.” “Devastating combination,” she muttered. “What was that?” He lifted a dark brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Nothing.” Flushing again, she lifted her wine to her lips to soothe her suddenly parched throat. “Did you go to law school?” He followed her lead and took a slip of wine. “No, I couldn’t stomach any more. I was a literature major and I didn’t want to go down that road.” To Tori’s surprise and amazement, Adam launched into an in depth discussion of Shakespeare, Dante, Steinbeck, and classics she had forgotten she had read. Eventually they wandered into writing, plot, character, the whole bit. The conversation kept them talking through salads, steaks, and even dessert. It filled a strange hole in her to talk to a man she was attracted to about all the things she really loved. They even ran over theories about what would be coming in the next Harry Potter book. Tori glowed from the inside out by the time they returned to the hotel. She found an empty chair for the opening speakers, and tried her hardest to pay attention, but couldn’t help daydreaming a bit. “Unfortunately, Kate Andres of White Rock Publishing could not be here this weekend, but don’t worry. A representative from Pinkerton graciously stepped in. Please check with Ann Doring in the morning if you have an editorial appointment, questions, or you would like to change your appointment…” Tori blinked quickly, desperately trying to believe she hadn’t heard the announcement. All of her hopes of getting published were wrapped around a meeting with Kate Andres. White Rock was perfect for her story. She couldn’t pitch her book to Pinkerton. The house focused on historicals, and her story was a dark contemporary romantic suspense. What was she going to do? Through the rest of the speeches, she felt sick to her stomach as she tried to twist her story to sound more appealing to Pinkerton. She simply couldn’t do it. With a heavy heart, and dashed hopes, she ignored the group of writers gathered by the bar. The ride in the elevator seemed too long for comfort as she rode to the top floor, entered her extravagant room, and collapsed in a heartbroken heap on the bed. Tori paid meticulous attention to her appearance as she got ready in the morning. Smoothing down her dove gray skirt, she fluffed her hair in the back and pressed her lips together. She had called her best friend the night before, and received some good advice. Even if she didn’t have a ghost of a chance, meeting with Pinkerton would give her practice pitching her book with little to lose, and the only way to be sure they wouldn’t give her a shot, was not to talk to them at all. She took a deep breath and picked up her purse, her hands shaking so hard she had to squeeze the strap to steady them. She needed breakfast, but her stomach churned at the thought of eating anything. Sitting down at a table with some other writers, she picked at her plate of fruit and muffin from the buffet. She had the first time slot for an editorial meeting with Pinkerton, so she only had about five minutes to eat and calm herself down. “Did you SEE the editor from Pinkerton?” one of the other women breathed in awe. “What? Is he some old relic who’s going to ask us for purple prose and ripped bodices?” another asked. “Far from it. I think they accidentally hired one of their cover models for their editorial staff.” One of the women giggled. “Thank God I’m pitching to Hillary. I’d die!” “I just about did when I saw him.” The woman fanned herself with her napkin and rolled her eyes. “Look, he is getting ready for his appointments.” A churning sensation rolled in Tori’s stomach. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It couldn’t be him. God would not be so cruel. She turned, the room blurring around her as she looked back at the tables set up for appointments in the far corner of the lobby. It felt as if her heart climbed up to the top of a cliff, somewhere in her throat, then leapt off, screaming the entire way down to her shoes. Adam smiled at the appointment coordinator, taking a couple of pieces of paper from her and sitting down at the Pinkerton table, lounging back in the chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. Dizziness swept through her, and she clutched a hand over her stomach. “Are you alright, honey?” one of the women asked. “You look pale as a sheet.” “Victoria Milton?” the coordinator announced, looking up and around for her. Her first instinct was to run as fast as she could, but Adam’s eyes turned to her and locked with hers from across the room. “I’m here,” she responded, listening to her blood rush in her head as she stood and held her chin up. Feeling like French royalty at the revolution she strode across the room with her head held high and a grace she didn’t know she possessed. “You have twenty minutes.” She nodded in response and sat down across from Adam. His eyes laughed brightly at her while the rest of his face remained cool and calm behind the steepled fingers in front of his lips. “I am sorry, Mr. Jorgensson, but I really shouldn’t be wasting your time. My book is not what Pinkerton is looking for. I was hoping to pitch it to White Rock.” She used her calmest voice, but kept her hands tightly clenched in her lap. “That has to be the worst pitch I have ever heard, Tori. Why don’t you tell me about your book.” He smiled at her, the same one he had given her when he had asked her to share dinner. “This is unethical.” “Why?” Raising a brow, he touched his finger to his lips again. “Because…” For the life of her, her reasons for protesting pitching the book to him flew out of the window. “What if I ended up working for you?” “Now that is showing more confidence. If you are nervous, try picturing me naked.” “ADAM!” She cringed as she felt the stares of the entire breakfast congregation turn toward her. “That is why this is unethical.” “Ethics are for lawyers. Tell me about your book.” He smiled again, a blatant challenge. He was daring her to have the guts to pitch to him. Fine, if he wanted to play that way, she could bring it. She was not going to work at that law firm forever. She gave him her pitch, and he listened attentively, peppering her with questions about the internal conflicts of the main characters and how the resolutions to the external conflict coordinated with the growth needed for the characters to come to realizations about their flaws, and reach for the solution to their internal struggle. In the middle of their discussion of character, the coordinator returned. “It is time to wrap up.” “So?” Tori crossed her arms, wondering what would happen next. “You have a great book, Tori, but it does not suit Pinkerton’s current needs.” His eyes dropped as he fiddled with some papers on the table, placing them in his bag. “So that is it. You are giving me a form letter rejection.” Her heart stuttered as she fought back the heat in her face. She would not cry. She would not let him see her weak. He had already seen that. “You have nothing else to say.” His eyes turned dark and sad. “It is all I can say.” “Fine, thank you for your time, and good luck finding what you are looking for.” She stood up and left, finding her way to the workshop rooms to lose herself in the back of the crowd, where no one would notice her heartbreak. Adam watched her go, feeling helpless to fix the problem. He loved her idea, but his hands were tied by his company. In truth, he didn’t want her working for him, he wanted her involved with him. Perhaps it was better that her book didn’t suit Pinkerton. But it did suit White Rock, and Kate owed him one big favor. He had a call to make. He stood and shook the hand of the next woman to pitch to him. He had work to do. Tori peeled off her nylons. She had nicked them on a chair during one of the workshops. With a frustrated flick of her wrist she tossed them in the waste paper basket. The conference had been a waste. The only good thing about it had been this room. Well, some of the workshops were informative, but she had really wanted Kate Andres to hear her story. She had gotten her hopes up too much, and now the hollow feeling she was left with, made her want to curl up in her bed and ignore the rest of the conference. But she was a fighter, and she knew that the entire writing process was an agonizing lesson in disappointment. She knew Pinkerton wouldn’t want her book. That wasn’t bothering her. Deep down, what bothered her was that it didn’t interest Adam. She wanted her story to spark something in him. A knock sounded at the door. Her heart leapt as she walked over to it and peered out of the little peep hole, then it broke into a jig when she saw Adam’s distorted image staring back at her. She unbolted the door and opened it cautiously. “What are you doing here?” she asked, suddenly aware of her bare feet, she tried to hide them behind the door. “I made a phone call I thought you should know about. I called Kate Andres, and she agreed to take a look at your book. Send her the first three chapters, a cover letter mentioning my name, and the synopsis. She said if you stink, she is going to take it out of my hide, so be sure it looks good before you send it out.” He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. Tori couldn’t speak, she couldn’t even breathe. She just stared at Adam in shock. He turned to go. “Wait!” Turning back to her he smiled again, a smile of pure amusement and seduction. “You liked my story?” She opened the door further to let him in so they could talk. Her heart fluttering in her chest, she needed to sit down, or she was going to fall down. “I loved your story.” His pupils flared out as he entered her room. He reached out and lifted a hand to her cheek. “I love everything about you, and I want to see you again when we go home. How far are you from New York?” “A couple of hours,” she whispered, swallowing nervously as he pulled her into his solid body by the feathery touch at her jaw and neck. “I’m sure it is a beautiful drive.” He bent down and brushed his lips against hers. It was a simple caress, an invitation to something so much more intense. Tori lost herself in his kiss as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back with all the surging hope and joy in her heart. He lifted her onto her toes as his lips devastated her, his tongue stroking her with such heat and longing her whole body burned in response. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her, resting his forehead against hers, they took a moment to hold each other and to breathe. “Will you call me?” he asked, his bright eyes hopeful. “Of course I will.” And with those simple words, she succumbed to the heat of his kiss again. One year later Tori waited naked on the bed, listening to the sound of the shower running. It was their favorite game whenever they met at a hotel. He’d get in the shower, and she would arrive later to greet him as he stepped out of it. It always led to the hottest sex of their relationship. It only seemed fitting to play the game here, at the little conference that brought them together. She had sold her first book to White Rock, and things couldn’t be more perfect between them. She held her breath as Adam stepped out of the bathroom, but gasped in shock as he emerged dressed in a tuxedo. Both confused and titillated by his clothing, she giggled, until he got down on one knee and pulled a little box out of his pocket. He opened it, and the diamond inside caught the light. “Tori?” “Yes, Yes, God Yes!” she shouted, jumping off of the bed and into his arms. He fell onto the ground, and laughed as she pulled apart his bowtie and ripped through the buttons on the tux. He growled as she pulled open his fly, eager to have him, right there, right then. Helping her remove some cumbersome clothing, he lay back as she straddled him, and he sank deep into her hungry body. They sighed in completion as she lifted herself up and down on his rigid body, while he placed the ring on her finger and sat up enough to kiss her until the power of her love for him, and the pleasure of his body stroking deep inside her was too much for her to bear. The tears streamed down her face as her whole body tightened, gripped by the power of her climax. “I love you, Adam.” “I love you too, Victoria.” It was only the beginning of that night, and of the rest of their lives. |