Dying to Get Published

by Judy Fitzwater

  Chapter 8

  "'I've never met anyone like you,' he whispered. His greedy mouth found hers as he crushed her to him, leaving her breathless. His fingers kneaded the silky flesh of her neck and then fell to explore the sensual secrets of her body. He groaned.'"

  "He's not the only one groaning, Leigh Ann," Jennifer muttered from her spot on the floor next to Monique's sofa.

  "You're not supposed to interrupt." Leigh Ann's eyes flared as she stuck out her diminutive chin. "You just don't like love scenes."

  "Oh, no, sweetie. You don't get off that easy, Leigh," Teri said. "You've spent two hundred pages throwing these two people together and pulling them apart and all your hero can think of to say is 'I never met anyone like you'? He's met dozens of women like her, but he never got one quite as pure as she is into his bed. She makes his blood boil. Honey, let us see him sim-mer." Teri's shoulders undulated with each syllable.

  "So what do you want him to say? 'Hey, Babe, you make my blood boil'?"

  "Nice alliteration," April observed.

  "Is that the best you can say about my writing?"

  "It wasn't your writing. The blood boiling thing was my idea," Teri reminded her.

  "Ladies, please." Monique spoke in a quiet, commanding tone. "You know the rules, Jennifer. When one group member is reading her work, we all listen. No comments are welcome until she has finished. Do we all understand? Go on, Leigh Ann. I think you were somewhere amid the sensual secrets of your heroine's body."

  "'Sensations he had never experienced stung his fingertips as he…'"

  Maybe Leigh Ann was right, Jennifer thought. Maybe she had no romance left in her. She'd given Sam a chance Friday night and look what he'd done with it. He'd only asked her out to gain access to Steve Moore, and she'd let him seduce her into agreeing. He hadn't even done it with sex. He'd found her Achilles' heel—the lure of writing a true-life crime book.

  She hoped she hadn't made a complete fool of herself when he took her home. He'd walked her to her apartment, and she turned to say good-night, leaning back against the door, still warm and comfortable from the wine. He took the key from her hand and moved toward her. She closed her eyes as she felt his breath come close to her face. And then she heard the tumblers click in the lock and the door give way behind her. Her eyes popped open, and he slipped the key in her hand.

  "Thanks for the evening. It was fun." He kissed the tip of his index finger and touched it to the end of her nose. "Let me know as soon as Moore books the party. See ya."

  He turned, stuffed both hands into his pockets, pulling the back of his jacket unbecomingly apart, and sauntered off toward the elevator.

  Men. She hadn't wanted Sam to kiss her, but…Oh, hell. She didn't know what she wanted.

  "'Gasping, they parted, her breast heaving with unbridled passion. 'You must leave before someone finds you here.'"

  "You mean they still didn't do it?" Jennifer asked.

  "Of course they didn't do it! I'm building tension here, Jennifer. I don't know why you can't grasp the simple dynamics of the genre."

  "Don't worry about Jennifer, Leigh. When she has two people alone in a room together, only one of them comes out alive," Teri said.

  "All right. April let's start with you," Monique said. "What is your opinion of Leigh Ann's scene?"

  "Well, it certainly stirs the senses. I did have one question about logistics. When he's on the floor and she's on the bed, just exactly how were they able to…"

  Four whole days, and Sam hadn't called her—not that she cared. If it weren't for Jaimie, she'd be happy if she never saw another man. She'd considered having Jaimie through artificial insemination, but she just didn't think it would be fair. She could hear herself trying to answer Jaimie's questions.

  "Why don't I have a daddy at home like other kids?"

  "Your dad is a famous astronaut. He's on the first manned flight to mars and won't be back for three years."

  "When he gets back, can he come to my birthday party?"

  And there would be other questions.

  "What's my dad look like?"

  "That's hard to say. The records describe him as tall with dark hair slicked back with just a few sexy strands straying loose to brush his right eyebrow. And he had the deepest, darkest, bluest eyes."

  She shook her head. Obviously she had too much on her mind and her anger at Sam was getting mixed up with her thoughts of Jaimie. That little paternalistic display with Eddie the other night at her apartment wasn't helping her keep them separate.

  "Jennifer?"

  "What?" she asked.

  "What did you think of Leigh Ann's scene?" Monique repeated.

  Curses. She didn't have a clue how the hero had almost seduced the heroine this time. "It was great… great and unique."

  "Did you really think so?" Leigh Ann gushed. "Everyone else trashed it so badly, but if you thought it was good…"

  "Maybe good is too strong a word. It could use some work. I agree with what Teri said."

  "Teri? Teri told me to start over. What's with you?" Leigh Ann demanded.

  "Are you all right, Jennifer?" Monique asked in that maternal tone that drove everyone mad.

  "I'm fine. I'm just a little ambivalent about Leigh Ann's scene."

  "Maybe we should let this drop until Leigh works on it and brings in a revision next week. Did you have something for us to discuss?" Monique asked, staring straight at Jennifer.

  "Yes. I need a perfect alibi—for my murderer. I need to establish beyond a doubt that he was somewhere else when he committed the crime."

  "Oh, one of those cases that no one can crack because the killer is so clever," April gushed. "I just love those. They go so well with peanuts. What's in that bowl over there, Leigh Ann? I hardly had time for supper before I came over."

  Leigh Ann scooped up the dish of striped hard candy and presented it to April with a flourish.

  "That baby is going to be addicted to sugar and salt before it even gets out of the womb," Teri declared, rolling onto the floor, grabbing her ankle and pulling her calf up against the back of her thigh.

  April dropped the piece of peppermint back into the bowl and set it down on the end table.

  "Just where were we the last time we discussed this plot?" Monique asked.

  Leigh Ann sucked hard on a piece of candy. "I remember. We had the murderer masquerading as an insurance investigator in the victim's fancy apartment building."

  "Right, but forget that," Jennifer said. "What I need now is an alibi that the murderer has set up for the night of the crime."

  "What if you have him attend a society party in his honor, and have him slip out in the middle of it and back in again?" April suggested. "That's worked in lots of plots. No one ever knows what time it is at those galas."

  "No. There aren't any galas to go to."

  April clucked her tongue. "Jennifer, just what is going on with you? You act like you've lost all control over your story."

  A bead of sweat formed on Jennifer's forehead. "It's just that…my murderer…is a recluse, and his character is essential to the plot."

  "He can't be a complete recluse," Leigh Ann argued. "Where's the fun in that? I say have him seduce some woman and then knock her out somehow so that when she wakes up in the morning, she's in his arms and swears he's been there all night."

  Such a simple solution, and certainly not an original one. She was amazed she hadn't thought of it herself. But it had one major flaw: where would she find a man to seduce?