“Oh, excuse me.” The voice was musical, almost other-worldly, and the face that came with it was so beautiful, I nearly gasped. Her hair was black silk, cascading around slim shoulders, but it was the eyes that stole my breath . . . they were gorgeous. Ice-blue, they felt a little familiar, like seeing a face I recognized in the wrong setting.
“I didn’t mean to bump into you.” She spoke again, and I was mesmerized. “Too preoccupied with watching all the pretty lights, I guess.”
Her words held a touch of accent, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it was from. European, certainly; not quite French, not exactly Spanish . . . Italian? No, she didn’t sound like Al or like my Nonna, both who’d had a touch of the Old Country in their voices.
“That’s all right.” I smiled. “I know what you mean. I was just thinking how lovely everything looks, and what a perfect evening this is.”
“Very true.” Her lips curved, and she leaned forward just slightly, her head drawing near mine, almost as though she was . . . breathing me in. A warning chill zipped down my spine, and I shifted away.
As thought I’d imagined her movement, she continued speaking. “Your Festival is very charming.”
“Thank you.” I inclined my head in acknowledgement. “You’re not from this area, I take it?”
She laughed, and it sounded like bells ringing. “No, I’m not. I have . . . family in Florida, however. I’ve enjoyed exploring it. It’s a very interesting state.”
“It is.” I didn’t know what else to say, and the silence stretched close to awkwardness before she reached to touch my arm, where the bandage the EMTs had applied still covered my wound.
“What’s this? Have you hurt yourself?”
I shook my head. “It was nothing. A little accident, but it’s better now. Mostly.”
She tilted her head. “Aren’t you the person who won the pie contest? Congratulations. Your entry was innovative.”
“Thanks. Did you try any of it?”
“Sadly, no.” She lifted one shoulder in a very Gallic shrug. “I don’t indulge in sweets.”
“Well, I admire your discipline. I have absolutely none.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Her smile widened. “I think there may be more to you than meets the eye, Jackie.”
“Ah, I only meant when it came to desserts.” My smile faded a little. Had she just called me by my name? I hadn’t introduced myself—but then, there was the pie contest. She must’ve seen my name by my entry or heard the announcement. That was surely it.
“I’m glad I had the chance to speak with you.” She looked over my shoulder, beyond me into the crowd, and her eyes flared for the space of a breath. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m meeting friends, and I don’t want to be late.”
“Oh, sure, nice talking with you. Enjoy the Festival.”
With a quick wave, she moved away from me, and within seconds, vanished into the crowd. I felt that same chill, the shiver that ran over me.
“Who was that? Talking to you?”
I jumped as Lucas grabbed my shoulder from behind, his fingers digging into my skin. “That lady? I don’t know. She—”
“Where did she go?”
“I have no idea. To meet friends, she said. Why?” I turned and looked up into his face, cupping his cheek with my hand.
Lucas closed his eyes. Beneath my palm, his skin had gone clammy and pale. He drew in a shuddering breath before he spoke.
“That’s the woman who turned me into a vampire.”
The End
For Now
Rafe and Nell Go To The Beach
Earlier this year, the kind people at Literary Escapism asked me to write a short post about two of my characters at the beach. That seemed an easy task, since I was in the middle of releasing three books, all set at the beach. But it seemed a little too simple to write about the people of Crystal Cove at the beach. So I decided instead to write about The Couple Least Likely to Go To The Beach: Nell and Rafe.
Of course, when they did go to the beach, they ended up in Crystal Cove, which worked out well, since that place and those people are near and dear to me.
I decided to include this little piece here, since Rafe and Nell both reference the visit when they meet Jackie and Lucas in Crystal Cove.
If you want to read more about Crystal Cove, there are three books in that series, with more on the way: The Posse, The Plan and The Path.
If you want to read more about Rafe and Nell, check out Undeniable and Unquenchable, as well as The Shadow Bells, a Serendipity Short.
And if you’d like some more background on Cathryn and Lucas, pre-Jackie, you’ll want to read Stardust on the Sea, a Serendipity and Recipe for Death Short.
Finally, if you want to read what happened at Carruthers right before Death A La Mode began, the short story Unforgettable is included in the anthology It’s A Ghoul Thing.
The following appeared originally on the blog Literary Escapism on August 28, 2015 (http://www.literaryescapism.com/).
“I’M NOT GOING to the beach.”
I didn’t even bother turning around to check out Rafe’s expression. I knew what it would be: a mix of patient exasperation and frustration, the same way he looked whenever I dug in my heels about something he wanted me to do. I waited for his next move, which was typically a sigh as he came up behind me and slid his arms around my waist, pulling me tight against his hard body and began to persuade me in his own special way.
But this time, he didn’t move. When I finally turned around to sneak a peek at what he was doing, his head was bent over the slim silver laptop on the counter in front of him. He wasn’t even looking my way. I frowned.
Rafe’s eyes didn’t leave the computer screen, and his fingers flew over the keys. If he’d heard me, he wasn’t giving any indication of it. I slammed the door of the coffee mug cabinet, and finally he glanced up at me, his green eyes distracted.
“Did you hear me? I said I’m not going to the beach.”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Okay.”
Okay? Since when had my boyfriend—yes, I still winced at the use of that word, but what else could I call Rafe? My lover? My roommate? My screwing buddy? Since all of my limited circle knew the deal about our relationship, I rarely had to use that word, but sometimes among strangers or acquaintances, it slipped out. But since when had he given into me so easily when I gave him a hard time? My stomach clenched as old insecurities flooded back.
“Okay, as in we’re not going to do it, or okay, as in you’re still going to go?” I leaned back against the counter and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Okay, as in I made the commitment for us to go, and even if you don’t, I am. I promised Cathryn we’d take care of it.”
I made a face. “Why can’t someone else handle it? She has a whole institute of people at her disposal.”
“Everyone else is busy or on assignment. It’s not as if it’s a challenging job, Nell. It’s a possibly haunted hotel in a small beach town a couple of hours away. Cathryn offered it to us as a favor. She figured we could combine business with . . . pleasure.” Now he did shut the computer and advance around the kitchen island toward me, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “The beach is supposed to be a romantic setting, you know. Sunsets over clear blue water, the lapping of the waves against the soft white sand, the heat of the sun . . .”
“Sand getting into inconvenient places, blistering sunburns on my very pale skin . . . and the sun doesn’t set on that coast, it rises on that side.”
This time Rafe did sigh as he grabbed my hand and tugged me close, wrapping both arms around me. “Nell, how many times do I really ask you to do anything you don’t want to do?”
I burrowed my face against his chest, breathing in pure Rafe, the one drug that calmed me, body and soul. “Well, there was Christmas a few years back—”
“Uh huh, and did I tell you that we had to go back to King? No, I suggested that we go to Nebraska and make like snow bunnies.”
<
br /> I rolled my eyes. “But I did go.”
“Yes, and I really appreciated it. Didn’t I show you that?” He nuzzled my neck, his tongue darting out to touch the pulse there. “C’mon, Nell. I just want to lie on the beach with my beautiful girlfriend and veg a little. I promise, you don’t have to socialize or anything. Just go for me.”
I heaved out a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll go to the beach. But I won’t like it.”
* * *
I liked the beach.
I didn’t want to like it. I wanted to sit there wrapped in layers of my gauzy cover-up, brooding. But I couldn’t, not when the sun was beaming down on us, and a soft breeze cooled our skin. Not when Rafe peeled off his shirt and his tan skin gleamed against the white of the powder-soft sand.
He dropped onto the blanket he’d carefully spread for me, moving over until his hip bumped mine, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Now this isn’t too bad, is it?”
I raised one eyebrow. “Hmm. Not so far. But wait until people get here.”
“It’s September, baby. We’re going to have this beach to ourselves.”
And he was right. Oh, a few people strolled by, walking with their feet in the surf. A couple of joggers passed us. But for the most part, it was deserted and quiet and—perfect.
When my stomach began to rumble around noon, Rafe stood up and pulled me to my feet. “We can leave our blanket here and go grab some burgers up at the Riptide. No one’s going to bother them.”
I glanced down, dubious. “Are you sure?” The aroma of grilled meat began to waft over us, and suddenly I was ravenous. “How do you know this place is any good?”
A shadow passed over his face, fleeting but undeniable. “I ate here once before. On my way to Savannah.”
I knew then, and I swallowed hard. He’d have been here with Joss, his partner and lover, on their way to the assignment that would take her life and nearly kill Rafe, too. I remembered those dark days in the aftermath of his rescue, when he’d tried to convince me to let him die.
We didn’t talk about Joss much these days, but her ghost could reappear any time, a reminder of how much he’d loved her during their brief relationship. I was hardly the poster child for self-assurance when it came to Rafe and me, but most of the time, I held my own. I couldn’t fight against a dead girl, though.
“It’s okay, Nell.” He ran one finger down the side of my face, brushing away a strand of my black hair. “It’s just a memory. It’s not real and alive, like you. Let’s go enjoy some burgers.”
I gave him my hand, and we trudged through the sand to the steps of the wooden deck of the beach-front restaurant. We had our pick of tables, and Rafe pulled out a chair for me at one near the railing, so we could look out over the ocean.
“It’s pretty here.” The admission didn’t come easily. “I never thought I’d be a beach girl, but maybe I can be reformed.”
“Nell, baby.” He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles, and warmth flooded me at his use of the endearment. We weren’t a cuddly couple who called each “sweetie” or “honeybunch”. In bed sometimes, he’d slip and call me “babe”, but I knew right now, he was reaching out, trying to soothe me. “You can be anyone you want to be. I love you whether or not you enjoy the beach. How I feel about you doesn’t depend on sand or surf.”
A door opened from the restaurant’s main building, and a pretty woman with hair as dark as mine stepped out, heading our way.
Rafe squeezed my hand. “Oh, by the way . . . we’re meeting our contact here. That’s her, I’d guess.”
I bit back a sharp response. Rafe knew me too well sometimes. I’d have bitched and stressed over meeting someone new if given the time, but now, all I could do was paste on the closest thing to a smile and do the job.
Her eyes flickered between us as she approached, and her lips curved on one side.
“Hello. I’m Abby Donavan, and I think we may have a ghost in my hotel.”
Good Night, Travel Well The Killers
Here Today Paul McCartney
Don’t Fear The Reaper Blue Oyster Cult
Afterlife Avenged Sevenfold
Getting Late Rob Thomas
Another Day Tim O’Brien
Here Nor There Sarah Jarosz
Those Days Are Gone, and My Heart is Breaking Barton Carroll
Jackie’s Florida-Georgia Key Lime Pecan Pie
Winner of the Perfect Pecan Pie Festival
1 cup pecans, chopped
2/3 cup sugar
1 cup cane sugar syrup
4 eggs
2 TBS butter, melted
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp key lime zest, plus extra for garnish
5 egg yolks
1 can sweetened condensed milk (14 ounces)
½ cup Key Lime juice
For garnish:
1 cup heavy whipping cream
3 TBS confectioners’ sugar
1 tsp vanilla
Prepared Pie Crust (see Nana’s Perfect Pie Crust)
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.
Beat the 4 eggs until frothy. Add sugar, cane syrup, vanilla, melted butter and mix well. Stir in pecans. Pour mixture into prepared pie crust in pan. Place on a cookie sheet and bake in preheated oven for 35 minutes.
While the pecan layer is baking, grate the Key Limes for 1 tsp of zest. Beat the egg yolks well, and then add sweetened condensed milk until well-blended. Add the Key Lime juice and the zest. Mix until blended.
Remove pie from oven and lower oven temperature to 350 degrees.
Pour Key Lime mixture over the pecan layer. Return to the oven for 15 minutes. Cool on a wire rack before adding garnish.
Garnish: In a chilled bowl, using a chilled beater, mix the heavy whipping cream at a rapid speed. After about 3 minutes, slowly add the powdered sugar while mixing. When stiff peaks begin to form, add the vanilla. Continue beating until desired consistency is reached. Add a dollop to the center and pipe a line of whipped cream around the edge. Add whole pecans and Key Lime zest as desired.
Nana’s Perfect Pie Crust
2 cups flour
½ tsp sugar
¼ tsp salt
½ tsp baking powder
1 cup shortening
1 egg
1 tsp vinegar
Sift together dry ingredients. (Must we sift anymore, with pre-sifted flour? I don’t know, but I do it because that’s how Nana did it, and besides, sifting is fun. It’s like making a snow storm.) Cut shortening into dry ingredients. Break the egg into a measuring cup, then fill up with water to make ½ cup. Add vinegar and then pour into flour/shortening mix. Combine with a wooden spoon and then if necessary, with your hands, but do not over-handle. Roll out to make 2-3 14-inch crusts.
Al’s Prize-Winning Pecan Pie Recipe
From the files of Belinda Casey Colby
I wasn’t going to tell that dear child, but Al entrusted me with his recipe the year before he died. He told me that he didn’t want it falling into the wrong hands should something happen to him—which it did, of course, so that was quite forward-thinking of him. He asked me to add it to the small museum I’m putting together in the General’s honor and memory.
Here it is. Enjoy. But please don’t tell Jackie. She’s finding her own way now.
½ cup white sugar
½ cup brown sugar
3 TBS butter, melted
½ cup cane syrup
3 eggs, beaten
2 TBS bourbon
1 cup chopped spiced pecans (recipe for spicing below)
Prepared pie crust
Preheat an oven to 375 degrees. Mix the white sugar, brown sugar, and butter. Stir in the cane syrup, eggs and bourbon; add the pecans. Pour the mixture into the pie crust. Bake in the preheated oven for 10 minutes then reduce heat to 350 degrees F. Continue to bake about 25 minutes. Allow to cool completely before serving.
Spiced Pecans
1 lb shelled pecans
1 egg white
1 TBS water
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1 cup sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp salt
Place egg white and water in large bowl and beat until frothy. Add nuts and stir gently until all are covered. Mix Sugar cinnamon and salt. Stir in gently until all nuts are covered. placed nuts on a large lightly greased cookie sheet. Bake in preheated oven at 300 degrees for 30-40 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes. DO NOT OVER BAKE. Transfer nuts to clean, dry cookie sheet to cool.
Other Books by the Author
The King Series
Fearless
Breathless
Restless
Endless
Crystal Cove Books
The Posse
The Plan
The Path
The Perfect Dish Series
Best Served Cold
Just Desserts
I Choose You
The One Trilogy
The Last One
The First One
The Only One
The Seredipity Duet
Undeniable
Unquenchable
Recipe for Death Series
Death Fricassee
I’m a huge believer that everything happens for a reason. If you saw me this year at any event and asked if I were releasing any paranormal novels, I probably told you no. Because I didn’t intend to do it. This was supposed to the year of the contemporary romance.
But then I was invited to participate in a Halloween anthology, and the short had to be paranormal. As it began to take shape, I realized that I might as well write Lucas and Jackie’s next installment, too; it made sense on many levels. However, I hadn’t written a paranormal, single-point-of-view book in over a year, and jumping back into that world was challenging.
I’m definitely glad I did it, as this story moves us closer to what I’m calling in my head The Big Show Down, the confrontation that’s been brewing since the beginning of Fearless way back when. A few years ago, I promised my son I’d write an apocalyptic book that he could enjoy (read: no sex). The idea for that book came to me in a dream (seriously). The plot sat on a vague spot in the back of my mind, but as I’ve delved into where Jackie and Lucas and Nell and Rafe—and Cathryn—are going, I realized that story—that apocalyptic tale—is their story. It’s the book that will reunite Tasmyn, Michael and their families with Rafe and Nell. Jackie, Lucas and Cathryn will be playing big parts, too. Look for that book in 2017.
Death A La Mode Page 12
