New Year's Snip

Hey All -- I've been running around with my head cut off this past week. Busy, very busy. I apologize for delaying the next installment of A KILL IN TIME, but there was just no way I was going to get it finished, or...*cough* started. LOL.

I hope everyone had a great New Year's! Mine was fabulous as I finally got to celebrate Christmas with my family. That said, I am so ready for a new year to begin. I just know 2010 is going to spell a lot of good things for the ladies of ATWOP. First drafts and revisions finished...books sold...agents secured. I'm super excited to get started.

I'm trying to lay off setting big pressure goals for myself, but I will say that I'm SO ready to make things happen with both FI and BTPM. And I'm ready to move on to new, shiny projects that have been left simmering on the backburner for far too long.

I'm currently housesitting for family and I don't have all of my computer files with me. However, I've dug up a snip that I don't think I've shared before. This particular section of FI has been a bit of a pain in the rear, and honestly, I don't know whether this will make it into the book or not. That said, I really like it. :) I'm pretty used to Drew and Maddy relating in an intimate level, but their anger with each other took even me by surprise.

Enjoy!

From FAKING IT:

Drew parked outside my building and we went inside without speaking. As though he owned the place, he went straight to my closet and pulled out two suitcases, opening them both on my bed. For a minute, I thought he might actually pack my things, but he stopped, turning his back to me. Tension thrummed through him such that I could practically feel it from where I stood.

“Yell at me.”

I spoke the words softly, but he whipped around like I had shot them at his back. The fury, the pain, the disappointment—all of it warred for control of his face.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Every explanation I’d rallied during the long drive flew from my mind. I opened my mouth, found I couldn’t speak, and closed it again. Instead, I turned and started pulling clothes out of my dresser. I could feel him watching me, but thought perhaps I could delay the inevitable as long as I kept my hands busy. That’s the delusion I allowed myself to believe anyway.

When I didn’t answer, he grabbed my wrist and jerked me around to face him. The blouse I held slid to the ground in a soft puddle.

“How could you let this happen?” His expression was so hard, so unforgiving. Never had I seen myself reflected in his eyes that way. The shame I felt quickly blossomed into something else under his gaze.

I whipped my arm out of his grasp. “I did what I had to do. You weren’t there, remember?”

His expression changed from anger to wide-eyed incredulity. “You’re blaming me?”

“Hedrick gave the order. What choice did I have?” My words sounded weak, even to my own ears. The fury that had blazed up within me had been snuffed out almost instantaneously. I had no one to blame in this situation, but myself. And we both knew it.

He ran a hand through his hair and paced away from me. “You should’ve refused.”

“I tried.”

“Then you should’ve contacted me.”

“I tried.”

He whirled to face me. “You should’ve tried harder!”

My chin jerked back as though his hand had whipped out and slapped me. I took a moment for my jaw to relax enough to speak. “I tried.”

At that, he turned his back to me. For the briefest of moments, his own culpability had flashed across his face. He knew—even if by the smallest measure—that he was partly to blame, too.

“Goddamn you, Drew. You deserted me here—left me at the mercy of Hedrick of all people.” His shoulders tensed and I pressed my advantage, stepping around his tall form to glare up at him. “I needed you.”

I didn’t want to blame him, but I couldn’t stop myself. Something deep inside me wanted him to hurt as badly as I did. Wanted him to explain why at my greatest hour of need, he hadn’t been there.

“Where were you?” The note of pleading in my voice sent waves of heat into my cheeks, but I held his eyes with mine.

Something in his expression weakened, but grew hard again just as quickly. “What I do in my life, is my business.” He spoke in such a cold tone that I barely recognized his voice. He stalked away, hesitating in the doorway. “Start packing. We’ll get you moved into a hotel for the night.”

“I’m not—“

The glare he fixed me with made the words dry up in my throat.

“One hour,” he said.

I flinched when the front door slammed behind him.