Is Their Love Strong Enough? Indian Summer ~ Historic Romantic Suspense by Dellani Oakes

 

In the spring of 1739, Gabriella Deza stands poised on the verge of womanhood. A product of her guarded upbringing, she is naive in the ways of love until dashing Manuel Enriques declares his love for her. Quite by accident, Gabriella uncovers a plot hatched by British spy whose job is to capture the town and fort, Castillo de San Marcos. Armed with her information, Manuel embarks on a dangerous mission to entrap the spy and save the town from being overthrown by the British. Unfortunately, Gabriella herself is caught in the trap and kidnapped. Can Manuel find and save her before it is too late? 

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First Meeting from Conduct Unbecoming by Dellani Oakes

Jasper gets a call from his best friend, Teague, asking for help for his friend, Nadaya. She's in a lot of trouble, suspected of murdering a man who is a person of interest in her fiance's murder. Trained in military black ops, she's dangerous and elusive. Teague is looking for her, but by strange twist of fate, Jasper finds Nadeya first. Complications ensue.

As he approached the door, he prayed for inspiration. It was going to take some fast talking for Nadeya not to freak out and kill him. He raised his hand to knock. Rethinking his position, he moved so he wasn't standing directly in front of the door, but slightly to the side so the thick, log wall protected him. He tapped lightly and waited for a response. The curtain over the tiny window moved aside imperceptibly. Only someone trained to be observant would have seen it.

Jasper faced the window and smiled. "I'm Jasper Waters," he said quietly. "I'm a friend of Teague's. You hid on my boat."

The door opened a crack and one dark, wary eye peered at him. "I remember you. What?"

"May I come in? The skeeters are pretty nasty and they're feasting on me."

Nadeya took a step back, leaving barely enough room for Jasper to squeeze through. She shut the door with her foot and slammed him against the wall, one hand pulled up at an uncomfortable angle behind him. She did a thorough frisking of him, leaving no areas untouched, before letting him go. She stepped out of easy reach, eyeing him with a neutral expression.

"I just want to talk," Jasper said, holding his hands slightly from his sides.

"You're a cop. Why should I talk to you?"

"Because I don't think you killed that man on the beach. We're both friends of Teague's, maybe we could build on that."

"Teague has lots of friends. . . ."

"No, Teague knows every damn body, but there are only a few of us he calls friends. You're one of them—He told me what happened to your fiancé."

She tightened up. Jasper took a step back, raising his hands.

"Would he share that with just anyone?"

Nadeya's lower lip trembled slightly and she blinked hard. Jasper caught the hint of a tear in her eyes.

"He wouldn't unless he knew I would help. You think I drop what I'm doing and run everyone out to a crime scene just cause I'm nice? Teague and I trust each other and I'd like to extend that courtesy to you, if you'll let me."

She stared at him several minutes, sizing him up. She gestured to one of the two chairs near the window. "Want some water or instant coffee? It's all I've got."

"Water would be good, thanks." Jasper sat.

Nadeya got two bottles of water out of the mini-fridge and tossed him one. Jasper caught it with a grin. His left hand gripped it as he twisted it open.

"Nicely done. Now you know I'm a lefty."

Nadeya smirked. "And you're not armed. I could have taken your head off."

"Yup, but I trusted you wouldn't. And I thank you for that."

She nodded as she opened her own bottle. "So, you're here, talk."

Jasper told her what he and Teague had figured out about the man on the beach. He even told her about C.L.A.D.

"What do you know about that?" Nadeya leaned closer, whispering.

"Bits and pieces, nothing concrete. What do you know?"

Nadeya looked furtive. "I shouldn't tell you. We could get in a lot of trouble."

Jasper held his hands out, palms up. "Who am I gonna tell? Except maybe Teague. Look, the more we know about this, the better. What do you say?"

She looked away, biting her lip. "I don't know much more than you do. They intended it as a new interrogation technique. It's supposed to be a way to reprogram people's minds."

"Like brain washing?"

"Kind of. More sophisticated, but still a way to break them. I know that someone else got ahold of it though. They were using it on us!" Anger flared in her eyes.

"Us—as in you personally?"

"No. But some of our soldiers. There was a captain I heard of, they tried to kill him off in a raid, but he took out everyone who attacked his convoy. They stole his memories and gave him a fucking medal."

"Shit! How do you know about that?"

"The subject came up as they tortured my fiancé," she mumbled.

"Oh, Nadeya, I'm sorry."

"I know that. Next to Teague, you're the only man I trust."

Jasper exhaled sharply. "That's quite a compliment. Thank you. I know you can't possibly feel safe here. Would you like to come to my house?"

Her eyes grew hard. Jasper pressed his lips together, shaking his head.

"I've got a hell of a security system. Even you would have trouble sneaking through. I've got a couple acres around my place so I can see trouble coming and I'm armed better than Fort Knox. I've got a guest room with your name on it."

Nadeya relaxed. "And leave this luxury accommodation?"

"I've got more to drink than water and instant coffee. I'll even throw in breakfast."

Nadeya's smile was shaky. Taking a deep breath, she tried to smile again. Tears welled before she could stop them. She didn't trust her voice, so she nodded.

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Gabriella Deza from Indian Summer

Who are you and where and when do you live?

I am Gabriella Deza, youngest daughter of Florida Territorial Governor Ferdinand Deza. I live in the village of St. Augustine, Florida Territory. The year is 1739.

What is your story?

I haven't much of one yet, I'm only just 15, but what there is of it, is told in Indian Summer.

Are you the hero of your own story?

Me a hero? Heavens, no. That would be Manuel Enriques, my father's aid du camp and the love of my life.

What is your problem in the story?

Quite by chance, I found out a terrible secret. A British spy is trying to overthrow my father, capture the fort and take over the town.

Do you embrace conflict or do you run from it?

I've never wanted to embrace conflict, but one must face it bravely. Troubles are sent by God to test us. Am I going to argue with Him? I never run when I can fight.

How does the author see you? Do you think she portrayed you accurately?

Headstrong, demure, capable, passionate, honest, loving. I am these things and ever so much more. Dellani Oakes portrayed me very well. She seems to have seen into my heart with great alacrity.

Do you have any special strengths?

My faith in God is my greatest strength. My faith has seen me through very trying times. I would not be the woman I am without it.

Do you have any special weaknesses?

My passion for Manuel is nearly my undoing. All he need do is look at me and I go weak in the knees.

What do you need most in life?

I need the wretched spy disposed of so that our town will be saved and I may marry the man I love.

What do you want to be?

I want to be a wife and mother, what greater purpose is there for a woman save to go into holy orders?

What do you believe?

I believe in God and I believe in the love of Manuel and my family. I also believe in my own abilities to cope with any situation life presents.

What do you regret?

That I with all my education, I never learned how to shoot a pistol. I'll see to that soon, provided I live through this mess.

Has anyone ever betrayed you?

Yes, the man who spies on us, using our friendship against us. He betrays me, my family and my home. I hope I have a hand in bringing him to justice.

Have you ever failed anyone?

I hope not. I will only have failed them if I do not find the spy and send him to God early for judgment.

What was your childhood like?

Delightful in so many ways, but also sad because we lost Mama when I was five and Grandmama not long after. However, Papa and his new wife, Clara, have provided a loving home for the four of us. My older sisters, little brother and I have lived in relative comfort our entire lives.

Do you like remembering your childhood?

Oh, yes, very much. I have wonderful memories of my childhood.

Who was your first love?

My first and only love is Manuel. I never realized how much he loves me nor I him, until he declared his love for me on my birthday. He is the most magnificent man alive and I love him more than my own life.

What is your most prized possession? Why?

My peso necklace, because Manuel gave it to me. Though my parents gave me pearls for my birthday, the peso shows Manuel's love for me. He can't ask me to marry him yet, it wouldn't be proper, but that shows each of us our promise to wed.

What is your favorite scent? Why?

Sandalwood., because that is the scent of Manuel's soap.

What is your favorite color? Why?

Apple green, because it was Mama's favorite as well, and I am most like her of all three of us girls.

What is your favorite music?

The flamenco I danced with Manuel.

What is your favorite item of clothing? Why?

The apple green dress I wore to my party. It is the first dress I wore that showed everyone I am now a woman. And because Manuel and I danced the entire night together when I wore it.

If you were stranded on a desert island, would you rather be stranded with, a man or a woman?

Do not think badly of me of saying this, but I would want to be stranded only with Manuel. I can think of no one else with whom I have enough in common to spend any period of time. Only if we were married, of course. Anything else would be scandalous.

How do you envision your future?

I see my future happily married to Manuel, having his children and loving him for the rest of my life.

© 2017 Dellani Oakes

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For More About Dellani

Sexy Without the Sex - Ryder Bradley

Ryder Bradley is a DJ for weddings receptions, parties, the occasional Bat Mitzvah. Single and not loving it, he never uses his job to enhance his love life, until he meets Cerise Lafayette. She makes his head spin like a record. Unable to stop himself, he asks her out and is delighted when she says yes.

Lunch was fantastic. Not only was the food good, best damn fish and chips in town, but the company was amazing. Cerise was the best conversationalist I've ever met. She kept up with my, sometimes abrupt, subject changes, asked questions and answered mine with skill. Her wide range of interests meshed with mine as well. I could feel myself falling in total, fully immersed like with her. I can't say love, I've known the woman less than a day. The lust component was there too. That's a given when there's a pretty woman, with a knockout figure involved. The fact she had a quick mind and a great sense of humor added to the like and lust to a great degree. In short, the perfect woman for me.

We headed back to her place at 2:00 so she could get ready for tea with She-Beast at 3:00. I walked her up to her door, desperately wanting to kiss her, but wasn't entirely sure she'd go for that. Instead, I stood close to the bottom step. She hovered on the next one up, smiling at me. Her dark eyes held secrets, all of which I wanted to unlock. She smiled, shifting slightly, and I knew she wanted the kiss I so desperately wanted to give her. Tipping forward ever so slightly, I put my hands on her waist, circling it, pulling her to me. We were of a height with her on the stair, putting her mouth even with mine. Smiling, I eased nearer, letting her close the gap. She did so with a half-step more. With a slight tilt of my head, I brushed her lips with mine. She tasted like hard cider and soft woman.

Opening her lips a fraction, she swept her tongue across my lower lip. I took that as an invitation to deepen the kiss, which I did—ever so softly, probing her mouth with quick flickers of my tongue. God, she tasted amazing! I couldn't get enough of her. She seemed to feel the same way, because her arms locked around my neck and she pressed her gorgeous body to mine. She didn't seem distressed, or the least bit surprised, the find she'd unlocked the He-Beast in my pants. Not that I was going to ravage the girl on her front steps. But he'd popped up to say howdy and she didn't seem to mind, leaving me hopeful that at some point, we'd be ravaging one another.

Something buzzed in my pants. Knowing it wasn't my dick, I tried to ignore it. It stopped after a few moments, then it started again and I realized it was my phone. Frustrated, I disengaged from the most luscious lips I've ever tasted, and dug into my pocket. This time, whoever it was must have left a message. I didn't see the number, but the little message icon popped up. I swept the phone to see who had called. Taking another step back, happy dance over, I stared at the phone in disbelief.

“What's wrong, Ryder? You look sick.” Cerise's hand pressed against my brow.

“Nothing. It's okay. Sorry.” I forced a smile. “I'd better let you get ready for tea.”

She grabbed my hand before I could duck and run. “Thank you for lunch. I had a great time—and I enjoyed the kisses. I hope we can do that again... soon.”

“I'd like that,” I said. Taking a deep breath. “I'd like that a lot.”

© 2016 Dellani Oakes

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Sexy Without the Sex - Driving Blind

Zenobia Vlachos works as a computer tech at a big electronics store in Daytona. She meets Ax Kazan, a police officer, when he pulls her over in traffic. There is an immediate connection between them, but Zenobia isn't about to rush to bed with him. Ax makes the excuse that he needs computer work done, to see her at work, and takes her to lunch.

After eating, Zenobia still had some time before going back to work. They took a short walk around the plaza before dropping by his car. It wasn't so much that Ax wanted to put his computer away, though that was his excuse. He really wanted to get her somewhere more private so he could kiss her.

Keeping his distance with most of his body, he brushed her ear and neck with his nose and lips. His lips tingled, wanting to kiss her, but this was an exercise in control for him—and a way to make himself irresistible.

Ax's hot breath on her skin made Zenobia shiver with desire. Her nipples stiffened and she felt uncomfortably warm in places she shouldn't be thinking about in public. Ax continued his seductive journey and she continued to shiver delightfully.

“I—uuuhh..... I put—um—oh, fuck,” she whispered.

Ax laughed. “Now, now, such language from a lady,” he whispered.

“You bastard, you're doing that on purpose.”

“Uh huh.” He tilted his head, concentrating on the nape of her neck. He breathed on her again, his mouth less than an inch from her skin.

“Oh, God,” she squeaked softly. She felt a gush of moisture in her panties.

Eyes closed, she waited for him to continue. His prominent nose tickled the hairs on the back of her neck. His hot breath puffed across her skin like a warm, sultry breeze.

How could he be making her so hot without even touching her? Zenobia didn't understand it. Usually, men couldn't keep their hands off her and tried every way they could to excite her. Ax had her ready to cum and he'd done it with his breath. She pressed her lips together to rid them of the tingling his erotic ministrations had prompted. She had to distract him, or she'd embarrass herself by dragging him into the comfortable back seat of his Impala.

“Over seven hundred items showed up on your computer,” she whispered at him.

It took Ax a moment to put the words together. He heard her, but he certainly wasn't listening. “What does that mean?”

“It means quit cruising porn sites.”

Ax chuckled, his breath caressing her throat in little puffs. “Well, now that I've got you, I will.”

Eyes narrowed as she turned to face him. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“That means,” he murmured seductively, his voice dropping an octave, “that I don't need porn when I can think about you.”

The blood rushed to her face and her jaw dropped. “Oh, my God!” she said in a shocked whisper.

“Is it so hard to conceive?” he murmured against her neck, fingertips lightly touching her.

“No man ever said he was going to—do that—by thinking of me.”

“Why are you any less exciting than a porn star? You're beautiful, Zenobia. You have great curves in all the right places. You should be flattered.”

Zenobia pressed her lips together, considering what he said. “Strangely, I am,” she admitted with a grin. “You would really—thinking about me?”

Ax leaned closer, his mouth right by her ear. “What makes you think I haven't already?”

© 2016 Dellani Oakes

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I Love Dialogue - Room 103 Excerpt 2

The night of the big party at the college, Marice decides not to take her weapon and badge with her. She doesn't feel that the room is secure enough, nor is her car. Instead, she asks the motel owner to keep them in his safe, which he kindly does. They keep missing one another when she tries to get it back, so she and Kris go the next evening to get them, only to find that the motel owner has shot and killed someone—with Marice's gun. It seems to be self-defense, but she's still got some explaining to do with Alvin, her boss.

We finished talking to the police and were allowed to go. I was given my badge, but they had to keep my weapon for ballistics checks and evidence. Now came the really fun part. I had to call my boss and tell him that my weapon had been involved in a homicide—possibly a double one, if Jaret didn't make it.

I have to say that Alvin took the news fairly well. That is to say, he didn't fire me on the spot, but he did a lot of yelling.

"I've got a fugitive on the loose, doing Christ knows what, and your weapon is in police custody because your friend shot someone with it?"

"Not my friend, the owner of the motel."

"I don't care! It's too much to ask that my life be simpler. I swear to God, you're going to put me in the grave, Houston. You and your cowboy compatriots. I got them all running off in different directions looking for this Scrivener fella who got away from a team from Mississippi. My balls are boiling in the hottest of hot water, cause it happened in my jurisdiction! I'm an inch away from canceling your leave and making you come back and look. But you witnessed a crime—a fucking murder—! Hell, girl, don't get yourself shot or something. I've got enough shit on my plate."

"I'll do my best. Call me in if you need me."

"I'll do that. Leave your phone on." He paused. "What's this I hear about you taking down some asshole at the football game? You didn't have enough excitement today?"

"That was nothing. And this wouldn't have been a big deal, either...."

"If your weapon hadn't been there...."

"Then we might have two dead men. I know this is FUBAR, but the kid is barely hanging on and looks like the old man shot him." I exaggerated. I had no idea what Jaret's condition was.

"Do you know the name of the corpse?"

"No, sir."

"Well, I do. It just hit the wire. You familiar with Orson Roberts?"

I inhaled sharply and my hand started to shake. "I've heard the name." Yes, just a couple nights ago in this very spot. "Some sort of shady businessman."

"I'll give you shady! Man's the best friend of the Governor of Missouri! You've gotten yourself in all kinds of hot water, too, Houston."

"Well, we'll just turn on the Jacuzzi and have ourselves a party, sir."

He burst out laughing. "Oh, go fuck a tree, Houston."

"Can I fuck my boyfriend instead?"

He hesitated, snorting. "When did you get one of those?"

"This weekend. Hooked up with an old friend."

"Well, for fuck sake, try not to get the man shot!"

"That's my goal, sir."

"Go away, Houston. I have work to do."

"Yes, sir."

"And keep your head down," he said before hanging up.

© 2016 Dellani Oakes

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I Love Dialogue - Room 103

Marice Houston is a Deputy Federal Marshal stationed in Kansas City, Missouri. She hasn't been back to her alma mater for a good many years, but she's come back for her tenth college reunion. While there, she sees Kris Hood—a regrets guy, the one who was never more than a friend. They finally kindle the relationship that neither of them really realized they wanted. They meet up with some friends, old and new, for breakfast.

“You never could hold your alcohol,” Kris teased. “One of the many things I love about you.” He kissed me on the forehead.

“You love that I can't drink booze? What's up with that?” I slurred.

“Makes you a cheap date,” Brian added, nudging me.

“I'll just eat twice as much to compensate,” I decided.

Rose giggled. I giggled. Nadine giggled. The men moved the pitchers of mimosas away from us.

“I'm cutting off your supply, young lady,” Kris scolded with a smile.

“As long as it's the mimosas and not the orgasms, that's okay.”

“Did you mean to say that so loudly?”

“No. But you got me drunk. Now you have to put up with my lack of self-control.”

“I can work with that,” he murmured, nibbling my ear. “We missed our morning wake up.”

I tried to rest my forehead against his, but I couldn't manage it. It was completely beyond my skill set at that point. “Me too,” I tried to whisper, but failed. “Sex with you is super fun.”

“Thanks. You're fun, too.”

“And it feels really good. And it makes me scream,” I continued, unable to stop talking. “And I'm really, really going to miss you when I go home. So much!” I declared, hiccuping. “So—much!”

“I think it's time to take you home and let you sleep this off.”

“No sleeping. Nope, nope, nope. Not when we can have sex in the foyer again. That was fun!”

Kris dropped some money on the table toward the tip and led me out the door. I stumbled, but he held me up.

“Babe, you're starting to freak me out a little.”

“I don't drink much,” I slurred. “But I swear, I don't get this drunk....” I stopped by the curb and hurled, narrowly missing my shoes.

Kris, god bless him, held me as I vomited up everything in my stomach. I do believe I would have puked up my own ass if I could have. I've never felt so sick in my life.

“I don't like this,” he said, looking around for something. “I don't like this at all. If I put you in the car, can you keep from barfing on my upholstery?”

“For now. Why?”

“I'm gonna get you an antiemetic.”

“That's the no barfing medicine, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you still here?”

© 2016 Dellani Oakes

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I Love Dialogue - 99 Problems #2

Portia went to dinner with Wood and afterward, they did some talking and a lot of kissing on the couch—until someone set her chicken coop on fire. Fortunately, here were no chickens in it. Wood agrees to spend the night, sleeping in the guest room, so Portia won't be alone at night.

Someone tapped on my bedroom door. Groaning, I glanced at the clock. It was almost 9:00.

"Yeah?"

"Coffee," Wood sounded cheerful.

"Be right there."

I went to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked ghastly. A cold washcloth helped, as did brushing my hair. I threw on a T-shirt and yoga pants, foregoing a bra because I simply didn't feel like putting one on. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought I was hung over. The aspirin were still by the bed, so I swallowed a couple with a handful of water from the tap.

The coffee smelled delicious. I also detected the distinct aroma of baked goods. When I got to the kitchen, I found that Wood had baked muffins. He set a mug in front of me, perfectly doctored, as well as two muffins, slathered with butter.

"I had no idea I had ingredients for muffins," I said, taking a bite.

"Everything but the blueberries, but Carl has them in his freezer. I helped myself."

"You're one of those perky morning types, aren't you?"

"Yes, grumble pussy, I am."

I groaned, holding the coffee mug to my forehead.

"Mornings are what you make of them," he continued.

"I want to make them go away. Is that possible?"

"You have to make it fun. Find something to smile about."

I sipped the coffee and took another bite of muffin, and managed a vague impression of a smile. Wood leaned over, giving me a quick kiss. I smiled more, sighing contentedly.

"See? Morning isn't so bad after all."

"Not with you in it," I replied without thinking.

Instead of getting upset, he grinned, winking. "Trust me, there are better uses for morning, but I'll try to be a gentleman."

I groaned again, not in a good way.

"Not a fan of morning sex?" he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Seriously? I can barely see straight. I do not feel sexy in the morning."

"Haven't woken up with the right man," he suggested casually as he walked away.

I had to admit, he was probably right. Mornings were often when Cory chose to go off on me. He loved to argue and he picked at everything I did. The coffee was too strong, or too weak. The eggs weren't done right, the milk was curdled.

"He was such a dick," I grumbled. "He made mornings extra special by pitching tantrums."

Wood sat across from me, arms crossed on the table, his chin on his wrists. He looked up at me like a puppy dog. "I'll make you a deal," he said, chin bobbing on his hands.

"What?" I leaned over, resting my chin on my hands.

"I won't talk about my bitch of an ex if you'll quit bringing up Cory. Every time you mention him, I have this urge to kick him in the nuts."

"That makes two of us."

"I'm not him, Portia. I'm not like him and I won't break your heart."

"It wasn't the breaking as much as the ripping out of my chest part. And the trampling it part. But you're right. Creepy Cory needs to be thrown out with the garbage."

"Agreed."

"Maybe we should introduce him to your ex."

"I don't think the world would survive if the Bride of Frankenstein met the Anti-Christ, do you?"

I laughed loudly, tossing my hair. "Probably not."

© 2016 Dellani Oakes

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I Love Dialogue - 99 Problems

Portia Bledsoe is a recent resident of the Sunshine State. She inherited a house and some money from a great-uncle she barely knows, though she has come to find out that he was very fond of her, despite family distance. She also inherited a wonderful neighbor, Carl, who looks after her with fatherly care. Portia is in the process of fixing up her home and Carl has a suggestion for a contractor to handle the job.

"This contractor have a name?"

"Sherwood Cirocco."

"Wow, that's a mouthful!" I muttered it to myself once or twice, getting the feel for the name. "How did he get saddled with a name like that?"

"By being the only grandson," another voice said as the back screen door swung open. "I got a name from every branch of the family. You should see my birth certificate."

I looked up into the smiling face of my Home Improvement buddy, Wood. "So, this is your contractor, huh?" I allowed myself to giggle. "Good to see you again, Mr. Sherwood Cirocco. When you gave me that list of contractors, did you plan to just give me your number?"

"Of course." He trotted down the steps, dropping into the chair next to me. "Question is, would you have called?"

"Oh, yeah," I replied, failing to curtail my enthusiastic tone.

Sherwood grinned, winking at me. "Cool." He glanced over at his uncle. "Can I help with anything?"

"Yes, entertain my guest. I need to get the water bottle." Carl trotted up the steps, letting the screen door drop behind him.

"Subtle," Wood said, watching his uncle's retreating back. "Since he's already got one." He pointed to the clear plastic spray bottle sitting by the grill.

Another giggle escaped me. I couldn't seem to stop myself. "Yes, that's a word with which I always describe Carl. He's a great guy, so subtle."

"There are worse things to be called. Boring. Deformed. Addled. The list is endless."

"You'll be glad to know that you aren't any of those things." I blushed, dropping my head to my chest. I wanted to crawl under the picnic table and quietly hide until he left.

Wood chuckled. "Thanks. You're pretty well formed. You don't seem to be boring. Now addled. . . ."

I laughed loudly, throwing him a harsh look. "I'm not addled. I just embarrassed the hell out of myself."

"Oh?" He crossed to the back porch and pulled a couple beers from the red cooler on the steps. He popped off the tops, handing me one.

"The not deformed comment. I don't want you to think I'm staring or anything."

Wood struck a pose, foot on the step, shoulders back, chin high, like a Captain Morgan ad. "Look all you want. I'm not offended." He held the pose a moment longer before taking a manly swig of his beer. He closed his eyes, enjoying the cold liquid.

I indulged myself, staring hungrily at him, watching his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. How is it possible for someone to be sexy drinking beer? I mean, my God, it's just . . . . a long, lean, tanned throat with just enough stubble to be sexy as ever loving hell. . . . Oh, God, I need to get laid!

Wood spewed his beer, nearly toppling over from his manly pose. He stared at me, wiping the dribbling beer with the back of his hand. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, Jesus! I said that aloud?" I pulled my shirt up, ducking my head in like an ostrich. I buried my head under my arms, nearly spilling my beer over my head. "Holy shit," I muttered. "I'm so sorry."

Wood couldn't stop laughing. I don't know what was worse, the fact I said that or the fact he thought it was so amusing.

"It wasn't that funny," I muttered, swiping at my eyes. I was so embarrassed, I was crying.

"No, my turn to be sorry," he chuckled, wiping tears of his own. I need not add that his were from mirth. "I totally did that on purpose," he admitted, handing me a napkin from a stack on the table. "I'm really sorry. Been a long time since a woman looked at me that way."

"What way is that, Mr. Cirocco?"

He flashed his crooked grin. "Like she wanted to eat me—in a completely non-carnivorous and consenting adult kind of way."

"Dream on, Mr. Cirocco!"

"So, you weren't thinking that you wanted to lick me from head to foot?" He shook his head in disbelief.

"Your imagination, completely."

"Yes, I'm sure it was." He winked at me.

© 2016 Dellani Oakes

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I Love Dialogue - Brick McMillan #2

Brick McMillan is back home in Florida for a funeral—his younger brother's. There have been a lot of deaths in his family lately, his father, his wife and now his brother Stony. However, the night he got home, he was using Stony's computer and got a mysterious Instant Message from a woman calling herself XYZ. She arranges a meeting with him at the Panera in Daytona.

The morning rush at Panera was tapering off when he ordered his coffee and pastry. Finding a table wasn't hard. He sat in the main room, over to one side, near the partition. From here, he could see the back door, but not the front. He suspected that XYZ was a backdoor user. As it happened, he was right.

Brick spotted the tall, trim figured woman as soon as she walked in. Her honey colored hair was pulled back in a loose chignon. She scanned the restaurant, dark glasses raised to her forehead with one hand. She wore a slate gray suit and low heeled black shoes. Her jacket was buttoned, but there was a slight bulge under her left arm. She spotted him on her second pass. Brick held up his coffee, saluting her. Frowning, she strutted across the room, taking a seat across from him at the table.

“You need to work on your entrance,” he said after taking a sip. “I knew it was you the second you walked in.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“By name? No. But my guess is you're a fed, not a cop.” He leaned forward, forearms on the table, the cup between his hands.

Her frown deepened. Her silence demanded an explanation.

“You don't move like a cop. You move like a soldier. In plain clothes, those glasses, shoes you can run in—Fed.”

She flashed a wary smile. Her eyes were a vivid aquamarine. There was a scattering of freckles across her pert nose.

“So, this begs the questions—Why is a federal agent so anxious to talk to my bother? And why does she sound so unconvinced that he's dead?”

“Mr. McMillan....”

He held up a finger, waving it at her as if chastising a spoiled child for bad manners. “The way this works, you introduce yourself. Then we chat.”

“Call me Agent X.” She grinned and a hint of a twinkle lit up her eyes.

“I'd rather not. I quit reading comic books thirty years ago.”

“Colleen,” she told him.

“No last name. So, like Pink or Seal....”

“Something like that.” The smile faded. “Look, Brick, we can tease and flirt all day—”

“Is that what this is?” He leaned forward aggressively. “I thought this was you telling me about your relationship with Stony.”

“It's not an affair.”

“That much I know. My brother's not a cheater. I figure it's business related, but that's a puzzler. My brother was an engineer.”

She sighed, leaning back. “May we start over?”

“Sure.” He wiped his hand on his napkin before holding it out. “Brick McMillan.”

She shook it. Her grip was firm, her palm calloused. She spent a lot of time with that handgun. “Colleen Underwood.”

“Federal agent.”

“Yes.”

“FBI? NSA?”

“RNS.”

“I don't know that one—Oh! Rather Not Say,” he chuckled as he translated her acronym. “Gotcha.”

Her lips twitched into a half smile. “Yes, I know your brother. Yes, it's business related. No, I don't think he's dead. If I'm right, he's gone to ground and will contact me soon. He's in danger.”

“How do you know?”

“Because, your brother works for us. He's a spy.”

© 2016 Dellani Oakes

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Notable Narrative - Indian Summer Shark Attack!

Sometimes, it isn't just dialogue or a steamy love scene that captures the interest. This particular scene is one I wrote when I first started Indian Summer nearly 20 years ago. I began the novel, but couldn't capture Gabriella's voice. Discouraged, I put the notebook in a drawer and left it. One day, I was cleaning the drawer and found the notebook once more. I read through it, discarding most of it as crap, but this scene, I kept. I found Gabriella's voice in this scene and was able to begin again. This scene is almost word for word what I originally wrote.

The ocean felt blood warm and comforting. I hadn't realized how much my body ached from my new activities. The tension of the last few weeks washed from my body as the water closed over me. It buoyed me up, letting me float gently on the waves. I closed my eyes to the bright morning sun and rested. I didn't realize how far I drifted, for the tide was going out. I heard a noise, a shout from the beach and looked up. I was much further out than I intended and began to swim slowly back in.

Before I saw what was happening, a man dove into the water and swam rapidly past me. It was not until then I saw the fin on the water. Shark! I could formulate no other thoughts but the horror of that image, that word. I had seen people attacked by sharks, their bodies torn and bloody, bloated from the water they died in. I swam for my life as quickly as I could. The man met the shark not far from the shore. I scrambled out, running to my clothing. I had the ridiculous notion that it would somehow protect me. There was a battle going on in the waves, but I couldn't see it clearly. The man raised his knife, the sun glittering off the blade. He brought it down on the shark again and again with a dull, liquid thunk. Blood was everywhere, but whether it was his or the shark's I didn't know.

Forgetting my clothing for the moment, I grabbed my knife. Foolishly, I dashed back into the water as man and shark dove under! I couldn't see either of them, just blood on the waves. A small ripple where they went down was the only other thing visible. Suddenly, the water beside me erupted as a huge shark leapt out of the water not five feet from me! I screamed, frozen to the spot. I saw the knife in its ugly, brutish head, between its eyes. It was fighting fiercely, despite numerous stab wounds.

Clinging to it stubbornly was a man. Sailfish! He was covered in blood, slipping from the shark's hide. The vicious beast gave a last squirm as the life left it. It shivered once more and died. Sailfish drew his blade from it, racing toward me.

"Run!" He yelled.

I was stupefied, I couldn't make my legs work. I stood there naked and dripping, too terrified to move.

"Run!" He yelled again. "Gabriella, get out of the water!"

Before he finished speaking, I saw the fins racing toward all the blood, toward us! I turned and ran, splashing and flailing to get to shore. He caught up with me, righting me as I fell. Impatient at my lack of speed, he lifted me out of the water, carrying me to the sand. His long legs covered the distance in less time than it takes to tell of it. I stared in shock and horror as the dead shark danced crazily in the water, the others tearing its carcass to pieces in a horrific frenzy! A scream threatened to erupt from my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Gradually, the furor died down and the sharks swam away. Nothing was left of the dead one. I sank to my knees, retching. I had not eaten yet that morning, so it was dry heaves. Sometimes that's worse than actually vomiting. I became aware of strong hands helping me sit up, of the same hands dressing me like a baby and the muscular arms around me, holding me while I cried.

All the sorrow, anger, and fear that had built in me since the night of my capture, came pouring out in a flood of tears. I felt so safe in his arms. I clung to him, weeping as if my heart were broken. He held me, rocked me, and stroked my hair, all the while speaking in low monotones. None of it made sense to me for he spoke in his own tongue, but the flow of the words and the tone were comforting. I cried a long time, finally coming to a stop. He continued to hold me, giving me his comfort.

Soon, however, the touch changed, I felt the comforting become a caress as a lover would touch his beloved. I don't know why, but I felt a tingling sensation for the first time since we met. He was so strong, virile, warm and so alive. He stopped rocking me, but continued to hold me, turning my tear-streaked face gently to his. I gazed into his jet black eyes, lost in their depths. His strong jaw was working, trying to hold the emotions in. I felt his manhood pressing against me and faltered in my resolve.

God help me, I loved Manuel! How could I dishonor him by kissing another man? Even as I thought this, Sailfish lowered his lips to mine and kissed me with a passion not even Manuel had equaled. I melted into his embrace, his lips locked with mine, his tongue probing my mouth. I burned inside, my heart fluttering like a trapped bird. I felt swept away as if the ocean waves had carried me off into the water once more. Wave after hot wave coursed through my body. He touched me all the places I knew he shouldn't, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to stop him. I was so tired of fighting desire, sick of saying no, weary of being proper.

I believe I would have allowed him to continue had we not heard shouts coming from on the mound. There was a ruckus on the river side of the island. Reluctantly, he let go of me, turning to the lookout. Sailfish called out to him, demanding to know what was wrong. I couldn't understand his answer, for they spoke in their native tongue. Sailfish all but dumped me on the sand as he rose and ran toward the camp, shouting as he went. I gathered myself up running after him, curious and afraid all at once.

© 2015 Dellani Oakes

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