Meandering on Monday with Janet Lane Walters #amwriting #amreading #fantasy

I'm preparing a talk on Building Worlds for all genres. Think I'll call it Building Worlds, Building Dreams. Thinking about what we do as fiction writers and that's build dreams for the readers. Some dreams turn out better than others. Some become nightmares and that's sad. I do a lot of reading as well as writing. Not every book I buy or discover is worth a second read. That's my criteria for a good book. If I want to read it again, for me it's a good book. If I read it multiple times, it's a great book.  But back to my idea on Building Worlds. This is a must for the writers of every genre. If you don't know all the facets of the world where you place your characters the book will fall flat for the reader. What you're doing is shattering their dreams. I've recently read 2 romantic suspenses. One book built the world so I felt as though I was there. The second failed and the reason was the world didn't make me feel as if I was in that world. I found I couldn't continue reading that book and for me, that's strange since I've stuck with some books no one loved, even me but I hung in until the end. So my meander today is about creating your dream world and pulling the reader into the story.

Speaking of dream worlds. I have finished Lines of Fire and am planning to get it ready to send. Now if I can remember how to format the thing, I will get onto this very soon. I'm now heading into the world of the Goddesses of Er and haven't done much on it for almost a week. A few hundred words but that's not enough to help me find the rhythm but I will.

Also have ideas for some short spicy novellas based on my love for Astrology. I also want to start on them and that will mean dividing myself into more than one dream at a time. I think I can. Now all I must do is know I can.

3 Blog Visit Sunday - Discoveries by Janet Lane Walters

http://www.publishingcrawl.com/2012/12/05/finding-a-critique-partner/

http://www.derekhaines.ch/vandal/2012/11/self-published-authors-get-ready-youre-being-dumped/

http://bookmarketingbuzzblog.blogspot.com/2012/12/book-marketing-book-publicity-tool-kit.html

Saturday's Excerpt - Tanya Goodwin - An Evergreen Christmas

Blurb
Dr. Holly Green hasn't celebrated Christmas since age thirteen when her parents were killed in a car accident on Christmas Eve. An intense surgeon but a social wallflower, Holly successfully dodges the hospital holiday party every year, except this year when she meets Dr. Noel Shepherd, sexy new surgeon on the block who's determined to end her absenteeism.




The polar opposite of Holly, Noel revels in the Christmas spirit, sporting a penguin print necktie and Santa sticker on his beeper.



From the moment Holly bumps into Noel in the operating room, she can't deny her attraction to him. Noel likewise lights up around Holly.



When their relationship heats up over the holiday season, Noel purchases an evergreen tree that he and Holly could decorate. But his surprise quickly sours when Holly refuses to have anything to do with the tree. Has Noel crossed the line, catapulting Holly into a Christmas she isn't ready to celebrate?


Excerpt

Holly took a healthy bite of her burger.


“Glad to see you’re enjoying your dinner. It’s not Chez Jacques, but Callahan’s has the best burgers in New England. And I’ve downed a lot of hamburgers in my days.” Noel arched his brow. “I guess as a surgeon, I shouldn’t admit that.”

She patted her lips with a paper napkin. “I’ll forgive you this one time.”

Noel stuffed a French fry in his mouth. He chewed it with happy vigor and swallowed. “After tonight, I’m switching to salads.”

“It’s the holidays, Noel.” She waggled her finger at him. “And who brought me cookies?”

“Okay. After the holidays, I’ll make it my New Year’s resolution.” Noel chomped on his deluxe burger. After swallowing, he leaned across the booth’s table toward Holly. “So, what resolutions are you going to make?”

She hesitated. “I don’t believe in resolutions.”

“I know you’re not keen on Christmas, but New Year’s too?”

Holly bit into a French fry. “Yep.”

Noel propped his elbow onto the table and plunked his chin into his palm. “That’s tragic. Who am I going to kiss at midnight?”

She grinned and shrugged.

He leaned closer. “There’s always mistletoe. You better be careful where you step.”

“I’ll be safe. I’ll be at the hospital on call.”

Noel stole one of her fries and waved it in front of her. “I wouldn’t count on that because I’ll be on call also.” He bit into the fry.

Holly plucked a fry from his plate. “Then I’ll have to be extra careful.” She snapped the potato slice in two, eating one half and feeding the other half to him.

“Boy, it’s going to be tough giving up fries.”

The door to Callahan’s Pub squeaked open ushering a burst of winter air. The pub buzzed with the boisterous chatter of the gaggle of Granite State Medical Center staff. Holly peered from the booth’s edge. Nurses and doctors she knew hugged and high-fived one another.

“Hey, look. There’s Noel and…uh Holly Green?” The gossipy nurse from the locker room yelled above the crowd.

Holly sank in her seat. Oh, no. Not tonight.

The nurse tottered over to them. Every clop of her high-heeled boots jabbed at Holly, but she smiled over gritted teeth as the nurse leaned over and hugged Noel. Ashley stood behind her fellow nurse and shrugged.

Noel stiffened at her dramatic hug. “Hi. Good to see you.”

She whipped around to face Holly. “Dr. Green. What a surprise? I’ve never seen you here at Callahan’s.”

“Noel and I were just grabbing a quick dinner before going off for the rest of the evening.”

The nurse tilted her shoulders towards Noel. “Oh, you have to stay. The gang’s all here. I’m so happy you took us up on the invite to Callahan’s. You’ll have a great time.”

Noel reached for Holly’s hand. “I am having a great time, but we already have plans for the evening.”

“Well okay.” She shot her finger at him. “But come back again…soon.”

Ashley tugged at her friend’s sweater sleeve. “Let’s go.” She smiled at Holly. “It is nice seeing you. I hope you and Noel will come back.”

“Thanks, Ashley. And I’m glad your brother will be home for Christmas.”

“Me too.” She waved to Holly and Noel and then dragged her friend away.

Noel squeezed her hands. “Sorry about that.”

Holly shook her head. “Don’t be. I avoided coming to Callahan’s, and I did have my reservations, but I’m actually thankful you’ve brought me here. The burgers are indeed the best.”

“You’re welcome.”

The waitress cleared their plates. Both passing on dessert, Noel paid the bill. He stood up and rounded the table. Grabbing Holly’s hand, he slid her across the wooden bench seat, grinning the whole time.

Holly laughed. “You have me skating before I hit the ice.”

Noel pulled Holly to her feet and yanked her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her, his embrace firm but not restraining. Noel pressed his lips to hers. Heat shot from her lips to her toes, enough to keep her toasty on the ice the rest of the night.

When they eased apart, patrons pounded their fists on the pub’s bar counter and cheered, “Mistletoe! Mistletoe! Mistletoe!”

Noel pulled Holly past the Callahan’s Christmas tree and halted her beneath the doorway’s mistletoe.

“Not so safe now, are you?” He teased.

Holly tilted her head back. The tree’s twinkling lights flickering behind Noel, her breathing rose to a crescendo, waiting for his kiss. And at this moment, she didn’t care whose eyes were upon them. The warmth of his breath caressed her cheeks as he leaned towards her, closer, and closer, her heart beating faster in tandem to the blinking Christmas lights. He rested his mouth upon hers and then pulled her in closer. She pressed harder galvanized by the revelry of the crowd, their pounding whirring in her ears.

“Longer. Longer. Longer,” they yelled.

They froze in their embrace, her arms swaddled about his broad shoulders, and his palms cupping her hips. His neck pulsed beneath her fingertips. Not since her parents had she felt that same soft comfort.

Holly blinked and widened her eyes when they parted. Adrenalin rushed through her. Grabbing his hand, she yanked him through the door of Callahan’s and into the snow covered parking lot.

“Anxious, aren’t we?”

She twirled around, tasting every snowflake on her tongue, before clutching the car door handle. She jerked it. Pulled on it again, thinking her fingers had not gotten an adequate purchase. Nothing.

Noel snickered and pressed the remote on his key ring. After two beeps and a flash of headlights, Holly swung the car door open and bounced into the seat.

Noel got into the car, buckled his seat belt, and slid the key into the ignition. He glanced at Holly.

She clicked her seatbelt closed and gave him a grin that tapped her cheekbones. “I’m going to skate circles around you!”

“Hmm.” He smiled. “Is that a challenge?”

“Yes, it is Dr. Shepherd.”

He pointed at her. “I accept, Dr. Green.”

***

Giddy from dinner and ooh, those two kisses, she hadn’t given thought to where they’d whirl about on the ice until Noel pulled up at Putney’s Pond, parking on the side of the road in full view of frolicking skaters. Her smile melted. Lips pressed tight, she gazed at a mother pulling her little girl up from the ice, dusting off her bottom, and then hugging her. They skated away, mitten to mitten.

Panic whirred in Holly’s chest. “Noel, I can’t.”

She turned to face him but he wasn’t there. The tap on her window made her jerk back into the seat.

Noel waved to her and held up her mother’s skates. “Come on. Give me everything you’ve got, Green!”

She couldn’t disappoint him. He had planned such a wonderful evening for them. Why ruin it? Holly took a deep breath and opened her door. Noel grasped her hand, and mitten-to-mitten, he pulled her to him and kissed her. With his skates slung over one of his shoulders and Holly’s skates over the other, they crunched over the snow holding hands all the way to the red wooden shed, the same place her mother would sit her down on a bench and lace up her skates before putting hers on.

The night before Christmas Eve and kids on holiday recess from school, the rural rink was packed with families, and teenagers snaking around them. Holly sat on a bench next to Noel who was furiously lacing up his skates.

“I’m going to beat you to the ice,” he teased.

She hesitated but then grabbed her skates. “No you’re not!”

Holly and Noel knotted their skates in synchrony and popped up from the bench at the same time.

“Go,” Holly yelled.

They “duck walked” from the shed to the ice, the silver blades of their skates chopping into the snow and glided onto the frozen pond. Noel gripped Holly’s hand and whipped her ahead of him. She whipped him around her. They split from one another and half raced around the rink, careful of others stumbling about. After three laps, she raised her arms in victory.

“I win,” she shouted with glee.

Noel skated up to her, shearing a small fountain of ice with his hockey stop.

“Here’s your consolation prize.” She glided towards him, performing a perfect T-stop in front of him, and kissed him.

He smiled. “I like second place.”

Holly skated away from him. “Watch this. I hope I can still do it.”

She veered to her right, her right foot catching an outside edge and then an inside one. Hugging her arms to her chest, she spun, spinning faster and faster the tighter she held them in, lost in a blissful blur, her mother whispering in her ear, “Spin. Spin. Spin. My darling.”

Stabbing the ice with her toe pick, she stopped and held out her arms. “Ta da!”

Noel clapped. “Bravo! Bravo!”

Holly did it. She’d made her mother proud.

Their racing competition completed, Holly and Noel skated holding hands for a few more laps around the rink. An older couple passed them.

“That’s so sweet,” Holly cooed.

“I think it’s sad.”

She cocked her head up towards him, her mouth open. “Why would you think that?”

“Because they passed us,” he said, curtly nodding. “We can’t have that.” He tugged her hand. “Come on.”

They picked up pace and snuck by the couple. Noel spun around and skated backwards while holding both her hands. She pulled one hand away and smacked him on his shoulder. “You are so bad.”

“Yes, I’m absolutely wicked.” He peeled off her mitten and kissed her hand, his warm breath wafting in clouds above them.

Her fingers tingled, cradled in his touch.

“I’m sorry. Your hand must be cold.” He blew on her fingers and then slipped her mitten back onto her hand.

Her stomach fluttered and gooseflesh popped onto her skin beneath her red sweater, not the frigid kind, but the prickly, tiny bumps that nudge every hair on your neck to exhilarating attention.

“Noel, You’ve totally surprised me tonight. I can’t remember the last time I’ve…”

He hugged her and whispered in her ear, “Let go?”

“Yes,” she whispered back.

He pulled her off the rink. “Let’s get these skates off. The finale of surprises is yet to come.”

“Where to now?”

“You’ll see.”

Friday - How She Does It - Tanya Goodwin

Tanya Goodwin is a member of Hudson Valley Romance Writers and is a newly published author,




I’m so glad Janet has invited me to guest blog. I’m Tanya Goodwin and I write under the same name. My debut novel, If Memory Serves, a romantic suspense with police procedural and medical elements, was released in September 2012 by Mitchell Morris Publishing. I enjoy writing suspense and mystery, always with a medical edge, which comes in handy because I’m also a physician. My new venture is holiday medical romances. An Evergreen Christmas is the first one in this series. You can find me at www.tanyagoodwin.com and www.holidayheartbeat.com.









We all know there are six elements in writing fiction and often fact. Who, What, When, Where, Why and How. I believe the first five lead to the sixth which for me is the plot. What's your take on this?



1. How do you create your characters? Do you have a specific process?

First, I think about whom I’m going to throw into situations. My basic plot outline drives me to create characters. I assign them an occupation and this in turn gives them an appropriate age range. I think about what their day is like, who and how they interact with others and their environment, their strengths and weaknesses, and decisions they make and the consequences that follow. I consider what they like, love, dislike, or outright hate. I have no particular formula. Sometimes I write character profiles, and sometimes I keep them tucked in my head. It’s different with each book I write.







2. Do your characters come before the plot? Do you sketch out your plot or do you let the characters develop the route to the end?



I first start with a premise and basic plot. I let these simmer in my head. Then I decide whom I’m going to place in this framework. I make some basic notes about my plot/subplot. Sometimes I write a brief synopsis to keep me on track. The characters then interact in my plot, growing and changing as the plot develops. Editing and revisions further mold my characters.



3. Do you know how the story will end before you begin? In a general way or a specific one?

For my suspense and mystery novels, I need to know how these stories end. I need to know, in general, where I’m going to weave in twists or clues. That’s not to say that I’ve never added to the plot or even removed elements that didn’t work.



4. Do you choose settings you know or do you have books of settings and plans of houses sitting around?

Many settings just come to me. Most are places that I’m familiar with, and if not, I really enjoy the process of learning about other places, both in location and in time.



5. Where do you do your research? On line or from books?

I’ve done research from both. For online research, I make sure that other sources agree. I also interview professionals or people like my characters. In If Memory Serves, I spoke to police officers and detectives regarding police procedures. I’ve read biographies and historical books when writing about a time period and historical people that appear in my book.



6. Are you a draft writer or do you revise as you go along and why?

I write a draft, but everyday that I start off fresh in my writing, I reread what I wrote and revise mainly for grammar or any glaring inconsistencies. This, however, is no substitute for several rounds of revision after the draft is complete.

What Janet Lane Walters Has Been Reading #amreading

Only two books last week but both are keepers. With the approach of the holiday season life tends to become hectic.



Take Me Home by Nancy Herkness - Met Nancy at NJRW and bought her book there. Enjoyed and I do hope Claire's sister, Willow will have a happy ending.

When Claire Parker left Sanctuary, West Virginia, she thought it was for good. But now she’s back, reeling from an ugly divorce. Readjusting to small-town life is harder than Claire expected, so she’s surprised, and grateful, to find companionship in Willow, an abused Thoroughbred mare. Willow is Claire’s “whisper horse,” and they share a special, rare bond. Except Willow isn’t the only one helping Claire heal; Willow’s ruggedly handsome veterinarian, Dr. Tim Arbuckle, is sympathetic…and secretive.






Devastated by his wife’s death, Tim thought he’d never find love again. The stoic, sexy doctor was sure he’d left his heart behind when he came to Sanctuary. But Claire stirs up emotions he thought he’d buried long ago. For the first time, the doctor can see past his grief…until Willow falls gravely ill. Tim and Claire must save Willow’s life and, surrounded by the majestic mountains of West Virginia, believe in a love so encompassing, so intimately intense, their lives will never be the same again.

A Just Deception by Adrienne Giordano  Romantic suspense Tension both sexual and otherwise, but well spiced with moments of humor.

The protector: Peter Jessup, former Navy SEAL, currently employed by Taylor Security. He likes being the hero—in charge and in control.


His client: Lawyer Isabelle DeRosa. The sexy brunette is the personification of Peter's fantasies. She's willing to get physical but nothing more serious.



The assignment: When Isabelle becomes the prime suspect in the murder of her cousin, Peter is there to protect her and help her find the real killer. Their investigation leads to a big-name charity that seems to draw cultlike followers. Isabelle manages to infiltrate the group and become close to their leader, leaving Peter both jealous and worried for her.



As their search leads to danger, Peter realizes he's falling in love with Isabelle. He wants all of her, but she's too used to guarding herself to let him in…

Wednesday's Writer's Tip - #amwriting, Atmosphere, Inspired by How To Write Mysteries

Atmosphere, just what does this mean? Whether you're writing a mystery or some other genre the reader needs to know what to expect when they pick up a book. In mysteries if you're writing a cozy and you start out with words that evoke hard-boiled detective, the reader isn't going to enjoy the book. They'll probably toss it aside and not pick up your stories again. This holds true to other genres.

I judge several contests where unpublished writers are competing for various things. Sometimes I can't be sure just what kind of story they are writing. The opening sentence or paragraph don't reflect where the story is heading. Imagine yourself as the reader of what the opening sentence makes you think you're in today's wrold in a large city, only to discover this is a science fiction story centuries from now or a story that takes place in the past.

The atmosphere of a story doesn't stop after that first sentence but continues to the last one. So when you're revising make sure you look at the words you've written to see if any are out of place. These are the words, phrases and sentences that will jar the reader out of the story you've written and may keep them from reading more of your works.

Tuesday's Inspiration - Quote from an essay by Catherine Gavin

While I don't know the author's work, this quote from her essay in The Writer's Handbook set me off. She speaks of an interview she had when the interviewer asked "Does it give you a sense of power to know you can manipulate the characters in your novels and move them about exactly as you please?" This set me to wondering if this is what happens when I write.

What about you? Do you manipulate your characters?

For me when I write it's not about manipulating the characters to make them fit the story. It's a matter of getting to know the people I write about, just like getting to know the people I meet. Yes, these characters are products of my imagination rather than living, breathing people but the process of writing involves knowing a character. I use Astrology when I'm creating characters so I have an idea about their inner nature, their emotional reactions and the face they show the world. Using these things brings me to the situations I have created for the characters to face.

As the story develops I have more ideas of how the people I've created will act in a given situation. Not always the way I thought when I began the story. The character doesn't take over as much as I have learned more about them and how they will react to what is happening in the story I've created. It's not a matter of manipulation, it's a matter of knowing the characters.

How about you? Do your characters evolve as you write the story and you learn more about who they are and how they would react and act?

Meandering on Monday with Janet Lane Walters #amwriting #amreading

Another week. Meander today is about the wierd comments sometimes found on the blog. All are written by Anonymous. At least it's easy to get rid of them. Just hit Spam and delete. They're there for as long as I need to find them. Leaving one's name is easy. Though I do have some followers who are anonymous. Would like to know who they are if I should decide to give away something in a contest.

Second meander is about the approaching holidays. Writing always slows down when that happens and I feel frustrated. One would think after all the years of writing I would accept that there is a time when the writing slows down. I know of at least one other writer who is suffering from the same slowdown. How about the rest of you. Do the holidays impede output?

As for my writing. Have learned The Micro-Manager Murder will be out in March. Can't wait. Releases have been a bit slow but that will change. In January I'll be able to reoved another book from a publisher that I was a wrong fit for. Not my problem or theirs. Was just like a marriage that didn't work. Sure wish I could retrieve the third book in the series.

Am still doing edits to Lines of Fire and working on The Goddesses of Er. They will see some progress this week. Hope to finish the edits and do at least two chapters on the other. Had an idea for a series of short hot pieces. Must work the idea out and then decide what to do with them. So n work and to baking cookies.

3 Blog Visit Sunday discoveries by Janet Lane Walters

http://lornacollins-author.blogspot.com/ plot problems

http://www.savvyauthors.com/vb/content.php?2403-13-Ways-to-Maximize-Your-Amazon-Presence-and-Make-Amazon-Work-for-You-by-Laura-Kaye Excellent advice

http://suzannerock.wordpress.com/2012/11/29/budget-marketing-tumbler-vs-pinterest/ More social media

Saturday's Excerpt - Under The Sheets by Shirley Hailstock

Under the Sheets - Excerpt


By Shirley Hailstock





This was certainly a better place to work than the Assassination Bureau. Robyn Warren stood back¬stage, a three-pound headdress of pink fur balanced on her head. In moments, she’d be on stage for the second time in her twenty-five years. The first time had been two hours ago. She rubbed sweaty hands down her hips and waited. The curtain went up, and the lights rose, bathing sixteen scantly clad women in a blinding white light.

With a smile plastered to her face, Robyn listened to the music and counted the beats, as she performed the newly memorized steps. A single sound of tapping feet worked in unison to the music of 42nd Street. It was exhilarating. Blood pumped through her system, mix¬ing with adrenaline, restoring the energy her afternoon of rehearsal had depleted.

She felt her nervousness leave her. She could tell by the twinkle in the eyes of the other dancers when they passed each other forming a set of four circles that blended into one larger circle and finally opening into a straight line that she was a part of the group. The audience applauded in the middle of the routine. The sound was deafening to her ears. For the first time she looked beyond the footlights, wondering if the man from the pool was somewhere out there. It was hard to see anyone with the lights in her eyes. Besides she didn’t know anyone here, except Susan, who was dancing on her left. Robyn had only been in Las Vegas two days. The man by the pool was a stranger. They hadn’t even said hello.

The dance ended much too soon, and she followed the line of bobbing fur backstage to change for the next number. There wasn’t much time for musings. As soon as they had switched from pink to white lace, she heard the call of five minutes. It meant they were to line up backstage, according to a preset sys¬tem. She stood between Vera and Susan, the three of them were the same height.

The second outing on the stage seemed shorter than her first visit. She was breathless from the exhilaration and excitement. Susan had been right, she loved being out there. Almost before she knew it, she was back in the dressing room. The noise level was high as every¬one tried to get dressed for their dates. Robyn moved aside. Susan had quickly dressed and was the first to leave the room. Smiling at Robyn and telling her she’d see her back at the apartment. She disappeared through the door. Her dress changed and her face re¬made without the heavy greasepaint worn against the harsh lights of the stage, she looked happy and beautiful.

By the time Robyn was dressed, the room was clear. She flipped the switch, throwing the room into darkness and leaving behind the smell of sweat, perfume, and makeup. From the top of the stairs, she saw him— the man from the pool. While there were people mov¬ing around him, carrying scenery and lights, he stood still. His black suit, distinctive against the surround¬ings, made his presence commanding. His white shirt made his skin darker by contrast. Robyn smiled when he looked up at her.

"You must be lost," she said, as she came down the steps.

"I don’t think so." His voice was deep and dark like a warm night.

"If you’re waiting for one of the dancers, I’m afraid you’ve been stood up." She could not imagine anyone forgetting about a guy whose brown eyes were so warm they could melt ice. They followed her all the way to the bottom step.

"I’m waiting for you," he said quietly.

"Me!" She didn’t know this man, although she wouldn’t mind getting to know him. From the distance she had to look up, she confirmed his height to be just over six feet. His hair was short and neat. While she hadn’t seen him in a hat, the uniform told her there was one. yet no defining bank marred his hair or skin.

"I saw you by the pool. . .and on the stage, both times," he said.

She smiled, pleased that someone had come to see her one and only performance

"We were staring at each other," she said directly.

"My name is Grant Richards." He stood up slightly straighter, as if he were coming to attention.

"I’m—"

"Robyn Warren," he finished for her. "I asked one of the other dancers," he explained to her questioning look.

"We don’t know each other." It was a statement. She’d remember him and not because of any training or her ability to remember almost anything she’d seen.

"A situation I’d like to remedy." His smile exuded charm.

He took her arm and locked it through his elbow. Several minutes later, Robyn found herself sitting in the casino’s restaurant and having a late dinner with one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever met. He told her he’d been a copilot for Trans-Global for nearly four years. By the time dessert and coffee were served, she’d learned he’d grown up in a series of foster homes, before going to stay with an aunt. He and his friend, David, were here for a few days before they had another flight. She told him she worked for the government.

"I didn’t know the government had a need for long-legged girls in bejeweled pink tights."

Robyn laughed. "They weren’t bejeweled. They were sequined." She explained how Susan had con¬vinced her to replace a sick dancer in tonight’s show.

"Well, since you don’t dance for a living, what do you do for the government?"

Robyn dropped her head. "I’m nobody important. I’m an analyst in a small Washington department." She was deliberately vague. She’d been taught to re¬veal as little as possible about her true purpose at the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

"Washington, D.C.!" Grant seized the word. A large smile displayed his even teeth.

"Yes," she nodded, lifting her coffee cup. The liquid was lukewarm.

"I live in D.C., too. My home route is between DC and Reagan National Airport.

The thrill that shimmied up Robyn"s spine couldn’t be stopped. She’d only met Grant a few hours ago, yet she was sure she could fall in love with him.

"So where’s Susan, now?" he asked.

"She had a date." Robyn came back from her musings. "And where’s David now?" she asked, as the waiter served more coffee.

"He had a date. I lost him when I went to the sec¬ond show."

"Why did you stay?"

He leaned forward, taking her hand in his. "After I saw you, I was devastated. How could I leave?" His eyes twinkled with mischief.

Robyn blushed, knowing he was teasing. "How could you tell us apart. Up there, we all look the same." It was a common complaint of the dancers. With the makeup and costumes, it was difficult to tell one from the other. And with her coloring, she blended in easily with Susan’s complexion. "I could argue that." This time there was no teasing in his tone. It was deadly serious.

Robyn’s throat constricted, and pulling her hand free, she picked up her water glass. The cool water helped only slightly, for Grant’s eyes were fixed on her. She felt as if he was setting her on fire. It was all around her, defining her shape, and any effort to break free would cause the flames to incinerate her. But the overwhelming emotion that rocked her more than the thought of burning was that she didn’t want to break free. She wanted this new sensation to con¬tinue.

"Why don’t we go to the lounge and dance?" he suggested.

They had finished eating long ago, but lingered over the coffee to talk. Now, they rose and went to the small lounge. Soft music played by a combo filled the room, and couples crowded on the dance floor.

The hostess led them to a table, and Grant ordered drinks. Without waiting he pulled her into his arms, and began circling the floor to the slow beat of the music. Robyn held her breathe. Her heart hammered. She couldn’t describe her feelings. She was light and happy, feeling as if she was floating.

He smelled good, of lemon soap and aftershave. She raised her hand to the back of his head and touched his soft hair. His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. They moved in perfect rhythm, each matching the steps of the other as if they had always danced to¬gether. She didn’t think, after the grueling afternoon she’d had learning the steps to the routine, she’d ever want to dance again. Yet, now resting in Grant’s arms, her feet were light and responsive.

They spent the evening there. When most of the other couples had opted for the casino and thoughts of striking it rich, Robyn had found her fortune. She swirled in Grant’s arms to the sexy sound of a saxo¬phone that played on and on into the small hours of the morning. When he took her back to Susan’s apart¬ment on the outskirts of the city, light was just break¬ing behind the distant hills.

Robyn didn’t move when he pulled the rental car to a stop in front of Susan’s building. It was one of the best days she’d ever had, and she was reluctant to have it end.

"It’ll be daylight soon," she said, prolonging his de¬parture.

Grant looked at the pink color spreading in the sky. “It reminds me of an early morning horizon when I’m flying.”

"It’s going to be a beautiful day." He knew that, even without the clear sky. Robyn had entered his life, and for some unexplained reason, he knew all his days would be beautiful.

Robyn turned to him and smiled. His arms snaked around her and pulled her unresisting body closer to his. He kissed her slowly, something he’d wanted to do since seeing her asleep in the sun. She moaned slightly in his embrace as she circled his neck with her arms. She played with his hair, her soft fingers combing through to his scalp. Sensation rocked him. He’d never known anyone to make him feel the way she did. He’d loved having her in his arms when they had danced, and now, his body strained for her. When the kiss ended, he kept her close, hugging her tightly to him.

"Do you suppose it’s true that you can find anything open in this town at any hour?"

Robyn leaned back to look at him, her eyes dazed. "Is there something you need right now?" Her voice was thick with emotion.

"I know we only met today. All I know about you is that you work for the government, live in Washing¬ton, and like to dance. But I was wondering if we could find an open chapel. We could be married by sunrise?