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I'm posting another scene from my current WIP (work in progress for my non-writer readers). In this one our main character, Sammy, just stepped off a plane and is feeling particularly vulnerable.
Fighting the tears that threatened again, Sammy shook them off and threw a brilliant smile at the man who had just deplaned. Tall and lanky with broad shoulders, dark hair and flashing eyes, he was just what her bruised ego needed. He looked crisp and fresh in black-on-black Armani, in spite of the five-hour flight across the country.A big thanks to Merissa, Julie, Margaret and Courtney, the aspiring romance authors who fuel Critique This, for hosting this blogfest. Don't forget to click over to read the other entries to their Flirt Fest Blogfest.
“Cherie,” he grinned, “you here for long?”
“Don’t know,” she replied, tossing silken hair from a pixie face that held sad, green eyes.
Lanky waited a beat for Sammy to fall in beside him. She had a designer bag over one shoulder and towed a laptop and carry-on behind her.
“May I?” He asked, reaching for the carry-on.
“I’ve got it, thanks,” she flashed another of those almost-famous smiles. “You changing planes? Coming home?”
The report of her stiletto heels rang through the concourse, blending with the symphony of Hartsfield. One PA announced an arriving Delta flight, another, a last boarding call.
Lanky paced her, smitten. She knew that look.
“I’m just passing through. My next flight’s out of Concourse B. And you?” he asked.
“Oh, just visiting,” Sammy shrugged and stepped on to the escalator descending to the tram.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, close behind. “I have a couple of hours to kill before my next flight.”
Sammy hesitated. What was another hour or two? She could use the diversion. When she’d called Daddy after landing, he’d said Mama was sleeping.
“No, handsome, I’d better not,” she concluded. “I have to grab a rental car and head north. Don’t want to get in too late.”
“Mon Cherie, are you sure?” he implored. “It’s early. One hour. No more.”
Laughing, Sammy waggled her head and gave him a little pout. “No, Handsome. I’m sorry.”
The tram pulled up and after everyone had gotten off, Lanky extended his arm for her to board. Sammy stepped in, chose a center pole and wrapped her arms and leg around it. The dark man took another and watched her with jet-black eyes, a speculative smile on his lips.
He was certainly a sight to behold. Too bad she didn’t have time to play. But still, she was tempted.
The tram announcement interrupted her thoughts. "The next station is concourse B. The color-coded maps and signs in the vehicle match the station colors. Please move to the center of the vehicle and away from the doors. Please hold on. This vehicle is now leaving the station."
When Lanky edged over to share her pole, Sammy unwrapped enough to give him a handhold.
“One little kiss, Cherie?” he leaned in and whispered.
“Non,” Sammy giggled. Then sighed. Oh, it felt good to be pursued. Even if only for a while.
“The train is approaching Concourse B. Please hang on.”
“Just one?” his breath tickled her ear.
“Non, s'il vous plait, non. Stop teasing.”
“Ah, mademoiselle, my heart breaks.”
“We have now arrived at Concourse B. The doors are opening. Please exit the tram.”
“Your stop, handsome,” Sammy said. “Have a great flight. And thanks for the offer.”
Lanky chuckled, leaned closer and planted a warm kiss on her lips, his eyes never leaving hers. Then moving away, he stepped to the door and stood, watching her.
“Au revior, mon amour,” he laughed, stepping off the tram, and waved as he turned to go.
“Bye,” Sammy waved, green eyes sad again, watching him though the closing doors.
“Bye,” she whispered.