Elisabeth Naughton - Author of sexy romantic adventures and dark hot paranormals
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Archive for August, 2005

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Sunday, August 7th, 2005
Character Conference Part II

(For Part I, be sure to visit Linda‘s Blog)

A wicked grin crossed Ethan’s face. “Get him a Blow Job.” At Sam’s incredulous expression and Caitlin’s murderous one, his brows shot up, and he smiled. “What? Every guy likes those.”

Tick’s jaw tightened. “Jim Beam’s fine.”

“I’ll be right back. Get us a table.” Sam leaned in to kiss Ethan. “Try to behave yourself.”

She sauntered away, Ethan’s gaze following her. Tick crossed his arms over his blue-stained chest. “Now, do you two want to tell me how you really know each other?”

Caitlin linked her arm through his. “It’s not important. Come on.”

He refused to budge. “You don’t think I’m going to give up that easily, do you?”

She tunneled a hand through her hair again, the silver beads on her dress clicking. “One could hope.”

He smiled, his good-ol’-country-boy smile. “One can start talking, too.”

Ethan waved a hand between them. “You two did have premarital counseling, right?”

Tick’s face darkened. “Cait, who the hell is this guy?”

“Here you go.” With a side smile, Sam extended a glass of amber liquid in Tick’s direction. He took it with two hands and extreme caution.

“Thanks.”

Confusion darkened Sam’s brown eyes. “I thought we were getting a table.”

“We are.” Caitlin gave Tick a gentle shove toward a shadowy booth.

“I know you don’t think this conversation is over.”

“Would you give it a rest, Lamar Eugene?”

They settled into the booth, Caitlin and Tick on one side, Sam and Ethan on the other, a candle flickering in a cut-glass globe between them. Tick spun his glass on the table. “So, Dr. McClane, you specialize in working with kids?”

Ethan nodded. “I have a private practice, but do some work with the state juvenile justice system.”

“What state?”

“Oregon.”

Tick’s eyebrows winged upwards, and he glanced at his wife. “I see. Oregon.”

Caitlin glanced away, muttering a curse beneath her breath.

“Hello?” Sam settled back into the booth. “Is there some secret code I’m missing here? What is going on?”

Tick lifted his glass, a hard smile playing about his mouth. “You know, Miss Parker, that’s exactly what I’d like to know.”

Caitlin shot him a glare. “God, you never quit, do you? Fine, Tick. He was my therapist. I worked a horrific case in Oregon last July, and the Bureau forced me to spend the afternoon from hell in his office before I could go back to work. Are you happy now?”

“Precious-”

“Falconetti, I swear to God, if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get even with you for this.” A broad-shouldered man with short dark hair and sharp gray eyes set his beer on the edge of the table and tugged up a chair. “Today’s Law Enforcement and the Media? What the frik’ is that?”

Fingers shaking, Caitlin sipped at her drink. “That, Cookie my friend, is revenge for that stunt you pulled the night before my wedding.”

Mark Cook leaned back in his chair, took a long pull from the bottle. He darted a knowing smile Tick’s direction. “Didn’t hear good ol’ Lamar Junior over there complaining.”

Tick chuckled. Caitlin drew in a long breath, darting a glare her husband’s direction. He coughed, sobered quickly and lifted his glass to his lips.

Sam glanced around the table. “Just what did he do?”

Mark glanced her direction for the first time. An easy smile spread across his face. “Well, now. Looky what we have here. I don’t think we’ve met.” He leaned over the table, held out his hand. “Mark Cook. Everyone calls me Cookie.”

Sam’s brow raised, and she shook his hand. “Sam Parker. And just why does everyone call you Cookie?”

He winked, settled back in his seat. “Sweet as sugar. Just as addictive. Don’t know a woman alive who can’t resist a good Cookie.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes and groaned. “I know several. Cookie, leave the poor girl alone.”

A lopsided grin quirked his mouth. “Damn, Falconetti. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

Caitlin almost spit her drink out. Sam suppressed a giggle. Ethan’s eyes narrowed on the newcomer, his jaw clenched.

Mark raised his brows, looked toward Sam. “Why don’t we let the pretty girl with big brown eyes find out for herself.”

“Down, slick,” Ethan growled.

Caitlin lifted her drink, an amused smirk across her lips. “Need a cigarette yet, Dr. McClane?”

He narrowed his eyes on her and tossed back the rest of his drink.

Mark glanced at Caitlin, jerked a thumb Ethan’s direction. “Who’s this guy?”

“Dr. McClane,” Tick said, waving his hand. “They’re together.”

Mark’s eyes widened, focused on Sam. “You’re with him? Oh, honey, we need to have a chat.”

Ethan dropped his glass on the table with a thunk, shifted toward Mark and opened his mouth. Sam placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “Behave,” she said under her breath. She glanced back at Mark. “So, Cookie, what did you do the night before their wedding?”

Mark grinned, rested his forearms on the table. He reached for the bowl of nuts near the flickering candle. “Good ol’ Lamar Eugene here has a thing for blondes.” Tick rolled his eyes. Mark smiled wider. “Since he was shackling himself to Agent Uptight over there, I just figured I’d give him a nice little send off.”

Caitlin’s eyes narrowed. “Handcuffing him to two blondes the night before our wedding is not a nice little send off.”

Tick ran a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. Sam giggled.

Ethan lifted his drink. “I’m surprised you didn’t handcuff them to the coffee table,” he muttered under his breath.

Tick’s eyes widened. He whipped toward Caitlin. “You told him? Holy hell, you told him?”

Caitlin covered her red face with both hands.

Sam held up a hand, looked toward Ethan. “Wait. These are the two?”

“Sweet Jesus,” Tick said with wide eyes. “She knows, too?”

Ethan leaned back, waved a hand. “She snoops. I accidentally left the file lying around the house.”

“Oh, my God,” Sam said. “These are the two?” Laughter consumed her. She wrapped an arm around her middle, slapped her free hand on the table. Drinks sloshed in glasses. Ethan and Tick both reached out to brace the table from falling over.

“Oh, God,” Caitlin groaned, dropping her head.

Mark’s brows shot up. “I think I missed this one. Someone fill me in.”

“No.” Caitlin and Tick spoke simultaneously.

Caitlin glared at Ethan. “Whatever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?”

“Oh, that went out the door when you threatened me in my office.”

“I did not threaten you.”

A grin lightened Tick’s thunderous expression. “She doesn’t threaten. She promises.”

“Oh, come on. Fill me in. Please?” Mark said.

Tick scowled. “No.”

“Pretty please?” Mark slid a grin in Caitlin’s direction. “With sugar on top?”

Caitlin quirked one eyebrow at him, her green eyes icy. “Not in your wildest dreams.”

His gray eyes glinting with wicked glee, Mark pointed at Tick. “Actually, I want to hear more about his wildest dreams. Sounds like one of them came true.”

The slow, country-boy smile appeared again, and Tick lifted Caitlin’s knuckles to his mouth. “They all came true.”

Sam giggled. “Oh, he’s good.”

Caitlin lifted her eyes to Tick’s, a sultry grin curving her mouth. “Very.”

“Oh, God.” Mark rolled his eyes and signaled the server. “I need another beer.”

Smiling, Sam wrapped her fingers around Ethan’s forearm. “Maybe what you really need is the right woman.”

Disconcerted, Mark stared at her, then laughed. “Honey, there’s no such thing.”

Caitlin nudged his knee with her foot. “He has commitment issues-”

“Yeah, anything longer than one night is an issue.” Tick lifted his glass, chuckling.

“Maybe Dr. McClane can help you with that, Cookie.” Caitlin flashed an evil smile in Ethan’s direction.

He shook his head. “I don’t treat law enforcement officers anymore, Agent. You cured me of that. Now I’m the one with nightmares.”

Sam patted his arm. “It’s all right, honey. I’ll hold you.”

Tick pulled his blue-stained shirt away from his chest and glanced at Caitlin. “Whatever this crap is, it’s sticky. What say we get out of here so I can clean up?”

She tossed off the rest of her drink. “You just want an excuse to get near that Jacuzzi.”

Mark’s jaw dropped. “Your room has a Jacuzzi? Oh, that’s it. The next time we do one of these conference things, I’m filling out the paperwork.”

Tick slid from the booth and held out a hand to his wife. “Nice to meet you, Dr. McClane, Ms. Parker.”

“Good night.” Caitlin smiled. The couple walked away, hands clasped, winding their way through the tables and the pulsing crowd.

Sam traced a design on the back of Ethan’s hand. “You know . . . this many cops in one place, there has to be a spare pair of handcuffs around here somewhere.”

Ethan grinned, his gaze fixed on hers. “I’m sure.”

A pair of metal bracelets clanged on the table. Sam and Ethan jumped.

Mark sighed. “Have fun.”

Ethan’s gaze dropped to the silver circles, lifted to Mark’s, and he grinned. Snagging the cuffs, he slid from the booth and nodded. “Thanks.”

With Sam giggling, he pulled her toward the lobby.

Mark watched them go and shook his head. He reached for another handful of peanuts as the server set his beer on the table.

“Right woman, my ass.”

Friday, August 5th, 2005
Character Therapy, Part II

(For part I, be sure to visit Linda‘s blog.)

Ethan didn’t break her gaze. The tick of a clock on the wall was the only sound echoing through the room. Caitlin‘s back straightened under his intense stare.

“What I did isn’t important. It’s what I did after that matters. I could have let it break me, but I didn’t. The question is, Agent Falconetti, what are you going to do?”

She turned back to the window and crossed her arms over her chest. “The same thing I’ve been doing.”

“Wallowing in your misery?”

“Maybe I like wallowing. It’s not hurting anyone.”

“What about the people who love you?”

A disbelieving laugh rumbled through her. “Yeah, right. They’re few and far between. Don’t you listen to the rumor mill? This Betty Bureau is unlovable.”

His brow lifted. “And why is that, Agent?”

She glanced at her watch. “Isn’t our fifty minutes up?”

He relaxed, smiled. “I don’t have anything else on my calendar for the day.”

“Great.” She grimaced. “How’d I get so lucky?”

Tapping his pen against his leg, he stared at her again. She blew out a breath. “You know, if you cut me loose, I could catch a flight back to Virginia and you could sneak out for a round of golf.”

“I don’t golf.”

“Figures.” She turned away, her body vibrating with repressed stress.

“All right. Not talking about the nightmares or your feelings of inadequacy-”

“I’m not inadequate.” She shot him a glare. “My case closure percentage is close to a hundred.”

“So tell me about your partner.”

“She died.”

“That has to be difficult for you.”

With a mocking laugh, she leaned against the back of the chair. “What do they do, give you cards to memorize with those lines on them?”

He watched her, rubbing a finger over his lips. She stared back. The clock ticked. She narrowed her eyes again.

“You’re dying for a cigarette, aren’t you?”

Another smile. “As I said, we’re not talking about me, Agent. This is all about you.”

“Oh, joy.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think I can stand the excitement.”

With another chuckle, he glanced at her file again. “So talk to me about Georgia.”

She stilled, her expression freezing. Her chest lifted with a deep breath. “No.”

“You were involved in a shooting.”

“I’m not talking to you about Georgia.”

“I have all day.”

“You can have all year.” She crossed her arms. “So who’s your favorite famous psychology guru? Freud? Jung?”

“Hannibal Lecter.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You’re a quick one.”

“So I’ve been told.” His face sobered. “Tell me about Georgia.”

“Jesus, you’re a piece of work. You never quit, do you?” She turned back to the window. “Now I need a cigarette and I don’t even like the taste of smoke.”

His brow lifted and he nodded, a slow shift of his head. “Aha. He smokes.”

She whipped around, eyes narrowed. “He’s not important. We’re not talking about him.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not. Drop it, doctor.”

He reached for the file on the table in front of him, ignoring her icy warning, and flipped it open. “Georgia county sheriff’s investigator was shot. Paperwork says you two were at Quantico together. I’m guessing from your apprehension, there’s a history there.” He glanced up, but she didn’t respond, so he went back to the file. “You fired your weapon. Disarmed the suspect. Both men survived.”

Her muscles tightened, and she shifted back toward the window. “I should have shot him in the freakin’ heart.”

“Which one?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Which one do you think?”

“You tell me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re really irritating, you know that?”

He smiled, his lips curling in a wide grin. “It’s my job. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

She let out a breath. “If I tell you, will you let me go?”

“Perhaps.”

She studied him one long minute. A sultry smile finally curled one side of her mouth. “I’m not so sure you want to hear this, Dr. McClane. It might just give you ideas.”

“Try me.”

She sauntered to the chair in front of him, ran her fingers over the back cushion as if caressing a lover. “It involved handcuffs, a coffee table and lots of hot pink latex.”

Wednesday, August 3rd, 2005
National Whirlwind

Wow. What a week. I don’t even know where to start. I learned more than I expected, was inspired more than I thought I would be, and was star-struck beyond belief.

Highlights of the week:

1) Running into Nora in the hall. Oh. My. God. Talk about being star-struck.

2) Pitching. Not nearly as bad as I thought. Even with all the quirky eyebrow looks I got whenever anyone asked the dreaded question, “Who are you pitching to?”

3) Debbie Macomber’s “Why Not You?” speech. Inspiring. It WILL be me.

4) Susan Elizabeth Phillips admission that yeah, she SUCKS at writing synopses.

5) Being surrounded by 2000 women who “get” it.

6) RS Braiding. I knew it, but BAM, it hit me how important it really is.

7) Allison Brennan & Patti Berg’s class – No Plotters Allowed. Validation for those of us who don’t plot! Hilarious. And fun. And even though Allison now thinks I was stalking her (rolls eyes), it was a highlight.

8) The GH/Rita Awards. Even amid all the controversy of the presentation, I was awed. Not because of the pictures or music or presenters. But because of the winners. As a newbie, I zoned in on the important stuff…the women who have worked their asses off and earned the high honors of the Golden Heart and Rita Awards. Uber-inspiring.



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