tailor-made for a murder mystery in the mind of a writer. She needed a distraction. Inspiration for her muse.
Plenty of inspiration upstairs.
No, logic responded with crossed arms. A movie would be better, a sappy movie with great characters, angst, and a happily ever after. That’s all she needed to get her creative juices flowing.
Awww, her muse pouted, and maybe some of her girl parts did, as well. Kacey was well aware of how long it’d been since she’d…well, enjoyed real-life inspiration. But she wasn’t going to dwell on that. After all, if there’d been no stalker fiasco, she wouldn’t even have a hunky detective sleeping upstairs…possibly in the boxer briefs that she’d seen him in this morning. Tingles skirted through her lower belly.
Her muse did a happy dance.
Stop that, Kacey mentally chided herself as her gaze landed on the duffel bag that held her favorite movies—the “go-to” flicks in times of emergency writer’s block. There was nothing, she found, like a good movie to bring her out of a slump, especially on a rainy day.
Her muse tapped her on the shoulder and she looked toward the ceiling as another floorboard creaked. Okay, maybe there were other things probably as good, maybe better, but that wasn’t the point. Mr. hunky green-eyed detective notwithstanding, a movie was a far safer choice.
Scaredy cat, her muse mocked.
Kacey went through the bag, stacking each movie on the cabinet. What did she want? Maybe a light, romantic comedy? A lush, Victorian-set romance? Maybe a gritty medieval where the men were manly and the women succumbed…she paused as she came across the Karma Sutra video she’d forgotten she’d added.
That one! That one! Her muse nudged.
“ Somewhere in Time it is,” Kacey said loud enough for her muse to hear. With any hope, that would stop the pestering.
Aww. You’ve no sense of adventure.
“I’m plenty adventurous,” she muttered as she snapped in the DVD. Grabbing the afghan used earlier by her unexpected-yet-pleasing-to-the–eyes roomie, she wrapped it around her and curled up on the couch, snuggling under its soft warmth. The storm had brought a chill to the air and she considered whether to light a fire in the fireplace, but decided to try to focus on being inspired. A faint male, musky scent in the blanket’s fibers tickled her nose, causing those damn tingles to flair and smolder a flame of their own. She shoved the blanket around her waist, distancing herself from whatever fabulous scent the man wore. He was annoying, rude, arrogant, cocky….
Sexy.
“I didn’t say sexy.”
You said cocky.
“It’s not the same thing.”
I knew what direction you were heading.
Kacey squeezed her eyes shut. She had to get a grip. This was going to be a proverbial nightmare if she didn’t get a handle on her hormones.
She pointed the remote at the screen and increased the volume, hoping to drown out her muse and squelch the tingles.
She was so engrossed in the movie with its magnificent scenery on Mackinac Island and the determination of Christopher Reeve to return to his true love that she’d been unaware until now that the afternoon had slipped away and that, except for the credits running on the screen, she was sitting in darkness. She glanced away from the flickering screen and looked outside. It was pitch black. Only the tiny lights from cabins across the bay gave any indication that she wasn’t completely alone on the forested lodge property. An uncomfortable feeling skittered over her shoulders as she realized all of the blinds were open. Someone could be watching her from the dark shadows outside, and she would be none the wiser. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she inched toward the end of the couch, stretching to reach the lamp on the end table. A scream tore from her throat as she stared at the startled ghostly face looking back at her.
Dishes clattered to the floor, followed by a man’s curse as she swerved to look over her
Learning to Kill: Stories