Genre: Paranormal, Humour, m/f non-traditional Romance, Novella, (R-18)
Sometimes even the universe has to step aside…
When called into her editor’s office, Gayle Winter imagines many scenarios, but not one of them involves an order to spice up her latest manuscript. Unknown to Gayle, the universe has decided a visit by her muse is just what’s needed, and having set eyes on her, the muse is only too happy to oblige. Gayle’s attractive, and it seems an easy assignment. All Gayle needs is to remember what it’s like to have a sex life… something Roeman can certainly work on.
Little does the muse expect her to have such an immediate and disastrous effect on him. Not only does he fall headlong in lust (and love), Gayle does the unimaginable. The one to be inspired inspires the muse so that he finally “discovers” his true name. Doing so changes his importance in the universe.
Only one question remains. Will Roeman have to leave Gayle forever to fully realise his potential and fulfill his destiny? Will either of them survive without the other if the universe refuses to step aside?
Read an Excerpt…
Overall, Gayle returned to the office in a better frame of mind than she had left it, owing to alcohol-induced happiness. She laughed at something Jane said and stepped into her office only to draw up short. A gorgeous man sat at her desk. He wasn’t handsome, or beautiful, and certainly not pretty, yet he was undoubtedly all of those things combined. He had just the right amount of each quality set off with just the right amount of ruggedness and the right amount of subtle imperfection that proportioned all the rest perfectly. She couldn’t even tell what that imperfect thing was, but she knew it existed. It made her want him.
“Oh, hi,” she said. “Is it me, or have you made it hot in here?”
She was paraphrasing, suddenly menopausal with an early flush. Something had definitely raised her temperature, and it had boiled a few brain cells along the way. She could barely think straight, let alone come up with an original quip. It didn’t look as if he knew or cared. Seated on the other side of the desk, he lounged in the chair — her chair — his backside warming the seat. Would it still be warm when she finally sat down in it? For now, he swivelled in the chair, staring at her with a peculiar intensity before laughing, the laughter sounding polite.
“Cute,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I’ll just kill myself this evening.” With her luck, he would be from management and would report her for drinking and sexual harassment. Despite her misgivings, she was feeling ebullient. When he made no move to introduce himself, she said, “No, seriously, what are you doing in my orifice… office.”
Behind her, Jane laughed. Gayle coughed the way people do when clearing their throats. “Excuse me,” she apologised once again. “I don’t usually drink this much at lunch.”
“That doesn’t mean she drinks any less, either.” Jane moved off while winking mischievously. Colour sat high on Jane’s cheeks; maybe they shared the same intoxicated expression.
“And I’m surrounded by people who pretend to be friends.” Gayle couldn’t stop grinning. Oh, someone help me! Stop me! I must look like a maniac. “So what can I do to you… for you… help you with?”
This was truly embarrassing. She felt too dreamy, somewhat buoyant. Maybe she really had drunk too much wine.
“Gayle Winters?” She nodded, trying not to wince at the name. “I wanted to make an appointment to see you.”
“Me?” It seemed unusual. Then she felt dumb for saying it. He obviously meant her manager. Placing her handbag on the desk, she took up the appointment diary. “Could you give me some idea what you wish to discuss?”
“It’s about the future,” he told her. His voice had a strange quality. It was calm and soft, somewhat restful.
“Mr. Gordon is free next Wednesday,” she informed him, looking through the appointment list. “What time would you prefer? Early or late?”
“Late,” he said after a slight hesitation, rising out of the chair. He seemed to float toward her, moving as though nothing could resist him. She had the uncanny impression he could have walked right through her desk if he wanted. He seemed to take notice of it at the last moment and then circumnavigated. “I like to do things later in the day and even into the evening.”
“Mr. Gordon doesn’t make evening appointments except in special circumstances.” It took her a moment to realise she had closed the appointment book and set it down on the desk beside her handbag. She couldn’t remember doing it.
The stranger moved up next her and when she tried to look to his face, her vision blurred.
“What name can I give?” she managed to ask.
His dark eyes engulfed her thoughts. “What do you want it to be?” It was as if he spoke directly to her mind.
For the second time today, she impersonated a guppy. He touched her chin with two fingers, raising her head just a little bit. For some strange reason, she almost expected him to kiss her.
“Later,” she heard a voice say. She felt doped, sleepy. Later. Yes, later. She would see him much later, too late, so late. Wait!
The room was empty. Gayle blinked. A handsome man had just been here. Pity that his features seemed so indistinct in her memory. She could ask Jane what she had thought of him but she felt too weary. Moving around the desk, she sank into the chair. She was right; the seat was still warm. The heat from his crotch had gathered in the padded base, and now seeped into her groin. She felt it flood along her entrance right to the small mouth of her backside. This warmth kissed and drew on her almost as though it sucked and stroked her intimately. Gayle squirmed. It was just a warm seat. What was she thinking? The attraction was no doubt one-sided. Anyway, he was gone. She would just have to wait until she saw him again sometime… later.
© Sharon Maria Bidwell, all rights reserved.
