herb-roasted potatoes or feta cheese before you pass
out from the cold, would you?"
Sarah sighed. "I'm at your mercy, Terry."
She closed her eyes and conjured up a vision of a five-course
dinner including the requisite foodstuffs. "But how hard would it
have been to use the wool socks instead of the damn cat?"
Ah, but where's the challenge in that!
*****
A year later…
Although I'd written other books, there was
something special about Randy and Sarah. Many times I found myself
wondering how they were doing. Were they still in Pine Hills,
Oregon? Was Randy still a cop? Had Sarah's shop, That Special
Something, survived, or had she been forced to sell? Had Randy and
Sarah remained friends after I typed The End?
Ridiculous. Nobody writes romance sequels
with the same hero and heroine. They've already met, had the
relationship. The Happily Ever After, or at least the promise of
one. Of course, spin-offs are common enough, but there aren't many
writers who can keep the tension of a relationship going for more
than one book.
Still, the idea wouldn't leave me alone.
Dozens of "what ifs" played through my head until there was no
ignoring them. Besides, I never was very good at following the
rules of the romance sub-genres. If a mystery series can feature
the same protagonist, why not a romance?
I picked up the phone.
Four
"Jess," I said to my
assistant. "Can you set up an appointment with Sarah Tucker and
Randy Detweiler?"
"Together?" she asks.
"Please. At their earliest convenience."
"What should I tell them?"
"It's a business proposition. I think
they'll be interested."
Fifteen minutes later, she buzzes me.
"Wednesday at two. They'll be here."
*****
"Come in, Sarah," I say, covering the
mouthpiece of the phone with my hand. I motion her to the chairs
opposite my desk. "I'll be with you in a jiffy."
She smiles and I detect a hint of
nervousness. She takes a seat in the chair closer to the wall,
adjusts the collar of her pale blue blouse, then twists the strap
of her shoulder bag.
I cut my call short, hang up and stack the
array of papers on my desk into a semblance of order, finding a
fresh notepad and pen. "Sorry about that. Can I get you something
while we wait for Randy? Coffee? Chamomile tea?"
She shakes her head and does some more strap
twisting. "I'm fine. I hope this won't take too long, though.
Jennifer has to leave the shop by four today." She checks her
watch.
"Randy should be here soon. He's on duty
today, right? I understand it can be hard for him to get away
sometimes."
Sarah lowers her gaze. "Yes." Her voice is
barely a whisper but I hear a touch of resentment. Maybe more than
a touch. I jot "Conflict" on my notepad, and underneath I write,
"Job issues."
Moments later, Sarah checks her watch again.
She frowns. Before the silence becomes uncomfortable there's a
knock on the door, which opens immediately. Randy Detweiler ambles
in, all six-feet-six of him. Unlike Sarah, there's nothing hesitant
about the way he extends his hand to me, then nods to Sarah. He
lowers himself into the empty chair. I take him in, once again glad
I didn't go with the stereotype drop-dead-gorgeous hero. Tall,
lanky, with his hawk-beak nose and the scar through his eyebrow,
he's comfortable with himself as a man, not as a sex object. All
cop, all business.
Sarah's nervousness hasn't abated. She's on
the pale side, her freckles standing out across her nose and
cheeks. I wonder if it's too soon after the ordeal I put her
through to hit her with my new proposal. Too late for that. And she
did agree to the meeting, so there's still hope. However, she's
leaning back in her chair, away from both me and Randy. This might
be a harder sell than I'd thought.
The initial pleasantries
dispensed with, I bend forward, resting my hands on my desk. "No
point in beating around the bush," I say. "How do you two feel
about a sequel to Finding
Sarah ?"
"Sounds good to me," Randy says. He glances
in Sarah's
out from the cold, would you?"
Sarah sighed. "I'm at your mercy, Terry."
She closed her eyes and conjured up a vision of a five-course
dinner including the requisite foodstuffs. "But how hard would it
have been to use the wool socks instead of the damn cat?"
Ah, but where's the challenge in that!
*****
A year later…
Although I'd written other books, there was
something special about Randy and Sarah. Many times I found myself
wondering how they were doing. Were they still in Pine Hills,
Oregon? Was Randy still a cop? Had Sarah's shop, That Special
Something, survived, or had she been forced to sell? Had Randy and
Sarah remained friends after I typed The End?
Ridiculous. Nobody writes romance sequels
with the same hero and heroine. They've already met, had the
relationship. The Happily Ever After, or at least the promise of
one. Of course, spin-offs are common enough, but there aren't many
writers who can keep the tension of a relationship going for more
than one book.
Still, the idea wouldn't leave me alone.
Dozens of "what ifs" played through my head until there was no
ignoring them. Besides, I never was very good at following the
rules of the romance sub-genres. If a mystery series can feature
the same protagonist, why not a romance?
I picked up the phone.
Four
"Jess," I said to my
assistant. "Can you set up an appointment with Sarah Tucker and
Randy Detweiler?"
"Together?" she asks.
"Please. At their earliest convenience."
"What should I tell them?"
"It's a business proposition. I think
they'll be interested."
Fifteen minutes later, she buzzes me.
"Wednesday at two. They'll be here."
*****
"Come in, Sarah," I say, covering the
mouthpiece of the phone with my hand. I motion her to the chairs
opposite my desk. "I'll be with you in a jiffy."
She smiles and I detect a hint of
nervousness. She takes a seat in the chair closer to the wall,
adjusts the collar of her pale blue blouse, then twists the strap
of her shoulder bag.
I cut my call short, hang up and stack the
array of papers on my desk into a semblance of order, finding a
fresh notepad and pen. "Sorry about that. Can I get you something
while we wait for Randy? Coffee? Chamomile tea?"
She shakes her head and does some more strap
twisting. "I'm fine. I hope this won't take too long, though.
Jennifer has to leave the shop by four today." She checks her
watch.
"Randy should be here soon. He's on duty
today, right? I understand it can be hard for him to get away
sometimes."
Sarah lowers her gaze. "Yes." Her voice is
barely a whisper but I hear a touch of resentment. Maybe more than
a touch. I jot "Conflict" on my notepad, and underneath I write,
"Job issues."
Moments later, Sarah checks her watch again.
She frowns. Before the silence becomes uncomfortable there's a
knock on the door, which opens immediately. Randy Detweiler ambles
in, all six-feet-six of him. Unlike Sarah, there's nothing hesitant
about the way he extends his hand to me, then nods to Sarah. He
lowers himself into the empty chair. I take him in, once again glad
I didn't go with the stereotype drop-dead-gorgeous hero. Tall,
lanky, with his hawk-beak nose and the scar through his eyebrow,
he's comfortable with himself as a man, not as a sex object. All
cop, all business.
Sarah's nervousness hasn't abated. She's on
the pale side, her freckles standing out across her nose and
cheeks. I wonder if it's too soon after the ordeal I put her
through to hit her with my new proposal. Too late for that. And she
did agree to the meeting, so there's still hope. However, she's
leaning back in her chair, away from both me and Randy. This might
be a harder sell than I'd thought.
The initial pleasantries
dispensed with, I bend forward, resting my hands on my desk. "No
point in beating around the bush," I say. "How do you two feel
about a sequel to Finding
Sarah ?"
"Sounds good to me," Randy says. He glances
in Sarah's
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