SEIZED Part 2: Steamy Romantic Suspense (Seize Me Romance Fiction Series) by JC Coulton
Authors: JC Coulton
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embarrassed that she’s not more highly regarded.
“Hey, you’re not just anything,” I say, smiling to give her encouragement. She cares about being successful, but the low self-esteem thing doesn’t suit her. “It won’t be long before you score yourself a column or a top blog or something. Maybe you can start your own thing in the meantime? That’s what I’m seeing people do. They get hungry, they build their success rather than waiting for a promotion.”
She looks at me with doubt at first. She’s churning around the merit of what I say. I hate doing it, but I’m testing her right now. Something in me tells me to keep pushing. I need to find out exactly how motivated she is to succeed. I can’t risk having anyone this close to the investigation, if their sole motivation is to move up the career ladder. It’s a risk for the Department, and for me; and I have no chances left on the force, so it’s a no go.
She looks a little bashful, and then I see a twinkle in her eyes. For a second, she opens up.
“I would like to go further, I’ve recorded myself and practiced a bit, but I need something big to get started. I’d need advertising revenue to take a shot at going independent. It’s not as easy as it looks, becoming an internet sensation.”
I laugh, but the muscles in my shoulders tighten up a little. Yes, I’ve decided to trust this woman but I need to be aware of the risks. She’s motivated enough to advance in her career, and I’m still not sure about her feelings for me. Would she be loyal if it came down to it, or would she sell me out? This would be a pretty good story to launch a career. Especially if it doesn’t go well for April.
She seems unaware of me, as she’s still a little lost in the fantasy of becoming a media personality. Everyone needs their fifteen minutes somewhere, I guess. I don’t want to hold it against her, but it does leave a bad taste in my mouth. Not her desire—everyone wants to be recognized for something and to achieve something—that’s not it. But if she does it, she’ll become public property. People will think they own her. It’s like that. I’ve seen it.
There are a couple of actors in the AA meetings I go to. They hate the lack of anonymity. They complain about always having to be ready for the public eye; to brace for criticism; to perform. They hate having to greet the world on cue like a trained monkey. And they despise having their opinions packaged up nicely.
I’m probably overreacting. It’s nothing like that for journalists or bloggers. But I get the feeling something is still there. I have the urge to protect her, and an unrelenting feeling she doesn’t know the power she’s dealing with. She has yet to promise she won’t break a story about it. I haven’t asked her, but she hasn’t offered it either.
We’re getting more comfortable sitting here, and I think again how much I like being with her. This woman could actually be my soulmate; or my greatest downfall. I wonder if she feels it too—the connection. I take a moment to look into her eyes, probing, silently asking her if she’ll be there for me.
The mood in the coffee shop doesn’t change; the music doesn’t change. It’s the energy between us that has intensified. There’s something that needs to be said, and I think she’s about to bring it up. I see her lips part once, and then twice as she gathers the courage.
“Blake what happened between us, we don’t have to talk about it, but I want you to know that you don’t have to worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Tell anyone what?” I say.
“That we’re somewhat…involved.”
She seems to shrink back down into the chair. My clothes really do dwarf her and I can’t help feeling a rush of desire. I smile.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’ve already told the Lieutenant that we know each other from years ago. She says I’m still the perfect one to work with you.”
She looks like she has something she can’t get off
“Hey, you’re not just anything,” I say, smiling to give her encouragement. She cares about being successful, but the low self-esteem thing doesn’t suit her. “It won’t be long before you score yourself a column or a top blog or something. Maybe you can start your own thing in the meantime? That’s what I’m seeing people do. They get hungry, they build their success rather than waiting for a promotion.”
She looks at me with doubt at first. She’s churning around the merit of what I say. I hate doing it, but I’m testing her right now. Something in me tells me to keep pushing. I need to find out exactly how motivated she is to succeed. I can’t risk having anyone this close to the investigation, if their sole motivation is to move up the career ladder. It’s a risk for the Department, and for me; and I have no chances left on the force, so it’s a no go.
She looks a little bashful, and then I see a twinkle in her eyes. For a second, she opens up.
“I would like to go further, I’ve recorded myself and practiced a bit, but I need something big to get started. I’d need advertising revenue to take a shot at going independent. It’s not as easy as it looks, becoming an internet sensation.”
I laugh, but the muscles in my shoulders tighten up a little. Yes, I’ve decided to trust this woman but I need to be aware of the risks. She’s motivated enough to advance in her career, and I’m still not sure about her feelings for me. Would she be loyal if it came down to it, or would she sell me out? This would be a pretty good story to launch a career. Especially if it doesn’t go well for April.
She seems unaware of me, as she’s still a little lost in the fantasy of becoming a media personality. Everyone needs their fifteen minutes somewhere, I guess. I don’t want to hold it against her, but it does leave a bad taste in my mouth. Not her desire—everyone wants to be recognized for something and to achieve something—that’s not it. But if she does it, she’ll become public property. People will think they own her. It’s like that. I’ve seen it.
There are a couple of actors in the AA meetings I go to. They hate the lack of anonymity. They complain about always having to be ready for the public eye; to brace for criticism; to perform. They hate having to greet the world on cue like a trained monkey. And they despise having their opinions packaged up nicely.
I’m probably overreacting. It’s nothing like that for journalists or bloggers. But I get the feeling something is still there. I have the urge to protect her, and an unrelenting feeling she doesn’t know the power she’s dealing with. She has yet to promise she won’t break a story about it. I haven’t asked her, but she hasn’t offered it either.
We’re getting more comfortable sitting here, and I think again how much I like being with her. This woman could actually be my soulmate; or my greatest downfall. I wonder if she feels it too—the connection. I take a moment to look into her eyes, probing, silently asking her if she’ll be there for me.
The mood in the coffee shop doesn’t change; the music doesn’t change. It’s the energy between us that has intensified. There’s something that needs to be said, and I think she’s about to bring it up. I see her lips part once, and then twice as she gathers the courage.
“Blake what happened between us, we don’t have to talk about it, but I want you to know that you don’t have to worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Tell anyone what?” I say.
“That we’re somewhat…involved.”
She seems to shrink back down into the chair. My clothes really do dwarf her and I can’t help feeling a rush of desire. I smile.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’ve already told the Lieutenant that we know each other from years ago. She says I’m still the perfect one to work with you.”
She looks like she has something she can’t get off
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