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Chapter 1
“Good morning, sunshine.”
That voice, even muffled, indistinct, and distant, sounded eerily familiar. Yet, JJ couldn’t quite place it. Had she imagined it? She held still a moment, as she tried to decide where she had heard it before.
Silence.
Shifting her weight, she snuggled her head deeper into the pillow of her crossed arms on the desk, rolled her chair about a bit, finding the perfect position and posture. Then, sighing deeply and contently, she prepared for the return of sleep.
As she floated in the dream-like world between sleep and wakefulness, she sensed she must have dozed off while working on her novel. Perhaps my sister is right, she thought, maybe I am working too hard. This was becoming a habit.
Nobody was calling her. Nobody needed her. She wrapped herself in the comfort of peaceful slumber. The manuscript could wait a little longer. All she needed was a few more minutes of glorious rest…and then…
“No use ignoring us.”
The voice cracked the silence like a hammer hitting a slab of ice. The words jolted her awake. She sprung into a full sitting position. It was the same voice again. She was sure of it. Only now it sounded closer than before, sharper, more commanding.
Another moment of silence—this time not so peaceful. She felt goose bumps run up her arms at the thought someone might actually be talking to her. She lived alone. How could anyone be calling her? Tension and fear paralyzed her. She tried to move an arm but couldn’t.
“We’re not going anywhere.”
She tried to blink away the blurred surroundings, to focus her eyes on her home office. She could feel the rhythm of her heart increase as it beat faster. The echoing of it in her chest vibrated with panic and pulsed through her body. Could it be she wasn’t alone?
She blinked several times more. It was difficult to focus. Last night’s long hours still fogged her thoughts. The scenes and the characters of her novel still dancing, center stage, through her head.
Her sense of reality languidly returned. Cobwebs stubbornly clung to the innermost recesses of her mind. She sat completely still for a moment longer, unnerved by the very possibility that someone was watching her.
Then slowly, eyes finally adjusting, she scrutinized her surroundings. She carefully surveyed the eclectic mix of elements that made this office a welcoming work room for her. The mahogany bookcase against the far wall, filled with college history books and romance novels. The photos of her late husband and herself mounted above the credenza made her smile. She glanced at the man and woman on the loveseat blithely staring at her, before she turned her attention to the large pile of papers on her desk.
A couple sitting on her loveseat? Was that right? Her eyes immediately shot back to the pair. She gazed at them for what seemed like an eternity but was merely a few seconds.
“It’s about time you acknowledge our presence,”the man said.
She let out a blood-curdling scream and shot up out of the chair like a rocket, the full impact of what she saw finally hitting her. The stack of papers scattered about the room like huge dandelion seeds on a windy day. The chair clunked down, falling to one side.
She couldn’t get out from behind the desk quickly enough. “W-w-who are you? How did you get in here?” She also wanted to know why they were drinking from her favorite coffee mugs, but that seemed far less the issue at the moment.
The man spoke first.“Why, you were right, love,”he said, directing his remarks to the woman sitting to his left.“She doesn’t recognize us.”
The young woman just smiled and sipped her beverage. Swallowing slowly, her gaze caught JJ’s. Then she looked at her companion. “Well, Blake, it’s not every day characters like us drop in out of the blue.”
The woman crossed her legs, lightly tugged at her red dress, and glanced back at JJ with a smile that was so disarming she had to fight the urge to smile back.
“It really is a shame.”
“Indeed, Alex, you would think that she would know us instantly, now, wouldn’t you?” They continued to talk between themselves, purposely and calmly, ignoring her presence.
“No,” she said, “I don’t recognize you two because I don’t know who the hell you are or how the hell you got into my house.”
“But we know you.” The gentleman brought the cup to his lips but paused before sipping. “You’re JJ Spritely, the romance author.”
“H-h-how do you know me?”
Fearful of making any sudden moves, she slowly inched toward the telephone on the desk, ensuring she was within a hand’s reach of it. Instead of reaching for its receiver, though, she reached down, toward her foot.
She struggled to gain her composure and try to direct her mind to work. She felt as if her brain were scattered along the better part of two states. She wondered how she would defend herself if they were dangerous. She had read that high heels made an effective weapon. What was she wearing? Bunny slippers. She couldn’t hurt anyone in those things. When was the last time anyone had been “fluffed to death”? Still, she was hesitant to make any quick moves, not knowing what these two characters wanted.
“I’m Blake,” the man said flatly, as if that name should mean something to her. “Blake Teesdale.”
