Rhymes With Foreplay: Happy Valentine's Day!!

Since it's Valentine's Day (and since I still have all these pretty little hearts sprinkling the page) I thought I'd get into the spirit of things by posting an excerpt from Sound of a Voice That is Still.

This is one of my favorite Valentine's Day scenes, featuring one of my favorite couples...

Lucy took a long last look around the bedroom. It was perfect. Rose scented

candles stood ready on each of the nightstands, and in their bathroom a bottle of vanilla flavored massage oil steamed peacefully in the bottle warmer. A picnic basket

containing most of the ingredients for the meal she’d planned sat ready on the bed.

Olives and oysters and double cream Brie. And cherry tomatoes—out of season, of

course, and not nearly as good as the ones they’d get later in the year, but that could not be helped. She’d fared better with the avocados and the artichokes.

Two weeks of searching had turned up several bottles of a nice Cabernet that was a

near match for the wine they had shared all those years ago. She’d struck out when it

came to the fresh strawberries, however. To compensate she’d bought a box of

marzipan fruit and two cans of whipped cream.

She was ready. Closing the door behind her, she headed down the hallway toward

her kitchen to check on the rest of the meal. She looked at her watch, to see how much

time she had, and felt a momentary tightness in her chest when she saw how late it was. Where was he? Surely he wouldn’t be late tonight?

Not that there was any hurry, of course. They had all night to eat and talk, and to

love each other. To remember the way things used to be. Could still be. Were.

She could hear Mandy and Kate giggling in the family room as they watched one of

the videos she’d rented for them. She thought of Scout and her cousin, probably

already checked in at the spa—already in bed, perhaps. And Marsha, out to dinner with

Sam. She tried to rein in the jealousy which for weeks had threatened to overwhelm

her.

She’d had a whole lifetime of loving and being loved, after all. It was petty of her

to begrudge her two best friends a little of the same happiness she had, wasn’t it? But

she did, all the same.

As she checked on the artichokes, wiggling a couple of the outer leaves to see how

loose they were, she imagined how it would feel to slide one of them into his mouth, to feel the touch of his lips as they brushed against the tips of her fingers. The faint tug as

she pulled the leaf out again, and his teeth clamped down on it, resisting her. She

imagined the taste of and the feel of melted butter as it dripped down her chin. The

sweet aftertaste in both their mouths as he licked the butter away and then kissed her.

The artichokes were ready she decided, turning off the heat beneath the pot. And so

was she. Ready to break down the wall that had sprung up between her and Dan.

Ready to break through the silence that threatened to suffocate them both. Ready to

reclaim her marriage.

And reclaim her husband, too, from whatever it was that had stolen so much of his

attention recently.

She had everything she needed to accomplish her task, except for one little thing.

Dan still wasn’t home. She resisted the urge to check her watch again, and uncorked

one of the bottles of wine. It was just as well that he was late. It was a fairly young

vintage, after all. It could use a few minutes to breathe. She poured herself a glass of it, anyway, admiring the deep, clear color of the wine.

Three drops, red as heart’s blood fell on the white tile counter. She wiped them up

and licked her finger, and then turned at the sound of the door opening, her chest tight

again.

“Hey babe. Sorry I’m late,” Dan said, smiling as he came toward her. He was

carrying a bouquet of roses and a small, insulated paper bag.

Lucy could hear her heart thudding in her ears. “Hey, yourself,” she murmured,

putting her glass down, and leaning back against the counter. She cocked her head to

the side. “What’s in the bag?”

He put the roses on the counter and leaned in close. “Your Valentine’s present.”

He pushed her hair back behind her ear and nuzzled her neck. His voice was a warm

whisper. “Part of it, anyway. I thought maybe we could take this back to our bedroom

with us later, maybe have our dessert in there tonight?”

He brushed a brief kiss against her lips and then pulled away, and handed her the

bag. “Here. Take a look.” He rested his hands on the counter, one on either side of

her, and watched as she opened the bag.

“Lavender ice cream?” Her favorite. She stared at him in wonder. There was only

one place in town that made it, and then only during the summer. “How’d you get it?”

He flashed her his most mischievous grin. “It was easy. I just called and asked if

they’d make up a batch of it special for me. Told them I’d give them a real good deal

on the lavender this year, if they did. That’s why I’m late tonight, I had to stop

downtown and pick it up.”

Lucy clutched the pint container against her chest, mindless of the chill, as she

thought about the velvety smoothness of the ice cream, the sweet taste of lavender, the way it would feel later tonight, as it melted on her skin.

Dan’s eyes gleamed as he watched her. “Well? Don’t you have anything for me?”

She nodded and reached for his hand. “Come on. I’ll show you. Bring the roses,”

she said, smiling at him over her shoulder.

She’d been foolish to be so worried, she thought, as she led him down the hallway

towards their bedroom. Nothing had changed between them. They were still on the

same wavelength, still in sync. Still in love.

She dropped his hand as they entered the bedroom. Crossing to the bed, she pulled

down a corner of the bedspread, so he could see the rose petals she’d layered between the sheets: red and white, just like the ones he’d brought her.

He smiled at her from across their bed. “The red rose is a falcon and the white rose

is a dove,” he recited softly. “The red rose whispers passion and the white rose

breathes of love. Looks like we might have been thinking along similar lines today.”

“Hmmm.” She returned his smile. “Looks like.”

He frowned suddenly. “Except...I think I may have reversed the order of those

verses.”

She shrugged, and rested one knee on the bed. “Does it really matter?”

“No.” His glance sizzled as it wandered slowly over her. “Not at all. So, what are

you tonight? A falcon, or a dove?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged again. “I haven’t decided, yet. Maybe neither.”

“Neither, huh?” He looked amused. “Why don’t you come over here and let me

change your mind about that.”

She peered up at him teasingly, “What’s your hurry, Cavanaugh? You got places

to go?”

“Just one,” he said. His glance went briefly to the basket on the bed between them.

“Are we having a picnic?”

She nodded. “Take a look.”

She held her breath and watched as he lifted the lid and looked inside; watched the

smile that slowly crept across his face, watched his throat work as he swallowed. He

remembered. Her heart soared at the look in his eyes when he looked at her again; at

the heat and the passion that blazed within them.

“C’mere,” he said and his voice, husky with emotion, warm and dark, set all her

nerves aflame. He reached for her across the bed and she went to him, she felt his arms close around her, felt the sting of tears in her eyes as he kissed her. His lips, warm and familiar, told her everything she wanted to know. All the things he hadn’t put into words in so long.

My favorite thing about this book is how all the couples' stories intersect and parallel each others. And I have rather a few couples, as it happens; four, to be exact--which is fitting since it's actually the fourth book I wrote, even though it's only number three in the series.

I hope you'll check it out, if you haven't already. It's available in paperback and digital formats and it's also one of the books I'll be signing in LA this April at the Romantic Times Booklover's Convention.