A bunch of writer friends and myself decided to do a special blog fest this month for Valentine's Day--the theme is Love at first sight . . . or not so much. I was excited to have a chance to show off this scene, which I had a ton of fun writing. I can't wait to spend more time with these characters some day. You can find the page of links to other people's blogs to check out their segments here.
And without further ado:
Delphi got out of her car and sighed as she saw the sign in the window of the photography studio. She checked her watch. “Punctuality is going to be a problem.” She was just on time, so if he showed up in the next couple of minutes, she wouldn’t hold it against him. The low rumble of a motorcycle reached her ears and she turned toward it, soaking up the sunshine as it hit her face.
The gray and charcoal bullet bike came to a stop behind her car, the BMW sports model made her salivate. The lean, black leather clad man straddling it wasn’t hard to look at either, she decided when he removed the helmet to show a shock of blond hair and brown eyes.
“You must be Delphinium,” he said as he got off the bike.
“Call me Delphi.” She crossed to him, intrigued by the punch of attraction she felt when his eyes met hers. “So you’re Jeremy?” Better and better, she thought as she extended a hand for a shake. As the events coordinator, she’d be spending lots of time in this man’s company in the future—if his work passed muster.
His hand covered hers with warm firmness, though he didn’t return her smile of pleasure at the meeting. “Guilty as charged. Sorry about not being here when you arrived.” His manner was distinctly cool as he tucked his helmet under his arm and turned toward the store. “I usually arrive early.”
“Good to know.” She took an step down from her warm greeting. No need to be effusive if he was going to act like that. And she’d see for herself how punctual he generally was.
They walked in and she took in the warm red tone of the wall behind the counter, the contrasting off-mustard color of the others. It shouldn’t have worked, but it did. If he’d done the decorating, he had a good eye. And, she decided, if the portraits on the walls were any indication of his skill, that good eye extended to his work behind the camera as well.
“Just to clear the air,” he said after he deposited the helmet behind the counter. “I’m not looking for marriage, no matter how much money your father left you.”
Stymied by his declaration, she pivoted to look at him. “I don’t recall proposing.”
“I saw the way you looked at me when I pulled up.” He slid his hands into his pockets, crossed to her. “I know interest when I see it in a woman’s eyes.”
His arrogance totally floored her. “I was looking at your bike. That’s the new BMW S1000RR, isn’t it? Do you race? Because I can’t imagine why else you’d own a bike that’s been known to clock in the 180 mile-per-hour range. And what do you think of the rain setting? Have you had a chance to try it out yet?”
“Yeah, the rain setting comes in handy on these windy mountain roads. And I’ve been known to join a race or two.” His shock was obvious.
Feeling a little triumphant on taking him by surprise, she smirked. “It’s a hot ride.”
“And for your information,” she said with as much ice as she could muster. “Your bike is way hotter than you are.” She gestured to the counter. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, are you going to show me your portfolio or not?”
His shock lasted only a second more before he appeared to shake it off and moved to grab a big binder. “Of course.”
She didn’t think she imagined his gratitude for the change of subject.