“I didn’t realize you know Graham?” Mandy whispered and wiggled her eyebrows.
“Stupid man,” Margaret hissed.
“Sexy man,” Mandy whispered so loudly the students sitting close to them heard.
Giggles erupted.
Graham looked in their direction and scowled. Margaret lifted her chin, and Graham almost smiled. The girls around her sighed. Her heart resumed its frantic beat from earlier. The few times she’d been close to him, he had been scowling. An almost-smile from Graham Connelly was devastating. Her legs were shaking. How could a hint of a smile in her direction affect her so much? Jen was right, she should really date more.
Graham looked at the class. “What do you think about when you hear the term science fiction?”
The students were immediately engaged and participated enthusiastically in the ensuing discussion. Eventually, Graham settled them down with a wave of his hand.
“Science fiction is usually thought to be based on existing scientific research and protocols. When this is what you write, you begin with the research and protocols, but in order to make a tale of science, the writer moves away from them and extrapolates and elaborates on them in imaginative ways.”
Margaret could only stare at him. His voice washed over her. Underneath the stretch of his shirt over broad shoulders, muscles rippled. Her eyes glided down his torso to where his jeans... He coughed and her gaze flew back to his. He was frowning at her. Again. She looked down at her clasped hands and tried to concentrate on what he was saying.
“It is not necessarily a fantasy because within the context of the story, its imaginary elements are largely possible within scientifically established or scientifically postulated laws of nature. Of course, in many cases, the story might be just speculation. You could then say science fiction is largely based on writing rationally about alternative possibilities. Note the word rationally...”
Still trying to compose herself, Margaret looked up quickly. The emphasis he’d put on the word “rationally” was too blatant to ignore. His gaze was on her again, a mocking smile curving his lips.
Was he trying to say what he wrote was rational? Implying what she wrote was not? Why she would get all hot and bothered about him was beyond her. He was everything she detested in a man: full of himself, so much so he’d thought she was stalking him. And he was so impressed with his particular talent he couldn’t accept people differ, not everyone read the same kind of books. She should just go. He upset her, annoyed her, bothered her. She made a move to get up, but Mandy put a hand on her arm, restraining her again from leaving.
Graham’s gaze returned to the students. “Science fiction is difficult to define, because it includes a wide range of subgenres and themes. What I write could probably be called hard science fiction. It is usually characterized by the attention to detail in sciences such as physics, astrophysics, and chemistry...”
The student who had asked Margaret the last question put up her hand. Oh my word, look at the girl, she was just about ready to jump into the man’s arms. Seriously?
Graham smiled at the student. Blushing, she breathlessly blurted out her question.
“Could you explain the term suspension of disbelief Ms. Parker mentioned? I don’t think I quite followed her.”
Margaret froze in her seat and closed her eyes. Would this morning never end?
“I actually think Ms. Parker explained it quite well. As far as I know, the phrase was first used by Coleridge, who suggested that if a writer could infuse a human interest and a semblance of truth into a fantastic tale, the reader would suspend judgement concerning the implausibility of the narrative. And Ms. Parker is right. Science fiction does rely on suspension of disbelief.”
Margaret started to relax.
“For instance, if you meet a woman in, say, an elevator and she is dressed like, what you might call a lady of the night, your first thought would be one of disbelief. If, however, you were to suspend disbelief, you could be entertained...”
Margaret could not believe what she was hearing. She jumped up and quickly slipped through the closest door, looking for the restroom. She really didn’t want to hear what he had to say about the woman in the elevator. She tried to regulate her breathing so she could regain her equilibrium. Ever since she’d met him, she’d been off balance. She’d never reacted so...intensely to any man before. Every time she saw him, she either wanted to throttle him or throw something at him. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this way before. Not even Louise could make her this angry, and Louise could tempt a saint to commit murder.
“Margaret, wait up,” Mandy said behind her. “What a fantastic guy. And he’s so hot.” Mandy fanned herself dramatically.
“What is fantastic about him? He’s making fun of me in there, in case you missed it.”
Mandy frowned. “He’s not talking about you, he’s trying to—”
“He’s talking about me. I was in the elevator, dressed like a tart.” When Mandy’s eyebrows lifted, Margaret stormed into the restroom with Mandy following on her heels. “It’s a long story. I was at one of Louise’s parties. Anyway, the next day he came into my bookshop and made fun of it. Can you imagine? He makes me so mad. Who the hell does he think he is?” She clenched her hands into tight fists.
Mandy stared at her. “You are angry and you’ve used a swear word. Who are you and what did you do with my soft-hearted, old-fashioned friend who, by the way, never gets angry and whom I’ve never, ever heard swearing?”
Margaret turned to splash water on her burning face and dried it. “I have to get home. Would you please make apologies for me?”
Mandy smiled broadly and shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, but no, you are not running away. The staff will all be at the tea and they all want to meet you. And I for one can’t wait to put you and Graham Connelly in the same room again.” She giggled. “Put on some lipstick and come to the staff room. You have five minutes.”
When Margaret slipped into the staff room a few minutes later, she was still not quite steady. She immediately noticed Graham. He was taller than everyone else in the room, and all of the women, including Mandy, were standing around him, captivated by what he was saying. Judging by his broad smile, he was clearly enjoying the attention.
Mandy saw her and came over.
“Follow me. I want to introduce you to someone.”
Graham had immediately known when Margaret entered the room. He didn’t have to turn around to know she was staring at him. The itch at the back of his neck told him. He felt guilty about what he’d done. He could’ve used a different example, but hell, she’d started it. Okay, if he was honest, his question about lust was probably the reason she was upset. He grinned. But he couldn’t help himself: he’d had to ruffle her feathers. They ruffled so deliciously.
She sounded so prim when she talked about a spark, never actually using the word lust. She spoke about romance as if she really believed in it. How damn ridiculous. And yet, for a minute there, she had him all tied up in knots. What was it with this woman?
He rubbed his face. She wasn’t even his type. But ever since he’d met her, he’d been trying to get her out of his head. The image of the skimpily dressed woman with the long-lidded eyes had been haunting him in and out of his dreams. She was also the reason he’d been able to start writing again after nearly a year.
He needed to apologize, but she could steam a little while longer. He liked the way her eyes became all stormy and dark when she was angry.
Graham glanced around and saw her. She was talking to one of the lecturers. The next moment, she threw back her head and laughed. Wow—she was really beautiful. He’d never seen her laugh before. It transformed her face, accentuated her high cheekbones. The guy with her obviously also thought so. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. Look at the idiot—he kept touching her arm, her hand, even her hair.
Rattled, he glanced down and noticed his hands—each was in a fist. What the hell was wrong with hi
m? Quickly he moved away from the group of clingy women and looked for Peter. He had just thought of the perfect place where he could launch his new book. And this would be the ideal time for Peter to make the announcement.
***
“...and Graham thought Happy Ever After, Ms. Parker’s...um quaint little bookshop in Kommetjie, will be the perfect place for his book launch. Please let me have all your email addresses, so I can make sure you get an invitation.”
Margaret stared at Graham’s agent for a full minute while she tried to process what he was saying. Book launch. Her book shop. Graham Connelly’s book. Next to her, Mandy was shrieking excitedly, but Margaret just wanted to vomit.
“Oh, Margaret, how absolutely wonderful. I’ll help, of course. This will be so great for your shop. We must get together this week. Let me quickly check my diary.”
Margaret tried to smile, tried to form words around her tongue, but she was completely numb.
“So, what do you think?” Graham was next to them, smiling smugly.
Mandy looked adoringly at him. “Graham, this is such wonderful news. Have you been to Margaret’s shop? Isn’t it just darling, I...”
Margaret finally found her voice. “You...I...how could you? I don’t know...”
His smile only grew wider so she stopped speaking. She whirled around and fled the room as quickly as she could. People were calling out her name, but seething, she only waved and walked faster.
The absolute gall of the man. Why would he do this to her?
Margaret reached her car and fumbled with shaky fingers in her handbag, trying to find her keys. Footsteps were coming closer and closer but she ignored them. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone at this moment. She found her keys and unlocked the door, but before she could get in, a hand clasped her upper arm and turned her around. Graham frowned down at her.
“Where are you going? We should discuss—”
Margaret stabbed him in the chest with her finger. “You. I don’t even know what to say to you. How could you do this to me? How could you?” A sob escaped through her lips. “You’ve accused me of stalking you, you’ve made fun of my shop, you used me as an example in there,” she pointed toward the building above them, “and then you have the...the audacity to announce your book launch will be in my shop. My quaint shop!”
Margaret realized she was shouting. She couldn’t remember ever being this angry with anyone. She opened the door, escape her only thought. Graham moved as well and had her back against her car before she could blink. He rested his arms on either side of her; she couldn’t move. She should push him away, but as if in a trance, she watched as he moved even closer, trapping her hand against the upper part of his body. Anger seeped out of her.
Heat radiated from his body. Under her fingers, his heart beat erratically, just like her own. She gazed warily at him.
“Look, I’m sorry, I should have spoken to you, should have...”
Margaret licked her dry lips and Graham stopped speaking.
He bent his head. Their breaths mingled. Helplessly, Margaret stared up at him. The frown on his forehead disappeared slowly. His gaze darkened, moved restlessly over her before he cupped her face. Unhurriedly, he traced the outline of her lips. Her legs had turned to water. Keeping upright was fast becoming a serious problem. Finally, his lips met hers. Her heart sighed. She’d been waiting for this for days.
He bit her lip to gain entrance into her mouth. When she gasped, he dove in. Her arms somehow found their way around his neck as he pulled her closer. Their tongues entwined; unfamiliar sensations threatened to engulf her.
Margaret moaned. It was exactly as she’d explained in the class a little earlier. All sensation. She could feel him, taste him, hear his breath, could see him even though her eyes were closed. Slowly, she spun away and away...
Graham Connelly was kissing her. She would never have believed it. Suspend disbelief and enjoy...
A car started up nearby. Swearing, Graham lifted his head and dropped his arms. Reeling, Margaret turned around quickly and slipped into her car. She turned the ignition with an unsteady hand, only wanting to escape with some semblance of normality. Graham knocked on her window and gestured for her to open up. His eyes were unreadable.
She opened the window, swallowed and looked at him. “You shouldn’t have done that.” She tried to sound offended.
“I know. You’re not even my type.”
“Not your type...” Margaret thought she was going to hyperventilate. “Why did you kiss me, then?”
“Hell if I know. Why did you kiss me back?”
“I did not kiss you back, and just for the record, you’re not my type either,” she snarled, and backed her car up. He followed. Seconds before she drove away, he bent down again.
“You kissed me back. Enthusiastically, I might add. Do you think it was because of the ‘spark’ you talked about? I’d really like to hear your opinion. You’re the specialist in this area.”
“I did not. You...you...there was no spark. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Margaret pressed her foot on the accelerator.
How could she have kissed a man she hardly knew—with so much abandon? As if she’d done it before, like she knew exactly what to do, knew how to angle her head, knew what he wanted. She flattened the pedal.
By the time she stopped in front of her house, she was a little calmer. And on a positive note, the whole dreadful day hadn’t been a complete waste of time. Now she’d be able to write the love scene she’d been struggling with. Shed experienced it:: how the hero would hold the heroine as if she could break, would kiss her as if they had all the time in the world, would touch her as if he’d never touched anyone before.
What a good line! She’d have to write it down immediately. Margaret jumped out of her car. Sleep was out of the question, anyway.
As she unlocked her front door, thoughts of the freaking book launch entered her mind again. Graham had successfully managed to get her to forget about it for the past hour. In two weeks’ time! What on earth was he thinking? Mandy would have to help her. This would be a first for her and her shop. She lifted her chin. This was going to be the best damn book launch Graham Connelly had ever had.
Chapter 4
“Margaret, relax. You’re going to hyperventilate if you carry on like this.” Mandy grabbed Margaret’s arm and pushed her down onto a nearby chair. “Here, take a sip, it will calm you.” She handed Margaret a glass of champagne.
“I should never have agreed to have the book launch here. What do I know? I write love stories, Mandy, love stories! Nobody knows who I am, very few people even know where Kommetjie is. Why would he do this to me?” Margaret wailed. Taking the glass of champagne, she downed it in one gulp.
“I said have a sip!” Mandy giggled and retrieved the glass. “Come on, smile. The first guests have arrived. This might be exactly what our shop needs. More feet. A better bank balance. Remember that. And please remember to eat something, will you? And no more champagne for you.”
Margaret got up slowly and looked around her. She and Jen had cleaned and polished the small shop over the last two weeks. Everything sparkled. She pushed her shoulders back. Although she hadn’t asked for this book launch, she was proud of her shop. If people didn’t like what they saw, they could simply leave. Somehow, she’d survive. She grabbed another glass of champagne and tried to relax.
Large boxes full of Graham’s latest book had arrived the previous day. Jen had unpacked them and put a few on display, but the bulk was still in boxes. Peter, Graham’s agent, had arrived much earlier and had set up a table on one side where Graham would later sign books that the guests, with any luck, would buy. He’d fussed all afternoon, hadn’t stopped complaining for a minute, and was currently walking up and down the rows of books, muttering. At this point throttling him, didn’t sound too outrageous. Where was Graham? He was supposed to be here to take care of things.
A movement caught her eye and there he was. Her br
eath simply left her body. Dressed casually in jeans and a deep blue shirt, he was smiling at someone. Margaret turned around and gulped down the champagne in the glass. If his smile could do this to her from a distance, how was she supposed to survive an entire evening of Graham Connelly? She grabbed another glass from a nearby waiter and downed the champagne again. She hardly knew him, didn’t even like him much—why would she have such a physical reaction to the guy?
Since The Kiss two weeks earlier, she had trouble concentrating on anything. She would find herself staring into space, thinking about Graham, about his kiss, about his mouth, about the way she’d melted into him. The vivid, erotic dreams she’d been having the last fortnight left her limp, tired, and irritable.
The only good thing about the whole fiasco was that between thoughts of Graham and nightmares about the book launch, she had not really had time to worry about the finances of her shop. She had another appointment with her bookkeeper the following week, and she should be making sums, not fantasizing about Graham Connelly.
She didn’t even like the man. He was too full of himself, too overpowering, too angry, too large, and too...too male. He made her uncomfortable. And she didn’t like uncomfortable. She’d worked hard to find her own space, her own rhythm, and she thought she’d found inner peace. But this man, who had literally burst into her life, had rocked her world, disturbed her equilibrium, made her yearn for things she hadn’t even realized she wanted.
She looked around again. The small space was swarmed with people who all seemed to be having a good time. Jen was ringing up a sale, Mandy was helping a client. This was a good time to escape to her office until she felt calmer. She grabbed another glass of champagne on her way. In her office she tried deep breaths, opened the window, hoping the cool late-afternoon air would help to calm her down, but the erratic beat of her heart wouldn’t slow down.
Love, In Writing Page 4