As Promised!

I've returned and as promised, I've included an excerpt of a romantic suspense I've been working on. I hope you all enjoy it.
Also, please keep your fingers crossed and prayers lifted for a successful submission and acceptance of Whispered Promises in the coming months. Have a great week!



NIGHT SECRETS

By

Naomi James
Copyright 2009


Prologue


Thunder boomed loudly, rattling the windows of The Whistle and startling the patrons inside. A torrent of rain sluiced against the glass followed by several lengthy flashes of lightening.
The man cursed under his breath and took a deep breath, trying to bring his pounding heartbeat under control.
He’d come to The Whistle to relax, get a little peace.
Another clap of thunder
“Shit! I hate this damned weather,” he muttered feeling as if he should have stayed home. But what was there for him? Nothing, save endless silence, and terrible thoughts that followed him everywhere, intensifying when he was alone, as he usually was at home. Stifling another curse, he pushed a hand through his thinning brown hair. The whispers wouldn’t leave him alone, and the subject was always the same. That thing. That one horrible horrible thing that plagued his dreams and every waking moment of every day. He’d been cautious at the onset and especially diligent when the situation had ballooned out of control. But no one knew what had happened. He was sure of it. Or was he? Had someone learned his awful secret?
At times he thought he saw shadows following him, waiting to corner him. Trap him. But he’d never seen anything or anyone. On nights like tonight he was so on edge he was sure he was close to cracking up but each time he’d drown the memories in alcohol until oblivion or a warm wet body calmed him. Tonight, he couldn’t seem to get drunk enough to quell his fears, and there was no one in the bar worth looking at twice.
Was someone pursuing him? Toying with him? Waiting to snake up behind him on his way to his car and whisper his secret to him?
No! It wasn’t possible. He’d been careful and thorough.
It had happened years ago yet something had him so paranoid as of late that the slightest sound, the slightest hint of movement that was a little off, made him go on instant alert. Made him edgy.
Constant eyes appeared to observe his every move, waiting for him to slip up, to reveal that which he’d long ago pledged to keep until the day he drew his last breath, then and only then would he utter it to a priest in order to seek absolution before going to meet his maker.
He wasn’t a religious man, not by any stretch of the imagination. Hell, he didn’t even believe in God. But he knew he’d make the confession with his final breath, just in case. A shudder coursed through him and he swore, forcibly turning his mind from his morbid thoughts. If he had his way about it, his death wouldn’t be for a very long time.
A glass shattered and he started violently, spilling his scotch. He glanced over his shoulder, regarding the clumsy bartender with disdain. Hands shaking, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket, retrieved one and lifted it to his lips.
A long, slender hand with cotton candy pink nails appeared under his nose, gripping a lighter.
He reared back, his slightly blurred vision clearing for just a moment to take in a face that was mostly concealed by long silky looking auburn hair. The woman wore tinted glasses, blood red lipstick, and a smile that made the crotch of his pants tighten. She was tall for a woman, nearly six feet he would guess, and slender. Her raincoat did nothing hide the fact that she was stacked.
The rainstorm slowed to a sprinkle and he felt himself begin to relax. Releasing a breath, his attention returned to the woman, wondering what she wanted. Though he wasn’t exactly the kind of man the opposite sex fell all over themselves to get close to, he knew he was passably attractive. On top of that, he thought smugly, he made up for it in the only way that mattered to a woman other than money.
The woman’s thumb flicked the light and a long slender flame shot up.
Even though his vision had once again gone blurry, he kept his eyes on her face.
Leaning forward, he puffed on the cigarette, nodded his appreciation, and sat back against the cushions, awaiting her next move.
The woman slid into the booth next to him without waiting for an invitation.
“I’m Heather and you’re my date for the evening,” she announced her voice low and seductive.
Its husky quality reminded him of a young Kathleen Turner, and he nearly smiled, knowing he’d hear that sexy voice wailing in pleasure before the end of the night, guaranteed. His crotch tightened, and he shifted to relieve some of the pressure.
How long had it been since he’d been affected like this? Damned if he could remember. His wife had lost interest long ago, preferring her ‘girlfriend getaways’ to time with him. Not that he could blame her. He hadn’t touched her in years, not after she’d started eating everything in sight. He suppressed a disgusted shudder.
Squashing all thoughts of Jana, he turned his attention fully on the woman at his side.
Heather, if that was her real name, was sexy and willing. He wasn’t about to screw this up by thinking about his fat wife.
His gaze dipped to the milky white skin partially exposed at the opening of Heather’s coat. He glanced down and saw that her legs were crossed under the table, the bottom of the coat having fallen open to expose one long shapely leg. He couldn’t see any clothes underneath. She was either wearing a skirt or nothing at all. Right now, he didn’t give a damn, he just wanted inside her.
“I’m…John,” he lied.
With a knowing smirk, she extended a hand. As he reached for it, she lowered her to his lap to caress the bulge there.
“It’s ummm,” she sighed. “Sooo nice to meet you.” Leaning forward she swiped his ear with the tip of her tongue, and his erection leaped. His hand flew down to cover hers, squeezing her fingers around him. He closed his eyes and groaned.
Heather glanced over her shoulder then back. “Isn’t there somewhere nearby we could go?”
He needed no further prompting. Flinging several dollars on the table, he began scooting out of the booth, forcing Heather to do the same. Taking her by the upper arm, he hurried them out of the building, walked several doors down the deserted street and steered her into an alley, maneuvering her under a low hanging roof where there was a measure of protection from the elements.
Shoving her against the wall, he kissed her hard and sloppy. But he didn’t care. He was too damned hard to care. Yanking open her coat, he tore it from her body and dropped it at her feet.
She was wearing a black mini skirt with a slit up the thigh and a blood red top.
He reached for her but she stopped him. Before he could react, she slammed him against the wall, dropped to her knees and opened his pants.
“Shhhhit,” he growled, burying his hands in her hair.


*****

Few of the remaining patrons inside The Whistle, spared the couple so much as a glance as they made their hasty exit. Such occurrences were common in this part of town where anonymity was a person’s most highly valued and sometimes only asset. Yet none would ever forget the agonized scream that echoed around them moments later, nor its abrupt end.
Both would haunt them the rest of their lives.


I hope you enjoyed the beginning of Night Secrets but either way, I'd love to hear from you, so comment away!

~Naomi.