“This week’s theme is I’m So Sexy and there’s nothing more interesting that someone who exudes sexiness but doesn’t flaunt it. These are those who are naturally sexy, like the girl or boy next door. Or the boss who acts like a nerd. Or maybe one who wears something that makes someone want to strip them bare. Those are the characters we want to read about. Those with city, country or maybe even other-worldly charm that knocks our socks off every time.
“We want you to show us those very special people, be they just starting out or long time lovers. We want to know everything about them and those moments that make them sexy. The things they say to each other, the things they whisper. Give us the details about each and every one of them. Show us what happens when they first notice each other….”
Gillian stood in the cabin’s claustrophobic kitchen, transported from an era of iceboxes and milkmen, unloading her meager purchases. She jumped at the hard knock on the door and turned to see a tall man through the glass panes. At the sight of the police uniform with standard-issue thick belt, gun, nightstick, and handcuffs, she gasped and flinched back, dropping the box of graham crackers in her hand. She tried several times to pull the door open for him without luck before noticing it swung outward, and she pushed it on its squeaky hinges.
“I-I didn’t break in. I was invited to stay here.”
His tone terse and authoritarian, he asked, “Are you Gillian Tate?” Mid-to-late forties with dark hair and a trim but muscular build, his strong jawline narrowed at a severe angle to his cleft chin. Gillian’s image reflected in the dark sunglasses hiding his eyes.
“Y-yes. Is there a problem, Officer?”
“I’m the police chief, Sam Taylor. I got a call saying you’ve been receiving threatening letters and emails?” He pulled off his sunglasses to reveal dark, intense, deep-set eyes that took possession of all they surveilled. At that moment, they surveyed Gillian. His narrowed eyes traveled down the length of her voluptuous body—in jeans, a faded Knicks t-shirt, and a thick, gray sweater—then up to her face, free of make-up and framed in dark loose curls.
She leaned back against the door with her hands behind her back, averting her gaze under his appraisal, a hint of pink rising in her cheeks and the beginnings of a smile twitching on her lips. “Well, I’d say more harassing than threatening.”
“I’m here to check on you, make sure you’re all right.”
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