Table of Contents
Interviews & Essays
A Message -- and a Special Treat -- from the Author
Dear Readers,
The following scene would have taken place right after GhostWalker Ken Norton takes Mari to his home in Montana. We (my editor and I) decided to cut it because although it showcases the tenderness between Ken and Mari, we had other scenes that did that just as well and advanced the plot a bit more. So we decided it wasn't necessary to include in the final book, but I hope you enjoy reading it!
Christine Feehan
Mari stared around her in awe. She had never seen such a beautiful place. Or maybe it was just that she was finally free, although she didn't really have a concept of what freedom was. She kept looking around her, waiting for a guard to step out from behind the shrubbery. She had thoroughly inspected the area, looking for cameras, just to be safe. Maybe she'd never get over that habit, but she couldn't help it. She almost didn't know what to do sitting on a blanket under trees. She slid her hand along her leg to touch the knife in her boot for reassurance, at the same time, squeezing her arm to feel the shoulder holster. She was armed and ready for anything.
"What's wrong?" Ken touched her arm, focusing her attention back to him.
"Nothing. This is wonderful." She tried a tentative smile, hoping he wouldn't notice she was tense and on guard.
He grinned at her, that slow, sexy, heart-stopping grin that made her heart pound. "Climb the tree and do a little recon so you can relax."
Mari narrowed her eyes with suspicion. "Are you certain you can't read my mind? You told me you couldn't, but I don't believe you."
He leaned over and kissed her soft mouth. "You're as transparent as can be, baby, never play poker with Jack."
"I am not. I'm one of the best under interrogation." She was mildly insulted.
"Right now you're thinking of you don't do recon, you'll never relax." His lips brushed the corners of her mouth. "I want you relaxed. Really relaxed."
His teasing tone brought color sweeping up under her skin. No one else in the world could make her blush. And no one else ever teased her and made her want to learn to enjoy herself. "You really don't mind?"
He'd probably taken a million women on picnics. How many of them had wanted to survey the area and sweep it for bugs and cameras? Or worry that any moment soldiers were going to appear and haul her back to the compound.
"Whatever makes you feel better is fine with me. I want you happy, Mari. Picnics are supposed to be fun. Our property is large and we're surrounded by national forest, so we rarely get visitors here, but go do your recon and I'll put out the food."
He'd packed the picnic basket himself. She hadn't helped him, because she didn't know the first thing about picnics or baskets and she was so nervous her hands were clammy. If he asked her to lie up in the branches at the top of a seventy-five foot tree and shoot someone a mile a way, she could do that without breaking a sweat. But have a picnic with him was making her insides turn to jelly.
Mari tried to look casual as she walked away. Okay, she wanted to run. She was on unfamiliar ground and not used to feeling so out of place. Her life had always been so structured-and she certainly wasn't prepared for a picnic in the woods.
Try to think of it as two soldiers sharing a meal.
Ken's amused voice filled her mind, startling her. There was something terribly intimate about his voice brushing up against her memories, inside of her head. Before, when she used telepathy, it was always with other soldiers, on a mission. Now, it seemed so different, as if she was sharing herself with him, her most private thoughts.
She crouched and leapt into the lowest branch of a tall tree, landing with quiet ease. She'd practiced the move a thousand times, until she could practically do it in her sleep, her gaze automatically sweeping the surrounding countryside. She climbed fast, careful not to disturb the leaves or make the branches sway. It was easy enough on the larger branches, but the thinner ones took concentration.
Glancing down, she could see Ken opening a bottle of sparkling cider and pouring it into two wine glasses. Her stomach clenched and her mouth went dry. She was a soldier, not a woman. In spite of the fact that Ken was a legendary sniper, she related to him as a woman would to a man. And she had absolutely no idea how to be a woman. With a little sigh she sank into the cradle two branches made and began a long, slow surveillance. Meticulous. Careful. Thorough. She might just have to stay up in the tree for a long, long while.
Chicken.
The laughter in his voice made her body go hot. I knew you were reading my mind!
You make it so easy...
The tree shivered and she glanced down to see his larger form moving up the branches fast. Alarmed, she called down to him. "What are you doing?"
"Have you ever heard of Tarzan? He managed to have quite a few adventures in the trees and I thought I'd try my luck. It wasn't going so good on the ground."
Loading...