Excerpt from short story, To Kill A Thief

Crissy’s heart rate tripled as Stefan Benedict, America’s #1 Oscar-winning heartthrob, pointed the gun at her chest. He gripped the .22 between long, lean fingers – fingers Crissy had always pictured gripping her body, not the barrel of a pistol. His legs, covered in designer jeans that drew her eyes to his muscular thighs, were parted in a shooter’s stance. A black leather jacket covered the smooth, muscled chest that she’d seen naked countless times in photos. His brown eyes blazed with anger – instead of the passion she’d always imagined – and the lips she’d dreamt of kissing, were pulled back into a snarl that was at odds with his perfect white teeth.

Crissy glimpsed all this in the nanosecond it took Stefan to grab her arm and yank her into the ‘alley.’ He slammed her into the faux concrete wall and pressed his body to hers, flattening her against the wall.

Of all the ways she’d imagined ending up in his arms, this one had never once entered into her fantasies.

Please, God. This is my big Hollywood break, my big scene. Give me the strength to get it right. Let me ignore how good Stefan Benedict feels and follow directions, do what I was told, no matter how asinine or stupid those directions are, no matter–

“You weren’t leaving without me, were you, Maggie?” Stefan’s husky whisper caressed her ear and skipped along her neck.

Crissy took a ragged breath, inhaling…him. Until this second, she’d never appreciated the value of a $2,345 bottle of Clive Christian No. 1 cologne. But the spicy notes of bergamot, nutmeg, and cedarwood entered her lungs and swirled through her veins, making her lightheaded and quivery. It gave her a rush no drug could match. What woman in her right mind would leave without him?