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It’s that time again. This month to celebrate overcoming my first hurdle of submitting my full MS to an agent, I decided to post an excerpt from that manuscript. This scene is from my YA paranormal romance called BROKEN. Enjoy.

 ~UPDATE 11/07/09 : I’ve made some revisions to the origianl post.

~~~

          The steering wheel was slick in my hands. I tried to grip it, attempting to ease the pounding of my heart. Licking my lips and trying to swallow, my throat constricted with fear. I focused on the dust floating in the headlamps. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the other car back up and stop across from me on the opposite shoulder. The driver’s side window lowered, and a dark head leaned out. So much for easing the tight squeeze on my heart, it somersaulted in my stomach. I recognized the jet-black hair, deep-set blue eyes and twisted scowl. It was Caleb.

          “Are you ok?” His eyes reflected the electronic blue of the dashboard and held an eerie glow.

          When I didn’t answer, he leapt out of the black sports car and dashed across the highway. His jaw tightened, and I tried to get my breathing under control.

          “Are you hurt?” Those damnable eyes raked over me as I sat immobile.

          “No, I’m fine.” The words tumbled out.

          Avoid. Avoid. Avoid. My mind screamed while I stared at the steering wheel. But I couldn’t escape, and he didn’t leave. Instead, his hand gripped the window frame.

          “I feel terrible.” Yeah right.  “Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice sounded kinder, almost sincere. And smooth. God, it was smooth as velvet.

          “Someone was standing in the middle of the road. Did I hit them?” I finally turned my head in his direction.

          Concern deepened the lines of his face, softening his cold demeanor. I’d been holding my breath and didn’t hide the sudden, noisy outrush.

          “There’s no one here. I’d feel better if you allowed me to drive you back to campus.” He stood back, placing his hand on the door handle. “I assume that’s where you were going?”

          Tendrils of shock shimmied from my spine, tightening across my chest. I still shook from the fright, even though my eyes must have played tricks on me. But the sexiest guy in school pulling on my door wasn’t a mirage. And now, he insisted I get into his car. My mind protested the idea but couldn’t fight the insatiable curiosity.

          “I insist.” He opened the door wide.

          There was no refusing him. The way he stood, one hand on the door and the other outstretched toward his car, denied all thoughts of resistance. I reluctantly climbed out and stumbled, my knees turning to Jell-o. His arm slipped around my waist, and he pulled me tight against his chest. My knees weren’t the only thing weakening.

          “You’re certainly in no condition to be driving a car.” His mouth twitched with a hint of humor.

          He steered me across the street and dumped me in the passenger seat of his slick, black Mercedes SLK. I watched as he grabbed my stuff and locked the car. My mind whirred into motion. He’d been racing away from Wenham, and my reckless driving prevented him from whatever he was on his way to do. Guilt gnawed at my uneasy stomach. Pissing off Caleb Smith placed first on my list of things not to do while in college.

          “You were on your way somewhere. I don’t want to keep you,” I said as he climbed in and slammed the door.

          He whipped the car around and headed back toward Wenham and campus. “You’re not.”

          “I’m sorry. I swear there was someone standing in the middle of the road.” My heart pounded at the ridiculous words coming out.

          “You must have been seeing things.” The line of his jaw, stone-cold blue from the dash lights, clenched and relaxed. The mask dropped back over his face, and distinct animosity slipped into his tone. I should have stayed in the Passat.

          “You really don’t have to do this. I’ll be fine in a second.” I wrapped my arms across my chest to stop the shaking. His eyes drifted over me, and an eyebrow lifted. When he didn’t answer, I asked, “What about my car?”

          “I’ll take care of it.” His eyes flickered back to the road.

          When we curved another bend, a second set of headlights blazed toward us. The semi barreled down the middle of the road. Caleb laid on the horn and rolled the SLK onto the grassy shoulder just as the massive truck careened back into its lane. Caleb never slowed but maneuvered the sports car back onto the highway with a nonstop smoothness.

          “Jerk truck driver! We could have been killed,” I said, gripping my sides tighter.

          Caleb gripped the wheel with knuckles as white as his pressed lips. He stared intense, almost agitated, out the window. My heart quickened its thrumming because I was fearful of his frozen attitude.

          “You don’t trust me,” he hissed. It was a statement rather than a question.

          “No.” At the moment, I didn’t feel like being polite or lying.

          The lines of his face softened, and the corner of his mouth curved. “Good,” he whispered.

          Staring at my lap, I inhaled slow, deep breaths to calm my heart rate. The pattern of light, a prismatic splotch of LCD blue, changed to a brighter orange glow. I glanced up as we raced through Rockport.

          “Why did you transfer to Wenham?” His tone held an accusation, and I jerked my head to stare at him.

          He twisted his hands around the steering wheel when I hesitated, but his gaze never left the road. I found it unnerving the way he avoided looking at me when he spoke.

          The in rush of my breath slid through my clenched teeth with a sizzle. “My mom took a promotion. She insisted I transfer.”

          “There’s dozens of colleges in Boston. Why did you choose Wenham?”

          The accusation was still present. My mouth hung slightly open as I wondered how he knew my mother planned to move us to Boston.

          “My aunt lives in Rockport. It was my mother’s choice, not mine.”

          “Then you would have rather stayed–” He paused to glance over at me, blue eyes searing. “In Tennessee?”

          “No, not necessarily.” The words caught in my throat, and I licked my dry lips. “Do you have a dislike for people in general, or just me in particular?”

          The corner of his mouth quivered. “Why on earth would you think I dislike you?”

          My mouth made a pop as I shut it. I could mention the sneers and the obvious intimidation, but my courage faltered when I gazed into those blue eyes. Instead, I glanced out the window, avoiding how seductive he looked with taut muscles under a tight black sweater. I couldn’t help recalling Cybil’s silly palm reading. One true love, my ass.

          The first row of shops along Wenham’s main street appeared, and I was glad he was speeding. The sooner this ride was over the better. Before I could catch my breath, we pulled into the fire lane in front of Pembry. The German precision sports car glided to a stop dead center of the plate-glass lobby windows. Determined to escape the car with lightening speed, it didn’t occur to me that he knew which dorm I lived in.

          “Thank you,” I muttered as I climbed out. My mind still swirled, and my knees still wobbled.

          He leaned across the seat. “You want your car, right?”

          I whirled around to find him smiling. Stunned, it was the first time I’d ever seen him do it, and it left me breathless. I just stood there in foolish amazement. He cocked his head, waiting.

          “Oh, right,” I stammered, fishing for the keys.

          When I gave him my keychain, my fingers barely brushed the inside of his palm. He whipped his hand away, and for a second, I swore that I didn’t feel anything but warm air. I had to be hallucinating. Or there must have been something weird in Cybil’s organic spaghetti sauce.

          I sighed. “Thanks.”

          “Don’t mention it.” He said as the window slid up.

          I stood with my feet glued to the sidewalk and watched as he raced up the fire lane. His final statement recoiled with a sting like a popped rubber band. Recalling my original assumption of him, pretentious and callous, I didn’t plan on mentioning it to anyone ever.

~~~

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