Friday, June 23, 2006

Allergic to Love in the Dreams of the Oasis II - Anna J Evans

Hey a friend of mine, Anna J Evans, has a quickie in the latest Dreams of the Oasis Antho from Elloras Cave. Check out the excerpt:

Ella swallowed, but it was hard. Very hard. Almost impossible.
What had he put in there? And was it really worth possibly risking her life to prove that Marcus Ashton was a completely unprofessional and potentially dangerous man who should be fired immediately, do not pass go, do not collect your 401k?
She was a chemist for god’s sakes, she should just test the cocoa, find out what he’d used, and turn him in. Why did she feel compelled to drink the damn stuff? Because she was a sick cookie? Perhaps. Or maybe because she knew whatever he’d dumped in her hot chocolate probably wouldn’t kill her.
“Relax,” she whispered to herself, setting her cup down in the section of her lab station reserved for personal effects. She wasn’t the sort to risk a spill that might contaminate an experiment.
But you’re the type to risk being poisoned? Are you nuts?
“Shit!” Ella screamed, jumping half a foot as Mandy popped her head into her station.
“You’re cussing now? When did this happen?” Mandy asked.
“I’m just a little nervous today,” Ella said.
“Maybe you should lay off the hot chocolate,” Mandy joked. If she only knew.
“Right!” Ella giggled, somewhat hysterically. Would Mandy think she was totally crazy if she hugged her and begged her to take care of her cat if she mysteriously dropped dead in the next few hours?
Or days. It could be some sort of cumulative toxin.
“All right, you’re definitely coming to happy hour today. I was going to ask you to go, but now I’m telling. You need a drink. I’ll meet you outside at five-thirty,” Mandy said, turning to leave.
“But I—”
“Five-thirty, psycho. No overtime on Thirsty Thursdays,” Mandy ordered and then disappeared.
No overtime on Thursdays. If she hadn’t been logging overtime yesterday, then she wouldn’t be in this mess. Well, she would still be in the mess, but wouldn’t know that she was in the mess, wouldn’t have, with her very own eyes, seen Mr. Scary doctoring her cocoa mix. Given the choice, Ella supposed she would rather know that she was being poisoned, even if it made her a mass of paranoia nearly incapable of getting anything resembling work accomplished.
“Ella? Can we talk?” came another voice from the entry to her station, a male voice this time. A deep, sexy, lust-inducing male voice that belonged to a certifiable psycho nut job who could be trying to kill her.
“Yeah. Sure. What?” Ella snapped, spinning around to face him, hoping that her eyes weren’t as wide and frightened as she thought they were. It was bad enough that her nose started running every time he was in a ten-foot radius, the last thing she needed was to look like a terrified snot-nosed kid.
“I wanted to apologize,” Marcus said, folding his arms across his incredibly broad chest, his bright blue eyes shining intently down at her. As her entire body tingled with response to his nearness, Ella braced herself for the inevitable sneezing and itching and the migraine that never failed to make a torturous appearance seconds after the Sex God’s arrival.
Hurriedly, she reached for a tissue and…
Nothing. Nothing happened. She could still breathe, her head didn’t hurt, there was no running nose, no itchiness, nothing, nada. There was absolutely nothing going on in her allergic body to distract her from the rush of raw desire that swept through her every cell. It was crazy, but she felt herself actually tremble as she took him in, symptom free.
Of course, he was ridiculously gorgeous. His nearly black hair was cut close to his head, his eyes passionate and expressive, and all six foot whatever of him composed of pure testosterone-enhanced muscle. He was her dream man—handsome, smart, and just a little bit dangerous. Too bad he made her allergies act up like nobody’s business.
And he was trying to kill her or drug her or poison her or something. Mustn’t forget that little detail.

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