Seasons of Love
Valentine’s Day is only a month away, and I think it’s high time I gave you a little taste of what The Lion’s Den has to offer in the way of romantic fiction. For the next four weeks, I will be posting excerpts which show the deepening of Della and Brad’s relationship as the circumstances surrounding their lives intensify. I can’t promise any R-rated content here, that will have to be saved for the book release on April 15, 2015!
As you already know, Della and Brad get thrown together under very unusual circumstances. She had just returned from Pakistan where her photojournalist boyfriend was captured during a tactical mission that saw Osama bin Laden captured and killed. Not knowing whether Aaron was dead or alive, she was forced to go home and regroup and await further information before any attempt was made to extract him.
Della’s father, the United States senator from Michigan, suggests that Della take a photographic assignment to keep her busy and out of his hair while he and his team attempt to gather intel on Aaron’s whereabouts. Della accepts an assignment with National Environmental Magazine to cover the seasonal migration of the Woodland caribou. It’s on the banks of a remote salmon river in eastern Canada that she makes the acquaintance of a very annoying* stranger.
*Isnt it funny how embarrassment and the thought of looking stupid in front of a very attractive stranger can bring out the worst in a person.
The Lion’s Den, Chapter one, Bad Beginnings
Della had been waiting for days for the rain to stop drizzling down, which was nothing new to her. As a photo-journalist, she was used to crouching for hours in adverse conditions, waiting for news to happen in front of her camera. Quite often, it wasn’t just raindrops she was dodging, but gunfire or worse. She sighed as she opened the flap on the camouflaged blind that housed her camera and tripod setup, and checked the light meter to see if she would soon be able to get a decent exposure. Her subjects had yet to arrive, and they were shier than their human counterparts about having their photos taken……..
A gentle sound outside the blind brought Della’s mind back to the present. Flexing her cramped muscles, she pressed a button on the camera which lit the viewfinder display. On the screen a group of shadowy figures appeared out of the lavender mists, their gray forms silhouetted against the breaking dawn sky, which painted the digital landscape with muted shades of pink, purple and gold. Two majestic caribou, a buck and a doe stepped into the foreground, and dipped their heads to the water to drink. The composition was perfect, the diffused lighting was perfect, the color saturation amazing. Della paused to check the light meter one last time and gently pressed down on the shutter release, just as all hell broke loose. Brilliant lights stabbed through the woods behind her as the roar of a monster machine rent the quiet stillness. Dust billowed and the light blinded her as Della crouched in the blind, paralysed with terror.
Della’s heart was beating out of her chest and she couldn’t draw breath into her lungs. Her mind was back in the Middle East, even though her body was here in the Canadian wilderness. She stumbled out of the blind, and dropped to her knees in the dead grass, clasping her hands behind her head. With the last gasp in her quaking body, she shouted, “Don’t shoot, I’m an American citizen!”
The door opened on the huge vehicle. A rack of lights on the roof, shining towards her stole almost all of her vision. All she could see was the silhouette of a beast of a man striding towards her through the dusty air. She kept her eyes downturned as he stopped in front of her.
“What the hell, woman?” The masculine voice asked incredulously.
Della looked up. She thought it odd that the soldier wasn’t carrying a weapon. Hope dawned in her foggy brain that the man standing in front of her might be on their side. He cautiously approached her and reached out a hand to her shoulder. She flinched away, expecting a blow to the head.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He said calmly. “Can you tell me who you are? “ He once again cautiously reached out to her, “Here, let me help you up.”
With the beep of a remote control device, the overhead lights on the vehicle went off, and Della could see the man’s face. He was definitely not Saudi. Brown wavy hair fell over his forehead. His brow, framing darkly lashed blue eyes, was furrowed, not with anger, but with concern. His cheeks were clean shaven and his strong jaw and full mouth were more Gentlemen’s Quarterly than World at War Magazine. He was wearing camouflage, but the kind hunters wear for hunting season, not military issue.
Trembling, Della gripped his forearms to steady herself as she rose to her feet.
“I’m Della Rawlins,” she said shakily, remembering, and just catching herself in time she said, “I’ve been sent here by Today….I mean National Environmental Magazine to shoot the caribou.”
“Could of fooled me,” the man said, “Looks more like you’ve been caught in a war zone.”
Della’s hackles rose on the back of her neck. She realised she was not in any imminent danger and she felt foolish and embarrassed and shell shocked all at the same time. The result made her furious.
“Yeah, well, if you hadn’t barged in here like a weekend warrior, I wouldn’t have been terrified.
Who do you think you are, crashing through the woods in a military issue Hummer, of all things, dressed like a soldier of fortune! Hasn’t anyone told you that the war here in Canada is over?”
“Well now that you mention it, I guess the gear is a little over the top,” the guy said, ruefully, scratching his head, “But, hey, I’ve got an image to uphold. I’m Brad Jamieson, owner of Jamieson’s Outdoor Outfitters,” he said, extending his hand. “Your tent is parked practically on my front doorstep. This is my family’s property. I was just wondering who was here squatting on my land………
Can I offer you a cup of tea and a bite of breakfast and maybe an apology for ruining your morning?”
Della huffed out a breath, still fuming, and retrieved her Nikon from its tripod inside the blind.
“Now that you’ve scared off the caribou and stunk up the blind with your man smell, it’s just as well to call it a day and move my gear somewhere else,” she said peevishly, “This was a perfect location.”
“Want a ride up to the cabin?”
“No thanks, I need the exercise.”
Noticing, not for the first time, the trim, athletic, definitely female body in the slick North face jacket and Sportzone leggings, he tended to disagree, but he thought it wise to hold his tongue.
Brad shrugged his shoulders, “Suit yourself,” he said, and strode back over to the camouflage painted Hummer, which Della now noted, was blazoned down the side with the company logo of Jamieson’s Outdoor Outfitters. He swung up into the driver’s seat and expertly backed the rig up the path to where he could turn in towards the cabin.
Still peeved, Della trudged up the path, debating whether she should pack up her gear and spend the afternoon scouting other locations, or whether she would take the mighty great white hunter up on his offer of a cup of tea and see if he had any ideas on where the herd might have migrated to, having vacated “his” property.
Stay tuned for the next excerpt from The Lions Den
Norma
Speak Your Mind