and shipwrecks. And Phantom comics.
‘It’s not really your thing.’
Oh, if only she knew how suddenly it was exactly his thing. He looked at her. ‘It’s yours. I’m interested.’
Stella stared at him for a moment, taken aback by his sincerity. ‘Good answer.’ She smiled.
He smiled back. She looked so damn sweet, how could she have such a dirty mind? ‘So?’ He quirked an eyebrow.
She didn’t know where to start. She wasn’t used to sharing this sort of information with anyone. Only Diana had known about Pleasure Hunt and even then Stella had been reticent to share any of the details in the early stages of the book. Non-writers didn’t understand how storylines and characters weren’t always crystal clear and well defined.
‘It’s about a mermaid,’ she said. ‘Called Lucinda.’
And then for some strange reason, under his scrutiny, she blushed. She thought about all the times they’d played pirate and mermaid as kids, swimming through the tropical waters of wherever they happened to be at the time.
‘You know I’ve always had a thing for mermaids,’ she said defensively.
Rick’s gaze locked with hers. ‘I do.’
Stella shrugged. ‘She came to me in a dream.’
He nodded, wishing he’d been privy to that dream. Hell, if her dream life was as rich as her on-page fantasy life he wished he were privy to all of them.
‘And the hero?’ he asked.
Something held Stella back. She straightened the hat on her head, then whisked it off and let her hair tumble down, stalling for time as she looked towards the horizon. ‘I don’t know much about the hero this time,’ she said with what she hoped seemed like artistic vagueness.
Rick followed the stream of her hair as the stiffening ocean breeze blew it behind her. His palm itched to tangle in it and he kept it firmly planted around his beer. ‘Is that unusual?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. I’m new to this and it’s just the way it’s happened.’
Rick slid a sideways glance at her. ‘Did that happen with your first hero?’
Stella’s heart skipped a beat as she glanced at him. ‘No,’ she said casually. ‘He came to me...fairly well developed.’
Rick bit back a smile. Hell, yeah, honey, no prizes for guessing why. ‘Does he have a name at least, this new guy?’
Stella blushed again. ‘Inigo.’
Rick smiled. ‘Ah...good choice.’
Stella looked at him and returned his smile grudgingly. ‘Thank you.’ It was surprisingly hard to talk about the hero with Rick and his Vasco Ramirez eyes staring straight at her even from behind his midnight shades.
Rick knew he had a good opening but was surprised by the pound of his heart as he contemplated the question.
Did he really want to know the answer?
He forced himself to take up inspection of the horizon so the question would seem casual rather than targeted. ‘Do you base any of your characters on people you know?’ he asked casually.
Stella glanced at him sharply. Did he know? Had he read Pleasure Hunt? She’d sent a copy to the Persephone for her father, which Rick could have got his hands on, she supposed, but it had been in a box of things that had been cleared from his cabin and sent to her after his death still in pristine condition.
The spine hadn’t been cracked and it had been obvious to her that it had been unread.
It was an innocent enough question on the surface—one she’d been asked a hundred times by fans and media alike—but her shoulders tensed as she inspected that inscrutable profile just in case.
He seemed his usual relaxed self, soaking up some rays and downing a beer with the unconscious grace of an Old Spice model.
Besides, she doubted there would be any way he would have read it and not realised immediately who Vasco was. And she knew Rick well enough to know that he wouldn’t have been able to resist taunting her mercilessly about it.
‘No,’ she said faintly, hoping her voice sounded stronger than it felt.
Rick stifled a chuckle. Liar. For damn sure Vasco Ramirez was him.
‘So they just come to you...like in a dream or something...?’ he asked innocently.
‘Something like that,’ she said vaguely. ‘Although if I’m to be honest,’ she admitted, trying to divert his attention off the hero, ‘I suppose that the heroine is me.’
Rick coughed noisily as he inhaled some of his beer into his windpipe, necessitating her to beat him on the back a few times. He gasped and wheezed and coughed while his airway cleared the irritant.
Vasco probably never did anything so undignified.
‘So,’ he clarified once he could speak again, ‘the heroines are...you?’
Please say no. Please don’t let me have to imagine that Lady Mary is really you.
Damn it. He should have left it alone.
Stella blushed as Lady Mary filled her vision. ‘Well, to a degree, I suppose, yes. I’m a woman so I can write a female character from my own experiences. In that respect, in very generic terms, I guess they are.’
Rick breathed easier. She was talking in generalisations. Not specifics. ‘So Lucinda isn’t you?’
Stella shook her head. ‘Well, she’s more me than Lady Mary,’ she admitted.
Rick felt the tension ooze away completely.
Hah! There. She wasn’t Lady Mary.
Phew.
‘Lady Mary’s from the first book?’ he asked innocently.
Stella nodded as her embarrassment slipped away. It was actually quite good thinking this sort of stuff out loud. Knowing the differences could only help with her writing process.
Maybe Rick was a good sounding board?
‘Lucinda has a strength of character that Lady Mary didn’t. She’s not waiting around to be rescued—in fact, she’s going to rescue the hero, who’s being held in chains.’
Rick tried not to think about how that scene would pan out. ‘And Lady Mary is weak?’
Because he’d thought, in her own way, Mary had a startling resilience.
Stella shook her head. ‘No, she’s not weak, she’s just more passive. But that’s really just a product of the times and her upper-class background.’
Rick thought of the scene where Mary had finally succumbed to Vasco’s seduction.
