INTO TOMORROW

Futuristic erotic romances that are sure to bring
you otherworldly pleasures, today and tomorrow.

Stepping Through, Rayne Forrest
Time Specialist Cade Reston has to save Earth. A mistake in his calculations sends him to AD 1996 and into the arms of Jessie Moynihan.

Seductions Beyond, Megan Hussey

Doran is intimidated by his visit to a violent Earth, while Daria, a sweet Earthling, is overwhelmed by his ethereal masculinity and otherworldly seduction skills.

Affinity, Anne Leland

Two star-crossed lovers tragically ripped from each other's arms.  One last chance to reconcile the past.

Midnight Lover, Mae Powers

When actress Brynn Anders and ex-duke Jacques Corday are reunited, more than sensual sparks fly between the two, hard-headed ex-lovers.

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EXCERPTS

Stepping Through

By

Rayne Forrest

Chapter One

Jessie Moynihan knew she might as well face the cold, hard facts. She didn’t want to get married. Marriage sounded boring. Marriage sounded like a long, slow lingering death of the spirit. How wonderful could it possibly be to wake up every morning staring at the same slack-jawed, drooling, unshaven face?

And it wasn’t just the idea of marrying her fiancée, either. It was marriage, period.

She still didn’t know how she’d ended up engaged to Eddie Gardner. Well, she did, but that was neither here nor there. She needed to find a way to tell Eddie nicely that she really didn’t want to get married—didn’t love him.

Jessie’s head hurt. It wasn’t just your average garden-variety headache. This was a pounding, aching, sickening, just-as-soon-die-now headache. Well, she’d better get over it because her mother was taking her shopping for her trousseau.

She’d tried to tell her mother that she didn’t want to marry Eddie. The walls listened better. At least when she talked to the walls, they didn’t talk back.

It didn’t matter to her that Edward Millhouse Gardner the Fourth, thank you, was considered quite a catch. He was under the size limit as far as she was concerned. That fish could just go back in the lake for someone else to net.

She didn’t even know for sure how she’d caught his attention. Well, she did, and that was part of the problem.

Her mother and his mother had worked a scam, and she and Eddie were the suckers. Her mother and his mother had put their heads together and decided the family fortunes needed to be protected. What better way to do that than to hook up their only progenies?

The country club was already bracing for the wedding of the decade, and it was still nine months away.

Nine months. Lord. She’d already been engaged for nine months. Why hadn’t she found a way to end this farce?

Okay, she knew that answer, too. She didn’t want to hurt Eddie’s feelings. Eddie was a sweet guy in a teddy-bearish sort of way. And that had been her downfall.

He was sweet.

Sure, he was a six-two, broad shouldered, blue-eyed Norse god with the best-aligned smile money could buy. He wore the best clothes, drove the best automobiles and showered twice a day. But he was still Eddie.

And there was nothing exciting about Eddie. Nothing.

He kissed her, and she barely noticed the lip contact. How could she ever go to bed with him? He never batted an eye when she told him she wanted to wait for their wedding night to consummate their relationship. If he’d protested, she would have had that as a reason to call it off. But, noo. Not Eddie.

Eddie calmly nodded his agreement to celibacy. Jessie didn’t buy it. Eddie was a nice guy, but he wasn’t a self-sacrificing hero. He’d sneak some on the side if he got the chance, and she knew chances came looking for him. She heard the talk, and she simply didn’t care.

If she didn’t care now, she knew it was unlikely she’d care in twenty years. It wasn’t a good way to start a marriage.

A car horn beeped out front. She peeked out the window. It was her mother. Beeping the horn to have her come out was another sore spot. Her mother refused to set foot in her little townhouse for fear of cockroaches.

She did not have any sort of bug or rodent in her home. The owner’s co-op paid a small fortune to an exterminator to come and spray every month. No, it was just Audrey’s way of making her point. Jessie was living well below her station.

Jessie grabbed her purse and jacket and put on a smile. She slipped into the Bentley Azure her mother had insisted on purchasing. Jessie had no idea what the car cost except that it was a lot more than the classic 1984 Chevy Monte Carlo SS she drove that her mother wouldn’t ride in.

Excuse me all to hell for having gutter taste.

“Hi, Mom. What’s shaking?”

“Jessica, really. Must you use those slang expressions?”

“Yes, I must. Normal people talk like that, Mom. Normal people.”

Her mother took a deep breath. Jessie knew why. She’d heard this same speech for thirty years. Here it comes. The Lecture.

“Jessica, the Moynihan’s are not normal people. Your great-grandfather is descended from French nobility. Your great-grandmother is a member of the Royal Family, albeit quite far removed now. Your grandfather, my father, co-founded one of the largest banks in the northeastern United States. You have a respectable pedigree. I do wish you’d take that into consideration when you make decisions in your day-to-day life.”

It was just too much.

The heat, her headache, the full moon and only heaven knew what else—it was just too much. She wasn’t jumping through the marriage hoop. She wasn’t going to become a clone of her mother. She wasn’t doing anything she didn’t whole-heartedly want to do.

And she’d listened to her mother’s spiel about her ‘pedigree’ for the last time.

The.

Last.

Time.

“You know, Ma, I’m real tired of the word ‘pedigree.’ I am not a fucking poodle.”

“Jessica!” The Bentley took an unfortunate swerve, the right side tires dropping off the pavement.

“Mother! Pay attention to the road, or let me drive this ostentatious piece of shit!”

Audrey stared at her, open-mouthed.

“Watch the fucking road!” she yelled at her mother. Oh, Lord. She’d have to apologize for that. Later.

Audrey jerked the car back into its lane then pulled over, her lips pursed so tightly Jessie clamped down on her tongue to keep from asking what was so sour.

“Perhaps you’d like to explain yourself, Jessica.”

“Nope. I’m done, Mom. Finished. I’m not going shopping. I’m not marrying Eddie. I’m not living my life by anyone’s standards except my own.”

Jessie hopped out of the Bentley.

“I’ll just walk home from here.” She slammed the car door and started walking, ignoring her mother’s shouted pleas for reason.

Heck, it was only three miles. She could pace that off in a little under an hour. By then, Eddie would be on her front porch, duly summoned and willing to do his duty—calm her down and make her see the light.

That wasn’t going to happen. Not this time.

She started lining up her arguments, one step at a time.

* * * *

Cade Reston stared moodily at his computer terminal and sipped his bourbon-laced fake java. Lord in heaven, what he’d give to be able to pour a shot of bourbon and sip it straight in plain view of God and all witnesses. Outlawing whiskey—again—was one of the most pathetic examples of government gone awry that he could think of.

Things had been different back in The Year of Our Lord 2179. Very different. Sagan Delaportus, the idiot who brought about the Liquor Reforms had been just that—an idiot. Too stupid to realize that the Matrix led to more than one timeline.

And he’d invented the fucking thing!

Delaportus had been a stupid, undisciplined, illogical, tunnel-visioned idiot with no clue as to how to maintain accurate data and methodology.

When he’d brought back evidence that Lorenzo d’Selle, the greatest peacemaker mankind had ever known, the man who’d united Earth, Proxima, and Centauri as brothers, had been killed by a drunken mob, well, it had been easy to outlaw anything alcoholic.

What the stupid fucker had missed was that d’Selle only died in one of the thirty-one possible timelines that existed. Correction—of the thirty-one layers of time they could reach into. Einstein was right. There were infinitely more, but no one had mastered the way into them, himself included.

That had been over a hundred years ago. What a waste, all the way around, except for the Matrix, of course. Cade had stepped through the Matrix into places where he could walk right into a bar and order a drink without fear of arrest. A good enough reason to hope the computer would spit out a year prior to 2175 for his next assignment. He really craved a decent drink. His office door opened.

“Cade. How’s it going?”

“Slowly, slowly.” He gulped the rest of his pseudo java, burning his throat. He didn’t want to drag his best friend, Hector Chen, down if he was unfortunate enough to be apprehended with bourbon in his drink.

Death was such a huge penalty for such a small infraction.

“I’ve run through nineteen timelines. The lower eight were brutal, as you’d expect. The three Georgian layers were almost as bad.” Cade sighed. The eleven layers of time most distant from reality never yielded much.

Those timelines had diverged, splintered, so long ago and so many times that they barely resembled even cheap imitations of reality. No one had ever found an event in the lower eleven layers. Some even speculated they should be considered a separate reality and closed off. Cade didn’t necessarily agree.

Just because they’d never found an event there didn’t mean one hadn’t happened. Some time.

“Well, it’s good you didn’t find anything then.” Hector stared at him. “You didn’t find anything, right?”

“No, no. I didn’t find anything until I hit seventeen.”

“Sweet. You’ll be past the event layer by twenty-three.”

Cade turned a serious gaze on his friend. “I have to run all thirty-one. You know that.”

Hector squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t run the Genghis lines without help. Swear to me, man. Call me so I can run backup.”

Hector’s offer to help was sincere, and Cade knew it. He knew the validity of having backup for the top seven timelines, the ones they called the Genghis lines in honor of Genghis Khan, the leader of the Mongol horde that swept Eurasia back in the year 1223.

Old Genghis would be right at home in layers twenty-five to thirty-one, yessiree. Hell, his descendants probably still ruled in current day Genghis. No one, including Cade, had ever lingered there long enough to find out.

“Okay, buddy. Thanks. I’m going to run to twenty-four then call it a night. I’ll be pretty sure of where I’m headed by twenty-four. Why don’t you come by about mid-morning tomorrow, and we’ll run the top timelines.”

“Sure. Why don’t you come over for dinner? Sanya is cooking tonight, not me.”

“Thanks, but no. Tell Sanya he can put a plate into freeze for me, though. I’m going to be here until late.”

“Just be careful, Cade. Even the quick sometimes go missing.”

Cade grinned at his friend. “I’m the quickest of the quick, Hector.”

Hector shook his head sadly. “That arrogance is going to do you in. And I’ll miss you when it does.” He closed the door, leaving Cade alone.

Three hours later, Cade pulled his illegal flask from his jacket pocket and lifted it to his lips. Let the Conformers see him, if they watched. Death would be better than where he was headed.

He checked and re-checked the most prominent timelines, layers twelve through twenty-four. These were the layers that included his own, the layer of reality that was reality. The event was there, teasing him. He set aside his promise to Hector and kept going. The event was there in twenty-five. And twenty-six. Then it vanished, sending his stomach into a queasy roll.

He’d steeled himself for the worst possible findings and ran timeline twenty-eight. It was back. The event was there in each of them. Not for the first time, Cade knew in his gut that there were timelines beyond Genghis.

Fucking hell.

Rock ‘n roll, tattoos, petroleum dependency.

Attila the Hun, ozone depletion, global warming and stock car racing.

Human immune deficiencies, cancer, nuclear weapons and, God help them all, television.

Layer twenty-seven. The worst of the Genghis timelines.

Seductions Beyond

By

Megan Hussey

Chapter One

The sky that morning shone bright and clear, boasting a pure azure hue that likened freshly cut diamonds.

This ethereal ceiling proved the perfect setting for the tall, luminous skyscrapers that distinguished the planet Eternia.

Even lifetime residents marveled at the jeweled, mirrored planes that formed the exterior of these buildings and the surreal emerald green meadows and rainbow-colored ferns that bordered their ground floors.

Eternian ambassador, Doran Kaliedicus sped furiously past these buildings. Perched atop his bronze-plated, solar-powered hydrocycle, he didn’t stop to admire the buildings or landscapes of his home. He kept his gaze trained straight ahead, focused on a crystalline, dome-shaped hotel situated prominently on a nearby street corner.

Although obviously a luxurious retreat, with lush, sprawling gardens lining its front and—in the back—a warm spring surrounded by crystalline swimming pools, for Doran the Diamondscape West signified the site of his most challenging mission to date; one that might prove insurmountable.

Currently staying on the top floor of this luxury hotel, in an expansive, lushly furnished suite, was Empress Norina Bink; the leader of a neighboring planet known as Naisis.

Notorious as a warmonger, Norina was poised to cut short a brief stay in Eternia, following what some might deem unsuccessful trade talks.

Well, she did threaten to blast our president’s head clean from her shoulders with the aid of a laser blaster. Doran pursed his lips. She also said, though, that we served her some bitchin’ caviar during her stay. I guess one must consider the good with the bad.

Despite this glowing review of Eternian cuisine, president Valaria Jinga still worried that Norina—notoriously surly and ill-tempered leader—would leave their planet unhappy.

She leveled and razed the capital city of the last planet that displeased her. Doran shuddered at the memory. And that’s just because the unfortunate ruler of that planet dared to point out a run in Norina’s stocking.

Botched trade talks, President Jinga feared, would send her neighbor over the proverbial edge.

With that in mind, she sent her best ambassador—who also happened to be young and sinfully handsome, which she figured never hurt—to ‘take the edge off;’ to ensure that Norina left their planet pleased, relaxed and well-satisfied.

All in a day’s work. He smiled slyly as he landed his hyrdocycle, which floated at lightning speed through the streets of Eternia, outside the front entrance of the Diamondscape West.

As he made his way through the front lobby, an airy room accented by velvet-covered lounge furniture and a long cherry wood front desk, he winked and smiled at the many women who cast admiring glances in his direction.

They each would get their turn. As an Eternian ambassador, he sought to satisfy every woman who sought his services; be she a ruler, an officer of his own land, or an important visitor.

And he also sought to tempt, tease, please and satisfy the female laborers and office workers who facilitated the running of his planet.

 “Women often bear the double burden of birthing children and providing for them,” he told his friends, many of whom marveled at his ability to seduce and truly savor any woman; regardless of her age, weight, appearance, or station in life. “They deserve as many orgasms as possible.”

This theory made Doran a very popular man in these parts. But today he reserved his attentions solely for the woman who threatened the sanctity of his planet.

I must diffuse her hostility. With quick, purposeful steps, he climbed the crystal-laden staircase that lead to Norina’s chamber.

And if anyone could ‘diffuse’ a woman, it was…

 “Doran!”

As the alien ambassador stood in the doorway of the empress’ suite, he immediately noted the room’s silk-upholstered furniture; the expansive entertainment center that could produce three-dimensional images, as well as the simulated scents and tastes associated with these images; and the floor-to-ceiling glass-planed walls that afforded an expansive, far-reaching view of his native city.

And in the center of this spectacular room stood one regally peeved monarch.

“I suppose Valaria sent you to pacify me,” snipped Norina, an elegant brunette in her 40s. “To talk me out of the total annihilation of your home and people.”

Although Doran cringed inwardly at these harshly spoken words, he greeted the speaker with a wink and a full-toothed smile.

 “Actually, my lady,” he arched his eyebrows meaningfully, “she didn’t send me to talk at all.”

Starting, the empress cocked her head curiously. “You hope to seduce me away from my plans?” she snorted. “Or have you come to assassinate me?”

Holding his hands up before him, Doran revealed his weapon of choice: a vial of lavender massage oil.

 “I mean only to make a peace offering,” his voice lowered to a soft, sexual whisper, “in the form of a sensual massage.”

Scoffing, Norina plopped down unceremoniously on the edge of a royal red couch. “I could get a massage in my own kingdom, from my own gorgeous man servants.”

“True enough.” Doran shrugged, walking further inward to stand just before the empress. “I must tell you, though, that I am known in particular for my ‘special’ massages.” With this, his eyes narrowed sensually in her direction. “I could bring you great pleasure, Madame Empress.”

In a move that shocked even Doran, Norina flipped over onto her back and slipped her peach satin dressing gown smoothly from her shoulders.

Lying fully nude before him, she motioned for Doran to join her on the couch.

 “You’re gorgeous, and I’m bored,” she sighed. “Rub, knead and pleasure to your heart’s content.”

Chuckling softly, Doran followed the example set by the empress. Holding her gaze, he slowly unbuttoned his smoothly tailored vest, revealing a chest that many labeled massive and bronzed.

“Do I win the approval of the empress?” he pursed his lips in a sexy manner.

Her wide-eyed gaze and gaping mouth, he decided, indicated an affirmative response.

Once again taking the vial of massage oil firmly in hand, he poured a sample of the warm, succulent liquid slowly into his palm.

“Much like a royal taster, I must first sample the oil before it touches my lady’s skin.”

With one sweeping gesture, he canvassed his chest with a luscious sheen of thick, shiny lavender oil. Then he used slow, massaging strokes to rub the oil deep into the silken planes of his pure bronzed skin.

“Ah yes,” he growled, inhaling sharply. “Perfect.”

The empress, he noted, no longer sneered or glared at him. Her gaze, in fact, had softened and narrowed to appealing effect.

“Touch me, Doran,” she coaxed.

* * * *

Sure, overthrowing an age-old planetary dynasty was loads of fun. Striking fear in the hearts of millions? An absolute lark!

Even these experiences paled in comparison to a sensual massage, as administered by the sexiest man in the universe.

Doran Kaliedicus, with his long, honey blond hair, wide, cocoa brown eyes, and leanly muscular frame, more than qualified as a heavenly being. And under the effects of his firm but tender touch, all signs of tension escaped Norina’s body. She sighed deeply as his fingers kneaded and eased the muscles of her back and waist before playfully tickling her calves.

The pads of his firm thumbs made slow, steady circles across the surface of her toes and feet. Then her masseur turned her gently onto her back and stared directly into her eyes.

For a timeless moment their gazes held, and Doran resumed his intimate massage…and took it, she found, to an entirely new level.

Mimicking the actions of a true lover, he cupped her sturdy chin and lovingly caressed her cheeks. She felt the color rise in those cheeks as he rubbed her tension-strained neck and finally laid his magical hands on her breasts.

She moaned as Doran kneaded and teased her ample bosom and even giggled as his agile thumbs rubbed her sensitive nipples.

Her gently rounded abdomen was the next to benefit from Doran’s expert attentions. She sighed as he laved the warm, gentle oil liberally across her stomach, before playfully tickling her bellybutton.

Finally, Doran’s hand ventured lower still, to explore her most intimate areas.

“About time,” she purred, her eyes narrowing with the heat of desire.

Doran’s touch intensified this need. As he ran his fingers through her feminine nest, he left fiery sparks of passion in his wake.

His other hand closing surely but tenderly around her full, womanly hip, Doran stroked and teased Norina’s clit until it heaved for his attentions.

As his strokes lengthened and intensified, he leaned forward to plant a sweet, affirming kiss across her lips.

“Oh my,” she grinned in spite of herself, and reached upward to run a grateful hand through his long, silken blond hair. “Back home, none of my man servants dare kiss me or even look me directly in the eyes.”

“Do they dare this?”

Grasping her clit, Doran gently squeezed her feminine fruit until her juices poured sweetly forth. He cooed softly as her breath grew labored and covered her cheeks with nips and pecks.

Then abruptly his hand stilled. And he straightened fully before her.

Looking sharply upward, Norina pinned her now solemn masseur with an inquiring gaze.

“Why did you stop?” Her voice held a tremor of marked frustration, if not outright desperation.

Doran shrugged. “Perhaps because I want you to stop; to put a halt to this campaign of terror you’ve waged against my people.” He cocked his head curiously. “Did you ever stop to think that if you had more love in your life, and perhaps more sexual release, that you would not feel compelled to wreak havoc on every planet you visit?”

Norina shrugged and pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Wrecking havoc is fun.”

She inhaled sharply as Doran again squeezed her clit, setting fire to her entire body.

“As much fun as this?” His low, sexy growl only intensified her arousal.

“Well, you got me there,” she grinned, “literally.”

Throwing her head back, she leaned her hips forward to garner the full effect of his touch. “Make me come, Doran.”

“On one condition.”

Norina started in surprise, both at the authoritative sound of Doran’s voice as well as the force of his words. “No one imposes conditions on me, Ambassador.”

“Just consider this another, particularly enjoyable method of negotiation.” Doran gestured broadly with his available hand. “If you so kindly promise not to devastate my planet with your obvious powers of destruction then I will give you the ‘kindest’ climax you’ve ever experienced.”

Norina started to object; that is, until Doran started to withdraw that all-important hand.

“I promise,” she gasped, almost painfully.

Without further hesitation, Doran pressed his agile fingers against her delicate feminine core and rubbed her aroused bud.

Virtually squealing with relief, Norina squirmed as her being erupted in shards of sublime ecstasy.

And she didn’t resist when Doran claimed her lips in a fierce, passionate kiss.

“You see, Empress?” he whispered in her ear. “Sometimes it feels good to surrender.”

Affinity

By

Anne Leland

Prologue

The silk sheet caressed her leg like a lover’s touch. Jasmine rolled over, legs restlessly moving against the luxurious fabric, twisting it into a ball around her feet. Sunlight tugged at her eyes, beckoning her to open them and face the day. She buried her head in her pillow, begging darkness to swallow her once again.

A trance-like state washed back in as she drifted back into the dream. An unseen lover trailed a shower of kisses along the back of her calf. His hands followed each curve of her body, over the outside of her legs, along the slope of her ass where his fingertips stopped to caress the supple flesh.

His breath blew along the inside of her thighs, drawing closer. Inching nearer to the sweet spot waiting for his mouth to find the wet center.

Her mystery lover’s strong hands pushed her thighs apart, and two long fingers probed the dampness. She moaned softly into the pillow, grinding her hips against the bed and the phantom fingers pushing into her sex. Gliding along her slick invitation, the simple strokes brought her to the edge of insane pleasure.

He lifted her legs to a kneeling position. Helpless to squelch her desire, she arched her back in cat-like fashion while pressing her face deeper into the sleepy comfort of her pillow. His mouth covered her sex, his tongue pushing into her juice, sucking it from her center. Her arms strained to hold her position as her clit swelled. A flame of fire burst along her belly, up over her breasts, where his hands found her hard nipples.

As he tongue-fucked her sex, he tugged and teased her nipples until she could no longer breathe against the soft down of the pillow caging her cries of ecstasy.

She lifted her face from the white casing. Her lungs gulped the morning air. Sunlight burned her eyelids as her body trembled from the searing assault of her mystery lover’s lips.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The alarm broke through the fantasy, dragging Jasmine into the full harsh reality of the coming day.

Her knees buckled against the bed, and as she collapsed into the satin comfort, a voice whispered.

“Don’t worry, my love, this is only the beginning.”

Whipping around, she blinked and scanned the bedroom for the source of the words. Only the stark walls and cherry-wood armoire returned her gaze.

Billie?

Impossible.

But the voice, the touch, they all held the familiarity she knew in her heart could only belong to one man. The one man whose death shattered her world and left her heart empty of ever finding love, ever finding a life for herself, again.

Fifteen years and she could still imagine his touch so clearly that it had seemed real.

It’s just a dream. A memory inspired, no doubt, by today’s impending mission.

Jasmine shut off the persistent chime of the alarm clock and crawled out of bed. If she hurried, she could be there by nightfall and perhaps then, she could put all of it behind her, along with the ebbing shadows of her dream. 

Chapter One

When she drove around the sharp bend in the road, Jasmine Michael’s life took a turn for the worse.

Bam!

The front tire slapped the asphalt. She jogged the wheel while lightly pumping the brakes, fearing any sudden movement would drag her into a spin on the wet road. A crack of white lightening flashed before her illuminating her deadly path. Her Mercedes skittered dangerously close to the shoulder of the highway.

“Come on, baby, stay with me.”

She coaxed the steel beast to the left and after what seemed an eternity; the car skidded to a stop, a mere six inches away from the forty-foot drop.

Jasmine clutched the steering wheel in her trembling hands and blew out a deep breath. She threw the car in park and turned the ignition off.

Great. Just great. Apropos to her reservations about returning to the banks of Half Moon River, she knew no good would come of it. Why didn’t she listen to her horoscope this morning? When a newspaper tells you you’re in for a bumpy road, shouldn’t you listen?

In her heart, she knew she was looking for a way out. The dream this morning unnerved her to no end.

Then again, the same newspaper told her a friend from a foreign place would deliver news she’d been waiting for, and what were the odds of that happening? First, she had no friends; second, Atlanta could hardly be considered a foreign country, and everyone she happened to know lived there. What possessed her to even bother to read the daily gibberish, she’d never figure out.

Distractions. It was yet another distraction. Her life was full of them, carried out day after day to avoid thinking. Thinking led to paths she’d rather not explore.

Then all the sudden the phone call came, and she couldn’t keep running, couldn’t fill the voids with a series of distractions anymore. It was time to face her demons and put the past to rest.

Reaching for her overnight bag, she extracted her cell phone from the front pocket. Three seconds after flipping the casing open, she realized the futility of her actions. Getting a signal on Wilmington Island would be a stretch to begin with, but with the storm, impossible. She’d have to venture out to find help.

It pained her to play the helpless damsel in distress, but she’d never gotten around to replacing the spare tire after her flat two years ago. Not that she’d know how to change it anyway if she had the foresight to have it with her now.

She stretched out her hand and fumbled her fingers around the floor of the backseat. Her search came up empty. The umbrella either wasn’t there or it had rolled under the seats.

Opening the door a crack to release her seatbelt, she turned around in her seat to kneel and peer into the back compartment of the vehicle. The red handle of the umbrella stuck out from under the passenger side seat. Twisting back around to sit down, she reached over and grabbed the handle, extracting the Eddie Bauer plaid print from its hiding place.

A strong gust of air whipped the door open, and a flurry of raindrops pelted in, instantly soaking the left side of her jeans and white blouse.

So much for needing an umbrella.

By her calculations, the Moonlight Bar would be a few blocks up the road. Though she may look like a drown rat by the time she got there, at least she could find someone to help fix the tire or drive her down to the gas station she’d passed a few miles back.

Jasmine popped the umbrella open in an attempt to protect herself from the downpour. As she stepped out of the Mercedes, the wind whipped the thin barrier back and forth. A second later, the umbrella folded upward and the cold rain poured down.

“This is just not my day.” Jasmine shook her head, collapsed the umbrella and began trekking down the path to the Moonlight Bar. The darkness of the night and the wall of rain closed in like a water-laden tomb.

While driving, the rain didn’t seem so bad. Now, it felt as if she hiked through a monsoon. Raging currents of air batted her from every direction, and she curled her hands around her eyes to protect them from the onslaught.

She’d heard a good part of Wilmington Island had been swept away by the recent hurricanes. Apparently, some of the hurricane winds stayed and took up permanent residence.

The Moonlight had to be near. God only knew if the tavern was spared from the squall wreckage. Water seeped into her Keds and squished between her toes. Her skin puckered, wrinkling like linen in need of a good drycleaner. She pressed forward and prayed the storm would let up before she shriveled into a permanent raisin-like state.

As she drew closer to where the piano bar should be, no lights were visible to guide her way.

Of all the rotten luck. If no one was there, she’d have to turn around and hike at least three miles back to civilization or sweat things out until morning in hopes some hearty fisherman or beach comber might venture out and find her.

A few feet further and she stood in front of the building, or rather what was left of the building. Time and harsh weather had turned the Moonlight into a ramshackle shell of what it had once been. Her heart thudded to the ground as she took in the damage and decay.

Rotted wood planks barely held together to form the exterior. Washed and abraded from weather and sand, they’d lost their once vibrant paint tone. The windows were boarded, and not even a trace of the once grandiose neon sign was visible above the doorway. Years ago, the sign could be seen all the way down the beach, inviting patrons from all over to join the festive atmosphere. The Moonlight had been quite a classy hangout in its day. Now it was just… desolate.

Well, what had she expected? Billie to be standing there holding open the door for her, crooked smile on his face and hands held out to warm her? Happy crowds of Blues-loving admirers breathtakingly awaiting her arrival?

Those days were long gone. Hell. Why hadn’t she thought to phone ahead and find out if the place was even still open for business?

In her heart, she knew. Billie, the Moonlight Bar, her days of singing by his side, nights spent in perfect harmony, the memories resided here at the Moonlight where she stacked them after Billie’s death. She gave no thought as to whether the piano bar existed because it still lay perfect as the day she first crossed the threshold, frozen in the walls of her heart.

Gone.

How could it be gone when she still had so much to resolve? This trip needed to produce answers, not more questions. Damn it to high heaven!

Jasmine kicked the side of the decrepit building, and a chunk of wood flew off, skipping along the water in the parking lot until it echoed out of view.

What now?

A loud crack of thunder raced a shiver down her spine as a streak of lightening illuminated its arc toward her. She ducked and watched in terror as the current sparked off a nearby tree. Howling winds dove across the sand, kicking up grainy tufts.

Jasmine raced to the front door of the broken-down tavern. Surely, the building must offer some shelter from the driving rain. Maybe she could wait out the fiercest part storm there before hiking back down the road in search of help?

The idea seemed reasonable, if not a bit foreboding. If the wood came off the sides of the building that easily, what were her chances the whole thing wouldn’t topple down on her?

Not to mention the prospect of rats. Half Moon River tended to be home to several creatures of the undesirable variety even when it was fully operational. With the building vacant, some might have taken up permanent residency.

Well, it was either face the electric volts and trudge back through the downpour or wait it out for a little while. The rain intensified, pouring down in a solid sheet, as if daring her to make her way back through it.

Blinded by the thickening downpour, fully soaked with no other options in sight, she grabbed the front handle of the doorway, praying the building would hold. The door stuck, and she yanked on the handle to push it open.

A blue-tinted halo of light spilled out from the interior. Jasmine blinked against the sudden brightness, swept the rain from her eyes with the back of her hand then hesitantly stepped through the doorway, seeking the source of the light.

What she saw next knocked the air from her lungs.

Secrets In Solar City:
Midnight Lover
By
Mae Powers 

Chapter One

(Solar City, Texas: 2085)

My body boils with heat for her, as fevered as the anger I sense within her heart.

He couldn’t help think this to be true. Brynn would not forgive him easily. Jacques Corday, ex-duke of Francia, stayed out of view at the backside of the stage, intently watching the internationally famous entertainer, Brynn Anders’ vibrant performance. After frustrating years of not being physically around her, he knew how foolish he’d been to let Brynn fade out of his life. Especially during his younger days when his jealousy had torn their idealistic love apart.

Now, he thought, I will learn more about her love-aura, even if she tries to close herself off to me. Once he’d taken his unusual gift of empathy for granted – he would not do so again. He needed to make Brynn understand his perceptiveness of her went beyond normal means. He’d even looked empathically into the future, knowing that a certain tomorrow would bring her nearer to his heart. If only he believed strong enough and could get her to realize they were meant to be together, in the present as well as in the future.

It took him too many years to realize how deeply she affected his psyche and body. She existed in the spirit of his heart, yet he realized it would take blowing up mountains in order to get her to trust him or love him again.

Jacques let out a long frustrated sigh. He had never faced such insurmountable odds before, as the cold hard stubbornness of one very desirable and problematic woman. An alluring beauty he intended to get back into his life in any way he could.

When her arms moved in tune with her animated performance, he studied her physical attributes with heated intensity. Though a tall, curvaceous woman, her innate, brisk movements carried a touch of elegance and grace. Time complimented her natural beauty.

Even the stage lights reflecting on her body as she swayed, made her skin glow as soft and satiny-looking as when he first met her nearly twelve years ago. Her silvery ash brown hair puffed like a cloud when she tossed her head to the rhythmic beat of the song she sang. She wore her hair hanging just passed her shoulders and parted on the left. It framed her oval face, giving her whole demeanor a sparkling, mystifying quality.

The same magical shine twinkled like silver stars in her almond-shaped gray eyes. Framed by long, sable colored lashes, her eyes often drew one to Brynn Anders magnetic personality. At times they reflected her emotions; such as when they were a smoky gray, and one couldn’t tell what she was feeling – her professional side. It was when they were misty pools of dreaminess that he found them the most enchanting. Or when they turned to molten gray during anger he found her the most intoxicating.

Brynn’s hypnotic allure showed through in every movie she made and every live appearance she did. It stayed uniquely a Brynn Anders’ trait – a mannerism that helped drive her right to the top of her profession as an entertainer, both in the music and film industries. But it also added to her sex appeal. Though he knew she had no real magical powers that he knew of, Brynn blatantly sported an almost mystical, sexual magnetism that drew others to her fiery nature. For him, more than her physical beauty pulled him to her. He knew his empathic nature reeled like a fire going out of control when she roamed any vicinity near him. Brynn was his life-mate, but he’d have to move the cosmos, or travel into their tomorrows, to make her realize that.

A light touch on Jacques’ arm made him look at the person standing next to him. An extremely tall, impeccably dressed, hulking man grinned down at him. The man's smile felt almost infectious, but irritating also, as if it inferred too much. “She's about to finish up the concert. We'd better wait in her dressing room, Jacques.”   

Jacques quietly nodded, took one long last look at the woman on stage, and then followed the man backstage. They went down a short corridor to a room marked with Brynn's name in sparkling silver letters. When Jacques entered the room, he briefly scanned the decor. Everything looked orderly, down to the cosmetics and large vase of flowers on top of the three-mirrored vanity in the room. An oriental dressing screen stood at one end of the room, and near it, a mobile hanger unit flushed with glittering costumes.

Various posters from the concert hall’s famed performers radiated from different positions on the walls. Two comfortable armchairs, a small table between them, and the lighted vanity with its cushioned stool, made up the furniture in the white-walled room.

Even with the door closed behind them, the echoing roars of the crowds in the concert hall, filtered into the dressing room. The sounds almost rocked the place apart. Jacques tingled with some anticipation and dread at the knowledge that she would soon be coming. But first, knowing from other concerts he'd privately watched, she would do an encore for the people. Brynn always gave her audiences their money's worth, and then some.

“As you can see, she's done well for herself, Jacques,” the dark auburn-haired man commented.

“Then why would she consent to work with me?” Though he spoke fluent English, one could not mistake Jacques’ velvety, Francian-tinted accent.

A slight grim spread on Luke's lips, making Jacques almost jitter with wariness. “I still have control of her contracts, Jacques. Since she won't be back in Solar City until her tour is over, we had to meet her here in Austin.”

Jacques raised his brows a fraction. “I never would have thought she’d so easily consent to see me in private.”

“Brynn doesn't know she'll be filming with you in particular. She should be whirling in shortly. Stand by the door and out of the line of fire.”

Jacques drew his brows together in annoyance, but for now, he did as the taller man suggested. Indeed, less than a minute later the door flung open, barely missing Jacques' arm. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and ignored Luke as she sat down on the vanity bench. He knew he wouldn’t have long to wait.

* * * *

Starting to comb out her hair, she glanced upwards in the mirror and saw a man standing near the door. He stood dressed in an expensive, well-tailored dark suit that only enhanced his graceful, athletic build. A body she once knew more intimately than anyone’s. Her eyes flickered to the well-tanned face. Piercing eyes as blue as a spring morning stared back at her. Her face lost all color. Jacques Corday! No one else quite had the commanding aura that this man did. And no other man had ever been able to turn her world upside-down or turn her insides into a raging hurricane.

The fury of his presence blinded her sanity. What was it about him that made her act irrational? She didn’t miss that gleam in his eyes; a sparkle of knowing as if he could almost read her every emotion, know her every desire. This fact scared her in ways she couldn’t comprehend, but it also excited her. Slowly rising, she inhaled a deep breath. When she turned around, she showed only a mask of polite aloofness to the two men. Years of acting had prepared her for any role, real-life or otherwise. She refused to break down in front of these two self-made bastards.

Her first glance she bestowed upon Luke Silvers. “Morbid jokes are not in your style, Luke. Is this…person to be my next co-star?”

“Yes. Are you going to protest my choice?”  

“Knowing you, I doubt any objections would hold sway.”

“Not in the least, cousin. I'll send you a copy of the script.”

Brynn hurried across the dressing room to open the door. “Get out now, Luke, and take this damn…cretin with you.”  

Jacques stepped around her, immediately placing his hand over hers on the doorknob. Though only an inch or two over six feet, she felt that his regal personality dominated the room more than Luke Silvers did with his great height of nearly seven feet. “You had better get use to my presence, Brynn. You and I shall be seeing a lot of each other over the next several months.”

“Not if I have any say in this matter.”

She tried to pull her hand from his, as he brought it up to his lips and kissed it. “In fair warning, I'm here to stay, and for more reasons than making films with you.” Jacques threatened passionately, and then released her hand.

Brynn stepped back. “Get out, both of you.”

Neither man gave her any problems about leaving, and she didn’t hesitate about slamming the door in their faces, barely missing them. Brynn fumed. How dare Luke bring that bastard back into her life? She would make sure both of them would regret coming here today.

* * * *

Outside the closed door Luke’s calm nature astonished Jacques. Even towards the end of the short visit, he knew he and Luke had pushed Brynn too far. There was no way in Hell he would venture back into that room. He knew she had a slow-to-rise temper, but nothing compared to the deep molten steel he felt shrouded in her eyes when he pushed her close to an exploding point.

“One, two, three...” Luke counted, and then grinned as a loud, vibrating crash reverberated from the direction of the dressing room. “Last time I heard that kind of noise, it cost me a priceless antique vase.” Then with a whistle, he jauntily sauntered away from the dressing room area.

Jacques stood staring after the man. He looked at the dressing room door again, tempted, thought better of it, and then left in the same direction as Luke Silvers. He would be more equipped to rough the storm when she returned to Solar City and into his arms.

* * * *

Less than a month after seeing Brynn in Austin, Jacques arrived in Texas’ version of Hollywood – Solar City, a mid-sized glamorous town an hour’s drive south of Houston, and south west of Galveston Island. Luke had been magnanimous to him around the glitzy city. He had never been to this man-made waterside metropolis before, though he had seen it rise to international fame over a period of years.

In the early 1990s, it had been nothing more than a rural town sitting off an inlet of the Gulf of Mexico. A new mineral named solarvium was discovered deep in the Texas soil near Solar City. It became a gold mine to technology and energy. And the Silvers family owned most of the land in the area. Between them and investors of all kinds, Solar City bloomed. Yet, through all its modern changes and international inhabitants, the small metropolis still held an old-world charm about the unusual town. It developed many secrets within its eclectic borders, and some unusual inhabitants, even in the advanced year of 2085. One of the most eccentric beings he’d ever met resided here most of his life, Luke Silvers. The man was an intelligent and incredible entrepreneur, and a distant cousin of Brynn Anders.

For the last hour, he and the group of people that worked for him were watching a film being made here in Silverado Studios. Jacques noticed Luke’s mouth slowly turn down. Then he made jerky movements. Then the owner of the film company started to pace in restless tiny circles. Jacques focused his attention on what appeared to be the cause of Luke's agitation – two people trying to do a love scene.

“Cut!” Luke yelled. “Derek, give the damn scene more…vibrancy. Brynn, you're supposed to be highly upset with the man. Let's see some reaction! Chrystal, get over here and touch up their make-up.”

A tall, slender, blonde-haired woman moved onto the set. With deft fingers, she applied minimal touch-ups to first Derek, then Brynn. Brynn didn’t need cosmetics. She portrayed a vivacious, natural beauty on an unforgettable face. And purported a curvaceous body a man could never weary of making love to. He certainly wouldn’t mind pulling that low cut gown off her delectable form and pushing her down on the set’s bed. Definitely, he’d like to explore between her tasty thighs and fondle those perky luscious breasts. . .

He quickly shook himself out of that train of thought and let his eyes take in the man whom Brynn now stood next to, readying to do a retake of the scene. He knew of the well-known, exceedingly handsome actor she collaborated with, as Derek Preston – global heartthrob.

As Luke had them redo the scene, Jacques admitted to himself that the two actors looked good together. Too good. Yet, the man couldn't hold a woman right – at least not a woman as sensually arresting as Brynn Anders. He seethed at the thought of Derek holding Brynn so close, his hips grinding softly into hers. He could almost see the outline of the man’s cock straining to get closer to Brynn. He did not want to dwell on why that fact bothered him so much. Jealousy had cost him Brynn’s love once. He could not let his raging hormones and emotions do that again.

     “Cut! Dammit, what the hell's the matter with you two? Derek something's missing!” Luke hollered out again.

“The man needs more fire in his actions.” Jacques stated quite loud.

All noise and commotion stopped at his words. Everyone inside the large structure turned his way. The reaction he'd aroused on their faces pleased him. Especially on Brynn's. Her gray eyes were wide in disbelief and her full, coral colored lips quivered. It pleased him even further to see her hug herself, as if she had to force that curvaceous form of hers to stop shaking. His inner instincts confirmed she had not lost her attraction for him. He just needed to illustrate that fact to her, no matter what it took.

“Perhaps you would care to show how the scene should be done, Mr. Corday?” Luke's face didn’t register shock as everyone else's did, only mild annoyance.

Jacques Corday, since first making his exclamation and motioning for his entourage to stay put, did not stop moving until he reached the actress. For a fleeting second the mixture of alarm and repulsion on her face both bothered and satisfied him. Then in one swift movement, before anyone could stop him, he pulled her into his arms, his lips coming down upon hers with needful, lustful force. Jacques did not let up on Brynn, even when her resentment turned to wrath. He was quick in securing her slender wrists behind her, becoming tenacious in his efforts to hold her body against his. When he set out to accomplish something, he did not cease until it was irrevocably finished.

Jacques could feel her rage shiver in waves of rushed heat. Her frantic squirms of resistance to get out of his possession only fueled and strengthened his resolve to keep her near him. He knew her actions were real and he reveled in the fact that he could still bring out her deeper emotions. His kiss became less firm, yet it deepened. His tongue delved between her swollen lips, tempting her with every male artifice he could bring forth. His mouth scorched her tender lips, demanding no opposition, and breaking down her last defenses. One hand slid down to press her backside up against his hips. He craved for her to feel the length his covered bulge was growing to. Yearned for her to feel what she did to him, even now after years of being without her and her luscious body so close to him.

He needed to be even closer against her, to feel his heat mingle with hers. He wanted it to go on forever – this racy, electrifying sensation she caused in every part of his body, mind, and soul. Suddenly his desires came true. Somehow, she had pulled her wrists free. Her right hand slipped around him, stroking his taut buttocks. Then, both her hands were touching his body causing all kinds of pleasurable waves to ignite throughout him. Her fierce responses sent uncontrollable shivers running through him now, scorching his entire system. Hell, his need became desperate now, to slip his dick into her warm channel and feel her wrapped around his shaft. He wished to look down at her and see her wild passions bursting forth to match his own intense fires.

“You will soon, Jacques,” his inner voice prophesized, “But not at this moment.”

Years of inbred caution warned him to get hold of the situation before he fell under the fixating influence of her sensual charisma and it made him oblivious to anything else around him. Jacques pulled his head back a few inches from hers. Her eyes were glassy, her breath raspy as if she had been ventilating, and she stayed pliant against him. It only proved to him what he hoped for years. Brynn Anders had not stopped desiring him. She would be his, and soon.

Seconds after he finished kissing her, her stormy grey eyes widened as if she realized something. Then they darkened, just before she disentangled herself from him quickly. Her right hand doubled into a fist, crashing into his bearded chin with such force, that he fell backwards across the bed on the set. For a few seconds he lay there before he shook his senses clear. Focusing, he saw Brynn staring down at him, her eyes turned to gray molten fury.

“You bastard,” she exclaimed through gritted teeth, “I will not continue to pay for Corday perfidies. Next time I'll kill you!”

After her assault on him, the room came alive with noise and movement. The cast and crew made gestures and gossip about the dramatic scene that had just taken place. Jacques' entourage ran to help him up and get him off the set. Solar City detectives clamp handcuffs on Brynn, arresting her even though Derek Preston tried to help her. Luke Silvers smiled with apparent glee as he kept his holocam operators laser-filming the entire episode. Jacques realized the bastard had taunted him and Brynn. Luke must have known that this would happen with his and Brynn’s explosive personalities.

Only his elder brother, Andre Corday the recent King of Francia, would have any knowledge about his and Brynn’s affair, plus what had happened between the two of them. Either Andre told Luke, or Brynn mentioned their affair to the billionaire. He believed it to be his brother, since Silvers and Andre were old friends.

 Into Tomorrow

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