How does a story begin? One page at a time.

Thinking about the new scenario for the next book in the Jessica Summer series as I'm finishing up the paranormal book. I have the backdrop, the characters, a vague idea of what's going to happen and nothing more. 

Often I start by writing out a page or two that will be in the middle of the book if it doesn't get cut altogether. The starting page or two helps me to get to know the characters a little better and how they interact with one another. From there, I sketch out a beginning, a middle and an ending, adding and deleting characters and scenes as I go.

You will probably not see the finished product for about a year. But here's the start. I thought it would be fun to take you along on this journey.

I wasn’t expecting to see him here. Him being here means that he was thinking about me. Him being here means that he was interested in my success. Him being here means that he cares.

I’m not sure I want him to care. As far as I know, I can’t handle Joe Costa caring about me. It would change everything.

He offers me a half grin, his eyes fixed on me, hand hanging on the front pocket of his jeans.

“Hey.”

I lift my chin ever so slightly. “Hey.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I was just in the neighborhood…”

“Right.” Everything about this moment feels awkward.

“I thought maybe you could use a hand.” He glances around. “But it looks like you have everything under control.”

“I think so.”

“Place looks good.”

“Thank you.”

“Logan coming by tonight?”

“Not tonight. He’s out with his friends, so…”

Joe nods. And then I get the look. You know that look you get right before someone is about to pull you into his arms and…. I wait, daring to look into his eyes, my breath stilled.

“So I guess I should go.”

“Unless you want to stay.” I shuffle my feet, my hands in my back pockets. “I mean, for coffee or something.”

“I could stay. But not for coffee.”

Backing up, I gesture toward my living area and Joe steps further into my apartment. Joe Costa in my apartment, sitting on my couch in my living room.

I stand at a distance, unsure of myself. “If not coffee, then…”

“I don’t like you being with Logan. The guy’s a jerk and he doesn’t deserve you.”

I shrug. “What would you suggest I do?”

“Get rid of him. Go solo for a little while. Find someone better.”

“Someone like you?” I am hard-pressed to stop my temper. “Someone who throws me a bone every once in a while but isn’t really interested in me? Someone who will talk the talk from here to eternity and back but never act on anything? Someone who can’t commit to an evening let alone the thought of any kind of a relationship…”

“I should leave.” He stands to leave, taking a few steps toward the door.

“Of course you should. You should leave and I should end it with Logan for no apparent reason.”

He stops in his tracks, whirling around. There is something in his eyes. Anger. Determination. Frustration. I can’t decide what it is before he grabs my wrists, pushing me against the wall. Without a word, he crushes his lips against mine. His hands are on my waist, his body hovering before mine.

Even as he pulls away, I want more. His eyes are searching just for a moment before I close the gap, my lips touching his, my body now against the length of him. He is solid. Hard and muscular. Strong. Agonizing.

“Lauren, stop,” he murmurs against my lips. “Stop.”

I look up at him, my eyes wide.

“I shouldn’t have come here.” He backs away from me further. “Bad decision. I’m sorry.”

“Why do you do things like this, Joe? Show up at my place and tell me that I should end it with Logan? Kiss me and then leave?”

“You want me to stay and do what? You want me to kiss you again? Here’s the problem with that. If I kiss you again, I’m going to want more. And if I get what I want if I kiss you again, things are going to be really awkward between us.”

I consider this for a moment, but probably not long enough. “If you spent the night here, Joe…”

He puts up a hand. “I’m not going to. I’m not going to do anything other than apologize and leave.”

“You are the most frustrating person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t make it any better.”

“Maybe not. The fact that you don’t want to accept my apology doesn’t make me any less sorry.” He thinks for a moment. “OK. Maybe not sorry. I can’t say I’m sorry that I kissed you. I am sorry because kissing you was selfish and disrespectful. I’m going to leave. Have a good night, Lauren.”

He walks toward the door, murmuring another apology as he grabs the handle and lets himself out. My life with Joe Costa just got a little more complicated.