Brilliant – The Book that Almost Wasn’t

It’s a fact that sometimes half the words an author writes aren’t included in the final draft. Every experienced author has at least one story where, in a moment of clarity, they say a string of expletives and either work their Delete key to death or build a bonfire and ceremoniously watch each page burn.

Fortunately for me, I didn’t destroy the excised part because a year later it became Brilliant, my first romance.

It was originally attached to Furthest from the Gate, my second book, a coming out story that follows Kate Mitchell from first to twelfth grade. Brilliant was originally about Kate in college. Eventually I realized it didn’t work. It was too long and the beauty of the story about Kate’s youth and family, got lost in the four years of debauchery in college, where she sleeps around and behaves like a college kid. (That’s how it was in the original, but not in Brilliant.)

By separating the two, it allowed me to focus on a very adult relationship between Ronnie Frost and Dr. Diane Cole, a sociology professor who meets her match in grad student Ronnie. A May-December romance, Brilliant is a slow burn, as Ronnie pursues Diane, who just can’t imagine herself with a student, although her attraction to Ronnie is undeniable. Along for the ride is a humorous cast of characters, Ronnie’s roommates and Diane’s best friend, all of whom move the story and the characters toward the Happily Ever After ending the reader craves.

1. Ronnie Moves to L.A.

White highway stripes whipped past the car, vanishing almost as fast as they appeared. Ronnie Frost cracked a grin when she glanced at the speedometer. One hundred miles per hour and the ’66 Mustang convertible wasn’t protesting at all. The rebuilt engine could handle up to 120 miles per hour, and she pressed the gas down just a bit more, watching the needle creep up to 105.

She was flying, strands of her long, blond hair floating behind her freely from underneath her baseball cap. The scorching heat baked her face and made it difficult to breathe, but there was no way she would put the top up, even if it meant sacrificing air conditioning. She loved the feeling of an open ride, and if she couldn’t cruise down the road on her Harley, the Mustang was a pleasant substitute. Actually, she lamented, it wasn’t her Harley, but her ex’s, and it would be a long time before she could afford a bike.

Ronnie reached across the seat and flipped open a small cooler, pulling a Coke from the melted, icy water. She held the can against her cheek and neck, letting tendrils of water slide between her breasts, enjoying the momentary pleasure a cold shiver could provide.

She glanced at the speedometer again, realizing she’d accelerated to 110. It felt good to go fast. There was hardly anyone on Interstate 10, all of the tourists and truckers already having arrived at their Labor Day destinations. While everyone else enjoyed their barbeques, Ronnie savored the open road.

It was two o’clock and she’d just passed Palm Springs. She was making great time and hadn’t stopped once – except when the nice highway patrolman caught her doing ninety outside of Quartzite. He asked her to get out of the car, and when his eyes weren’t probing every inch of her body, they were admiring the Mustang. Usually Ronnie didn’t use her sex appeal to her advantage, but in Arizona a ticket for ninety miles an hour would be close to two hundred dollars.

Ronnie guessed he was about twenty-six, just four years older than she, and when he didn’t immediately reach for his ticket book, she flashed a smile that was both seductive and repentant. His baby face reacted instantly, giving her hope for a warning. He asked her if she knew how fast she was going, and she told the truth, but she loved to drive fast, the highway was so boring, and sometimes she couldn’t help it. She promised to slow down, and he nodded, considering her sincerity.

It didn’t hurt that she wore very little. A pink spaghetti tank top and denim cutoffs revealed more than they covered, including a silver belly ring, long, tanned legs and suggestive cleavage. When his gaze finally returned to her face, she stared into his eyes. He looked away first, asked her again to slow down and returned to his car.

Now seventy miles out of the patrolman’s jurisdiction, she’d broken her promise. Ronnie let the car slide back under one hundred, feeling a little guilty. Suddenly, red and white lights flickered in her rearview mirror again. Shit. The California Highway Patrolman must have been hiding behind the overpass she’d just whizzed through. She decelerated and stopped on the shoulder. She had no idea how much a California ticket would be, but if it was like everything else, it would be more expensive.

She looked in her side mirror at the cruiser behind her, but no one emerged. Great, she thought. This guy meant business and he was already checking her plates. She tapped the steering wheel nervously, hoping she could talk her way out of another fine and most likely a court appearance.

She heard the door open and watched a pair of uniformed legs approach. “License and registration, please,” an official voice asked.

Ronnie glanced up at an incredibly gorgeous redhead. The woman was petite, and despite the drab brown polyester pants and tan shirt, her curvaceous figure was apparent. Dark shades masked her heart-shaped face, but the full lips that pursed in disapproval fascinated Ronnie.

Ronnie swallowed hard and opened the glove compartment, fishing out her registration. Finding her license would be more difficult since she wasn’t sure where her purse had landed when she’d flung it into the Mustang that morning with everything else she owned. She climbed over the seat and started sifting through her belongings, well aware that the redhead was only inches away.

“Moving to California?” the patrolwoman asked with a flat, uninterested tone.

“I’m going to grad school at Carlson University,” Ronnie replied, finally pulling her purse out from under a stack of clothes.

“Excellent school,” the officer commented. “What are you studying?”

“Sociology,” Ronnie replied. She smiled slightly and handed her license to Officer J. Knight, as her gold nametag stated.

Officer Knight began the paperwork necessary to cite Ronnie’s violation. When she strolled behind the Mustang to write down Ronnie’s license plate number, Ronnie couldn’t help but notice her incredible ass in the rearview mirror. Ronnie’s libido kicked into overdrive as the good patrolwoman offered Ronnie a great view of her profile. The sun wasn’t the only thing that was hot on this stretch of highway.

Officer Knight retreated to her air-conditioned cruiser while Ronnie sat on the side of the highway imagining what the two of them could be doing in the back of the patrol car beneath the underpass.

Once the patrolwoman’s gun belt was discarded tongues and hands went everywhere. Ronnie caressed the CHP’s buttocks and reached for her zipper, but she swatted her hand away.

“Sorry, darlin’, I’m on duty. Besides, this is about you, not me.”

Officer Jenny Knight’s mouth, for Ronnie was sure the “J” was for Jenny, busily sucked Ronnie’s breasts, pulling at the ring that pierced her left nipple. Only when Jenny bit too hard did Ronnie cry out, and the patrolwoman kissed the crimson aureole lightly. Taking control, she pushed Ronnie down on the seat and quickly peeled off the tiny denim cutoffs and tank top, leaving Ronnie clad only in her pink thong. Jenny’s gaze wandered over Ronnie’s naked body, as though she were inspecting a suspect.

Ronnie felt her heartbeat quicken. Jenny loomed over her, staring but not touching. Suddenly Ronnie felt vulnerable. Jenny remained fully clothed, fully in control, while goose pimples burst over Ronnie’s flesh from the icy air conditioning that filled the cruiser. Yet Jenny did nothing but stare. When Jenny did finally put her hands on Ronnie’s knees, Ronnie took an audible breath as Jenny parted her legs and smiled.

Ronnie longed for the patrolwoman to touch her, but Officer Jenny clearly possessed great restraint. She traced the outline of Ronnie’s lips and slid her middle finger inside Ronnie’s mouth. In and out the finger came, mimicking what Ronnie yearned to feel between her legs. When Ronnie arched her back in pleading, Jennie let her hand trail down Ronnie’s abdomen, stopping at the thin waistband of her thong.

“Are you wet?” Jenny sneered.

Ronnie whimpered, unable to answer, her eyes glued to the finger that caressed the pink fabric.

Ronnie’s fantasy was abruptly interrupted by the very real figure of Officer Knight towering over her with a ticket. “I won’t bother to ask you if you know why I stopped you or how fast you were going. If you’re going to Carlson University, you must be very bright and those questions would be insulting to us both.”

Ronnie nodded pleasantly. She expected no-nonsense Officer Knight to hand her the citation and go, but the woman just stood there, her eyes fixed on Ronnie’s face.

Ronnie felt the need to fill the void with conversation. “I take it you know a lot about Carlson?”

“I live in L.A., about ten miles from the school. Today I’m just covering for a buddy, working the boonies, catching speeders such as yourself.”

Ronnie couldn’t help but smile, and she thought Officer Knight’s stony expression softened just a bit. “I apologize, officer. I understand that I should slow down, and I intend to, starting now.” And she really meant it.

She reached for the ticket and her license and registration, but Officer Knight still held them in a tight grip, out of reach. Ronnie’s fingers brushed against hers and neither of them moved. “That’s an incredible tattoo you have,” Officer Knight said, as her shaded eyes motioned to the large labrys that covered Ronnie’s left shoulder.

“Thanks.”

Officer Knight released her grip on the documents and walked away, leaving Ronnie dazed and lightheaded. She sat there until the patrol car eased back on the highway, and when she finally looked down at the ticket, she smiled. Written across all of the official jargon, empty spaces and boxes was a simple note in black marker.

CALL ME. 555-7341 – JENNY.

“Jenny. I knew it.”