THE CRITIC

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Authors: Dyanne Davis

Copyright © 2008 by Frances Dyanne Davis

 

All rights reserved. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher.

 

This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, locations, events and incidents (in either a contemporary and/or historical setting) are products of the author’s imagination and are being used in an imaginative manner as a part of this work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, settings, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

Manufactured in the United States of America

Second
Edition

 

Cover Art Copyright 2013 by Adina Mayo (adinamayo.com)

 

THE CRITIC

 

BY

 

DYANNE DAVIS

 

 

 

THE CRITIC

His eyes called to her and she was drawn by the dangerous whiskey color that looked gold when the camera came in for a close up. His mouth was full and sexy, and the thought of being kissed by those lips…  Mercy.  Her eyes dropped lower, caressing the contours of his body. A small sigh escaped her as her eyes lingered on his massive chest. The thought of laying her head on that chest caused an internal tremble.

She took a swallow of the cold lemonade in her hand, then swiped at the beads of condensation on the glass and rubbed the moisture across her forehead in hopes of quenching the fire.

Toreas Rose wanted badly to be able to reach out a hand and touch Jared Stone.  Mentally shaking herself, she looked even lower, sighing again at the sight of legs that appeared powerful and oh so masterful within the dark mustard colored trousers which were a perfect match for his bronze skin. Jared was one truly gorgeous man.

Toreas watched spellbound as Jared’s tongue slid out of his mouth to anchor his top lip, then lave his entire mouth.  God, how she wanted to suckle that tongue, to have it inside her mouth, to have it…

She didn’t know how it had happened, but Jared Stone had crawled inside her brain and hooked her.  To her, he was the epitome of a hero come to life.  Toreas hated admitting it, but she was falling for the man on the screen, a man she knew she’d never meet in real life.  But she could dream, couldn’t she?  For months she’d watched him and indulged in her secret crush. In her safe home he existed just for her. It would be better to never meet a man like that.

  She hadn’t heard the sound of his voice in weeks. She’d kept her television muted, just to enjoy the yummy sight of him. Listening would have been distracting.  Now that he’d swiped his lips with his tongue, though, Toreas needed to hear his voice and restored the sound to the program.

“Romance writers are a bunch of empty headed, bored women, and the women that read that trash are even worse.”

Toreas started. She couldn’t believe the words that had come out of her lover’s mout
h. Well, the lover in her mind.

The sound of glass shattering on the ceramic tile caused Toreas to look down in surprise. Lemonade was spreading across the floor.  While her attention was concentrated on Jared Stone,  the gl
ass had slipped from her hand.

“Romance writers, please,” Jared sneered. “What good do they do besides further feed the fantasies that addle-brained women already have. It’s all nonsense. Women should not be buying into that crap. There is no such thing as true love, or love at first sight, or happy endings. If you ask me, romance writers are doing a disservice to
the public by deluding women.”

She couldn’t believe it.
Toreas was riveted to the screen, unable to move, certainly not to clean up the floor. She stared at the man who for the past several months she’d been thinking of as the role model for the hero in her mind. She’d thought his looks perfect:  golden brown skin; beautiful light brown eyes with flecks of gold that she could see even on her television screen when the set lights hit him just right; full mouth that seemed just made for kissing; hair always neatly done in a half dread, half braided look. Toreas didn’t know what it was called but on Jared it looked good.

She studied the tight fitting body shirt he wore. It was obvious the man was proud of his body as he never bothered to cover it with a suit coat. He was tall and well muscled, but not too, with lean hips that flared
into seemingly well toned legs.

His voice and his walk had totally captivated Toreas the first time she’d seen him. Now the words being spoken in that same voice had her wanting to turn off the set. She couldn’t believe he was tearing down everything that she wanted in her life.  In essence, Jared Stone was destroying her dream before she had a chance to accomplish it.

She was a romance writer.

Well, she wanted to be a romance writer, but so far she’d met with nothing but rejection. It was becoming increasingly depressing to continue.  Jared Stone mouthing off didn’t help the situation.

“The whole lot of them are stupid, the women who write that thrash and the ones who read it. They’re just plain stupid. They should all get a life.”

Toreas groaned inwardly. How had she ever fallen for such an arrogant man?  His words were a real turn off. Well, enough fantasizing. With a flick of her wrist, she turned off the television, mourning the loss of something that never was.

 

***

 

“Drivel, that’s what I said and I’m standing by it.”  Jared slammed the second book that he’d picked up onto the table and glared at the women around him. “Well?”

Somehow Toreas found herself again watching Jared’s talk show, and again he was attacking romance writers. This time several writers had attempted to change his opinion, but he was having none of it. He was brutal.  Toreas winced. How had she ever been attracted to the man? She wanted badly to hear him say something that would make him redeemable but there was nothing. Sadly, she clicked off the set again.

But habit forced her to tune in again the next day and the next. It appeared he was dedicating a segment of each show to bash romance writers.  Maybe if she gave him some time he’d stop. She waited a week. This time was the worst. This time he’d managed to get romance readers to come on the show. He was treating them worse than he’d treated the writers on his previous show.

“What is it you like about that drivel?” Jared was asking.

“It gives us hope,” the woman answered.

“Hogwash. Hope for what? Do you think your husband is suddenly going to go and put out a fire for you or rescue a kitten from a tree? Think again. If you don’t love the man as he is, then let him go so he can find a woman who’s not out to change him, one who’s not judging him on things from some writer’s imagination.”

Toreas waited while Jared tried to alter the womens' opinions.  When that didn’t work, he attempted to charm them, then preach to them. Toreas couldn’t help watching. Who the heck did the man think he was?

“Look, ladies, all the money you spend on buying these books you could spend on making your home a more comfortable place.”

“But the books are a means of entertainment. They don’t cost that much. Women work hard in the home and outside the home, and they should spend their money any way they choose. The fact that you’re able to be on the airwaves, albeit on a local  show, calling women who write romances and women who read them stupid is offensive. You have no right to try and tell women what they should read or how to spend their money.”

Jared responded in a fake voice that dripped of rationality. “Think about it: the money could be spent instead on a good meal, a school book for a kid, an educational toy, whatever. You’ll have to admit I’m making more sense than you ladies.”

Stunned, Toreas shook her head at the television and at Jared Stone. Before the women could respond Jared was saying goodbye and asking
people to tune in the next day.

That was it, the last straw. Toreas was done with fantasizing about Jared Stone. As he’d said, it was stupid. Besides, she now saw him for what he was: a know-nothing romance-critic.  Too bad she’d ever turned up the volume. She could have remained happily unaware of that nonsense he was spouting as though it were gospel. She dialed information, determined to call the television station and ask for an apology.

Had she not been a fledgling romance writer maybe she could have forgiven Jared.  Maybe.  But his assault on romance readers, that she couldn’t forgive.

Toreas was one of those readers. She’d loved stories of romance since she could remember. Her most vivid memories from her formative years were of reading stories of love, passion and lust. She’d loved the short stories in True Confessions. She had become familiar with many of the writers. If nothing else, Toreas Rose was indeed a fan of romance.  Were she not, she could relegate her crush on Jared to the back of her mind where it belonged.

 

***

 

Toreas sat frozen in a panic on the makeshift stage.  She was supposed to be defending the romance genre with the assistance of several members of her local writing chapter.

For weeks, her blood had been boiling over Jared Stone’s consistently rude comments. But here she sat, mute. Her calls, letters, and emails had seemingly been ignored, but one day out of the blue she’d received a call from someone named Derrick, who’d informed her that he was the station manager and owner.

She had been invited to come on the show to defend romance novels.  All Toreas had wanted was for Jared to stop trashing the world of romance.  She’d never expected to meet him face to face, to have to…

She had been in a state of panic until she’d gone to her writers’ meeting.  After she relayed the station’s invitation, several of the writers offered to join her.  Whether it was for the exposure they would receive or truly to assist her she didn’t know and didn’t care.  She only knew that she wanted someone sitting beside her when she met Jared Stone.

Now she was here. Now she had her chance to finally tell the man to back off, that romance was a two billion dollar a year business. But what had she done so far?  Nothing, not a darn thing but yank on her skirt and watch the others battle Jared.  And they were losing.  She glanced quickly at her watch, praying this slaughter would soon be over.  Five minutes to go.  Thank God.

Suddenly electrical impulses flooded her body, seemingly jumpstarting her brain in the process. She shouldn’t and couldn’t let the opportunity for rebuttal pass.  She had to speak up, force her tongue away from the roof of her mouth.  She had to stop thinking how much better Jared looked in person than he did on her television screen.

When she looked up, her eyes connected with Jared’s. He had a look on his face that said she was dead meat.  That fact alone should have stopped her from drooling, but it didn’t. She watched as he gave a sardonic grin in the direction of the camera, then turned back toward her.  He stood, his eyes pinning her in place. On Jared sardonic was sexy.

“Tell me, exactly what does ARW, stand for?”

This was a question she could answer. She knew the proper response, only the words refused to come out.

“American Romance Writers.”

Toreas glanced in the direction of her friends, not sure which one had answered the question but relieved that she had.  She looked away, hoping to avoid Jared’s attention.

It didn’t work. He was coming closer to her, asking her another question. Heat was flooding her body as the blood drained from her brain, leaving her speechless.

“So,
ARW is a union?”

Here was another one Toreas knew the answer to.  She was working her tongue, trying her best to loosen it.  Her jaws were moving and her head was twitching. She could only imagine the image she was projecting. Her breath was coming in short gulps as she watched Jared approaching. His eyes…  If only they weren’t so darn beautiful, so…

“ARW is not a union, rather a professional organization for romance writers, numbering almost 29,000 members.” Toreas and Jared turned at the same instant to look at the speaker.  Toreas’s look was one of gratitude, Jared’s of annoyance.  It was Toreas he wanted on the hot seat, not Elysa.

“Thank you but-” Jared attempted to interrupt Elysa.  Tore
as smiled slightly to herself. Now he would be the one cut into little pieces.  Elysa knew her statistics.

“You want the complete answer, don’t you, Mr. Stone?”  Toreas watched as her friend continued with facts Jared didn’t want to
hear." We have a monthly magazine dealing with things writers want and need to know.  There are attorneys who write articles advising us on contracts and other professional issues.”

Well done, Elysa.
As the thought flitted thorough her head, Toreas glanced down once again at her watch. This was the longest five minutes she’d ever lived through. Worse yet, Jared didn’t appear the least interested in Elysa’s answer. He was staring at her.

“You’ve been very quiet, Ms. Rose.  I understand you’re the one who called, objecting to my calling the trash you produce ‘bodice rippers.’”

Her friends were looking at her, trying their best to give her support.  Toreas heard Liz attempt to speak only to be silenced by Jared.

“I’m talking to Ms. Rose, the lady who wanted my bosses to muzzle me.  I
want her to answer this one.”

Now he s
tood directly in front of her. “You’re what, 5’1”, 5’2?”  He tilted his head to the side to study her.  “A hundred pounds?  Do you consider yourself a heroine, Ms. Rose?”

Toreas was aware that Jared was laughing at her without making a sound. Her cheeks were warming from the nearness of the man as well as her seeming inability to talk. She could only blink, wishing him away, It wasn’t working.

“What would you do if a big bad villain invaded your space, Ms. Rose?”  He turned to leer at the camera. “You wouldn’t mind demonstrating now, would you?”

Toreas saw Jared’s challenging leer and that was the catalyst that enabled her to come out of her moronic trance. In one fluid motion she stood and pushed her chair away fro
m her with the tip of her foot.

“Thanks for asking, Mr. Stone. I don’t mind showing the women in your audience how to defend themselves. I do, however, need your permission in case you get hurt.” Toreas smiled as sweetly as she knew how and repeated, “Just in case.”

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