A Novel Idea
Chapter Two
Margaret Houlihan let out a frustrated sigh as she finished reading the first chapter of the as-yet unnamed 4077th novel. "Pierce and Hunnicutt," she murmured to herself, shaking her head. "Those two adolescents. Leave it to them."
Still, one of the rules they had all agreed upon was: no changing previous chapters. And no complaining about them, either. Her job, as she saw it, was to take what they had done so far (Juvenile as it is, she thought) and improve upon it. Make chapter two more interesting and less silly. "Should be no problem," she said out loud in her empty tent. "Even a chimpanzee could improve on what they've done."
She put pen to paper.
Gloria Babbitt only appeared to be a damsel in distress. In reality, she was a fiercely independent woman who could, under most circumstances, take care of herself. The poisoned breakfast? She recognized the tainted meal right away, and induced vomiting. The snake coiled in her cupboard? She grabbed it behind its head and threw it outside, into the weeds. The falling piano? Well yes, that one nearly got her, she had to admit. And the dog? She outran him once she'd kicked her high heels off her feet.
The problem was, she had no idea who was trying to kill her. She'd never crossed anyone, she hadn't made any enemies on the sets of any of her movies, and she spent most of her free time performing charity work at various hospitals. Who would want her dead? She couldn't fathom it.
For three weeks, Harvey Peterson followed her every move, trying to track down the culprit, but it was a fruitless surveillance. The threats on her life had apparently stopped just as quickly as they'd started, and she was starting to think she no longer needed the services of her dogged and trusty P.I.
Except there was one tiny problem with that. She'd fallen for him. Oh, she realized she'd only known him for three weeks, but that didn't matter. They'd shared enough conversations and lingering looks to know they had a very mutual attraction. She couldn't imagine suddenly cutting him loose.
At the end of another uneventful day (as far as attempts on her life went), she approached him and smiled alluringly at him. "Harvey? Please come up to my apartment and let me make you some supper. You've had a long, boring day, and you must be starved."
He visibly swallowed and nodded mutely at her, and she knew she'd read the situation correctly.
So she made him supper and they ate by candlelight, laughing and sharing stories about their childhoods. And when the hour grew late and the candles burned out, they cuddled together on the couch, where one kiss turned to two, and two turned to three…
