Mystery Date Monday: Grant Decker

Photo courtesy "Surely" from Stock Xchg
Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Farmer-turned-beachfront-home-builder Grant Decker

What Book He's In: BEWITCHING LOVE, a paranormal romance

Where He Lives: San Simone Shores, California

Why He's So Fascinating: Grant Decker is a man with big dreams and simple beliefs...until he gets entangled in the web of a witch's love spell. Enchanted by the woman he must forget, Grant discovers that crazy neighbors and magically coerced seduction are the least of his worries. When the job he needs to to fund construction on his dream home drives him right into the heart of a vampire's obsession to make the witch his mate, Grant must decide once and for all whether his feelings for her are no more than one enchanted spell, or the result of the greatest power known--love.

A Memorable Moment with Grant Decker:

Grant dropped the nail gun like a hot poker, grabbing hold of the thumb he had just impaled. Blood flowed as fire shot through the flesh, but within seconds hadn't elevated itself to the dire proportions he was expecting. Examining the wound, he realized the nail hadn't truly drilled a hole through joint and bone. He'd merely grazed a chunk of skin.

Damn fool. Get your head on the job.

His mind was in turmoil today, and he couldn't keep to the business at hand. Why he had no idea, but the result was distraction to the point of danger to himself and others—had anyone been around. As typical, he was working a solo act.

Stalking back to the trailer, he rinsed the bleeding thumb in the sink and held pressure as best he could while rooting around in the first aid kit. While the whys of his lack of brainpower might elude him, he knew the who behind it.

Dream.

Antibiotic cream and a Band-Aid later, he was back out in the grilling heat of late morning. If only he could find a way to rid himself of the witch's spell, maybe he wouldn't be crucifying himself against the support struts of his house. But he'd been caressed by a magic for which there seemed no cure. He felt boxed in despite his open surroundings, trapped in a world that forced him to obsess over the specter of what might have been. Endless nights were spent with his enchantress beneath him, writhing and crying out to him to make more like it.

He tried to avert his eyes whenever he saw his neighbor leave or return—and to stop himself from staring at the house where he'd experienced erotic wonders he'd never thought possible. And that they weren't—the whole thing was a mere facade, a phony display brought before his eyes, body, and soul by some perverted rite. Knowledge of this, however, failed to shake him loose from a need to steal glances at the satin movement of her hips and sparkle of her hair whenever he could—a sight that threatened to ensnare him all over again. Afterwards, he'd hammer and screw and drill until the churning effusion of want quieted enough to regain his sanity.

Were he a religious man, perhaps the answer might be sought from a higher source. At the rate things were going, perhaps becoming one would be wise. Until then, all he could do was finish the task before him and steer clear of the feminine persuasion in San Simone Shores. By and large they seemed a dangerous lot.

“Grant?”

Squinting into the bright sun, he watched as the voice resolved itself into the DeSanto girl. So much for steering clear.

He nodded.“Morning.”

“I'm Lacey. Remember me?”

“I do.”

She strolled around, hands folded in front of a bikini top and torn denim shorts that left little of her well-turned figure hidden. Women here didn't seem any more inclined to clothe themselves than the men, though in light of the broiling weather this shouldn't keep surprising him.

“Wow,” she said.“The place is really coming along.”

“Thanks.”

Her eyes slid over him in an appraisal ending with a movie star smile.“Looks like a lot of work.”

Already he smelled the damp hay of ulterior motive, and he hadn't the time nor constitution for it. Short of being rude, which he hadn't ruled out yet, he couldn't decide how to get her near the real point of her visit. So he opted for silence.

He met her eyes until the lack of words grew loud and uncomfortable. Her smile slipped a bit.“I...wanted to talk to you.”

“Isn't that what we're doing?”

“About Dream.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he had to bite down to avoid ordering the brunette off his land.“I assured her that the house will only be single story. It won't hamper her precious ocean view.”

He started to walk back toward the nail gun, but she stepped in front of him.“That's not what I'm talking about. I know what happened between you.”

Good Christ. Had the girl blabbed to the entire seaside?

His brows knit.“Even if I knew what you meant, that's not a conversation I find fitting with a woman I barely know.”

“Oh, but sleeping with one is okay?”

“That's not for discussion. I keep to my business. Feel free to keep to yours.”

He stalked back to the frame section he'd been working on, hoping she'd be too girl-minded to follow him into the maze of power tools and dusty boards.
She wasn't.

“Dream's devastated about what happened, you know.”

He turned to her with a stare that stopped her advance.“So much that she couldn't wait to brag? Tell me, is there anyone in this town she hasn't told?”

Lacey frowned.“She only told me. I'm her best friend.”

His snort in reply was less than kind, as was her return glare.“I thought you were a nice guy the day you moved here.”

He turned back to his work, dropping the same nail three times.“I am a nice guy. People around here just seem hell bent on undoing that.”

--from BEWITCHING LOVE
~~~~~~~~~

When Grant is Available: BEWITCHING MAGIC has not yet been released.

How You Can Get His Story: BEWITCHING MAGIC is currently under consideration for publishing. Stay tuned!