Thin Ice excerpt.

Zumaya Publications - July 2004

It didn’t take long for the passengers to clear out of the waiting area, leaving Mattie looking around self-consciously for her contact. There was only one person around and, though he seemed to be looking for someone, it didn’t appear that he was looking for her. That was just as well since he was positively imposing.

Mattie watched him from the corner of her eye. Dressed in jeans and a Celtics jersey, the muscles in his arms rippled as he banged a rolled-up magazine in his hand. His close-cropped brown hair and short goatee made him appear very severe. She tried not to listen as the stranger spoke with the information attendant in a deep, husky voice.

The voice over the loudspeaker interrupted her thoughts. “Would Matt Kincaid please report to the guest services counter located adjacent to the security check stations,” the woman said.  Matt Kincaid? Surely that didn’t mean her? This man she’d been watching couldn’t be waiting for her? Oh, no, what a mess!  Mattie picked up her briefcase from a nearby chair and hesitantly approached the counter.

“I’m Mattie Kincaid,” she said to the attendant, trying not to look at the brooding man standing beside her.

“What?” the man turned, fixing a cutthroat scowl on her. “You’re who?”

“Mattie Kincaid?” she squeaked..

“Great!  A woman!  Well, c’mon,” the man said as he turned and stalked toward the baggage claim area.

Mattie hurried to catch up to him. “Excuse me. . .excuse me. . .would you please stop?”

The man stopped and Mattie almost plowed into him. He whirled around and looked at her, a patronizing smile on his face. “You’re the reporter, right?”

“Well, yes.”

“Well, then, sweetheart, I’m here to pick you up.”   The way he said “sweetheart” was hardly sweet.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” she croaked, extending her hand. “I’m Mattie Kincaid. And you are?”

“Grant, Grant Alexander,” he said, turning. “Do you have luggage?”

“Um, yes I do.”

“Then let’s go get it so I can get out of here.”

Mattie practically had to jog to keep up with the man. She’d said she was sorry. It wasn’t even her fault that her plane was late. He didn’t have to be nasty.

Her luggage had not arrived at the baggage carousel. Mattie stood nervously, shifting from one foot to the other. She ventured a peek at the forbidding man next to her. He stood stiffly, whacking his magazine absently against his thigh. Suddenly, he whirled around to face her. She nearly jumped back.

“Listen, Miss Kincaid, I’m sorry for snapping at you back there.” 

He didn’t look sorry.

“It’s not your fault that the plane was late or that you’re not Matt Kincaid. Someone obviously got your name wrong.”  Now he extended his hand. “Truce?”

“Uh, I guess.”  Mattie shook his proffered hand, hoping hers wasn’t sweaty. “So Mr. . . what was it again?”

“Alexander, Grant Alexander.”

“Mr. Alexander, I take it you work for the Storm?”

“Yeah, I’m a forward.”

“Oh.”  Mattie searched her brain for meaning. She hoped her confusion didn’t show on her face.

Something gave way on his face as he stared at her. Finally he grinned.

Holy Cow! The man’s blue eyes danced with amusement. His smile was, well, electric. It changed everything. If he was good looking before ... Holy Cow.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. A thud from the conveyor signaled the arrival of the luggage. “Show me which are yours and I’ll grab them.”