James Rollins would probably be surprised to hear this but for much of his early career he wrote romance novels. Sure, the books were filled with action and adventure, mysterious discoveries and an exploration of metaphysical possibilities. At the heart of each of them, however, lay an amazing, not to be missed, love story.
Take for example his very first novel, Subterranean. On the surface, this is a story of an astonishing archeological find deep below the ice of Antarctica. Benjamin Brust, ex-military and current spelunker extraordinaire has been called in to be part of a team exploring the breathtaking, inexplicable underground caverns found below Mount Erebus. When Ben first meets the dig supervisor he realizes that this adventure may have more going for it than just fascinating caves and rocks:
From behind him, he heard a woman’s voice. “Whiskey. Neat please.”
He turned to see who had similar taste in beverages. Whiskey drinking women were as scarce as hen’s teeth. He wasn’t disappointed.
She toyed with the drink set before her, long fingers, short nails, polished. No rings, no wedding band – good. She stood as tall as him, surprising for a woman. Her skin was bronzed, a coppery rich hue that spoke of days under the sun. But what most caught the breath in his throat was her black hair, trailing in lazy curls to her waist.