Spare Me the Drama (City Lights Romance Book 1) by Karen Tomsovic

Author:Karen Tomsovic [Tomsovic, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Not So Maverick Publishing
Published: 2015-11-11T05:00:00+00:00

12

Monday morning found Martin rattling down the road in the minivan again. He was supposed to be at work, outlining a fresh batch of episodes with his staff. He blew that off without thinking twice, pleading a sick child—Lana, home with "that bug that's going around," and not a relative in sight to watch over her. Surprisingly, Barbara bought it even though Martin running out of relatives was like the ocean running out of fish.

There was no sick child.

And yet, having finally figured out speaker phone, he proposed conferencing the meeting so he could "take Lana to the doctor."

While Lana, the picture of health, happily learned new words at preschool, Martin threw on a jacket and headed for the beach, hoping that when he got there words would come to him, too.

It was funny. The dramatic predicaments of his characters Martin had to force himself to care about. But whatever was eating Roxanne he couldn't leave alone. She'd shut him down the other day, all but shouted at him to get lost, and Martin couldn't get their encounter out of his head. Sunday morning he zoned out at church. That evening he checked out of the conversation at dinner. He may have played ball with his sons at some point in the afternoon, but he had no actual memory of it.

So this morning he called her. (He figured out his speed keys, too.) Ostensibly he wanted to thank her for the mattress topper, and to say that yes, it was helping. But mostly he longed to hear her voice. The edge in it had a way of getting under his skin. He apologized for intruding on what must be a busy Monday morning for a successful business woman, and she let it slip that she had a touch of a headache and wasn't going into the office until later. He might have believed her if it weren't for the absence of edge and in its place, sniffles.

Yeah, she had a headache—like Martin's kid had strep.

He glanced at the time. If he lucked out, he could still catch her.

And then do...what? Say...what? Much as he wished she'd stop trying to pretend she was happy, he couldn't just barge in and make her come clean.

Somehow he'd have to explain his presence on her doorstep at ten o'clock on a Monday morning, preferably without making a jackass of himself.

Perhaps he did repulse her; he doubted it.

As Martin made dull progress on the freeway, he found himself with Roxanne again up in that open-air alcove, her bed around the corner and the sun pouring down and that surge in his blood from being a man alone with a woman. How long it had been and how he wanted that again, wanted to be the last two people in the world, with the wind whipping around and the heat closing in.

Until she stopped him like cold steel.

She'd picked up his unmistakable signal. Now he saw it all again, her mood as hard as the metallic

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