Catch a Falling Star (Second Chances Book 3) by Merry Farmer Page B

“Diane thinks I should try a different genre and self-publish,” she went on. “She says the money is in contemporary right now.”
    Nick’s shoulders relaxed. “So write a contemporary.”
    She sent him a weary smirk. “I’m not sure I have one in me.”
    As Nick took the bread out of its pan and tossed it around in that ridiculous way he had of cooling it, Jo fished her phone out of her purse. She hadn’t looked at it for the last couple of hours of the drive as the light had grown dimmer and the roads slicker. Her heart leapt to see a text from Ben.
    “ Text me when you get home so I know you’re all right .”
    With a smile that cut through the weight pressing down on her, she typed, “ Home. Safe and sound. Thanks for checking .” She put her phone down beside her place as Nick joined her, setting a platter of steaming bread between their places.
    “What caused that smile?” he asked.
    Let’s see, pretend to Nick that nothing unusual happened in New York and deal with him seeing right through her or fess up?
    “I met someone at a coffee shop yesterday.” She opted for something in between. “We hit it off, and we’ve been texting.”
    “You? Meeting someone in a coffee shop?” Nick grinned. “Doesn’t that involve talking to another live human being?”
    She reached across the corner of the table to smack his arm. “I’m not that much of a recluse.”
    Nick arched an eyebrow.
    “Would you rather I spend all my time socializing or working so that we can keep the house?” Jo was halfway through laughing when her phone rang. The quiet sound was as good as an air horn. Her back snapped straight, and she swiped the phone off the table. Her heart bounced to her stomach as the screen flashed Ben’s name. Oh, she was going to catch some sort of hell for this.
    She tapped the screen to accept the call. “Ben,” she greeted him. “What’s up?”
    Nick mouthed the word, “Ben?” reaching for a slice of bread and the butter already on the table.
    “So you made it home in one piece.” Ben’s voice was as deep and resonant as ever, but right away Jo picked up a note of exhaustion.
    “I did,” she replied. “Did you? You sound tired.”
    A long sigh preceded his answer of, “It’s been a long day.”
    “Tell me about it,” Jo commiserated.
    Nick mouthed, “Who’s Ben?” as he spread butter on his bread.
    Jo frowned and held a finger to her lips as Ben said, “My meeting was dismal. Jett and Ashton Pollard—who are top-ranked producers here on the Broadway theater scene—not only yanked my funding for the show I was planning to do next year, but they seem to think they have my balls in a vise.”
    Jo nearly choked on the spoonful of soup she’d eaten while he was talking. Did people really talk that frankly with someone they’d just met? Well, met and slept with. Several times in one night.
    “Not sure I needed that image burned in my brain, but all right,” she said. Nick watched her with growing curiosity.
    “Sorry. I shouldn’t throw all this on you.”
    Rather than putting her off, the strain in Ben’s voice led Jo to say, “No, no. By all means, throw it all on me. I’ll listen.”
    There was a pause on the other end of the line. Jo listened for traffic, sounds of people, anything to give her a sense of where Ben was at that moment. She heard nothing, not even music or a television. Her mind conjured an image of him at home, lying in bed. Naked, of course.
    “I’ll spare you most of the details,” he said, “but suffice it to say, it was a frustrating meeting.”
    “No one likes to have their plans derailed.” She, of all people, knew that. “But these Jett and Ashton people—and by the way, who on earth names their children Jett and Ashton?”
    “Their real names are Jeff and Arthur.” The faintest hint of a chuckle in Ben’s voice helped Jo to relax another hair.
    “Okay, then. But those two can’t be the only people with money to fund a show in all of New