Something Better

by Gail R Delaney

  Something Better

  By

  Gail R. Delaney

  Desert Breeze Publishing, Inc.

  24303 Walnut St, Ste C

  Newhall, CA 91321

  http://www.DesertBreezePublishing.com

  Copyright © 2010 by Gail R. Delaney

  ISBN 10: 1-936000-48-2

  ISBN 13: 978-1-936000-48-7

  Published in the United States of America

  Publish Date: March 1, 2010

  Editor-In-Chief: Gail R. Delaney

  Cover Artist: Jenifer Ranieri

  Cover Art Copyright by Desert Breeze Publishing, Inc © 2010

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher.

  Ebooks are not transferrable, either in whole or in part. As the purchaser or otherwise lawful recipient of this ebook, you have the right to enjoy the novel on your own computer or other device. Further distribution, copying, sharing, gifting or uploading is illegal and violates United States Copyright laws.

  Pirating of ebooks is illegal. Criminal Copyright Infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, may be investigated by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of up to $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents or persons – living or dead – are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  Dedication

  To Jenifer -- My own personal "Mags". She found great joy in laughing at me when I finally admitted I was writing a 'Hollywood' romance.

  To Patrick -- My husband -- who is the absolute antithesis of Lawrence. I have never met a writer with a husband who supports them with the same conviction as mine.

  To Bill -- My peer, my sounding board, and my friend. More than once, you helped me understand the mindset of a man facing the possibility of being a stepfather -- and just how wonderful that can be. Thank you.

  To Jamie -- Thanks for your oh-so-subtle demands. And your help. You provided insight I didn't possess.

  To Stacy -- Thank you for your last minute help, and for answering my FB emails with a chuckle and a smile when I said, "I know this is going to sound weird, but my hero just informed me he's Jewish..."

  To the 'David' in my mind -- I'm going to leave you nameless, because if I actually dared put it in print I'm sure it would come back to bite me later. But hey, if this ever gets made into a movie, you're the name at the top of the list... probably a short list. With just you. Cuz you're the only one who could properly pull off David. 

  Prologue

  Six Years Ago

  Chicago, Illinois

  "This is your own damn fault, Andrea."

  Andi drew in a slow, carefully metered breath and laid her hand on Jake's short hair. Soft curls brushed her fingers, and the contact forced her to carefully temper her anger. She crouched down to bring her to her son's eye level and put on the best smile she could manage.

  "Jake, could you please go into the back yard and play? I'll call you when dinner is ready."

  Five-year-old Jake nodded his head silently, his blue eyes shifting briefly toward Lawrence before he turned and ran from the kitchen. When Andi heard the back door slam shut, she set her hands on her knees and straightened. Lawrence stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, his fists set at his waist with his white shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. His tie was crooked and loose, as if he'd yanked it free.

  "What do you mean, this is my fault?" Disappointment sat in the back of her throat in a bitter ball, and she wished more than anything that she could swallow it even if it just made her sick. She'd been sick to her stomach for three days and a violent migraine tempted to explode at the base of her skull.

  Ever since she'd learned that her husband had been having an affair for three years. Correction... having affairs.

  "What the hell did you expect?"

  "I expected you to honor your vows to me." She wished her voice came out stronger, but she was worn and tired. But, this time, she wouldn't remain silent. This was too much. "I did nothing to make you unfaithful."

  "That's the problem, isn't it, Andrea?" he ground out, crossing the space to stand two feet away from her, his face that she had once found so attractive twisted into an angry grimace. "You did nothing. Maybe if you'd spent more time paying attention to what I needed, instead of sitting at that damned computer. Maybe if you didn't spend so much time on the phone with that bitch Margaret. Maybe if you left the boy alone for ten minutes to see to your husband's needs--"

  Andi's mouth fell open and she nearly choked. "The boy is your son, Lawrence. Your son. And he's only five years old, for heaven's sake!"

  He continued off as if she'd said nothing of importance at all. "Everything else is more important. Hell, you don't even bother to look decent for me anymore!"

  The insult was as harsh as a slap to the face. Instinctively, she raised her hand and touched the smooth braid of red hair she'd woven against her scalp that morning and felt the whisper of small curls that often escaped to frame her face. The braid hung nearly to her waist, and had taken twenty minutes to plait, and she'd done it wet so her hair would hold the smell of the shampoo he'd once commented -- so long ago now it seemed -- that he liked. Perhaps her jeans and the white sweater she wore weren't pearls and high heels, but jeans were easier when chasing a preschooler.

  His words bombarded her, the worst making her suck in her breath. He gave a litany of physical flaws that she had apparently allowed herself to fall into in order to displease him.

  "Hell, when I can convince you to have sex it's like screwing a rag doll."

  Andi closed her eyes, hot tears squeezing free, and clenched her hands at her side. "You're just being cruel now, Lawrence," she managed to whisper.

  "Things are going to change around here."

  She blinked open her eyes, the haze of tears blurring her view, and her body shook with the effort of not flying apart. He pointed a finger in her face, jabbing at the air so it shifted across her cheeks without ever actually touching her.

  "You're going to give up this bull about writing books. If any of my partners found out you wrote that smut--"

  "I don't write smut," she interjected, but she took a step back at his look of rage. He'd never hit her, never so much as pushed her, but sometimes she saw the potential in his eyes.

  "You're going to stop." There was no room for misunderstanding in the sharp edge of his voice. "You're going to stop talking to Margaret Connelly. She's been a bad influence on you. And you're going to be here for me, Andrea. Me."

  "Will that keep you out of another woman's bed, Lawrence?" she asked, the words forcing their way out of her. Anger collided hard with the pain and sadness in her chest.

  "Excuse me?" His expression twisted in angry shock that she would question him. It wasn't something she did. Ever.

  "Will that keep you out of another woman's bed?" she asked again.

  He actually laughed.

  His answer didn't really matter anyway.

  Andi stared into the empty space he left behind, waiting for the sound of the front door slamming shut and the loud rev of his BMW engine. The tires squealed slightly in the street as he drove away. She held her breath, taking in air only when her lungs burned for oxygen and she felt the room tip.

  Within thirty minutes, the chicken in the oven had backed to a dry brick and her suitcase was packed and a box of belongings sat by t
he front door. She didn't want much from this house, and certainly not any mementos of their marriage. Jake's baby books, a photo album from her parents' house, and some framed photos. Her laptop was bagged up and all her files sorted.

  She stood in Jake's room, packing his clothes and all his favorite toys in the largest of her suitcases, when the telephone rang. Jake sat on his racecar track rug, running a plastic fire truck over the streets as he made siren noises. He didn't look up when she slipped from the room, but she knew it wouldn't take long for him to notice she was gone and come looking for her.

  He didn't stray far from her, especially after he knew she and Lawrence had fought. For a five-year-old, he understood and saw more than she thought any kid his age should.

  But that was okay... it was going to stop.

  She picked up the phone before the machine answered, and swallowed hard before speaking. "Hello?"

  "Oh, good! You're home! I've got amazing news!" Maggie shouted enthusiastically through the phone before Andi could finish speaking. "Are you sitting down?"

  Andi closed her eyes and gripped the phone hard, trying to keep everything reined in tight before she spoke again. She knew right away her pause was too long, and within a heartbeat, Maggie knew something was wrong.

  "Oh, crap. What did the bastard do now?"

  Instead of answering the question, Andi asked, "Mags, can Jake and I stay with you for awhile?"

  "Of course. You know that. Tell me when you're landing and I'll be there." Maggie paused. "What'd he do?"

  "He had an affair," Andi choked out. "He had several affairs."

  "Who the hell would want to sleep with that?"

  Despite the tension that had her tied in knots, Andi laughed. She wiped tears from her eyes and shook her head. "Damned if I know. Maybe that's why he had so many. None could stand him long enough." She huffed a breath, and focused on her determination. There were far more reasons to leave Chicago, and for the life of her, she couldn't find a single -- even if weak -- reason to stay.

  She couldn't even say it was because she loved him.

  "What does that say about me?"

  "That you should be damn proud of yourself!" Maggie declared loudly, her enthusiasm finally chipping away at Andi's buffer. "And hell, you're a self-made woman now. Who needs him, anyway?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "That's why I called. The publisher loved the series, and they've offered you a contract on all four books. I'm talking a five-digit advance. These books are goin' big time, honey. I told you New York would eat them up. You've done it. You've made it. Screw him."

  Andi tipped her head back and looked to the ceiling. Apparently, God had given her two gifts that day... the book contract every writer dreamed off... and the strength to restart her life. Her stomach twisted in a tight knot of nerves, but not because she was afraid.

  Not anymore.

  She was excited!

  "I don't suppose you know of a babysitter in L.A., do you?" she asked, a smile spreading her lips.

  Maggie laughed. "Haven't a clue, but I can find one. Why?"

  "I think today deserves a drink." She drew in a deep breath, easing the tension out of her shoulders as she let it go again. "To celebrate."

  Chapter One

  "I'm sorry," David said softly, roughening his voice to give it weight and sincerity. He laid his palm against Taylor's cheek and leaned forward until their foreheads touched.

  Too quickly, she pulled away and tipped her head back to look at him. She shook her head, her forehead creasing. "For what?"

  He tried again to make contact, touching her cheek. "For not coming home when I promised you I would. For not being here when you needed me. For not being here when--"

  "Stop," she snapped, cutting off any explanation he could offer.

  He brought both hands up to touch her face, brushing over her lipstick-slick lower lip with his thumb.

  "I'm sorry that--" The rest went unfinished when Taylor arched up on her toes and threw her arms around his neck. He managed a quick mumble against her lips before she kissed him, her fingers pushing impatiently into his hair.

  A low-but-definitely-feminine groan, laced with "Oh, for pity's sake", echoed through the soundstage just before the Director's loud voice drowned it out.

  "Cut!"

  David detangled himself from Taylor and took a step back, running the side of his finger over his lips to remove any lipstick she'd left behind. The air in the studio was hot, and he'd been under the lights too long because irritation licked at a spot between his shoulder blades, making him even more tense and aggravated. Like he wasn't frustrated enough with Taylor, although he'd never say it.

  "What?" Taylor huffed, stepping back from her mark. "What was wrong this time, Benton?"

  Benton stepped into the circle of light, his features crinkled and pulled tight with tension. David understood that Benton, as film director, felt the pinch as much as anyone. Maybe more, because time was money and no one knew that better than the man in charge on set. The more times they had to reshoot the further behind they got. "Taylor-Sweetheart-Darling... we've gone over this. We all know just how kissable David is--"

  David fought the urge to roll his eyes and took a bottle of cold water offered to him by one of the PA's, snapping the cap open before draining half the bottle.

  "But, you need to listen to me on this one, honey. This scene is about..." Benton trailed off, holding his hands out as if silently pleading that Taylor understand. "It's about..."

  "It's about coming home," Andi Parker said from the shadows.

  David watched her step into the light, and not for the first time since he met her, he enjoyed the flash of heat that skimmed just below the surface of his skin. Andrea Parker was not only gifted -- he hadn't been able to put her books down once he'd been cast for the movie adaptation -- but she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. No... correct that. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

  No more than five-foot-three, she was fair-skinned with sun touched red hair and a row of freckles across the bridge of her nose that just begged to be caressed. She had the curve and shape of a woman -- not like stick-figure Barbie imitators he saw in Hollywood most of the time -- and a dry wit that kept him laughing most of the time when they had the chance to talk. Her jokes were always subtle and delivered in a single shot, and if you weren't paying attention it was lost on you all together.

  That was her nature... if you weren't looking, she could slip into a room unnoticed. Just as easily, she could be the only person in a studio full of people.

  Today she wore a simple, yellow sundress with tiny flowers scattered on it that buttoned down the front from the 'v' of her neckline to the hemline that fell just a couple inches above her knees. The fabric looked soft and warm, and draped down her in a way that made him want to lay his hands at her waist, just to see what she felt like. Her short hair flipped and curled around her face, and he wondered sometimes if it just happened that way, or if she worked at it. Small, oval glasses perched on her nose, the dark frames making her red hair seem even richer. But, today she wasn't smiling... and David had a good idea why.

  They'd been working on this single scene all morning. Benton had tried to tell Taylor what he wanted from nearly every direction: left, right, over and under. Regardless, Taylor had done the same thing with each take -- well, with some variation to show she was at least trying. Taylor seemed to have her mind set on this scene happening a certain way, and didn't want to give it up. She'd impressed David with her performance in other scenes, nailing them with such emotion and skill that it often only took a shot or two to get every angle and delivery they needed.

  But this one scene seemed to have her stumped.

  Until this last shot, Andi had stayed quiet and left the directing to Benton. The two of them -- Writer and Director -- were almost always on the same page when it came to the interpretation of a scene. It surprised David now that she would be so vocal.

 
Not that he minded... he liked her voice. She was soft-spoken with a lilt to her voice, and a delicate accent he hadn't ever been able to place. He hid his smile behind the mouth of his water bottle.

  "It's about forgiveness, and it's about realizing what you've got... and being thankful for second chances." She stopped a few feet from them, crossing her arms. "It's not about sex."

  "It's about intimacy," Benton tag-teamed.

  "Exactly," Andi declared loudly. "It's about intimacy. You can't--" Andi waved her hands in the air, her cheeks flushing. She motioned toward David, her bright eyes settling on him for only a brief moment. "--latch onto him like he's some kind of life preserver, or the air tube to your oxygen tank. Let him come to you. You're in shock. You're exhausted. You're thankful he's alive, but you have to be tentative."

  "Yeah, but wouldn't it be hotter if we're all... you know... excited?"

  Without answering, Andi crossed the short space and took Taylor's spot at the mark. Her small hand settled on David's arm, and he immediately felt the heat as the touch snapped his attention to her.

  "You're frightening me, Jason."

  Without looking to his right, David handed off the half-empty bottle of water and took his spot. He laid his hand over hers and curled his fingers slightly. Her skin was warm and her hand was delicate in his hold.

  "Don't be. I'm okay. Now." He smiled, just slightly. "I wasn't, but I am now."

  Andi stared at their hands and drew in a shaky breath. When she looked up again, David shifted his stance to face her straight. "I'm sorry," he said softly. Just as he had before, he leaned forward until their foreheads touched. Taylor was taller and he had to bend his knees slightly to bring himself more level with Andi, but he liked the way it aligned their bodies. Her eyes fluttered closed and she raised her chin, bringing their lips closer together without touching.