Sam sighed and sank into the big chair opposite Phyllis’ desk. “I’ve tried for the past ten days. I just keep drawing a blank. Or I start writing about Chance again and I can’t do that. I promised.”
Oh yes, she had promised. And like an idiot, she had walked out and decided to never see the man again. And now she would have to live with that utterly asinine decision. Try as she might, she couldn’t get him out of her mind, out of her system or out of her fevered dreams. She was so damn pathetic. One night with a hot body and she was a complete basket case. How disgusting.
Phyllis’ voice brought her back to earth. “You damn well better pick up that phone and call him, or I will.”
“Call him for what?” Sam frowned. She hated it when Phyllis was right about things. She had wanted to call the damn man for the past week but she had made her decision and she would stick by it, come hell or high water. Besides, he hadn’t called her either.
“To get his damn ass back here and give you back your inspiration. You are about to throw away a multimillion-dollar writing career because of your damn pride!”
Sam sighed and shrugged. Phyllis was going to be no help at all, she could see. Every damn time she closed her eyes, she was back in David’s arms. She had to get her head screwed on straight again even if that meant she had to buy a one-way ticket to Mars.
And Council Bluffs might as well be Mars…
“It’s about time I took a long vacation, Phyllis. I’ve already made reservations and the ticket is paid for, so don’t try to talk me out of it. I’ll keep in touch and of course I will try to formulate some other characters, but I don’t plan on being back in Cleveland for at least ninety days.” She needed time to get him out of her system for good.
The older woman’s mouth worked soundlessly and Sam patted her hand gently. “Oh, and make sure you pay David Chance that money I promised to send to him. Unless you want a lawsuit of biblical proportions.”
“You can’t just walk off when I’m sitting on the damn hot seat!” Phyllis’ mouth was working like a guppy out of water.
“Oh yes, I can. Watch me. Here I go.” Sam rose from the chair and turned to walk to the door. “You’ll survive. Just give me some room to breathe for the first time in the past two years. I’ve pumped out five best sellers for you and I’m damn tired. I love you, Phyl, but I can’t do this anymore until I get my head screwed back on straight.”
Council Bluffs had been her hometown a long time ago and it held many fond memories for her. It would be a comfortable place to lounge around and take long walks in familiar parks. Of course, nobody lived there who remembered her anymore. Not since her mom had died. But it did feel like home, to some degree. Sort of. Okay, not really. But it was far enough away from Cleveland to make her feel comfortable. Nothing here reminded her of her career or of a breathless night spent living her fantasies. In fact, nothing here even smacked of a fantasy.
She had traveled cheap and fast.
The hotel room was anything but luxurious but it would serve her needs nicely. It had an internet connection and cable TV, so she was set. She didn’t need luxury.
She had only stayed in one four-star hotel in her life and it had been the one night she would never be able to forget. A night spent with a man who had taken her, body and soul, into a world she had only seen in dreams. Into a realm where even a plain, scarred woman could imagine she was somebody special, beautiful, desirable. And, oh my God, had he ever made her feel totally desirable! She shook away the memories and swore at her own inability to get her mind off him. She had to!
If she was lucky, she would get to sleep in until noon and be a lazy slob, letting the maid clean up after her. Eating out and not having to worry about dishes. She owed herself the rest. She owed herself the vacation. She owed herself the time to be alone and think.
She opened the wire door of the small pet carrier to allow her fluffy white cat to step out and check out the locale. She unfolded one of the disposable litter boxes she had bought, fitting a plastic liner in and dumping in a container of deodorized litter. She felt in her bag for the can opener and opened dinner for the cat, which sank down on the floor beside the bed and gobbled hungrily, purring loudly. Pulling the small water bowl from her stuffed purse, she filled it at the bathroom sink, setting it beside the food. Finally, she unpacked her clothes and picked up the TV Guide. She planned to do nothing but veg out in front of a TV for a week or so and then she would figure out what she wanted to do. No commitments. No deadlines. No pressure. No listening to Phyllis harangue her about her writer’s block.
Too bad she couldn’t escape her dreams. Maybe sleeping pills. She stroked the cat’s soft fur gently then flopped onto the bed, where she flipped through the TV Guide and sighed. So many cable stations, so little time.
She watched a tennis match then some polo before fixing her own supper from the little store of junk food she had brought with her. Tomorrow she would go out and have a real meal but for now, she just wanted to kick back. Go barefoot. Enjoy being free of commitments for a few days. And avoid reading romance books.
She was flipping through channels when she came across a UFC match on one of the less well-known cable channels and she watched for a while, wincing when one of the men bloodied the other or got the other guy in a nasty hold. Barbaric. She was about to switch channels when a commercial break came on and she heard an excited man saying, “And stay tuned for the FPW cage match coming up next on CBYN! The Wolfman is gonna take on FPW’s bad boy Chance Braza for the FPW heavyweight Championship! Nine thirty Eastern, eight thirty Central.”
Her hand went numb. She couldn’t press the button. She stared at the face on her TV screen and swallowed hard. It was him. Dear God. Just her luck to land on this channel. She frowned and put her thumb over the red button and bit the corner of her lip.
Come on, just push the frigging button. Okay. Don’t push it.
Okay. So would it hurt just to watch a few minutes? Just a teensy amount of time to ogle that gorgeous body again from a safe distance? Like through a TV set? She glanced at her watch and saw that the UFC matches would end in about twenty minutes. Decisions, decisions.
No. She wouldn’t watch. Pro wrestling was a complete farce. A lot of stunt work and choreographed fighting for the benefit of a screaming crowd who didn’t know the difference between real wrestling and phony wrestling. She’d heard all about it. She started to turn off the TV once more and found herself sitting there like a lost puppy, still unable to force her finger to press the damn red button.
Wuss. She threw the remote on the floor and found a large pillow and wrapped herself around it to protect herself from the sudden need to cry. So it was silly. So what? Okay. This is what the man did for a living. She would force herself to watch, just this once. Then she would know what pro wrestling was like and she could forget about it. Forget about him. Forget about a night spent with a man who had rocked her world in a way that she had never dreamed possible.
Oh, who the hell was she trying to kid? She just wanted to see him again, even if it was on a TV screen. Pathetic. Totally pathetic.
She hid her face during the remainder of the UFC match, unable to stand the brutality, and she was glad that pro wrestling was just acting and pretending. No one really hurt anyone. It was supposed to be a choreographed act. She could handle that. Fake blood. No broken bones. No huge bruises. No eyes swollen shut and bloody. At least…that’s what she figured. She was pretty sure minor injuries did occur, but she hated to even think about that. She shuddered.