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

Ben’s skin, the groan deep in his throat when he came, and the excitement of who she’d been in his arms.
     
    Ben fought the growing twist of panic in his gut as he charged down Eighth Avenue toward Café Lunch. Don’t go blowing things out of proportion , he steadied himself. Most threats are hollow. The twins need a show to make money just as much as you need money to make a show .
    Nothing. The words did nothing to counteract the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. At least the rain had stopped, though now that the temperature was dropping, patches of black ice were forming left and right. Black ice. Nasty stuff that you didn’t see coming which would slap you flat on your ass before you could blink. Kind of like life. At least in Maine, when it snowed, you knew it.
    He blinked as he reached the brightly decorated windows of Café Lunch—lurid flowers and bright, painted sun in utter denial of the season. Where had the thought of Maine come from?
    That one was no mystery. Jo.
    He grabbed the door handle and swung it open, rushing into the cozy warmth of Jett and Ashton’s favorite, kitschy, little sandwich shop. The twins glanced up at him from their special table under a painted mural of various well-known—and very naked—Greek statues frolicking in an imaginary field of flowers and butterflies that could have been painted by a first-grader. They raised their hands in twin waves, but their smiles were as fake as their tans. He doubted even Jo would believe—
    Nope. Time to drive that distraction from his mind. Wrong time, wrong place, wrong woman. Wrong him.
    “Jett, Ashton, sorry I’m late.” Ben fought to keep things light as he dodged around a few tables in the cramped restaurant. “I was helping out a friend.” True enough for these two.
    “Yes, we know all about that now,” Ashton drawled.
    If the mural behind the twins wasn’t enough to make Ben lose his appetite, the obsequiousness in Ashton’s voice finished the job. Ben helped himself to the seat across the table as the brothers stared at him with their annoying, twee smirks.
    He was saved the hassle of trying to interpret those smirks by a waiter who looked as though he’d been waiting in the wings, ready to pounce. “What’ll it be, sugar?” the man asked with a saucy wink.
    Ben forced a smile to keep from rolling his eyes. Clearly the waiter was an actor, and just as clearly, he knew who Jett and Ashton—and Ben—were, and thought he could score points by pretending to be gay. Not unlike the twins themselves.
    “Just coffee,” Ben said.
    “That’s it?” Ashton asked. “You’re not ravenously hungry after helping that friend?”
    Somewhere between Ben’s need to punch the man in the face and to protect Jo’s reputation by deflecting the entire course of the conversation, he managed to nod to the waiter and say, “Just coffee.”
    “Coming right up.” The waiter sashayed off.
    It took another three seconds for it to occur to Ben that the Pollard twins could have no idea he’d spent the last day and night with Jo, or even who Jo was. So why the snide inuend—
    Oh.
    Jett pulled a glossy magazine out of his messenger bag and tossed it on the table. “It hit the newsstands today,” he said, not a trace of humor in his voice. Broadway Snitch was one thing. Stage Professional Magazine was another entirely. “Care to enlighten us as to your extracurricular activities?”
    Acting had never worked out for Ben, but as he sent Jett a bored look and reached for the magazine with a steady hand, he thought he deserved another award. The issue was hot off the press, almost literally. Or maybe that heat came from the dread of what Ben knew he’d find inside.
    “We’ve taken the liberty of marking the article for you,” Jett said, jaw tight, color high.
    No point in delaying the inevitable. Ben cleared his throat and flipped to the folded-over page. Lovely, a two-page article, complete with big, fat, glossy pictures of him