A Trivial Pursuit

By Marilyn Gardiner

Jeremy Blake is committed to non-committed relationships. Lauren Chambers will settle for nothing less than the whole thing: bells and whistles, romance and marriage vows. Jeremy's young son, Michael, and Lauren share an addiction to the St. Louis Cardinals baseball club and delight in stumping each other with trivia questions about the team. The two of them know that she and Jeremy belong together, but are despairing of how to convince Jeremy of that. However, a sticky issue arises when Lauren begins to question Jeremy's business ethics. Is he truly about to commit fraud? Lauren knows that falling in love with Jeremy could only lead to heartbreak--they don't seem to share the same values--yet she is powerless to stop the headlong rush of her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9781597050944

Book preview

What They Are Saying About A Trivial Pursuit

Award winning author , Marilyn Gardiner, has done it again. Trivial Pursuit is a hard book to put down. If you like a good romance without any embarrassing love scenes, you’ll love this one. Marilyn’s use of descriptive terms transports the reader’s mind to the places described so effectively you feel as though you are standing there with the characters. That, coupled with her skillful use of suspense, makes you want to read straight through to the end. This book is more than just a simple romance, it is an inspiring work about the strong and profound effect love can have on the most hardened of hearts. Well done, Marilyn.

—Robert James Allison,

Matters Of Faith

A story of faith, love, and two people with the same needs, but very different points of view. A captivating story with true-life characters that will leave you with a smile on your face, and warmth in your heart.

—Angela Verdenius

Heart of a Traitor

Marilyn Gardiner has done it again. Suspense, romance and characters who seem to reach out and thrust you into this intriguing tale. Don't schedule any meals when you pick up A Trivial Pursuit. You'll miss them, for sure. You'll find yourself trying to read more slowly as you near the last word, so that it won't end. Here's hoping a sequel is in the works.

—J.D. Webb

Shepherd's Pie (Nov 2006)

Moon Over Chicago (Mar 2007)

By the end of their story, I truly cared about the characters in A Trivial Pursuit. The minor players did not overshadow the romance, rather adding a rich dimension of family life to the hero and heroine’s backgrounds, thus enabling greater understanding of the characters’ motives, strengths, and frailties. The author strikes a very good balance of the spiritual and physical attraction between a man and woman. I highly recommend this inspirational romance, not just for its engaging cast of characters and skillful portrayal of corporate America, but also for the joy of reading a good love story.

—Judy Boettcher

The Loffington Twins, Private Investigators Series

Book One, Awake, My Love, 2005

Book Two, Sweeter Than Honey, 2007

A Trivial Pursuit

Marilyn Gardiner

A Wings ePress, Inc.

Inspirational Romance Novel

Edited by: Lorraine Stephens

Copy Edited by: Leslie Hodges

Senior Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Executive Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Cover Artist: Christine Poe

All rights reserved

NAMES, CHARACTERS AND incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

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

Copyright © 2006 by Marilyn Gardiner

ISBN: 978-1-59705-094-4

Published by Wings ePress, Inc.

Published In the United States Of America

Wings ePress Inc.

3000 N. Rock Road

Newton, KS  67114

Dedication

For my grandmother, Elizabeth Williams, who told the entire family when I was ten years old, that I would one day write all the books she never could.

One

C ome on. Come on. Catch , darn it. The ancient Chevette only ground dully and refused to start.

If you keel over on me today, car, you’ll be an hors d’oeuvre at the junk yard by evening. You have my word!

Then, mercifully, the engine turned over and Lauren breathed a sigh of relief.

Hurrying, disgusted with herself for over-sleeping and anxiously aware of minutes ticking by, she put the car into reverse and mentally checked off what remained to be done at the office before the ten o’clock meeting. This was the day her career could be made or broken. Expansion or not. Promotion or not. The lessening of financial stress—please God—or not. She coaxed the car out of the parking lot and eased her way through the early morning fog and across the Woodrow Wilson Bridge, gridlocked with Washington-bound traffic, and into Virginia. She’d worked hard for this opportunity and didn’t intend to blow it. The situation was a tad ticklish.

Squinting into the fog, she tried to force herself to be patient. Her stomach was in a knot as it was. As Administrative Assistant, she was one short step away from middle management and wanted, no needed, the promotion. There were a few last minute ends to pick up before the meeting but other than making sure Ryan would be there on time, things were covered. She’d double-checked everything before she left yesterday. It wouldn’t do to neglect details. Not today. She wasn’t the only one depending on her paycheck.

And then, within minutes of her destination, the Chevette coughed and abruptly lost momentum.

No, she wailed aloud. Not again! It seemed there was always something wrong with the dratted car. Her palm smacked the steering wheel in frustration. There was no time for this!

Through gauzy patches of swirling fog she saw a traffic light changing from yellow to red. She stopped, gunning the motor slightly, and prayed the Chevette would get her as far as the office. Prayed there was nothing seriously wrong with the car. Prayed she’d have the money for the rent at the end of the month. And there were the monthly family obligations coming due. And, of course, there was always Annie. Always and always there was Annie.

On the bank corner an outdoor clock chimed, and before the echo faded she heard the distant fog-muffled sound of a church carillon announcing the half hour. Lauren cracked her window to better hear the lovely hymn greeting the morning, and in that instant a man stepped off the curb and out of the fog. She had a quick glimpse: unshaven, filthy jacket, lurching step.

Before she could so much as blink, he was at the passenger side of the car trying to pull open the door.

For an instant she froze as he peered in at her. His hair hung in lank, greasy strings and his eyes seemed to burn into hers. He shouted, Open up. Unlock the door.

He yanked and pulled on the handle, putting all his strength into the effort, and yelled once more, Open the damn door.

A sudden rush of panic poured through her and Lauren stamped her foot on the gas. She had to get away. This man meant her harm. But the car only made a feeble gargling sound and didn’t move.

The man slammed a fist against the window and Lauren’s heart leaped in wild staccato. She pressed on the gas pedal again.

The engine hesitated, almost caught. And then to her horror it died completely. There was no sound except that of the man still loudly abusing her car door.

Frantically, she turned the key in the ignition and pressed the accelerator again. It had to catch! Not now, she thought wildly. Oh please God, not now! Her hands were shaking as she tried the ignition again and again.

Panic rose in her throat. Please. Oh please, she pleaded aloud.

Suddenly the man sprawled across the hood of the car and pounded on the windshield. Lauren threw herself back against the seat. His face seemed only inches from hers. She could see rotting teeth in his mouth and the hysterical glitter of his eyes boring into her own. Even as the heel of her hand jammed hard on the horn, she screamed.

From somewhere behind her an oasis of headlights bloomed. There was a sudden screech of brakes and a man’s voice called, You! What are you doing? Then, not waiting for an answer, there came an authoritative roar, Get out of here!

The man across her windshield jerked up to confront the threat. Scrambling awkwardly he slid backward, off the hood of the car and then, blessedly, the terrible face disappeared from her vision. Over the pounding of her heart she could hear a deep and resonant voice beside her window. Are you all right, lady?

Though blood thundered in her ears and she couldn’t seem to draw a deep breath. Lauren managed to nod. I’ve been better.

Do you know him? What was he after?

She shook her head and rolled down the window further. The man who had come to her rescue was bending over to see into her car, but there was no doubt he was a big man. He had dark curling hair and eyes that looked, as well as she could see in this strange combination of overhead street light and wet gray fog, as black as the early morning surrounding them.

She swallowed down a sob caught in her throat. He—He just stepped off the curb and tried to get into the car with me. A shudder rippled down her body and she couldn’t help a little cry of releasing tension. If you hadn’t come...

He waved a hand to dismiss her thanks. No problem, as long as you’re all right. Are you too shaky to drive?

Lauren took hold of the steering wheel with both hands and inhaled sharply. I’m not hurt. Just scared out of my skin. Involuntarily, her eyes went to a side street, fearful the man might still be lurking about. Where did he go?

He took off through the cemetery, toward the old Ford plant and the waterfront. His nod indicated an old burial ground, set off from the heart of the city by a low wrought-iron fence. My guess is that by now he will have lost himself in one of the warehouses. Don’t worry about him. He’s gone.

Thank you. I appreciate— She couldn’t continue.

Yes. Well, you’re a lucky lady. Or maybe you’re smart. You keep your doors locked. Can you drive?

She nodded and then suddenly afraid he would leave her alone with the dead Chevette added, But my car died and I’m not sure I can get it going again. She turned the key once more and the engine ground away, not turning over, just growling in stubborn defiance.

It’s flooded, he said. Put the accelerator all the way to the floor and hold it.

She did as he said and to her relief the engine kicked over. She made an attempt to smile. I don’t know how to thank you.

Forget it. Want me to follow you for a few blocks to make sure the car’s running okay?

No. That’s not necessary. I’m almost there. And again, thank you. More than I can say.

He straightened and turned away. Glad I could help. And he was gone, back to his own car.

Her legs were still trembling when she walked into the office, but the necessity of making sure all was in readiness for the scheduled conference steadied her. For the moment she was alone in the third-floor suite of offices.

Her desk was a large L-shaped affair with a computer sitting at an angle in the corner of the unit and a large intercom system at the end. Behind the desk was a bank of low filing cabinets and to her left, separated by a latticed divider, sat desks for the four secretaries.

In an hour the space would be filled with bustling efficiency, but just now the room was silent. Out of a bank of draperied windows she could see the fog beginning to roll back and dawn pinking the edges of the horizon.

Alexandria was a lovely city, rich in history and beautiful with brick sidewalks and rose-covered garden walls. From her office she could walk to Old Town and either browse in quaint little specialty shops or sit in the park in the sunshine. At this time of day the city was still, waiting for the crowds of people to arrive and provide vitality for the day.

Lauren stood quietly for a minute forcing herself to breathe deeply, trying to put behind her the sight of the man leering through her windshield. There was work to be done. She didn’t have time to let herself think what might have happened if the stranger hadn’t stopped and frightened away the mugger. The handsome stranger with curly hair and coal black eyes. It was good to be reminded that there were nice men still left in the world.

Now, with her heart restored to normal beating and able to think coherently, she wondered if she had thanked him adequately. She couldn’t remember. Surely she’d said something of a grateful nature. The horror was still fresh enough in her mind, however, to blot out her response. She’d like to see him again to properly thank him.

A smile tilted up the corners of her mouth. She wouldn’t mind seeing him again in any case. The set of his shoulders as he walked away spoke of a confident bearing and, face it, she’d like to see his eyes in light enough to tell if they were really as black as they had seemed. To see if he was as good looking as she remembered.

But the car. Something had to be done about her car. She’d be better off taking the bus. Of course, when she had taken the bus she hadn’t met any handsome strangers. Neither, however, had she come within a heartbeat of being accosted by a derelict.

Firmly putting the incident in the back of her mind, Lauren focused her attention on the work at hand. There was a memo on her desk noting last-minute changes in the agenda, and after checking, she put it on Maureen’s desk for typing and duplicating.

Fuming when Ryan didn’t answer in Accounting, she made the trip at warp speed down two flights of stairs to remind him that he was due in the conference room with figures, charts and graphs, at ten o’clock. She had to be content with his vague nod and her own firm, This is important, Ryan. Don’t forget.

Yeah, right. I’ll be there, he said, never taking his eyes from the computer screen.

Ryan, are you listening? Ten o’clock sharp.

Sure. I hear you. And then, in the familiar tone a husband might use to a nagging wife. Trust me, I’ll even put on my tie.

Ryan had been a friend, a very good friend, since childhood. In fact, he had set up the interview with GDI that ultimately landed her the job. For that, she could forgive him a lot. From the door she watched him in profile, still bent forward toward the computer. His fingers moved over the keyboard in a magical dance. The screen changed configuration once, twice. Ryan’s attention did not waver.

Lauren sighed. Don’t be late, she said finally and left, hoping he’d show up on time. With Ryan you never knew. He was devoted to his computers.

Back upstairs, the secretarial staff had arrived. Sally, as usual, was chatting on the phone, a cup of coffee steaming on the desk before her, but everyone else was hard at work.

Lauren closed her eyes and sighed. Good thing Sally didn’t have to meet the public. She’d frighten away clients with all the makeup she wore. But she was the fastest typist in the office and an excellent secretary. Lauren would have to speak to her about phone usage, however. Sally’s social life was beginning to be a problem. Lauren motioned to her and she hung up.

She smiled to soften her words. You have such beautiful eyes, it’s a shame to hide them behind all that make up.

Sally shrugged elaborately. This is called strategy.

Ah. That’s what you call it. Any chance you could lessen it a little?

Despite the odds and considering their weight with mascara, Sally managed, good-naturedly, to bat her eyelashes. Only if you insist.

Lauren nodded an affirmative, Please, and motioned for the staff to gather around her.

Checking to make sure there were copies of the updated proposal, evaluations-in-process, and the agenda for each participant, she said, Sally, I’d like you to be responsible for keeping the phones as free as possible. We don’t want our guests having to wait for a free line.

Sally nodded. I’m on it.

Has anyone heard who the legal firm is sending? No? We’ll have to wing it then. She leaned a hip on the desk. Everyone is a bit tense, I know. We’ve worked for weeks toward this one meeting, but we’re ready. Questions? No? Okay. Be flexible everybody.

One last scan of the conference room left her with barely enough time to freshen her make up before the conferees were due to arrive.

She straightened the ruffled collar on her teal-green blouse and surveyed the image in the powder room mirror. Although the oyster gray cotton suit was four years old, it was still presentable, but her chunky-heeled gray pumps were even older and showing faint signs of wear. She shrugged. It couldn’t be helped. They had to last a little longer. Looking at herself critically, however, she decided that all-in-all it wasn’t too bad. She looked efficient and knowledgeable and very professional, and hopefully no one would look at her feet.

She smiled experimentally at her fresh-scrubbed image in the mirror, and slowly the smile faded. Ted used to say she was as wholesome as the dew on morning glories and just as pretty. He’d run his fingers through the silky fall of champagne-blond hair that had never known a permanent, comment on the unusual blue-green sparkle of her eyes and tease her to smile just so he could see the way the irises charged up. They’d done a lot of laughing in those days, and there’d been no reason not to expect the happiness to go on forever.

That had been three years ago and there hadn’t been anyone since who had made her heart beat faster. Maybe there never would. But, she looked herself in the eye, she had not caved in when Ted was killed and she was managing, at least adequately, on her own. She worried about Annie, but that was something she could do little about, and there was always the surprise with every dawn as to whether or not her car would start.

She loved her job, and if all went as planned there would be a promotion soon with a hefty pay raise. Then, maybe, she could do something about another car. And while Mr. Murray, her boss and president of the company, was demanding, he was also fair. Thank God she had GDI.

At ten minutes after ten everyone except the lawyer was in the conference room. Even Ryan was on time, wearing a tie. He gave Lauren an I-told-you-so wink before he settled at the table. She was passing out copies of the agenda when the door opened and a tall, dark-haired man carrying a briefcase walked in. He wore a three-piece, pinstriped suit that molded his body perfectly. The suit definitely had not come off a rack anywhere. He was immaculately groomed.

The lawyer, she guessed, and was moving forward to greet him when she stopped in mid-stride. It was the man in the fog. The man who had come to her rescue. He glanced at her and then back again as if trying to place her face as he made his way to the only empty chair around the table. Nodding affably to those gathered, and with another curious look Lauren’s way, he opened a folder to join the meeting. He was introduced as Jeremy Blake of Blake, Blodgett and Blake.

Lauren could hardly keep her eyes off him. Could he possibly be the same man? Maybe not. It was difficult to identify him from the poor light of the overcast and foggy morning. But yes, he must be. There couldn’t be two men in Alexandria with that same deep earthiness to his voice and with hair that curled in sooty black ringlets even cut as short as it was. Surely he had not recognized her or he would have... Would have what? Interrupted a meeting for which he was already late, just to relate his Good Samaritan deed for the day?

With difficulty, Lauren pulled her mind back to the job at hand.