Tempted Again

by Cathie Linz

  “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she said.

  “I honor my commitments.” He gave her a look intended to communicate the fact that he didn’t promise one thing and do another. Like her taking him into her bed and then kicking him out just when things were getting really hot.

  He would never have taken her to be a tease. He didn’t know what her problem was and he didn’t care. So what if she was still hung up on her ex? Not his problem. Getting hooked up with her would clearly be a big mistake. So he really shouldn’t be looking at her as if he wanted to devour her with whipped cream and a cherry on top. He immediately stopped.

  Marissa blushed and looked away.

  Jose observed the interaction with interest. Connor directed a glare in his direction. “What are you looking at?” he growled.

  Marissa immediately came to Jose’s defense. “Don’t talk to him that way,”

  “The sheriff is in a bad mood,” Nadine muttered under her breath as she no doubt tweeted that info on her smartphone before setting it down on the table.

  Connor was tempted to pick it up and throw it against the wall.

  “Let’s get things started,” Marissa said briskly, avoiding eye contact with Connor. “The Corn Festival is coming up next month and once again the library will have a booth at the event. And once again, the teen group will have a presence there.”

  Marissa paused to pass around a bowl of wrapped granola bars and packets of trail mix. Connor had deduced that she’d managed to scrounge enough money to pay for snacks and drinks at their meetings. She tried to keep them on the healthy side and they all went fast. You’d think the kids hadn’t eaten in a week.

  Now that it was summer and classes were over, the school lunch program wasn’t in effect. Connor knew Marissa worried about the teens’ well-being. He’d heard how Marissa had assisted Tasmyn’s mom with filling out the necessary paperwork to get food stamps until she got another job. But times were tough and jobs hard to come by.

  Connor had pitched in and brought food, too—junk food, which the kids all grabbed and consumed in seconds.

  “Potato chips have a high sodium content,” Marissa told them all.

  “So you’ve said,” Connor replied, popping a chip into his mouth. He noticed the way she was staring at his lips. Good. He hoped she was wishing his mouth was on hers right now.

  “We’re hoping that things go even better at the Corn Festival than they did at the Rhubarb Festival as far as our fund-raising efforts go,” she said briskly.

  “People are broke,” Red Fred said. “They already donated last month. Why should they do it again?”

  “Because we’re going to have the sheriff in the dunking booth,” Marissa said.

  Connor’s head whipped around to glare at her.

  “Just kidding,” she said weakly.

  “It was an idea of ours,” Red Fred said. “But Marissa said you wouldn’t go for it.”

  “She’s right,” Connor said. “I’ll be working during the festival.”

  “So will we,” Red Fred said. “It’s hard work trying to get people to hand over their money. I don’t think it’s going to go well.”

  “I did a new T-shirt design,” Jose said. “Corn never looked so good.” He proudly pointed to the T-shirt he wore. “This is a bad-ass cob of corn.”

  “This time they don’t have to buy anything,” Red Fred said. “Anyone can just make a donation to help out those in need.”

  “We’re donating the money we raise to the local food pantry.” Snake spoke up for the first time, shifting his focus from his laptop to his surroundings.

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to be on the computer during meetings,” Connor said.

  “I was just putting the finishing touches on our web page.” He turned the laptop so Connor could see.

  The kid had talent. Connor knew that Spider and Nadine had pointed out gaps in the sheriff department’s computer system. He shouldn’t take out his frustration on them. They were good kids.

  “Nice job,” he said.

  Spider smiled at him. “Thanks. I thought so, too.”

  Connor spent the rest of the meeting focusing on interacting with the teens and ignoring Marissa. The Fourth of July festivities were next on the calendar—before the Corn Festival in mid-July—which meant there was another parade and another chance for Marissa…No, he wasn’t going to think of her giving that royal wave at the Founders’ Day Parade her first day back. Instead he talked about the danger of messing with store-bought fireworks.

  “Sully already dropped by with a batch of brochures about this subject,” Marissa told him.

  Connor wasn’t happy to hear this news. He sure as hell didn’t appreciate the fact that Sully was interacting with Marissa. Was he jealous? No way. Sully was his buddy. That didn’t mean, however, that Connor wanted him within a hundred yards of Marissa.

  “I heard the library book cart drill team is going to perform in the Fourth of July parade,” Molly said. “Are you going to participate, Marissa?”

  Marissa shook her head.

  “She already was in the Founders’ Day Parade,” Jose said. “With that loco lime car of hers.”

  Connor hadn’t been the same since she’d crashed that parade back in May, and he was starting to wonder if he’d ever be the same again.

  * * *

  Three and a half weeks later, Marissa found herself once more manning the library booth for the Corn Festival. For the most part, she’d managed to limit her exposure to Connor to the teen meetings. But that didn’t stop her from thinking or dreaming about him. And it didn’t stop her from wanting him. She missed him.

  His black Mustang was absent from his parking space at their apartment building more times than it was present. She’d worried about bumping into him coming or going but that rarely happened and when it did he barely acknowledged her with a nod. Not that she could blame him.

  She’d spent the Fourth of July with her family, remembering that the last time they’d all gotten together Connor had been there at Jess’s birthday party. Her mom and sister noticed his absence. “He’s working,” she’d said before quickly changing the subject.

  Since then, Marissa had focused her energy on the Corn Festival event this weekend. Centennial Park was packed with wall-to-wall people. One of whom was Brenda from Marissa’s divorce support group.

  “We invite artists young and old to create art that best represents their interpretation of corn. We’re open to all types of mediums including not only drawings and paintings but also jewelry, garden ceramics, clothing, music and poetry to name just a few,” Brenda was saying.

  “I had no idea,” Marissa said, even though she sort of did know all that. But Brenda was on the organizing committee and seemed a little nervous or lonely or both.

  Some might not understand how it was possible to be lonely in such a large crowd but Marissa did. The sight of a couple walking hand in hand reminded her that she wasn’t part of a couple any longer. The sound of laughter from a young woman drove home the fact that Connor hadn’t stopped by the library booth to tease her. He’d stayed out of touch and out of reach, although he’d managed somehow to help the teens set up last night during the brief period of time when Marissa had had to take a bathroom break.

  “So far the attendance this year is above last year’s,” Brenda said before abruptly changing the subject. “My date fizzled out at the last minute. His wife called. The joke is on me because I thought he was divorced like me. But no, he just lied and told me he was. You’d think in a small town like this that I’d know who is divorced and who isn’t. I mean, it’s almost like we have giant Ds plastered on our foreheads that scream ‘Divorced!’ judging by the way some people look at us.” She paused to do a fake smile and wave at someone who walked by. “I refuse to fall into a pity pile just because I was deceived. Again. Thankfully we hadn’t gotten intimate yet. In fact, we hadn’t even kissed yet but still…” She sighed. “Well, look at it this way. At least I�
��ll have plenty to talk about at our next support group meeting. How about you?”

  “I’m good,” Marissa said. “Busy working here at the booth. Our teen group is gathering donations for the local food pantry.” Marissa pointed to the sign that Jose had painted and the container that Molly and Tasmyn decorated with photos of kids and food.

  “At least I don’t have to go to the food pantry myself,” Brenda said. “Not yet, at any rate.” She reached into her trendy leather shoulder bag and dropped a few dollars into the donation bin. “I’ll see you at the meeting next week,” she told Marissa before moving on.

  “She doesn’t look very happy,” Molly noted.

  “I know,” Marissa said.

  “But she’s pretty.”

  “Being pretty doesn’t automatically make you happy,” Marissa said.

  “It would make me happy,” Molly said wistfully.

  “Me, too,” Tasmyn agreed. “So would having a purse like that. It looked like a Sharif design.”

  “Purses don’t make you happy either.” Okay, that may have been a bit of a lie. Marissa could still remember getting a Coach purse from Brad for Christmas and being delighted. But the feeling hadn’t lasted and neither had the purse. She’d had to sell it on eBay to pay off her bills after the divorce. “Not a happy that lasts.”

  “What can make you a happy that lasts?” Molly asked.

  Marissa was still trying to figure that one out herself.

  Luckily, they were interrupted at that point by Roz’s arrival. Molly and Tasmyn retreated to their corner of the booth.

  “I just wanted to give you a heads-up that our library board president isn’t very happy with all the activities in our booth,” Roz quietly said with a subtle nod toward the teens. “I told Chester you have my full support, but he may still stop by and say something.”

  “Thanks for the warning. I appreciate it.”

  “And I appreciate the way you’ve really pitched in at the library. I realize you’ve put in plenty of extra hours and gone above and beyond,” Roz said. “Even though you haven’t been with us that long, you’ve really made a difference.”

  “A good one, I hope,” Marissa said.

  “Definitely.” Roz tilted her head toward Molly and Tasmyn, who were talking to a family about donating. “Especially with the teen group.”

  “I just wish I could do more.”

  “You do plenty. How is it working out with Connor?” Roz asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The two of you overseeing the teen program.”

  “Right. We’re okay. Why? Did he say something to you?”

  “No. Should he have?”

  “No.” Marissa nervously fiddled with her silver dangle earring. She hadn’t worn moonstones since that fateful night when Connor had been in her bed. Now she stuck to turquoise, which was supposed to relieve mental stress. Her dad had already stopped by earlier to remind her that turquoise jewelry dated back to the ancient Egyptians. He was once again manning the mummy booth.

  “Well, I’d better be off. I have to go judge something in the Food Hall—corn relish, I think it is.” Roz waved and took off.

  Marissa expected the other members of her family to stop by. Since her mom loved the Rhubarb Festival best, she didn’t participate in the Corn Festival as anything other than an observer and consumer. Ditto for Marissa’s sister, who came strolling by on the arm of one of the Roberts brothers.

  Jess shook her head at the sight of Marissa working the booth. “You lead such an adventurous life,” Jess said.

  “I’m not looking for adventure,” Marissa said.

  “What are you looking for—the reason you can’t dance?”

  Marissa was looking for peace and quiet but she obviously wasn’t going to find it today at the festival.

  “That’s right,” Jess told the teens at the back of the booth. “My big sister can’t dance.”

  “My big sister can’t sing,” Molly said, immediately leaping to Marissa’s defense.

  “I don’t have a big sister,” Tasmyn said. “But if I did, I wouldn’t make fun of her.”

  Jess grinned. “Yes, you would. That’s part of a sister’s job.”

  “What’s the other part?” Tasmyn said.

  “To have your sister’s back through thick and thin.” Jess wiggled her fingers in a teasing wave and took off.

  Marissa spent the next hour answering questions about library services and programs while silently mulling over Jess’s words. They’d surprised her.

  She hadn’t thought of her sister as someone who had her back. Not that she thought of her as someone who’d necessarily stab her in the back, either. But Jess just wasn’t the first person Marissa would call if she needed moral support.

  Maybe that would change. There was always the chance that their relationship would continue to grow and flourish.

  Marissa’s thoughts turned to her relationship with Connor. She missed him. She missed watching the way that sexy mouth of his moved when he was smiling. She missed having his mouth on her body. No. No, she didn’t. She pulled herself away from sex fantasyland and focused on her job.

  Sure enough, Chester stopped by as Roz had warned. “A reminder that you weren’t hired by the library board to baby-sit a bunch of teens. You’re supposed to assist all the people of Hopeful.”

  “I realize that. My time with the teens doesn’t reduce my attention to other library patrons in any way.” Marissa had made sure of that. She suspected her job depended on it. So she researched new titles for Reluctant Readers on her own time, listening to Booklist podcasts on her laptop at her apartment on subjects like graphic novels and Young Adult award nominees.

  “I’m watching you,” Chester said before moving on.

  “Are you in trouble because of us?” Molly came closer to tentatively ask.

  “Not at all. Don’t worry.” Marissa shifted the conversation. “It looks like the crowd is growing even bigger, doesn’t it?”

  Molly nodded. “And it’s getting hotter.”

  The temperature had to be in the upper nineties with matching humidity. Marissa had set up two electric fans in the booth but it was still extremely sticky. Molly and Tasmyn wore tank tops and shorts but Marissa didn’t have that option. Her sleeveless dress was a chili-pepper red, which Flo had informed her at last week’s divorce support group meeting was a power color. In an effort to stay cool, Marissa had gathered her hair up into a ponytail.

  During a break from people stopping at their booth, Marissa paused to look around. She remembered coming to these festivals as a kid. She’d been so excited at the prospect of booth games and special food and rides. The young kids seemed to be enjoying themselves on the various rides being offered—from a merry-go-round with colorful carousel horses to the tilt-a-wheel. A new attraction, in which kids crawled around in large, clear spheres, reminded Marissa of something a gerbil would love.

  The accident happened so fast that Marissa was completely unprepared. The rides were set up near a paved walkway through the park. A boy around eight was racing down the path when he tripped and fell, hitting his head on the cement and bleeding profusely.

  Connor was there an instant later and the EMTs showed up shortly thereafter. By the time they took the child and his hysterical mother away, Connor’s shirt was covered in blood.

  He stood there frozen, for a second staring down at his chest. Marissa saw Sully say a few words before drawing him away. But it was the look in Connor’s eyes that hit Marissa so hard. Sully was assuring everyone that the child would be okay, and that head wounds bled a lot. Marissa was relieved to hear the kid would be okay, but she was worried about Connor. She’d never seen him so devastated. The expression on his face had only lasted a moment but even so…

  “Are you okay, Connor?” she asked as Sully rushed Connor past the library booth to the exit. “Are you hurt?”

  Neither one of them answered her but she could tell that Connor wasn’t okay and that he was
hurting in a soul-deep sort of way that she’d only seen on the faces of soldiers returning from war.

  She saw Connor at a distance a while later. He’d changed into a clean uniform shirt and had his sunglasses in place as well as his warrior cop face. You’d never know by looking at him now that he’d been through some sort of personal hell earlier.

  But she knew. And she knew what she had to do about it.

  After the festival closed for the night, she waited for his car to pull into the apartment lot. She refused to get cold feet again. She had no doubts this time. She’d changed her clothes but she was not changing her mind.

  She knocked on his door.

  “What do you want?’ he growled.

  “You.” She reached out to trail her fingers down his cheek. “I want you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Connor didn’t appear surprised or pleased. His expression remained remote. “Why?”

  Marissa blinked. She hadn’t expected this reaction, hadn’t expected having to explain her actions. But she wasn’t about to back down now. “I want to pick up where we left off.”

  “You mean when you kicked me out of your bed?”

  She looked around nervously. “Can we discuss this inside your apartment?”

  For a moment she feared he was going to refuse, but he backed up and let her in.

  “Are you offering me pity sex?” he said bluntly.

  “Were you offering me pity sex?” she countered.

  “Hell no.”

  “Why should I pity you?”

  “Lots of reasons,” he growled.

  “There’s been something between us since I came back to town. You know it and I know it. The time has come for us to do something about it,” she said.

  “Like what?”

  “Do I have to show you?”

  He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. She did notice that he couldn’t help glancing at her chest, however. She’d chosen her ruffled blouse carefully. She’d noticed his interest in it when she’d worn it before. Actually his interest was in her cleavage. She leaned closer, giving him a better view.