Tempted Again (12 page)

She sensed there was a lot more to it than that but didn’t press him. At least she didn’t mean to press him. But the words tumbled out of her mouth anyway. “Was it a woman?”

He glared at her. “No, it wasn’t a woman.”

“Okay.”

“It was work stuff, okay?”

“Okay. I can tell it’s a touchy subject with you.”

“I am not touchy. Touchy is for wimps.”

“Right. God forbid you should be a wimp or be touchy or actually have some emotions.”

“Hey, I have emotions. Too many damn emotions sometimes.” His voice turned dark and rough.

She saw the pain flash in his eyes and felt guilty for bringing up something that was so difficult for him. “I’m sorry.”

He regained control of his expression “You’re sorry for what?”

She could tell he didn’t want her referring to the reasons for his departure from Chicago again so she tried to lighten the situation a little. “Sorry I gave you a hard time about the pizza. Angelo’s is indeed awesome.”

“We had some good times back then, working there.”

“And eating there,” she said. “I think we tried every possible combination on the menu no matter how outlandish. Pineapple and spinach.”

“Pineapple, spinach and shrimp.”

“That was pretty good actually,” she said. “It’s when we added broccoli to that mix that things went terribly wrong.”

He laughed. “That was bad. Very bad.”

She shared a smile with him. It had been so long since she’d had a fun moment like this. She’d forgotten how wonderful it could feel. Or how addictive it could be.

Her eyes met his and she couldn’t look away. She felt like a teenager all over again, caught up in a crush, so wild about the guy in front of her that she couldn’t even think straight.

She wasn’t that girl anymore but there was still a bit of her left inside Marissa. Enough to make her breathless. Enough to make her yearn for something more.

She nervously licked her lips.

His gaze shifted to her mouth. Was he going to kiss her? Would she let him? Yes, yes…no, no. No, she really shouldn’t.

She moved back and almost slipped from her chair. “I should be going.”

“Okay.” He followed her to the door. “Here, let me.” He leaned around her to open it for her, his arm brushing against her body, his warm breath stirring her hair.

She was momentarily trapped in the seductive cage of his arms before he stepped back. The door was open now. She really should make a break for it before she gave in to the wildly inappropriate thoughts racing through her mind.

“Hey, I’ve got your table,” Jess said, making Marissa jump.

The spell was broken. For that’s what it truly felt like, as if Marissa had been caught up in some kind of enchanted moment. The problem with those kinds of moments is that they weren’t real. And they didn’t last.

Getting free furniture was real.

“Need my help?” Connor asked as he had earlier.

Marissa noted the way he eyed her sister.

“No, I’m good,” Jess said. “Tim is doing the heavy lifting.”

The young hottie came up with stairs with a toothpaste-
ad perfect smile. “Where do you want this?”

Marissa hurried inside her apartment to show him the empty dining area. The table came apart, with the legs separate from the top. Tim made fast work of putting it all together while Jess lingered in the hallway with Connor.

“Jess, I need your help in here,” Marissa called out.

Her sister came inside. Tim had gone down to bring up the chairs. “We should really be helping Tim carry those,” Marissa said.

“He likes doing things for me.”

“I’m sure he didn’t like the way you were flirting with my neighbor.”

“What were you and Sheriff Hottie up to?”

“Nothing.”

“Fine. Be that way. I can’t stay and talk anyway.”

“I thought you and Tim had to be someplace.”

“We did. And now we’re off somewhere else. Wait until Mom hears about your hanging out with your sexy neighbor.”

“Do not tell her.” Marissa added a warning look that should have worked but didn’t. Damn. It used to work when they were kids. Life was so much more complicated now.

Now Jess was into bargaining for her silence. Come to think of it, she’d done that when they were kids, too. “I won’t tell her if you go to that divorce support group meeting Mom keeps going on about,” Jess said. “I’m tired of Mom bugging me to bug you.”

“I’ll go this week.”

“You better.”

“And you better keep your mouth shut.”

Jess smiled and made a zipping motion across her lips.

*  *  *

Marissa was not looking forward to attending the divorce support group tonight but she had no choice. Not only had she made that bargain with her sister but her mother had continued nagging Marissa all week about going to the meeting. Attending tonight seemed like the lesser of two evils. At least Jess seemed to have kept her promise and not told their mom about Marissa being in Connor’s apartment.

Marissa walked into the crowded room on the second floor of the Hopeful Park District building and selected one of the few empty chairs from the semi-circle. She liked it because it was closest to the door. The Park District offered its meeting rooms to a number of support groups in the evenings as well as classes like Cooking for One or Clearing Clutter. She’d rather be in one of those classes instead of where she was, but she’d promised to attend so here she was, feeling nervous and vulnerable.

As Marissa took her seat, several women turned to look at her.

Marissa only recognized one of them—Flo from the post office. Flo was not someone you would ever overlook. Her oversized glasses with the bold black frames were guaranteed to ensure she stood out in a crowd. Her long hair was dyed vivid black and always held back in her trademark ponytail. She hadn’t changed her hairstyle or glasses since Marissa was in high school.

“Welcome. We’re glad you’ve joined us,” Flo said. “Would you like some coffee and cookies?”

“Thanks.” As she helped herself to the offered goodies, Marissa worried that she might be turning into one of those people who couldn’t turn down free food.

“Okay then, let’s get started,” Flo said.

Marissa hurried back to her chair. They went around the room saying their names so fast that Marissa couldn’t keep up with them. Was the woman to her left named Amy or Sammy?

“We have a new visitor tonight.” Flo nodded at Marissa. “Do you want to introduce yourself and tell us about yourself?”

She’d rather eat ground glass but had little choice other than to reply. “My name is Marissa.” She hadn’t considered the possibility that she’d have to do much talking tonight, not right off the bat. She wasn’t comfortable baring her soul to strangers. She also worried she might have bits of dried fruit stuck in her teeth from the oatmeal raisin cookie she’d eaten. “And um…I’m just here to listen and observe.”

The group gave her a collective frown.

“I’m divorced,” she hurriedly added in case they thought she was crashing their meeting for the food and drink.

“Her mom warned me that she could be shy,” Flo said. “So I’ll introduce her. Marissa Bennett is a local girl who left home to go off to college. She met a man she thought was her Prince Charming. They got married, but one day she came home to find her s.o.b. of a husband was in bed with another woman.”

“That’s almost as bad as me discovering my ex had two mistresses,” a pretty woman with short dark short
hair said. She looked like she’d be more at home in an episode of
Real Housewives of Atlanta
than in Hopeful, Ohio.

“But having him clear out your bank account and take off to the Cayman Islands is even worse,” another woman said.

“Ladies, it’s not a competition,” Flo said.

“If it was, I’d win for worst divorce,” the woman to Marissa’s right maintained.

“At least you were married for a dozen years,” Flo said. “Poor Marissa here couldn’t even hack it for a year.”

Their eyes widened.

“You were married less than a year?” the woman on Marissa’s left asked in amazement.

“She signed the divorce papers on their one-year wedding anniversary,” Flo replied on Marissa’s behalf.

“That’s rough,” Atlanta Housewife admitted. “Did you at least get a good settlement?”

“She had to come back home and move in with her parents,” Flo said. “Do you think she’d do that if she got a good settlement?”

“I have my own place now,” Marissa said.

“She moved into my building,” Flo said.

Great. Marissa didn’t realize that Flo lived there, too.

“That’s a very safe place,” Atlanta Housewife said. “The sheriff lives there.”

“I know.” Marissa wondered when the situation had gotten so totally out of her control. Probably the minute she’d walked in the door. No, it was when Flo had spoken for her. Marissa chastised herself for not taking control then. And for not paying attention when they’d done
the speed roll call. But she could fix that if she took immediate action. “I’m sorry. I was so nervous that I didn’t catch everyone’s name. Could you please start over and introduce yourselves again?”

And bingo, that’s all it took for them to beam at her and start talking all at once. Marissa couldn’t keep up but at least the spotlight was off her for a while. Across the room Marissa caught the empathetic look of a young woman close to her own age. Her name was Deb Kirsch and as the evening progressed, she was the one person who made Marissa feel like she’d found someone with a similar viewpoint.

*  *  *

Connor had heard that Marissa was attending a divorce support group meeting tonight. It was hard to keep secrets in a small town. Hard but not impossible.

No one knew the exact details of his reasons for leaving Chicago. They figured city life had burned him out and who wouldn’t prefer a great town like Hopeful to gritty Chicago.

Connor had almost been tempted to confide in Marissa and that surprised him. So did the other ways in which she tempted him. Being in bed with her made him hard. He wanted her…bad. One of his few nights off and here he was, home alone lusting after the girl next door. The sexy hot librarian next door.

His X-rated thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone. He could tell by the ringtone that it was his mom.

“You’re not calling me while you’re driving, are you?” Connor said.

“No. You know I signed Oprah’s No Phone Zone Pledge. I’m calling you from a parking lot and the car is turned off.”

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.”

“How are you and GM enjoying Hershey, Pennsylvania?” Connor always called his grandmother “GM.”

“Oh, we’re done with Hershey. We’re here.”

“Here, where?”

“Here in Hopeful. We’re about five minutes away from your place. See you soon.”

Chapter Eight

“Wait!”
Connor said frantically.

“Whatever you want to say, you can tell us when we see you in a few minutes,” his mom said.

He scrambled for an excuse. “I’m working,”

“No, you’re not. We called the department first to find out. Bye.”

Connor groaned. Why hadn’t they given him a heads- up? He didn’t consider phoning him five minutes before arriving enough of a warning.

He supposed it was better than just showing up on his doorstep. Speaking of his doorstep, he heard voices outside a few minutes later. He opened it to find Marissa standing there with his mother and grandmother.

“Your nice neighbor Marissa let us in and helped us carry our bags,” his mom said.

“Give me that,” he said. His hand brushed hers as he took the bag from her.

He could tell by the way her face flushed that she was as aware of his touch as he was of hers.

“Enjoy your visit,” Marissa said as she hurriedly dug her key to her own apartment out of her purse and dove inside. Not really, but she sure seemed in a rush to him.

Had his relatives said something to Marissa to spook her? Or was that brief touch they’d just shared the reason for her quick exit?

He switched his attention from Marissa to his mom and grandmother, ushering them into his place. He was still a little freaked by their sudden appearance which is why he blurted out, “How long are you staying?”

His mother gave him a reprimanding look. “We just got here.”

“It’s just…I wasn’t expecting you,” he said.

“We wanted to surprise you.”

“Mission accomplished,” he said.

“We’re heard about the Rhubarb Festival they do here. Sounds like fun.”

“But that’s not for several days.”

GM narrowed her eyes at him. “Is that a problem? Are you expecting other visitors?”

“No,” he said. “I only have a small apartment.”

“The apartment I had in Warsaw when I was your age was small. This is twice as large. Three times. Is this attitude of yours because of the girl next door? Your new neighbor?” Not giving him a chance to reply, she continued, “She seems nice. You should date her. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

His grandmother was aging him by the second.

Connor put his arm around her and teased her. “You know I’m not the marrying kind.”