Tempted Again (28 page)

“I can’t believe you did that,” she said.

“I have the magic touch,” he said with fake modesty.

“Yes, you do.” She gave him her best version of a sultry look. “I’d kiss you but I suspect that half the neighborhood is watching us. So I’ll owe you one tonight.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he said huskily.

“I’m counting on it,” she replied. “I’ll see you later.”

He nodded and stepped away from her car.

Had he stayed a moment longer, she doubted she’d have been able to resist giving him that kiss she’d promised. This was starting to feel a lot like love and not just lust. She felt a moment of panic before shoving it aside. Living in the moment meant not worrying about the future.

Jose was the one she needed to be worried about clearing. The sooner she did that, the better.

*  *  *

Connor spent the rest of the morning re-questioning people of interest working at the festival. The security people hadn’t seen anything. Since the event was a temporary one, there was no monitoring from video cameras. He spoke with Brenda and Flo again as well as people working the neighboring booths.

“The mayor said that Jose did it,” Flo said. “Why are you still asking questions? I thought the investigation was over.”

“It’s not.”

“You don’t think I stole the money, do you?” Brenda demanded.

“We’re not ruling out anything at this point,” Connor said.

“But you are ruling out that I stole it, right?” Flo said.

“Like I said, we’re not ruling out anything.”

Flo glared at him.

Connor put on his sunglasses to ward off her evil eye. He’d told his deputies to be extra vigilant today. “I expect you to wrap this thing up ASAP,” the mayor told him before hurrying off to moderate one of the many presentations going on at the main stage.

Connor was able to grab some award-winning grilled corn on the cob for lunch. As he passed the Kernel Fabulous popcorn stand, he remembered Marissa’s sister, Jess, getting some for her birthday. He wondered if Marissa liked it, too. There was still a lot he didn’t know about her.

He was looking forward to making more discoveries
tonight. In the meantime, he headed to headquarters to file required paperwork about his investigation. En route, his cell rang. It was his paternal grandfather, Buddy Doyle.

“I heard via the grapevine that the two Polish broads from Chicago visited you a few weeks back,” Buddy said.

“Logan told you, didn’t he.” Connor made it a statement not a question.

“He said something about you calling him crying from your balcony.”

“Logan is delusional. I was not crying.”

“I’m glad to hear that, boyo. Not that your mother hasn’t made grown men cry before. She sure made your dad weep in his beer on more than one occasion.”

“I don’t think she ever forgave him for not giving up alcohol for her,” Logan said.

“It wasn’t that easy,” Buddy said. “Your dad had a disease and it took him years to acknowledge that and get help. But he’s sober now.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What about you?” Buddy asked. “Have you forgiven him?”

“I don’t think about stuff like that.”

“Right. That sissy emotional stuff, huh?”

“Look who’s talking. The man who’d rather walk on hot coals than admit to emotional stuff,” Logan said.

“Ingrid has taught me a lot.”

His grandfather had married Ingrid West more than a year ago. Ingrid was Logan’s wife’s grandmother so once again the family tree got tangled. God knew his dad’s various marriages and Connor’s much younger half brothers already created a complicated web.

“Is Ingrid still talking about the Swedish mob?” Connor asked.

“Ingrid talks about all things Swedish. She’s very proud of her heritage.”

“As are you. Irish through and through, eh?” Logan said.

“Ingrid and I make a good combo. Logan seems to have found a good combo in Megan as well. I don’t know why he fought meeting her for so long. Stubborn. That’s what you boys are.”

“My mom blames that on my dad.”

“Ha!” Buddy paused a moment before sheepishly admitting, “She may have a point there.”

“I hope you’re taking your meds and going to your doctor appointments.”

“Ingrid is worse than a Marine drill sergeant regarding those things.”

“Sounds like she’s taking good care of you.”

“Yeah. It’s mutual,” Buddy said. “How are things going with you?”

“Good.”

“Logan said there’s a new woman in your life.”

“We already confirmed that Logan is delusional.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” his granddad growled. “You know my interrogation skills can’t be beat.”

“You don’t have to come to Hopeful.”

“Then tell me what’s going on.”

“Why this sudden interest? First Mom grills me and now you.”

“I’ll bet she was trying to matchmake, wasn’t she? That’s nothing new. Why did that spook you?”

“I am not spooked,” Connor said.

“Because Doyle men don’t get spooked?”

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I sure as hell don’t.”

“Right. And that’s why you left your job in Chicago and hightailed it out of town.”

“Being burned-out isn’t the same thing as being spooked. Undercover work is…”

“I know what it is,” his grandfather, a longtime veteran of the Chicago Police Department, said. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I know you don’t approve. Logan stayed and I left. So that makes me what…a coward in your eyes?”

“No way. Sometimes the most courageous thing you can do is move on. I know too many cops get professionally numb over the years. They have to, in order to survive. But it can make them less of a cop. You always wanted to do good and to make a difference. You were always like that. Even as a little kid. I’m guessing that’s easier to do where you are now?”

“Yes.”

“So how does the woman fit into this?”

“We’re working together on a program to help teens at risk.”

“A lot of the local departments have a special school liaison. So she’s a police officer?”

“No.”

“A teacher then?”

“No. She’s a librarian.”

“Uh-oh,” Buddy said. “Your brother married a librarian.”

“I’m aware of that,” Connor said. “I was there. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Don’t you think it’s strange that you’re having trouble with a librarian?”

“Who said I was having trouble?”

“Logan.”

“Don’t the two of you have anything better to do than gossip about me?”

“Maybe I could give you some help, you know…in the romance department.”

“I don’t need any help in the romance department.”

“Well, you never have in the past,” Buddy said. “But you seem to have run into some difficulty with this new girl.”

“I’ve got to go.”

“If you need help, you know you can call me.”

“Right. Bye, Granddad.”

“Hold on. That offer goes for cop stuff, too,” his grandfather said.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t let something eat you up inside like Logan did.”

“His partner died. I didn’t have that experience.”

“Maybe not, but you had something happen that hit you hard deep inside, where healing doesn’t come easy. Like I said, you can talk to me anytime.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

Connor knew all about the intervention his granddad had staged with Logan, who was having terrible nightmares and suffering from guilt about his partner’s shooting. The guy had died in Logan’s arms.

There was something about having someone die in your arms that changed you forever. Connor was trained to deal with emergency situations but there was nothing
like the trauma of a kid’s bloody death to destroy any idea that life was either fair or predictable.

Connor’s undercover work had ended that day. He’d stayed on the force for a while longer, working with kids. He’d tried to steer them away from gangs and drugs and toward programs and places that could help. But he’d failed so many times that something inside of him had atrophied.

He’d ended up walking away. Just like he’d walked away from Marissa all those years ago. He’d made a mess of things. He hadn’t expected or wanted to fall for Marissa back then. He’d just had his heart broken by his first love, who’d dumped him, and he wasn’t looking for complications.

He still wasn’t looking for complications but he sure as hell had them. Only this time Marissa was the one who’d had her heart broken by her cheating ex and he was the one with questions.

Earlier today, Marissa had cheerfully explained to him that he was her rebound guy and that she wasn’t looking for anything serious. Her statement should have reassured him instead of irritated him.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Connor didn’t have time to ponder that question because Spider and Nadine were waiting for him at the station.

“We need to talk to you,” Spider said. “In private,” he added. “It’s urgent.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Where
are Nadine and Spider?” Marissa asked Molly. Marissa had raced home from Jose’s to exchange her jeans and T-shirt for black cotton pants and a turquoise sleeveless shirt for her shift at the library’s booth. The day was another one of those steamy kind guaranteed to make you wilt and sweat. “They’re supposed to be volunteering now, not you and Tasmyn. Did you get the schedule mixed up?”

“No. Nadine said she needed us to fill in their slot because she and Spider were doing something else.”

“Something else?” Marissa felt her anger rising. They were already shorthanded because Connor had told Jose and Red Fred it would be best if they stayed away from the Corn Festival today. “I can’t believe she’d be so irresponsible. Is she tweeting from somewhere?”

“They’re helping Jose and Red Fred.”

“By doing what?” Marissa could imagine all kinds of outrageous scenarios, most involving wild tweets, posts and photos.

“She didn’t say. Tasmyn and I don’t mind spending more time here at the booth. Don’t be worried. We’ve got this.”

But Marissa was worried. The minute Flo stopped by the booth, Marissa went from worried to agitated with a dose of panic thrown in for good measure. It wasn’t the wild corn–covered T-shirt and earrings that Flo was wearing. It was what she said.

Pulling Marissa aside, she quietly said, “So you and Connor finally hooked up last night. Don’t look so shocked. I told you, Flo always knows. Someone saw you leaving his apartment early this morning. They also saw you going in last night.”

Marissa was too stunned to speak.

“I didn’t say anything to anyone else. But the word does seem to be out. I thought I’d give you a heads-up.” Flo patted Marissa’s arm reassuringly. “This silent routine is probably the best. Or maybe you should think of an alibi. Of course, your other option is to just fess up. Not that I’m saying you should brag about it or anything. Of course, the sheriff is one of Hopeful’s most eligible bachelors. He was even listed as winning that title in the local paper last year but that was before you came home. Would you like me to issue a statement on your behalf?”

Marissa shook her head. The day had started out so well and with such promise. She’d had soapy shower sex with Connor, flirted with him, even thought she might be confident enough to try dancing.

Then things had gone bad when Flo had called to tell Marissa about the vandalism at the festival.

Now things had gone from bad to worse.

“You might not want to look so guilty,” Flo advised. “If you change your mind about issuing a statement just call me. You’ve got my cell number.” She paused as a group of kids approached the library booth to ask about the summer reading program. Standing back, Flo held her two fingers to her ear in the universal “call me” signal before leaving.

Marissa went on automatic pilot as she answered the kids’ questions. No, it wasn’t too late to sign up for the reading program. Yes, graphic novels counted toward the number of books read. Yes, some books earned them double points. No, Jose’s T-shirts weren’t one of the giveaways for the summer reading program but they had other promo items from Scaredy Squirrel for younger readers and
Glee
bookmarks or Twilight saga posters for older ones. She handed them the sign-up info and the brochure. The booth got busy for the next hour, leaving Marissa little time to worry about the rumors about her and Connor swirling around Centennial Park.

Her mom was the first family member to stop by. Luckily she did so during a lull in patrons asking for info at the booth. Like Flo, she tugged Marissa to the far corner of the booth.

“Is it true?” her mom asked in an undertone.

“Is what true?”

“You and Connor.” She studied Marissa’s face before exclaiming, “It is. Flo said you looked guilty and you do.”

Marissa put her hands to her cheeks. “I do not.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m hot. It’s ninety degrees out here.”

Her mom aimed her handheld battery-operated fan at
Marissa before directing it back at her own red cheeks. “I should have brought you one of those ice packs to stick between your breasts.”

Marissa felt like sinking through the ground. “Mom, I’m trying to work here.”