Tempted Again (5 page)

“I still can’t process it all,” Marissa admitted on a sob. “The thing is, I was so clueless about Brad that I had no time to prepare. It came out of the blue, like that tornado.”

“Oh, baby.” Her mom stroked her hair like she had when Marissa was little. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this. But things will get better. I promise.”

Marissa wished she could believe that.

*  *  *

Connor sipped his morning cup of coffee as he stared out the window of his apartment very early Sunday morning. The sun was barely up. Things were quiet. The neighborhood was still asleep.

Then he saw her. Marissa. Walking down the sidewalk. She wasn’t jogging or running. Just walking. Not even power walking with that weird arm swinging thing going on.

She was wearing a blue T-shirt and conservative shorts. No Daisy Dukes for her. He should have just let her walk on by. He told himself that all the way outside.

She turned to confront him before he could say a word. “Is there some law against taking a morning walk?”

“Hey.” He held up his hands in mocking surrender. “Chill out…Rissa.”

Chapter Three

“What
did you say?” Marissa demanded. Connor was sans sunglasses this morning and she could see his face clearly, especially his hard-to-define eyes.

“You heard me.”

“You know who I am?”

“Marissa Johnson, formerly known as Rissa Bennett.”

And he’d known her too damn well, kissing every inch of her body. Doing things with his lips and mouth she’d never experienced before…or since. “Why didn’t you say anything before?” she said.

“What did you expect me to say?”

“Nothing.” He’d said nothing when he’d dumped her all those years ago. She was foolish to think he’d explain now. Not that she cared.

“I’m just guessing here, but you seem to be pretty pissed off at me still,” he said.

“Ya think?”

“That was a long time ago. I mean, it’s not like I ruined you for life or anything. You moved on. Got married.”

“To a guy who cheated on me.” Marissa hated that she’d said the words out loud.

“I heard you were divorced.”

“Is that why you came out here this morning? To hassle me about being divorced?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Why should you care, you mean? You’re right. I’m sure you haven’t thought of me once in the past ten years. I know I haven’t thought of you.”

“Really.”

There was no question mark at the end of his one-word comment. Instead he’d infused it with the silent observation
I think you’re lying.

“Yes, really. You don’t believe me?” She was tired of people picking on her, starting with her sister last night and now her first lover this morning.

Connor shrugged. “Like I said, you seem pissed.”

“I am.”

“At me.”

“Bingo.”

“Why be angry with me if you haven’t thought of me in ten years?”

“Because seeing you again reminds me of what a rat bastard you were.”

Connor wasn’t expecting her to call him out on his behavior although he should have, given the way he’d been pushing her buttons. What was wrong with him? Why was he looking for trouble?

Before he could say another word, she jogged off,
clearly in a hurry to get away from his rat bastard self. Could he blame her? Not really. There was little he could do to explain his behavior because he knew that no explanation would be good enough.

He kept watching her as she moved down the block. He remembered her telling him that she’d been a band geek in high school and hadn’t made the track team. What instrument had she played? The flute? No, it was the clarinet. She’d laughed and told him she didn’t play it well. Something to do with her lips on the instrument. He definitely recalled how that particular conversation had ended. They’d had sex.

Connor hadn’t wanted a serious relationship. His first love had broken his heart after he’d followed her all the way here to Hopeful and Midwest College. Rissa had been his rebound girl. He’d had no idea she was a virgin.

To this day he couldn’t say if he’d loved Rissa back then. Had he told her those words? He wasn’t sure anymore. So much had happened in his life since then.

Hell, he’d only been nineteen at the time. Young, cocky and so damn positive he was invincible.

He knew better now. Knew that bad things happened to good people. That sometimes he couldn’t protect those he’d been assigned to serve and protect. He couldn’t always right the world’s wrongs. Hell, he couldn’t even right one city neighborhood’s wrongs.

He hadn’t been strong enough or smart enough or tough enough. Something was lacking in him. Not guilt, though. He had plenty of that to go around.

He hadn’t been the first Chicago cop to burn out and move on. He was the first in his family though, and that was a big burden to carry. Although she missed having
him nearby, his mom had been okay with the fact that he’d chosen to return to Hopeful instead of stay on in Chicago.

Connor suspected his dad, a career cop, thought he was a coward although he’d never said the word aloud. On his darkest nights, Connor heard the word in his head again and again. He should have stayed and fought. That’s what Doyle men did. They stayed and they fought.

Not that his dad had ever fought to keep his marriage alive. Any of them. He’d been too busy being a cop. There hadn’t been room for anything else, other than his addiction to alcohol.

His dad had eventually hit rock bottom and gone to an AA meeting. He’d been sober for over six years now. But he was still a cop through and through. That hadn’t changed. Being a police officer was his first priority.

Connor was the same. His older brother Logan got that even though he teased him about being a cop in a podunk town.

On his good days, Connor told himself he’d come to Hopeful to find something—to make a difference—not to run from something. On his bad days, those words did little to stop the guilt that was like an explosive device in his gut.

Marissa had been the first to gently accuse him of using humor as a shield to hide his feelings. Several other women had made the same accusation in the intervening years but Marissa had been the first. She’d been pretty damn smart for her age.

She was obviously still pretty damn smart if she was a librarian. The dark circles he’d seen under her eyes indicated that she was having a hard time, which made
him feel like even more of a bastard. He hadn’t come outside to hassle her.

So why did you do it, Doyle?
he asked himself.

Hell if he knew. He had a lot to figure out where Rissa…Marissa was concerned.

*  *  *

Monday morning, Marissa pulled her lame lime-green VW into a spot in the employees-only section of the library’s parking lot. Not wanting to be late, she’d given herself plenty of time. She’d also changed her clothes several times, not that she’d had that many clothes with her. She certainly couldn’t afford to buy anything new. She was lucky to have some classic pieces that she could mix and match to make them look different. And her collection of silver jewelry usually lifted her spirits. Today she’d chosen the oval dangle moonstone earrings and matching pendant. Her sky-blue top and black pants were also confidence boosters. Usually. On most days. But then, today wasn’t like most days.

Today was her first day on the job. A new job that she couldn’t afford to screw up. She had to make up for her disastrous first impression at the parade. Her first objective today was to apologize to her boss.

Roz Jorgen was waiting for Marissa. “Come in.” She motioned her forward into her office and cleared a chair for Marissa.

“I’m so sorry,” Marissa said before she even sat down. “I didn’t mean to make a scene in the parade and ruin things.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

“I certainly don’t want to do anything that might
reflect badly on the library. I’m not a rowdy person,” she assured her new boss. “Really I’m not.”

“Despite the Green Day song blaring out of your car?”

“That’s from a CD I burned with some of my favorite songs but sometimes I can’t get the darn CD player to turn off.”

“Sounds like the radio in Bumblebee.” At Marissa’s confused look, Roz added, “You know, the yellow car in the Transformer movies. My grandson is a big fan.”

“Right.” Marissa was nervous or she would have made the connection herself. At her previous job as Young Adult librarian she had a lot of interaction with teens and preteens who quizzed her on everything from which guy Katniss should choose in the Hunger Games trilogy to who Bella should choose in the Twilight saga. “Anyway, I’m sorry my wrong turn landed me in the middle of the parade.”

“You certainly know how to make an entrance,” Roz said.

“That wasn’t my intention. Far from it.”

“It certainly upped the interest in our new librarian. I suspect a number of our patrons will be stopping by today to check you out. No pun intended.”

Marissa tried not to slide down in her chair like she did in high school algebra class so the teacher wouldn’t call on her. She so did not want the spotlight on her right now.

You can’t afford to be fragile
, she sternly told herself.
You need to be as tough as nails.

“I’ve got your paperwork here to fill out. Once you’re done with that, I’ll show you around and introduce you to our staff.”

Marissa opened her Got Books tote bag real wide so she could find a pen, dislodging the brown paper bag containing her lunch.

“The staff room is through there,” Roz said pointing to a door that opened off her office. “You can put your lunch in the fridge. There’s also a large table where you can complete your paperwork.”

“Right. Thanks.” Marissa left the office, trying not to feel like the biggest geek to ever walk the planet. She was so nervous. One of her friends from her last job had called it geek sweats. She’d really loved the people she’d worked with there.

“You’ll like the people here, too,” she quietly murmured under her breath.

Apparently not quietly enough however as someone behind her replied, “Some of them, anyway.”

Marissa swiveled to face her, her face turning red. “I didn’t realize…”

“Don’t sweat it.” The newcomer held out her hand. “I’m Jill Harris. Head of the circulation department. That’s what it says on my business card but around here we have to be the jack or jill of all trades, pun intended.”

“Understood. I’m Marissa Bennett.”

“I figured. I recognized you.”

“From the parade? I can explain that.”

“I wasn’t referring to the parade. I wasn’t there. But you and I were in the same French class together in high school.”

“Oh. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

“That’s okay. I was about ninety pounds heavier then and single. My maiden surname was Naponetti. I married Dane Harris four years ago. He was in band with you. Anyway, it’s nice to see you again after all these years.”

“Yes, same here.”

Noting the paper bag Marissa held in her hand, Jill said, “Be sure to write your name on your lunch bag and water bottles before putting them in the staff fridge. Otherwise things will disappear. We have an unknown fridge Nazi here. I have yet to figure out who it is, but I will.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

“I’ll let you work on that paperwork. See you later.”

Marissa obediently took Jill’s advice regarding her lunch bag before storing it and focusing on the paperwork portion of her employment. It seemed to take her forever to get it done and she felt self-conscious about that. Was her boss timing her, comparing her to other employees who’d filled out the forms?

Okay, she had to stop this tsunami of self-doubt or she’d drive herself and everyone else crazy. Afraid of being overheard talking to herself again, Marissa kept her pep talk silent and succinct.
Shake off the stress and get moving.

*  *  *

Marissa did manage to shake off the stress at work but it hit her again once she walked into her childhood home and found her dad sitting in the living room, his attention focused on the pyramids displayed on the high-def flat-screen TV. She paused in the doorway, hovering there like a nervous hummingbird, waiting for him to notice her. She moved closer so she was in his line of vision without totally blocking the screen.

“Dad!” She practically shouted. She didn’t mean to speak so loudly but she was getting more agitated and aggravated by the second.

He nodded but kept watching his program.

She felt like such a failure. There were only a few people on the face of the earth who could make her feel that way. Her dad was one of them. She’d married another.

Both men loved her in their own way. Or so they’d claimed at one time.

Wait, had her dad ever said that he loved her? Maybe when she was too little to remember. But not lately. Not for a very, very long time. A decade or two at least.

Okay, she was not going to stand here and be ignored. She really should just go upstairs with a carton of coffee ice cream and eat her sorrows away. But that smacked of giving up and she’d had it with doing that.