Tempted Again Read online

  They all considered themselves outcasts and loners. Marissa considered each of them to be special in unique ways.

  It was rewarding to see the way the kids were slowly forming ties with each other. It wasn’t always a smooth ride and there were times when she wished she could stop at a bar on the way home. But the bottom line was that she welcomed the chance to focus on someone else’s issues for a change. She’d already grown tired of her own angst and drama. She’d come to care for them all over the past few weeks and she was protective of them.

  Which was why when Connor showed up thirty minutes later, she tried to waylay him. She might as well have tried stopping a train.

  The kids all stared at him with distrust. They knew who he was.

  “What’s he doing here?” Jose asked on their behalf.

  Marissa could read Connor’s mind and suspected he was about to say he was there to kick some ass. But he surprised her by nodding at Jose and saying, “Nice shirt.”

  Jose was not that easily impressed. He made no verbal reply but his body language said it all as he stood there with his arms crossed and his chin lifted up as if preparing for battle.

  Marissa had to think fast. “Sheriff Doyle is here to talk about criminal minds in reality as opposed to fiction.”

  Nice save, she told herself.

  What a liar, his look told her.

  But he didn’t contradict her.

  “I didn’t know we were having a speaker,” Spider said.

  “I wasn’t sure his schedule would allow him to participate,” Marissa said.

  “Criminal minds start out young,” Connor said. “What makes some people take the wrong path? A lot of different things.”

  “They have deceptive minds.” Marissa gave him a telling look, accusing him of that symptom.

  “Not just men,” he said, returning her look. “Women,

  too.”

  “Are you two…like a couple or something?” Spider asked.

  “Of course not,” Marissa said. “We’re just two authority figures expressing our opinions.”

  “She’s expressing her opinion,” Connor said. “I’m stating fact.”

  “That’s not true.”

  His glare warned her not to contradict him.

  “They seem to have authority issues of their own,” Spider told Nadine, who nodded her agreement and kept texting.

  “What are you doing?” Connor demanded.

  “Tweeting that you guys are having an argument at the library,” Nadine said.

  “Put that away,” he growled. “No tweeting at these meetings.”

  “Hey, it’s a free country,” Nadine said.

  “At our first meeting, we all agreed to no tweeting, remember?” Marissa said.

  “Whatever.” Nadine tossed her smartphone onto the table in disgust. “I’ll just tweet it later.”

  “This is our safe zone,” Marissa said. “What’s said here, stays here.”

  “Like Vegas.” Red Fred spoke for the first time.

  “If it was like Vegas, then gambling and prostitution would be legal,” Spider said.

  “Prostitution is legal in some parts of the State of Nevada but not in Las Vegas,” Connor said.

  “How do you know?” Nadine demanded, clearly still peeved with him for preventing her tweets.

  “It’s my job to know these things,” Connor said.

  “My mom and me lived in Vegas for a while.” Tasmyn pulled the strands of her hair over half her face to hide her scar, something she did when she was nervous.

  “Have you ever dissected a criminal’s brain?” Red Fred asked Connor.

  “That’s forensics,” Spider said. “He’s a small-town sheriff.”

  “We’re not that small a town,” Red Fred said. “And he used to work in Chicago.”

  “No, I don’t dissect brains,” Connor said.

  “See, I told you.” Spider jabbed Red Fred with his elbow.

  “That would actually be the coroner or medical examiner’s job if it was necessary during an autopsy,” Connor said.

  “Have you ever been to an autopsy? They show them on TV all the time,” Spider said.

  The only reason Marissa noted the rapid change in Connor’s expression was because she was paying very close attention, trying to anticipate what he’d do or say. Something dark and pain-filled flashed there for a second before it was replaced with hard-edged authority.

  “We’re getting away from the topic here,” he said.

  “No, we’re not,” Spider said. “The topic is criminal minds. Dead or alive.”

  “Cyborgs are into mind control. The Borg drill through your eye to your brain,” Red Fred said.

  “There are no Borgs in Hopeful,” Connor said.

  “That you know about,” Red Fred said.

  Marissa could see the wheels falling off the wagon so she stepped in. “Profilers at the FBI study what makes a criminal mind work. How they think. Law enforcement uses what they’ve learned to try and analyze behaviors.” She was just piecing together bits of crime TV shows she’d seen, but she thought it sounded reasonable so far. A little incoherent perhaps but fairly reasonable. Or so she hoped.

  “You’re a LEO, aren’t you?” Spider asked Connor.

  “I don’t think his astrological sign is relevant,” Marissa said. Omitting the fact that she knew he was a Scorpio.

  “LEO is an acronym for Law Enforcement Officer,” Spider said.

  “It refers to any individual sworn in to enforce the law as a federal agent, state trooper, sheriff deputy or police officer,” Connor said.

  “Air marshals and border patrol agents are also included. So are ATF, FBI and ICE special agents.” Spider held up his smartphone with its Internet connection. “See? By the way, the sheriff’s department is susceptible to being hacked. I just thought you might like to know that.”

  “We’ve got top-notched security,” Connor began when Spider interrupted him.

  “Not top-notched enough. I’m not saying I’ve actually hacked into the system, but I’m not saying I haven’t.”

  “Same here,” Nadine said. “Does that mean we have criminal minds?”

  “No, it means the Borg want to hire you,” Connor said. “Resistance is futile.”

  Marissa recognized the Star Trek catchphrase. She also recognized the way Connor glanced at her, telling her that her resistance would be futile.

  No problem. She ate futile for breakfast along with her Frosted Mini-Wheats. Connor might have the group laughing now, but she wasn’t going to let down her guard. Resistance wasn’t futile, it was required or Connor would roll right over her.

  Okay, the intimate scene that momentarily flashed through her mind was not acceptable. She needed to be thinking of tanks and steamrollers, not his naked body rolling over hers amid satin sheets…or high-thread count Pima cotton sheets.

  Marissa ruthlessly booted the renegade thought out of her mind and focused on the goal here—the kids. Her problems weren’t relevant.

  Watching the group relax now that Connor had broken the ice, Marissa felt a tiny glimmer of hope that this project might work out after all…providing she kept her eye on the prize and off Connor.

  Chapter Six

  “Today is Saturday. Moving day. Eat up.” Her mom added another pile of scrambled eggs to Marissa’s plate. “You’re going to need your strength.”

  “I can’t eat that much.”

  “Why not?” Her mom plunked the serving dish on the table and placed a hand to Marissa’s forehead. “Are you sick? Maybe you should wait to move.”

  “I’m not sick,” Marissa said. “It’s just that this is enough breakfast for an army.”

  “We are an army. An army of helpers ready for the move. Isn’t that right, George?”

  “Mmmm.” He didn’t look up from his iPad, where he was reading something he obviously found so intriguing that he couldn’t even put it down for a second to hold a conversation.

  “I can’t believe how a
ttached you are to that thing,” her mother said. “I would have thought you’d stick to books instead of embracing the new technology.”

  “If I was that backward thinking, I’d be reading papyrus and hieroglyphics instead of words on paper,” he said.

  “You do read hieroglyphics,” Marissa said. “You just read them on your iPad.”

  “True.” He smiled at her briefly before returning his attention to what he was reading.

  Marissa had been living at home for more than a month now and this was the first time her dad had really smiled at her as if he’d seen her. She’d gotten a few absent-minded smiles aimed in her general direction and usually requested beforehand by her mom. But none of those had been real. At least they hadn’t felt that way to Marissa.

  All the self-help books talked about the important influence fathers had on their daughters’ self-esteem. Volumes had been written about the dynamics. A dad’s attention was always listed as a critical factor. So what did the lack of his attention mean?

  Marissa lacked the emotional energy to figure it all out at the moment. She just wanted to move on. Move out and move on.

  She wanted to be her own woman. Her own person. Not someone’s daughter or sister or ex-wife.

  Of course, that was impossible. She was what she was—daughter, sister, ex-wife, ex-lover. But she was much more than that. She just wasn’t sure exactly what yet.

  “What are you all doing sitting around?” Jess demanded as she entered the dining room. “We need to get a move on, people.”

  “But we’re still eating,” Linda protested. “Sit down and join us.”

  Jess sat down and looked around. “Do you have any pancakes?”

  “No, but I could make you some. Marissa, would you like pancakes, too?”

  “No, thanks.” Marissa already didn’t know how she was going to eat all the food on plate as it was. “I thought you were in a hurry, Jess?”

  Jess shrugged and sank onto a dining room chair. “I’ve always got time for Mom’s pancakes.” She kicked off her sequined flip-flops and curled one leg beneath her before swiping some scrambled eggs from Marissa’s plate like she had so many times when they were kids.

  “The food is always better on my side of the plate,” Marissa said, quoting Jess’s favorite line when sneaking food from her. “Still?”

  “Sometimes.” Jess returned the fork she’d snatched. “You’re my big sister. It’s your job to look after me. Just as it’s my job to help you on moving day by providing the muscle.” The doorbell rang. “That must be them now.”

  “Should I make more pancakes?” Linda called out from the kitchen.

  Jess snatched another forkful of fluffy scrambled eggs before jumping up and racing to the front door in her bare feet. Jess never walked if she could run. She’d been that way since she’d taken her first steps.

  Marissa was the opposite. From a very young age, she’d been sure and steady. She’d never taken the same fall twice. She’d learned from her mistakes and didn’t repeat them.

  Moments later Jess led a trio of hotties into the dining room. “Help has arrived!” she cheerfully announced. “Meet the Roberts brothers—Mike, Tim and Jason.” She pointed to each one as she said their names. “Pull up a seat, guys. Pancakes are on the way.”

  “I’m going to go help Mom,” Marissa said.

  “Can I have the rest of your eggs?” Jess asked for permission but she’d already taken the seat Marissa had just vacated and had the fork halfway to her mouth.

  “Knock yourself out,” Marissa said.

  As Marissa left the dining room she wondered if her dad even noticed that there were three newcomers at the table or if he was so engrossed in his iPad that he was clueless. She paused on the threshold to the kitchen. “Dad, we have company.”

  “They’re not company, they’re friends,” Jess said. “Don’t bother Daddy. He’s rereading one of Terry Pratchett’s books. He does that every Saturday morning. Which one is it today, Daddy?”

  “Pyramids.”

  Jess patted his arm affectionately, “One of his faves.”

  Marissa attributed the strange twinge in her chest to heartburn from eating a rushed breakfast. It certainly wasn’t caused by the closeness her sister and father shared. Resenting that would be petty.

  “Want me to make up another batch of pancake batter?” Marissa asked her mom after entering the kitchen.

  “I’ll do that if you’ll watch these cooking and turn them before they burn.”

  “Okay.” Marissa moved over to the stove.

  “Then you can go tidy up.”

  “ ‘Tidy up’?” Marissa repeated with a frown.

  “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with the way you look.”

  “Good.”

  “It’s just that you look cuter when you don’t have your hair scraped back in a ponytail. And that T-shirt is older than I am.”

  “Not true. And this is perfect attire for moving day. I sold all my sequined dresses on eBay to pay the bills.”

  Her mom sniffed back the sudden onslaught of tears. “I feel like such a failure.”

  Marissa was stunned. What had she said to set off her mom this time? Sometimes it was like dealing with the hormonal adolescents in her teen group. She never knew when they or her mom would go off on a bit of a rant.

  “If I was a better mom you wouldn’t have had to sell your clothes on eBay.”

  Marissa hugged her, taking care with the spatula she held in her hand. “You’re a great mom. The divorce was the reason I had financial trouble. Nothing to do with you.”

  “Of course it had something to do with me. Everything you do has something to do with me. You’re my daughter.”

  “Mom, I’m an adult. My mistakes are my own.”

  “I just hate that you’ve had to go through all the trauma that you’ve had to deal with for the past few months. I really thought your marriage would work out.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Marissa returned her attention to the pancakes.

  “Well, just because that one didn’t succeed doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get back on the horse and try again.” Her mom paused to pull the collar of her pink shirt away from her neck. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?”

  “It is a little warm.”

  “I hate these hot flashes,” her mom growled. “My face turns so red that I look like a tomato.”

  “How is that menopause support group you and Connie have been attending?”

  “They’ve given me some good ideas. We all have become very familiar with our freezers.” Her mom opened it and fanned the chilled air toward her flushed face. “Ah…that feels so good.” She removed something from the freezer and stuck it into her cleavage.

  “What are you doing?”

  “A little trick I learned from the Hot Ladies. That’s what the group is called.”

  “And they taught you to slip an ice cube down your shirtfront?”

  “That would melt too fast and be messy. No, they told me about these cooler thingies. They’re really gel eye masks but you pop them in the freezer for a bit to get them nice and cold and then you stick them in your bra. They fit there perfectly. It’s an accessory that every Menopause Barbie should have.”

  “Just like every Iron Chef Barbie should be able to do this.” Marissa expertly flipped the pancakes.

  “Good job,” her mom said.

  “I learned from the best.”

  Her mom smiled at her and then out of the blue said, “You really should go to the divorce support group meeting.”

  “I don’t have time,” Marissa said.

  “You told me you’d try to go and it’s been over a month since then. Promise me after you move you’ll go.”

  “Fine. I promise.”

  A few minutes later Marissa carried a platter full of pancakes to the dining room and the ravenous Roberts brothers. It took another two plattersfull to satisfy their appetite.

  Marissa had prepared a written plan for
the move. She didn’t have much furniture, only the things from her old bedroom. Her mom had found some extra stuff in the basement—a comfy but worn chair and love seat along with an end table and a few lamps.

  Marissa’s ex had taken half the furniture from their house and Marissa had sold the rest. She told herself that it was for the best. This way she had no bad memories from that period in her life. Yes this furniture was old but it had no connection to her ex.

  The Roberts brothers made fast work of shifting the furniture up and down stairs and into the small U-Haul truck that she’d rented. Her father’s contribution was to drive the truck.

  Marissa followed in her lame VW. Snow Patrol’s “Open Your Eyes” blared from the car speakers. She slowed

  the car when she spotted an oval dining table and four matching wooden chairs alongside the curb with a sign that read FREE. She didn’t have a dining table or chairs.

  Stopping, she hopped out of the car to check them out.

  Her mother, driving behind her in her white Toyota Avalon, instantly pulled up next to her. “What are you doing?”

  “Checking out this table,” Marissa said. “It looks to be in good shape.”

  “We are not picking up furniture from the curb.”

  “Why not?”

  “We are not that bad off.”

  “I am.”

  “Get back in your car,” she ordered Marissa. “Right now!” Her voice bordered on hysteria, signaling a full-blown meltdown would occur any instant if Marissa did not obey.

  So she reluctantly turned away and climbed back in her Kermit the Frog car. Some things just weren’t worth the battle to get them.

  * * *

  Connor sat in the sheriff department’s SUV and watched Marissa and her mom at the other end of the block. He wasn’t stalking them. He was on patrol doing cop stuff. He’d heard today was moving day. Not that Marissa had told him.

  Since that meeting with the teens, she’d been more close-mouthed than a CIA operative. Connor hadn’t tried to interrogate her. He’d had been too busy. He’d arranged to have his IT security rep speak to Spider and Nadine about possible holes in the department’s firewalls and computer security. He already knew the twosome were suspects in a hacking incident into the high school records in order to change some grades, but there was insufficient proof to do anything about that case. He didn’t intend to let his department’s records be at risk. Keep your friends close, possible hackers closer.