Tempted Again Read online

  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the dispatcher over the police radio. “Sheriff. Mrs. Craig at 4136 Chestnut Street is reporting a suspicious vehicle parked at the end of her block. It’s a white SUV with writing on the side, but she can’t find her glasses to read what it says.”

  Connor sighed. “That’s me. I’m parked here. Tell her not to worry.”

  “Okay.”

  A moment later the dispatcher was back. “Sheriff, Mrs. Craig wants to know why you’re parked there so long. Is there drug activity on her block that she should know about? She said I should remind you that she is part of the Neighborhood Crime Busters group.”

  “There’s nothing suspicious. No criminal activity.” Aside from him wasting his time watching Marissa. That should be criminal. He’d been thinking about her…dreaming about her too much.

  Starting the SUV, he made an illegal U-turn on the now-deserted street, which Mrs. Craig immediately reported in.

  “Sheriff, Mrs. Craig says a light-colored SUV just made an illegal U-turn—”

  Connor cut her off. “That was me. Don’t you have any real crimes to report?”

  “Hold on.”

  Connor drove through the neighborhood while he waited, returning the waves of the people he knew as he passed by. The entire waving thing reminded him of Marissa stuck in the parade and doing her royal wave. She had pretty hands. He wasn’t usually a guy who noticed a woman’s hands, other than to check for a wedding ring or a weapon. But he’d always liked Marissa’s hands and he’d taught her to do some pretty wicked things with them. The memories took hold, making him almost drive through a stop sign.

  “Sheriff, we have a call about possible vandalism on a car at 920 Euclid Avenue.”

  “Now we’re talking.”

  The location was only a few blocks away. Connor arrived, lights flashing, to find one of Marissa’s teens with several cans of spray paint aimed at a formerly white sedan. Jose didn’t seem the least bit upset at Connor’s arrival.

  “Step away from the vehicle,” Connor ordered him.

  “I can’t stop now. The paint will dry and ruin it.”

  “Step away from the vehicle,” Connor barked, his voice edged with warning. “And set the cans on the ground.”

  Jose reluctantly obeyed. “You think I’m dumb enough to tag a car in the middle of the day?”

  “I’m just checking out a call we got.”

  “From a neighbor nervous about the Latino kid, right?”

  “From a neighbor nervous about someone’s car being vandalized. Where’s the vehicle’s owner?”

  “Inside changing his baby’s shitty diaper. I got his permission to paint the car. He hired me to do the job. Go ask him.”

  “I will. You wait here.”

  Connor had the dispatcher run the license plate to confirm the name and address of the owner, who had no outstanding warrants or tickets and who also was not in the best of moods after his diaper duty.

  Swearing vehemently under his breath, the guy almost smacked Connor in the face with the storm door as he rushed out of the house—one hand covering his nose while the other held a small garbage bag.

  Cursing even louder now, Diaper Dad raced to the trash bin and threw the offensive bag inside before slamming the lid shut. “Talk about toxic waste,” he muttered. He paused, seeming to notice Connor’s presence for the first time. “Why are you here?”

  “We got a call from a concerned neighbor.”

  “He thinks I’m vandalizing your car,” Jose interrupted him to say.

  “I told you to wait by the vehicle,” Connor said.

  “You gonna arrest me for disobeying orders?” Jose challenged him.

  The vehicle’s owner quickly spoke up. “After seeing his T-shirt designs, I asked Jose to give my car a custom paint job. I believe in supporting the arts and I’ve admired Jose’s work for some time now.”

  “Are you using any gang tags on it?” Connor asked Jose.

  “I make my own designs,” Jose said proudly. “I don’t need to copy no one else’s.”

  The sound of a baby’s angry crying sent Diaper Dad heading back inside. “Jose is just doing what I asked him to do,” he yelled over his shoulder. “I hope that clears things up.” The storm door slammed behind him.

  Jose stood with his arms crossed against his chest and his chin jutting out as if daring Connor. “So, you gonna arrest me or not?”

  “Not.”

  Jose tried not to show it, but his body relaxed slightly. “Library Lady will be pleased to hear that,” Jose said. “I heard she moved in with you.”

  “Not with me,” Connor corrected him. “Next door to me. Who told you?”

  “I don’t reveal my sources.”

  “Was it Flo at the post office?” She was in charge of all the change of address forms turned in.

  Jose just shrugged.

  “Your grandma and Flo are friends, huh?”

  “You keep my grandma out of it.” Jose’s expression darkened. “Don’t you hassle her.”

  “Calm down. I’m not going to hassle your grandma. I’ve got one of my own.”

  “One what?”

  “A grandma.”

  Jose relaxed his fight-or-flight stance a little. “I bet she’s not as tough as mine.”

  “I bet she is,” Connor said.

  “The Library Lady is tough, too. I know you don’t think so.”

  “I never said that.”

  “I can tell these things. It’s ’cause I’m an artist.”

  “Yeah, well it’s ’cause I’m a cop that I have to check out reports of suspicious activity.”

  “Someone is always suspicious of me,” Jose said. “Except for—”

  “—the Library Lady,” Connor filled in. “Yes, I know.”

  “You two have this thing going on.”

  “What thing?”

  “This Edward-Bella thing. Or maybe it’s a Jacob-Bella thing. Not that I read that crap. Too sappy for me.”

  “I thought the fight scenes were pretty intense.”

  Jose’s dark eyes widened. “You read that book?”

  Connor nodded. “I read the entire series. What? You don’t think cops can read?”

  “Not that stuff.”

  “Why not?”

  “Does the Library Lady know you’ve read those books?” Jose asked.

  “The subject hasn’t come up.”

  “She might be impressed if she knew.”

  “I doubt it. She’s not that easily impressed.”

  Jose gave him a shrewd look. “You know her pretty well, huh?”

  Connor couldn’t believe he was standing here talking about Marissa with this kid.

  “I heard she was moving in today. Why aren’t you helping her?” Jose said.

  “Why aren’t you?”

  “Because I’m working.”

  “So am I,” Connor said.

  “Yeah. Hassling poor Latino kids trying to make a living.” Jose’s tone had gone from defensive to teasing.

  “I was not hassling you. If anything, you’ve been hassling me about Marissa.”

  “You didn’t seem to mind. I think you have a thing for the Library Lady.”

  “So you’ve already said.” Connor gave him a warning look.

  “Or maybe not,” Jose said, hastily backing away. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Connor said. He was glad he’d gotten the last word in, but he couldn’t help wondering why that didn’t make him feel as good as it should. The idea that a kid with a smart mouth and a creative flair had bested him smarted just a little. Or maybe it was the possibility that Jose was right and that Connor really did have a thing for the Library Lady.

  * * *

  “Why couldn’t you get an apartment on the ground floor?” Jess demanded.

  “Because there wasn’t one available.”

  Jess paused inside the door to her apartment. “Are you sure it wasn’t so you could move in next d
oor to Sheriff Hottie?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Marissa had worried that she might run into Connor while her things were being shifted from the U-haul truck to her new place but so far there had been no sign of him.

  “Am I?” Jess set the box of kitchen stuff that their mom had donated to Marissa. Picking up one of the items, Jess said, “What are you going to do with a crepe maker?”

  “Make crepes.”

  Jess dumped the item back in the box and picked up another. “Hey, you got the potato ricer? I wanted that.”

  “You hate to cook.”

  “So?”

  “Fine. If you want it so badly you can have it.”

  “No.” Jess set it on the kitchen counter. “Where are you going to eat? You don’t have a table.”

  “I saw one on the way here that was free and looked to be in good shape with four matching chairs. I wanted to pick it up but Mom had a fit.”

  “I’m sure she did.”

  “Anyway…um…thank your friends again for all their help.”

  Jess checked her vibrating phone for a text. “I’ve got to go. Dad is returning the truck. All your stuff is moved in.” Marissa followed her into the hallway. “Oh wait, there’s still part of the bed here.”

  “That’s okay. I can bring that in.”

  “I’m sorry the guys couldn’t stay long enough to put the bed together for you.”

  “It’s together. This is just the headboard that goes against the wall. No problem. You go on. I’ll take care of this.” Marissa gave her an awkward hug. “Thanks again.”

  Jess was gone a moment later.

  Marissa eyed the headboard before trying to lift it on her own. Damn, it was much heavier than it looked.

  Then she heard a familiar male cop voice ask, “Need help?”

  Chapter Seven

  Marissa turned to face Connor. “No, thank you.”

  “Step aside.” When she hesitated, he put his hands on her shoulders and gently moved her. Marissa instantly felt the impression of his fingers through her thin T-shirt. Unexpected flares of awareness hummed from her head to her toes. His touch was brief but created such a powerful reaction that Marissa didn’t know what to do about it.

  This was the first time Connor had touched her since she’d returned to Hopeful and he’d already released her from his hold physically. But emotionally she felt a connection that took her back to their days together. And that totally disconcerted her.

  If she responded so intensely to a passing contact, she could only imagine what a more intimate exchange might be like. The chemistry that had burned so brightly all those years ago was still present for her. Which made Connor dangerous to her peace of mind.

  “You can just leave it here,” she said the instant he entered her apartment.

  “You plan on sleeping in your hallway? Don’t be silly.” He carried the headboard to her bedroom. He slid it into place and eyed her entire bed. “Hey, I recognize this.”

  Connor remembered the bed from the one time that he’d stolen into her bedroom when her parents were out. He’d parked his car a block away.

  “Your mom came home early and almost caught us. I had to crawl out your bedroom window and climb down that old oak tree.”

  “You don’t remember me but you remember the bed?” she said. “That’s just weird.”

  “I don’t forget something like that.”

  “Like what?” Like loving her? Like thinking she was “the one”?

  “Like almost getting caught by an angry parent,” he said.

  That figures. It was all about him. Not her. She refused to show how much that fact aggravated her. “I’m surprised. I would have thought it would have happened to you a lot in high school.”

  “All through high school, I went steady with Becka and her parents adored me. They were very liberal about house rules so there was no need to crawl out of windows and risk breaking my neck climbing down a huge tree.”

  “Isn’t that just peachy for you.” She quickly moved aside but tripped over a plastic box sitting on the floor. She ended up making a swan dive onto her mattress. Since Connor reached out to grab her, she pulled him down with her. He rolled so he didn’t squish her.

  They faced each other. She was so close she could see all the hard-to-decipher colors in his eyes. At the moment they seemed more gray than green or blue. His eye color was as hard to pin down as the man himself.

  Yet here she was, pressed against him. She could feel the beat of his heart against the palm of her hand braced on his chest. They were both wearing worn jeans but he looked much sexier in his than she did in hers.

  At the moment, which seemed frozen in time, sex was all she could think about. She knew she should move but she couldn’t seem to actually do it. Would kissing him be as good as she remembered? Did she dare find out?

  No, she couldn’t risk it. Not yet. Spurred by fear, she leapt off the bed as if catapulted.

  “Sorry about that,” she said, determined to sound nonchalant and blasé. “I didn’t mean to squish you like a pancake.”

  He got to his feet much slower than she did. “No problem. You didn’t squish me.”

  Of course there was a problem as far as Marissa was concerned. A huge gigantic problem. She was still attracted to Connor. She couldn’t let him see that. So she calmly walked out of the bedroom instead of shoving him out the door like a frenzied maniac.

  He looked around the living/dining area with its meager furnishings.

  “So are the rest of your things in storage?” he said.

  “What?”

  He pointed behind her. “Your things.”

  “This is everything.”

  The surprised look on his face made her regret her honesty. She didn’t want his pity, which she feared would be his next expression. So she took preemptive action by saying, “I’m into minimalism.”

  “Even minimalists need a table to eat off of,” he said.

  “I’m having one delivered soon.”

  “I thought you said this was everything.”

  “Everything that I have right now. Tomorrow I’ll have a table and chairs.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. And why do you care about my furniture, anyway? Are you Nate Berkus or something?”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind. Thanks for your help but I’ve got a lot of stuff to do.” Now she did rush him to the door, careful not to slam it in his face but to act totally normal.

  The second he was gone, she called her sister. “Meet me on Chestnut Street. We’re getting that free dining table.”

  “You’re in luck. I’m already on Chestnut Street. I was going to surprise you. I’ve already loaded the chairs.” Jess drove a hybrid SUV.

  “I’ll be right there,” Marissa said, grabbing her keys.

  “No need. One of the Roberts brothers is helping me. Stay put. We’ll bring the furniture later. Sometime tomorrow. We’ve got someplace else to be right now. “

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Marissa spent what was left of the day finding a place for her things. Since she had more space than things, that wasn’t real hard. Still, she’d moved things around a few times until she got it the way she wanted. The bedside table on the right or the left? She moved it three times and still couldn’t decide, distracted as she was by the memory of Connor sprawled beside her on the bed.

  She made the bed with the new comforter set and sheets her mom had given her as a housewarming present. There. She eyed the results with approval. This was a bed Connor had never seen…and wasn’t likely to anytime soon.

  A short time later her nesting mode was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking at her door.

  Thinking it must be her sister with the table and chairs, she opened it without checking. An Angelo’s Pizza delivery teenager stood there. “I didn’t order a pizza,” she said.

  “It’s already paid for,” he said.

  “There must be some mistake.”

/>   “No mistake, ma’am.” He handed her the pizza.

  She took it while still protesting. “Who paid for it? Hold on.” She grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter and speed dialed her mom. “Did you or Dad order a pizza for me?”

  “No. But that was a good idea. Maybe your sister ordered it.”

  Marissa eyed the nervous delivery guy suspiciously. “Was it the sheriff? Did he pay for the pizza?”

  “I’m not allowed to say, ma’am.”

  Okay that was the second time the teenager had called her “ma’am.” Her glare broke down his resistance. “Yes, it was the sheriff.” He took off before she could interrogate him further.

  “Why would the sheriff order you a pizza?” Marissa’s mom asked over the phone.

  “Never mind. It’s just a mistake,” Marissa said. “I’ll call you later.”

  Without waiting to consider the consequences, she marched the few feet to his door and knocked. He opened the door, still wearing the dark blue T-shirt and worn jeans he’d had on earlier.

  “I don’t want your pity pizza.” She shoved the box at him.

  “Okay. Bad idea.” Connor took the pizza and slammed the door in her face.

  Marissa stood there a second, stunned. Then she bammed on his door.

  The instant he opened it, she said, “Don’t slam the door on me. That’s rude.”

  “So is shoving a pizza in my face.”

  He was right. “It wasn’t your face,” she muttered.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I was angry.”

  “No kidding,” he drawled. “Don’t blame me for the crap your ex did to you.”

  His accusation stung. “I don’t. I blame you for the crap you did to me.”

  “That was ten years ago. Get over it.”

  “I’m trying to.”

  “By shoving a pizza at me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how’s that working for you?”

  “It sucks,” she admitted morosely. “Everything sucks. Except for the pizza. Does Angelo still make the best pizza ever?”