Tempted Again

Tempted Again By Cathie Linz

Chapter One





When in trouble seek shelter. Marissa Bennett had learned that lesson at an early age. She’d had to. Seek shelter from the storm. And there was no safer haven than her hometown of Hopeful, Ohio.

Or so Marissa hoped. Not that hoping, wishing or even praying had helped her out much lately. The bottom line was that her life had completely fallen apart over the past year. And now here she was, heading back home in a used and dented lime-green VW Bug. The eyesore of a car was a necessity not a choice.

Hopeful hadn’t changed much since Marissa had left to go to college more than a decade ago. As she traveled along Washington Street, the main highway into town, she drove past the oak tree–filled campus of Midwest College. The ivy-covered brick buildings glowed in the May sunshine. It was Saturday afternoon so the campus wasn’t as bustling as a weekday when classes were in session, but groups of students sat out under the trees enjoying the fine weather.

Her father was a history professor at the college and had been for years. One of her earliest memories was of him carrying her on his shoulders to touch the abundance of crabapple blossoms lining the entrance to Birch Hall, where he had his office.

Marissa’s parents had wanted her to stay and attend Midwest College, but Marissa had her heart set on attending Ohio State. She’d been eager to spread her wings and fly, excited about the world of possibilities open to her.

No, Hopeful hadn’t changed much…but Marissa had. Divorce and disillusionment did that to a woman. Knocked the stars from her eyes and turned her dreams to dust.

How different would her life be right now if she’d stayed in her hometown instead of leaving?

She wouldn’t have met and fallen for Brad Johnson. Wouldn’t have married him. Wouldn’t have caught him in their bed with another woman.

The humiliating memory cut clear through her and Marissa shoved it out of her mind for the time being. She’d been doing that a lot lately: shoving thoughts away and locking them up somewhere deep inside her as if they were radioactive waste. It was the only way for her to cope with the fact that she’d lost the life she’d built. Living a mere hour outside of New York City had given her the best of both worlds—the culture and excitement of the big city and the suburban lifestyle. But that was all over now. Gone.

Infidelity had ended her marriage. Budget cuts had ended the job she loved at the local library. The divorce had ended her ability to stay in the compact English-style cottage home of her dreams she’d shared with her husband. Her situation had started to seem hopeless before she’d been given this second chance in her hometown.

“What makes you want to return home?” library director Roz Jorgen had asked during Marissa’s interview at the Hopeful Memorial Library several weeks ago.

“The fact that my life is a mess” was not a suitably professional response, so Marissa had come up with an alternative statement about not realizing the value of something until you were away from it for a while.

Marissa must have said something right during the lengthy interview with Roz and the library board, because they’d eventually offered her a job and in doing so offered her a lifeline when she desperately needed one.

So now she had a position at her old hometown library, where she’d gone to Story Hour as a kid and worked as a page shelving books while in high school. She slowed as she drove past the library building on the corner of Washington and Book Streets.

There were so many memories here. Her father had taken pride in telling her that the white Doric columns guarding the library’s front entrance were the same style found on the Parthenon in Greece. She wondered if her dad was proud of her now that she’d returned home after messing up so badly. Beyond the words “Good luck,” he hadn’t said much when she’d come for the library interview several weeks ago.

Marissa had felt so stupid and useless after the divorce. Signing the divorce papers on her one-year anniversary hadn’t helped. She couldn’t even stay married for twelve months. How lame was that?

“You are not falling to pieces,” she fiercely ordered herself. “Not in front of the library’s book drop. It’s been six months. Your falling-to-pieces days are done. You’re starting over. Focus on that. Your new life. New job.”

Yes, the pay was low, but it was a job and Marissa was grateful to have it. And yes, she’d have to stay at her parents’ house for a week or two until she got her act together and her first paycheck. But there were worse things, right?

The threat of tears came suddenly and intensely as it often did since walking in on Brad in their bedroom doing the nasty with a female intern from his office. Blinking frantically, Marissa turned on to Book Street and found an empty parking place along the curb. Needing a moment to collect herself, she put the demon VW into park. She missed her Ford Five Hundred, but she hadn’t been able to afford the car payments so she’d had to trade it in. This rust bucket was the only thing in her price range. She’d told the car dealer, “Any color but green.” Yeah, right.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Marissa muttered, glaring at the rusty lime-green car hood.

“Are you lost?” The question came from a woman leaning on the open passenger-side window. “Do you need help?”

Yes, Marissa wanted to reply to both those questions.

“Marissa, is that really you?” the woman asked.

That was the question. Was Marissa really sitting there staring at her high school guidance counselor, Karen Griffith, who always described her as “smart and perky”? Or had Marissa fallen into some kind of parallel universe? Was this all just a bad dream and she’d wake up to find herself in her sleigh bed with her husband…her totally committed, non-adulterous husband?

Not gonna happen, her inner voice told her.

“Are you okay?” Karen was staring at her with concern. In high school, she’d always invited the students to call her by her first name and cared about their well-being.

“Yes, I’m okay.” Marissa wished she sounded a little more confident.

“Are you sure? You look a little pale.”

“I’m sure.” Not really, but Marissa had become a fairly good liar. Sometimes she could even lie to herself. “Are you still working at the high school?” She’d learned that diverting attention away from herself was a useful tactic.

“Yes. I saw your mom at the grocery store the other day and she was bragging about how you’re coming home to work at the library. I remember you were an avid reader in school. You always had a book in your hand. You knew early on what you wanted to do with your life. You had a plan. Not many students do.”

Yes, Marissa had had a plan but it certainly hadn’t included a failed marriage or ending up broke.

“Well, I’d better get going. It was nice to see you again. Welcome home.” Karen waved and walked away.

Before Marissa could put the car in drive, her cell phone rang. The ringtone of Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” let her know her mom was calling. At fifty-two, Linda Bennett was a huge Bon Jovi fan and a self-confessed worrywart. She’d called Marissa every hour since she’d set out very early this morning from just west of New York City, her former home.

“Where are you?” her mom demanded.

“On Book Street by the library.”

A souped-up Camaro pulled alongside her VW with rap music blaring at rock-concert decibels, making it hard for Marissa to hear what her mom was saying. “What?”


“…go around the barricade.”

“What barricade?” Marissa asked.

No answer. Marissa’s phone was dead. She’d forgotten to charge it before heading out. No big deal. She was only a few blocks from home…her safe haven.

* * *



Connor Doyle surveyed the crowd gathered for Hopeful’s Founders’ Day Parade. As the town’s sheriff it was his job to make sure that things remained peaceful. Not that Hopeful was a hotbed of trouble or crime. Coming from Chicago, where he’d been an undercover cop in the narcotics division, he knew all about trouble and the worst that humanity had to offer. The brutal murders, the gang violence.

Connor had been a third-generation Chicago cop. His grandfather, his dad, his brothers—all Chicago cops. Well, his younger brother Aidan had recently moved to Seattle, but he was still a big-city cop. Connor’s family didn’t understand why Connor had left Chicago two years ago for “a hick town.” Their words, not his.

Connor had his reasons and they were nobody’s business but his. No one expected him to spill his guts. That wasn’t the way his family worked. It certainly wasn’t the way a cop worked.

The bottom line was that his years working undercover had left a mark on him. A permanent mark. Connor absently rubbed his left shoulder where a jagged scar remained to remind him of a knife fight that had almost ended his life.

Connor’s older brother Logan had once told him that undercover cops were great liars. They had to be.

Connor had certainly been damn good at his job. So good that the lies had nearly consumed him.

His gaze traveled over the crowd. He knew most of the people he saw. The six Flannigan kids, all age eight and under, were present with their parents front and center. The kids had dripping ice cream cones in their hands. The only exception was the baby still in the stroller, who was reaching for her sister’s cone, her face screwed up on the verge of a hissy fit.

Farther down, the older generation was well represented by a group from the Hopeful Meadows Senior Center. The women outnumbered the men by ten to one today.

Beside them was Flo Foxworth in her folding chair. Flo always reserved a curbside front row seat for every city event—from parades to concerts to fireworks. She worked in the post office and knew who subscribed to what magazines although she didn’t share that knowledge with many. Not far behind her was Digger Diehl, the best plumber in town, who proudly wore his DRAIN SURGEON T-shirt with his denim overalls.

The mayor, Lyle Bedford, wore his customary red vest with his suit as he walked at the head of the parade with the Girl Scout Troop holding the large blue-and-gold FOUNDERS’ DAY PARADE banner. Looking at him now, you’d never know that the guy had had open-heart surgery six months ago. A lifetime resident of Hopeful, Lyle had been mayor for nearly two decades and his popularity showed no signs of decreasing. Lyle loved Hopeful and the town loved him back.

Behind him was a Brownie Troop then a group of Boy Scouts. Trailing them was one of the town’s shiny red fire trucks with Connor’s buddy Kyle “Sully” Sullivan at the wheel followed by the fully decorated Chamber of Commerce float.

Next came the Hopeful High School Marching Band playing the theme song from Star Wars—playing it badly but with a lot of enthusiasm. The teenagers’ faces were hot and sweaty from the above-normal May temperature, which was already in the low eighties. At least the predicted storms had held off for the parade.

The arrival of the perky cheerleaders waving their pom-poms was greeted with cheers from the men at the senior center—both of them. The football team was met with cheers from everyone for their impressive winning record last season.

Connor looked away to check the crowd. A second later, he heard a murmuring among the parade-watchers. Turning back to the parade he was surprised to see a rusty lime-green VW Bug crawling along the parade route at about three miles an hour, blaring some rock song he didn’t know.

He expected to see some rebel teenager at the wheel, someone who’d pulled this stunt on a dare. Instead he saw a woman. Not a senior citizen who might have gotten confused, but a fairly young woman. Her smile was a little strained as she held up her hand and waved at the crowd as if she were royalty. Her face was flushed and she wore no ring on her left hand.

There were no markings on the car to indicate that it was part of any city organization or group.

Who is she?

Connor didn’t realize he’d said the words aloud, until the woman beside him turned to answer him. “That’s our new librarian,” library director Roz Jorgen told him.

“Is she part of some library entry in the parade?” he asked.

“The teenage pages and members of Friends of the Library are participants in the book cart drill team…”

“That VW may be small but it’s no book cart.”

Roz shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t know what to say.”

“No problem. I know what to say.”

Connor walked around the barrier and headed for the rowdy VW with the out-of-state license plates. “Stop your vehicle, ma’am,” he said.

“What?” she yelled.

“Turn down the music.”

“I can’t. It’s broken. It turns off and on by itself.”

“Green Day,” a teenager yelled from the sidewalk. “?‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams.’ Awesome song.”

“Pull off at the next intersection,” Connor ordered the librarian, shouting so he could be heard over the music.

She flashed her brown eyes at him, startled perhaps by his bossiness. She shouldn’t be. He was a cop, after all. Giving orders went with the badge. And he was in uniform, complete with sunglasses so there was no mistaking who he was.

Several things about her startled him. Her eyes, for one thing. They weren’t just brown, they were a light brown that reminded him of fine whiskey. Her shoulder-length brown hair was loose around her face.

He moved a barricade so she could turn off the parade route onto a side street.

Putting the car in park, she hopped out of the car before turning to face him. “If you can figure out how to stop the music, I’d appreciate it.”

He reached in and twisted the keys in the ignition, turning the car off.

“I should have thought of that. But then I’d be stuck in the middle of the parade and I didn’t want to do that.” Her smile was a little wobbly. “I wasn’t expecting a police escort.”

“I wasn’t expecting an unauthorized rusty VW to appear in the parade,” he said.

“Are you going to give me a ticket?”

The dread in her voice made him curious. Not that most folks were eager to get a ticket. But there was something more in her case.

“Since you’re new in town, no,” he said.

“What makes you think I’m new?”

“Aside from the out-of-state plates, you mean?” he said.

She nodded and nervously twisted a strand of her hair before tucking it behind her ear.

“Most local folks would know better than to crash a parade,” he said. “And Roz told me that you were the new librarian.”

“She saw me in the parade?”

He nodded, watching as a blush covered her face. She looked good all hot and bothered. “License and registration, please,” he said.

“Or course. Um, do I take them out of my wallet or just hand you the wallet?”

“Have you ever received a ticket before?”

“No, of course not!”


She seemed upset that he’d even ask such a question.

As she reached for her wallet he noticed the paleness around her left ring finger.

According to the New York driver’s license she handed him, her name was Marissa Johnson. She was born in 1983 and was five foot six.

“Well, Ms. Johnson, welcome to Hopeful. I’m Sheriff Connor Doyle.” He removed his sunglasses to give her one of his trademark reprimanding don’t-mess-with me stares. Did he imagine her startled recoil just then? Hell, on the don’t-mess-with-me scale, the look he’d just given her barely rated a two. He could be much more intimidating without even breaking a sweat. “You really do need to pay attention to the barricades and other traffic signals in town.”

The signals he was getting from her abruptly changed from nervous uncertainty to downright irritation. He wondered what had caused the transition. He’d let her off with a warning and even welcomed her to town. What more did she want? Why was she eyeing him as if he was rodent shit all of a sudden?

Connor’s expression remained impassive as he slid his sunglasses back on. “You could have caused an accident. Could have hit someone in the parade,” he said.

She remained silent. She was biting her lip, which strangely enough made him want to reach out and save her lush lower lip from such abuse.

He definitely had not imagined the change in her attitude. Maybe she had a thing against cops? Then why had she acted all sweet and polite in the beginning? No, he was willing to bet it wasn’t all cops, it was something about him in particular that got her all riled up.

Connor was used to riling up women. His brothers often kidded him that he was the womanizer in the family, which was bullshit because the truth was none of the Doyle men had trouble with the ladies. No trouble finding them, that is. Definitely some trouble keeping them. Connor’s older brother Logan and his dad were both divorced.

Connor had lost track of how many times his dad had hopped on the marriage-go-round. Logan had recently remarried and hooked up with a librarian. Connor had been the best man at their Las Vegas wedding in December. That hadn’t changed his personal aversion to getting hitched, however.

Connor eyed Ms. Johnson carefully before contacting dispatch to run a check on her plates and license. The response came back negative. Clean record. Not even a parking ticket.

He returned her license to her. She made a point of avoiding touching him as if they were in first grade and he had cooties. What was her problem?

“What are you doing to my daughter?” a woman demanded as she marched toward them. “You don’t think she has enough trouble, losing her job and her house and her husband? She could be having a nervous breakdown.”

“Mom, what are you doing here?” Marissa said.

“Flo called to tell me you’d been arrested.”

“I was just giving her a warning,” Connor said. “If she’s unstable, however, she shouldn’t be driving.”

He knew it was the wrong thing to say the instant the words left his mouth.

The librarian turned into an infuriated woman warrior ready to do battle. “I am not unstable,” she growled at him. “And you have no right saying that I am.”

She stood there, in her white shirt, jeans and sandals a good six inches shorter than his six-foot frame and dared him to say something else.

Of course it was a dare he accepted. “And you have no right crashing a parade,” he said.

“I didn’t crash it. I was very careful not to hit anything. It was a mistake, that’s all.”

Connor was starting to think it was a mistake not to ticket her for giving him a hard time.

He had the feeling that things in Hopeful were about to get much more interesting with her arrival. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

Marissa couldn’t believe it. Of all the cops in all of Ohio, she had to be pulled over by this one. Connor Doyle. The guy who’d taken her virginity back in high school.

Okay, so he hadn’t “taken” it. She’d willingly given it to him. Practically thrown herself at him. She’d been a high school senior and he’d been a freshman at Midwest College. An out-of-towner from Chicago. A sexy bad boy with a romantic streak. He’d followed his high school sweetheart to college but they’d broken up halfway through the school year.

Marissa had been working beside Connor at the popular Angelo’s Pizzeria for five months by then. She’d gone by the nickname of “Rissa” in those days and had dyed her short hair ink black. She’d had a humongous crush on him from day one.

When she’d heard Connor was available, she’d been thrilled. Not that she was the only girl to try and catch his eye. But she had the advantage of knowing him for months—knowing what made him laugh, knowing his favorite songs, the way he thought.

So she’d screwed up her courage and “Rebel Rissa” had kissed him one night as they’d left the pizzeria. He’d pulled her closer and kissed her back.

“You taste like tomato sauce,” he’d murmured against her mouth.

“So do you,” she’d murmured back.

They’d done a lot of murmuring in those days. A lot of kissing. He’d introduced her to the art of French kissing and she’d become hooked. They were a couple. Not that she went around bragging about it and not that she told her parents. What she and Connor had shared was too fiery and intimate to talk about. Their actions spoke louder than mere words.

And their actions had escalated with every heated embrace or tongue-seducing kiss. She’d wanted him to make love to her and he had. She hadn’t told him she was a virgin because she didn’t want him to have second thoughts.

Her first time had been awkward and a bit painful but he’d been so tender and loving afterward that she’d fallen even deeper in love with him. Her second time was much better and her third time was awesome. So were the multiple times after that. She was on the pill and he used a condom so they were being careful. But she hadn’t been careful with her heart.

So she’d been totally blindsided when their three-month relationship ended at the end of the school year. He’d dumped her and gone back to Chicago. No explanation. Nothing.

She was starting to see a pattern here. She’d been blindsided by her first love and blindsided by her last love, her husband, Brad. Men sucked.

How dare Connor show up here in her hometown. This was supposed to be her safe haven. And despite the badge he now wore, there was nothing safe about Connor Doyle. Not one solitary thing. He still had those hard-to-define blue-green-gray bedroom eyes, broad shoulders, and lean build. Age hadn’t seemed to do anything but improve his looks.

No, there was nothing safe about Connor. He was trouble she didn’t need.

When in trouble, seek shelter. But how the heck was she supposed to do that when the trouble was right here in her own backyard?





Chapter Two





“George, we’re home,” Marissa’s mom happily announced as she tugged Marissa into the living room.

Marissa’s dad, Professor George Bennett the Third, did not reply. Given his lack of response or appearance, her mom said, “He’s probably working on his laptop in his study and listening to his medieval madrigals on his iPod with the volume cranked up.”

“We shouldn’t bother him then,” Marissa said.

“He’s your father. You’d think the least he could do would be to greet you when you come home.”


“That’s okay. Really.”

Her mother sniffed her disapproval. “You could use a little paternal moral support after almost getting arrested.”

The truth was that her dad had never been real big in the moral support department. In fact, the last time Marissa remembered really bonding with him was…well, she couldn’t actually recall. Sure, he’d shown her the trees lining the entrance to the college but she’d only been five or six then. He must have said he was proud of her once or twice since that time, right?

She certainly didn’t want him knowing about the parade-crashing incident. That would definitely not make him proud. “Let’s not tell Dad about that unfortunate incident regarding the parade, okay?”

“I suppose you’re right.” Her mom reached for her cell phone. “I should call your sister and tell her you’re finally here.”

“Can we hold off on that until I get settled in a bit?” Marissa’s relationship with her younger sister, Jess, was complicated at best. Marissa couldn’t label it as either good or bad. It just…was. Sometimes they argued and sometimes they got along.

Her mom set the phone down. “I guess we could wait a bit. I’ve got your old room all ready.”

Marissa knew from her brief visit for the library job interview that her mom hadn’t changed anything in Marissa’s room since she’d left for college. But it still shook her a bit to walk in and see the purple walls and all the mementos from that time in her life. A time when there were so many adventures yet to come. A time when she’d had a mega-crush on Connor.

She’d burned any photos of him after he’d dumped her and gone back to Chicago. The pics on the cork bulletin board on the wall were of other events during her high school years, not that one. And there were photos of her dog Bosco, a rescue from the local animal shelter who’d died in his sleep at the ripe old age of fifteen. They’d gotten Bosco when Marissa was two. She and Bosco had grown up together. They hadn’t gotten another dog after his death because there was no replacing Bosco.

Marissa set her backpack on the bed with its paisley Indian cotton cover and pulled her wheeled suitcase farther into the room. The west-facing windows allowed the afternoon sun to pool on the hardwood floor and also afforded Marissa a view of any oncoming storms.

The storm thing was important to her after surviving a major tornado that had swept through Hopeful when Marissa was eleven. She’d been home alone with Bosco at the time. Thankfully, the storm hadn’t damaged the house other than broken and cracked windows. But it had completely destroyed houses at the end of their block. So much for living on Tranquility Lane.

When in trouble, seek shelter.

Marissa had sought shelter that day, racing down to the basement with Bosco when the storm hit as tornado sirens blared in the distance. Then the roar of the twister overwhelmed all else, shattering glass and shaking the entire house.

She’d hugged Bosco close and buried her face in his fur as the two of them had crouched low and shook together. She could still remember those moments with photographic clarity. The storm had snuck up on her. The sun had been shining half an hour earlier.

To this day, she still had tornado nightmares. And she had a thing about being able to have a window with a western exposure because that’s where most of the storms came from. After the disaster, which had killed half a dozen people, Marissa had insisted her bedroom be moved across the hall to the former guest room so she’d have a western exposure to see bad weather approaching.

This room was meant to be her sanctuary. All of the high school items around the room had personal meaning, from a quirky Peanuts cartoon with Snoopy and Woodstock to her Oasis poster. Their song “Wonderwall” had been one of her favorites

Noticing her interest, her mom said, “Last time you weren’t here long enough to really enjoy looking at all your things. I hope it makes you feel at home.”

Marissa turned to hug her. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You know you can stay as long as you want. The room just sits here empty. Frankly, I’d enjoy the company. Your father certainly doesn’t provide much companionship these days. I’ve told him I’m going through menopause and huge hormonal changes. But does he care? No.” Her mom waved her hand in front of her increasingly red face. “Hot flash. Hot flash! It’s too damn hot up here. I’ll bet your father messed with the thermostat again.”

“Maybe he’s trying to conserve energy. You know, because of global warming and everything.”

“I know all about global warming. It starts right here.” Her mom vehemently pointed to her own chest. “There’s a damn blazing furnace inside me.” She impatiently wiped away trickles of sweat from her face.

“Have you talked to your doctor?”

“The man is useless.”

“Maybe you should try another physician then.”

“I’d hurt Dr. Matthews feelings if I did that.”

“You just said he was useless.”

“That doesn’t mean I’d want to hurt his feelings.” She stepped out into the hallway to yell downstairs. “George, turn up the air-conditioning. I’m boiling here!”

“Maybe you should go down and check it yourself,” Marissa said.

“You’re right. If you want something done, do it yourself. Can I get you something to drink while I’m downstairs? Or to eat? I made some lemonade with real lemons, just like you used to love.”

“No, thanks.” As her mother departed, Marissa wished she could have a shot of tequila about now. The day had not gone the way she’d hoped. Crashing the Founders’ Day Parade had been bad enough, but seeing Connor again sucked.

She hadn’t noticed any sign of him during her brief visit a few weeks ago to interview at the library. And no one had mentioned that he was the town’s sheriff. Of course, no one knew about her earlier relationship with him so there was no reason they’d make any connection.

She didn’t want a connection with Connor. At this point in her life, she didn’t want a connection with any man.

And even if she had known about Connor’s presence in Hopeful, what difference would it have made? It’s not like she had any other job offers or other options.

Then there was the fact that she refused to allow Connor to rule her life. Just as she refused to allow her ex to rule her life.

She waved her finger in a circle at her slightly bedraggled reflection in her dresser mirror. “They aren’t the boss of me!”

She leaned closer. Oh God, was that a gray hair? She plucked it out and studied it. “No, not gray. Must have been the light or something. You’re okay. You’re going to be fine. Just breathe. Don’t hyperventilate. Everything is going to be okay. Say it often enough and you’ll eventually believe it. Sooner or later. Sooner would be better,” she told herself. “So work on that.”

* * *



“Who was the stranger who crashed the parade?” Mayor Bedford asked Connor as they both stood around the fairground area at the end of the parade route. This was the starting point for the historic district garden tour among other festivities. Booths had been set up in aisles offering food, from funnel cakes sprinkled with powdered sugar to grilled corn on the cob. The mayor always made a point to stop at all the booths and sample the wares but he’d paused long enough from that endeavor to speak to Connor. “I was up at the front of the festivities so I didn’t actually see the vehicle myself. I just heard it was a beat-up green VW with out-of-state plates.”


“That’s right.” Connor kept an eye on the crowd. There were displays highlighting all the town’s major institutions—from the college to the hospital to the library. The chamber of commerce had the biggest display area, reminding visitors of the upcoming Rhubarb Festival in early June.

“Was the driver drunk?” the mayor asked. “Stoned? Senile?”

“None of the above. She just made a wrong turn.”

“I’ll say she did. So what did you do about it?”

“Gave her a warning and welcomed her to Hopeful,” Connor said. “She’s the new librarian in town.”

The mayor snorted in disapproval. Connor wasn’t sure if it was directed at him, the library, or the librarian.

“What’s her name?”

“Ms. Johnson. Marissa Johnson.”

Mayor Bedford’s eyes widened. “Hold on. I know her father. He’s a history professor at the college. Professor Bennett. Johnson must be her married name. I heard through the grapevine that she got divorced.” The mayor shook his head. “So Marissa Bennett is back in town. How about that?”

Shit. Now Connor knew why she’d looked like she wanted to cut his heart out. He’d known her as Rissa Bennett. Known her in the biblical sense of the word.

She’d been a virgin—not that she’d warned him about that. No, he’d only discovered that fact when it was too late to turn back.

There were a lot of things he’d have done differently with Rissa if he could. But he knew too damn well there were no do-overs in life.

If there were, then maybe he could have saved Hosea Williams, one of the troubled kids he’d tried to mentor back in Chicago, instead of the eleven-year-old getting killed in a drive-by shooting. Hosea’s death had spurred Connor on to do even more to save kids, some as young as seven and eight who got into trouble with gangs and drugs. Over time, he became burned out by all the failures, including his own.

The anniversary of Hosea’s death was coming up but that was no excuse to wallow.

He certainly wasn’t the only cop to be haunted by something gone deadly wrong. Back in Chicago, his own older brother Logan had been consumed by nightmares resulting from the death of his cop partner.

Cops don’t dwell. They move on. Emotions were a weakness not a strength. They prevented you from doing your job. They’d driven Connor from the big city here to Hopeful, where he had a better chance of making a difference.

And now Rissa was back in Hopeful. She represented another black mark against his soul.

“You attended Midwest College briefly, didn’t you?” the mayor asked.

“Freshman year.”

“Did you know Professor Bennett?”

“I’d heard about him but I didn’t have any of his classes.”

Connor had had his daughter instead.

Not that he’d initially made the connection between Rissa and the history professor.

Hell, that had been ten long years ago. You’d think Rissa would have gotten over her anger by now. Marissa, he corrected himself. She’d gotten married. And divorced. Maybe she just hated all men at the moment.

No, she hated him.

“Good thing you didn’t give her a ticket then,” the mayor said.

“What?”

“She’s a local. Her mom is on at least three civic committees, including the Women’s Club.”

“I met her mom today. She wasn’t pleased that I’d pulled her daughter over.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t met her before.”

“I don’t have a lot of interaction with the Women’s Club. I’ve seen her around town from time to time but…Anyway, that’s not important.”

“Yes it is. Trust me, if you piss off Linda Bennett, you’re up to your armpits in alligators.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“Normally she might. But she’s not herself lately.” The mayor lowered his voice. “She’s at that age. You know.”

Connor stared at him blankly.

“You know.” The mayor ran a finger around his collar. “You’ve got a mother.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Isn’t your mother going through that?”

“Through what?”

“The change,” the mayor whispered.

Connor couldn’t believe he was actually having a discussion about menopause with the mayor. To make matters worse, he’d brought Connor’s mother into the conversation. Connor eyed the other man over the rims of his sunglasses. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’d never kid about the change. I remember when my wife was going through that.” Mayor Bedford shook his head and nervously fingered his red vest. “I wasn’t sure I’d live through it. I wasn’t sure she would, either. Nothing I said was right. Nothing I did was right. She even complained that I was breathing too loudly. Give me a break. How can you breathe too loudly?”

“Must have been rough for you,” Connor said.

“You have no idea.”

Connor preferred keeping it that way.

“And the crying. It never stopped. I take that back. Crying then yelling then crying again then yelling again. A vicious cycle.” The mayor shuddered before sighing in relief. “Thankfully she came out the other side and we both survived. We’ve been married forty years.”

“That’s quite an accomplishment.” Connor couldn’t imagine being married at all and for sure couldn’t imagine being with the same person for forty years. He knew people did it. A few people. Very few.

His own parents had gotten divorced when he was a kid. His mom still harbored anger against his dad and had for nearly twenty years. He supposed the fact that Marissa was still angry with him after a mere ten years wasn’t that hard to imagine.

He shouldn’t have dumped her the way he had. He hadn’t set out to hurt her.

Now he knew why he’d been intrigued by her. Connor’s earlier feeling that life was going to get more interesting with Marissa’s arrival had been an accurate assessment. He had yet to decide if it was going to get interesting in a good or a bad way. Given their history, the odds favored bad. Only time would tell. Meanwhile, Connor had a job to do.

* * *



Marissa’s sister, Jess, hadn’t been in the house two minutes before she started making trouble—deliberately or not. Five years younger, she’d perfected the art of pushing her big sister’s buttons. She had their father’s coloring—light golden-brown hair and big green eyes. “I heard about your splashy arrival. Everybody’s talking about it. Did you think the parade was thrown for your homecoming or something?” Jess mocked.

“What parade?” their dad asked absently, his mind still clearly on the book on his iPad he’d just set down.

“The Founders’ Day Parade was today,” Jess replied. “For some reason your firstborn child here”—she pointed to Marissa—“decided to crash the parade.”

“I made a wrong turn, that’s all.” Marissa was beginning to think this entire moving-back-home thing had been a giant mistake. Not that she’d had many other options, as she kept reminding herself. She’d had zero other options.

“Talk about messing up a first impression.” Jess shook her head.

“First impression? This is my hometown.”

“And you haven’t been back much in ten years. Now we’re supposed to welcome you with open arms? I mean, of course I do because you’re my sister, but the rest of the town might think you’re a screw-up.”


“Gee thanks, Jess. Way to make me feel good,” Marissa retorted.

“You know what I mean.”

No, she didn’t. That was part of the problem with her relationship with Jess. Marissa could never be sure what her sister meant. She sensed some resentment coming from Jess, but she had no idea why her sister would resent her coming home. Was it some kind of prodigal son or in this case daughter thing?

“Hey Daddy.” Jess bent down to kiss their father’s cheek. “Whatcha grilling tonight?”

“Steaks,” he said.

Jess pouted. “You know I’m a vegetarian now.”

Their dad frowned. “I thought you gave that up?”

“No, I used to be vegan but that didn’t work for me.”

“I’m sure we’ve got some veggie kabobs,” he said.

Marissa stared at her dad and tried not to feel rejected because he had yet to really even acknowledge her presence. He’d nodded at her when he’d come onto the deck out back where they’d all gathered. But he hadn’t actually spoken to her yet.

As if reading her mind, Jess said, “So, Daddy, what do you think of Marissa moving back home?”

Jess was the only one who still called their father “Daddy,” as if to accentuate the fact that she was Daddy’s little girl. Which made Marissa what? The other daughter? The one who messed up?

“My moving in is only temporary,” Marissa quickly said.

“Hmm,” her dad said.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Marissa was rapidly reaching the end of her patience here. She glanced over at her mom and saw the expression of anger on her flushed face.

“Tell your daughter that you’re glad she’s here,” she ordered her husband.

He blinked, apparently surprised by his spouse’s irritation. “Of course I’m glad. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because she crashed the parade,” Jess suggested before laughing. “I’m just teasing. You know that, sis. Here, I’ll even share my beer with you.”

“No, thanks.”

Jess appeared hurt by her refusal. “Fine. Be that way.”

“I just don’t feel like a beer right now,” Marissa said and then wanted to kick herself for the apologetic sound of her voice. Her sister was the one who should be apologizing for being mean.

“Of course Marissa doesn’t want a beer because she’d rather have her favorite lemonade I made for her,” her mom said. “Here, have a nice big glass.”

The lemonade cooled Marissa off.

“So, Mom, have you gone to that menopause support group yet?” Jess asked.

“Connie and I are going tomorrow night.”

Connie Delgado and Marissa’s mom had been best friends since kindergarten. They’d grown up together, got married and had kids, and now shared menopause together. Marissa wondered what it must be like to have a relationship over so many years. She hadn’t kept up with any of her school friends. They’d just drifted apart after she’d left Hopeful.

As if to make up for her earlier snarky comments, Jess was on her best behavior for the rest of the evening. Marissa actually enjoyed sharing childhood memories of catching fireflies in a bottle on a warm summer evening or camping in a tent in the backyard with Jess, who had been afraid of polar bears attacking her.

By the time Jess left, Marissa shared a genuine sisterly hug with her. Their dad had yet to really become engaged in the conversation. He’d smiled during their reminisces but hadn’t really contributed much beyond an occasional “Hmm.”

Upstairs in her bedroom, Marissa sat curled up on her bed facing the window. Lightning flashed, warning of an approaching storm. She checked her BlackBerry for the latest weather update. No watches or warnings.

How prophetic was it that it was storming on her first night home? She sat there and watched it come closer, the flashes becoming zigzags across the night sky. The thunder swelled, beating down her defenses as tears slowly rolled down her face like the rain rolling down the windowpane.

Her emotions were a brittle jumble. She hugged her pillow the way she’d hugged Bosco during the tornado. The way she’d hugged her first love, Connor, the way she’d hugged her husband. What did that say about her, that everything she’d hugged and loved was gone?

Okay, she hadn’t read any self-help divorce book that talked about comparing the men in your life to your pets, so that probably wasn’t a helpful path to traverse. And she still had her family, after all. She’d loved and hugged them and they weren’t gone. They were here.

Her strength was fragile but it would grow. She flinched as a clap of thunder rattled the windows.

There was a knock on her door. “Are you okay?” her mom asked as she entered the room.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, the tears falling easily now.

“Oh, hon.” Her mom sat beside her and moved the pillow aside so she could hug her daughter.

“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.

“What are you watching?” she asked.

“A documentary.”

“About?”

“Egypt.”

He looked so intent that she had to ask, “What are you thinking?”

“That the Silver Pharoah aka Psusennes actually did relocate Rameses’ lost city.”

Great. She was thinking about her dad and wondering what made him tick and he was thinking about ancient Egypt. That figured. No wonder she had issues.

Her dad went into how the Nile River had often changed course over the past several thousand years, making it hard to locate the lost city. She tried to outwardly politely listen but inside her resentment was growing. Her dad knew more about the Egyptian pharaohs than he did about her own life.

She told herself it was childish to be jealous of her dad’s passion for ancient history. And had she not been feeling so vulnerable she would have agreed with her logical inner self. But as it was, her emotions were naked and exposed.

She didn’t even know how to describe what she was experiencing because she’d never been like this before. Never been such a mess of anxiety, panic, depression, and despair. The self-help books she’d read said those reactions were all normal during and after a divorce.

At least she and Brad hadn’t had any kids. The thought flashed into her head as she searched for some kind of silver lining.

“What do you think?” her dad surprised her by asking. In fact, she was so stunned she momentarily couldn’t even frame an answer.

Then he added, “Don’t you agree that the Silver Pharaoh must have found Rameses’ fabled lost city?”

“You’re the only one who thinks about things like that,” her mom said as she entered the room.

“That’s not true. We talk about it on my Facebook page with a lot of people who either agree or disagree with me on this issue.”

“Do you have a Facebook page?” her mom asked her.

Marissa shook her head. “Not personally, no. I did work on the one for my former library.”

“You should get one,” her mom said. “You never know who might look you up. Just the other day I got a friend request from a guy I knew in college. In fact, when your dad and I broke up, Jay and I went out together.”

Marissa’s eyes widened. “You and Dad broke up?”

“Several times. Even then it wasn’t easy to get his attention. So I’d break up with him and date someone else.”

“But she always came back to me,” her dad said.

“Don’t sound so proud of yourself.” Her mom shot him a look. “As I recall, you were the one who’d beg for me to come back.”

Marissa knew that Brad had not begged to come back to her. Instead he’d tried to blame her, telling her that if she’d been better in bed he wouldn’t have had to go looking elsewhere for satisfaction.

Cheating on her was a deal breaker. She’d told him that before he asked her to marry him and afterward. He’d sworn that it would never happen. But it had. In their bed.

Marissa lost a part of herself that day. The part that believed in happy endings and forever.

“I never knew that you and Dad had trouble,” she said.

“We always have trouble,” her mom said.

“But you never fight.”

“It takes two to fight and your father doesn’t always reside on this planet. Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Hmm?” Her dad had that glazed look that said he was no longer following the conversation. It was a look he wore frequently.

“See what I mean?” Her mom rolled her eyes. “So how did your first day at work go?” she asked Marissa.

“It went well. I got the fridge rules for the staff room, which is always an important thing in a new job. And I met the rest of the staff. Everyone was very nice to me.”

“And why shouldn’t they be? You’re a nice girl.”

“I’m not a girl anymore, Mom. I haven’t been for a long time now. I’m almost thirty.”

“You don’t have to get huffy.”

Marissa immediately felt guilty even though she didn’t think her voice had sounded anything but polite. “I wasn’t…I…”

“I’m having a bad hormone day!” her mom said. “Dinner is in five minutes. If you both aren’t seated at the table by then, you’re not eating.”


“She’s not kidding.” Her dad checked his watch. “It takes two minutes to get from here to the dining room. I’ve timed it.”

Marissa barely had time for a quick stop in the powder room to wash her hands before rushing to her seat.

Her mom nodded her approval before glaring at her spouse, who came ambling in as if he had all the time in the world.

It was like watching a pair of adolescents pushing the envelope to see how far they could go before some adult stepped in and stopped the lunacy. Unfortunately, Marissa was in no shape to act that role. Instead she ate as fast as she could and excused herself, citing exhaustion from a bad night’s sleep the previous night.

Alone in her room, she shut the door on her parents’ issues. But that just allowed the memories of her own failed marriage to wash over her.

She closed her eyes and saw herself on her wedding day in white satin. Her father had given her away. Her mother had been teary-eyed. And Marissa had been so full of hope and happiness.

Then she saw Brad in bed with his assistant, the other woman’s long red hair spread over Marissa’s pillowcase, her burgundy nails digging into Marissa’s husband’s back.

In the beginning Brad had been remorseful. He’d sworn it was a onetime thing. He’d even cried. That stage hadn’t lasted long, however.

When Marissa hadn’t given in, he’d quickly moved on, trying to use logic. Men weren’t meant to be monogamous. According to Brad, the sociologists all said so. Marissa was a librarian, he’d said. She should know these things.

She only knew that he’d crushed her and left her broken.

When Brad’s version of logic failed to impress her, he moved on to his angry defiant phase. He admitted he’d lied when he’d said he’d only slept with the other woman once.

Marissa replayed their last phone conversation in her head. “Why in our bed?” The words had been torn from her throat.

“It was the closest,” he’d said bluntly. “Usually we did it at her place or in my office after hours. Why does it matter where we did it? Are you saying you wouldn’t be divorcing me if you’d walked in on us in my office instead of in our bed?”

His voice had been filled with such vile disrespect and fury that she’d hung up on him and hadn’t spoken directly to him since then. Her attorney had said to let her handle things, so Marissa had. She’d also changed her cell phone number.

She wished she could change her past as easily.

* * *



Marissa spent the next two weeks checking the local listings for available apartments. There was nothing in her price range. The places near the college were highly desirable by students who didn’t want to live in the dorms.

There were a few sublets for the summer but they were in buildings so rowdy that the partying started early and never seemed to end. Marissa knew this because the beer cans were already flying between balconies when she arrived at nine in the morning. Most of the students left for the summer but enough stayed to make things noisy.

She was running out of hope of ever leaving her parents’ house when she finally came across a promising possibility. The ad listed it as a one-bedroom apartment in a quiet and secure building.

She called and spoke to the building manager, Sally Parelli, who sounded very nice. It wasn’t a huge complex. There were only sixteen apartments in the building.

She made an appointment to see the place first thing the next morning before work. It was plain and basic, with a small kitchen but a walk-in closet in the bedroom. And it faced west. Plus, the rent was reasonable.

“I’ll take it,” she immediately said.

She filled out the renter information form and promised to stop by after work to sign a lease—providing her references checked out. “Which I’m sure they will,” Sally said. “Your dad has been a professor at the college for as long as I can remember. Everyone knows him.”

Did they really? Because despite living at home for a few weeks, Marissa had yet to feel like she knew him. She knew things about him, sure. Like the fact that he loved quoting Terry Pratchett’s novels. But that was different than really knowing him.

She was no Pollyanna. She realized that lots of parents didn’t tell their kids that they were proud of them. Her work with young adults had told her that. Many came from single-parent households where the struggle to get from paycheck to paycheck took every ounce of energy the family had.

“Your mom and I share the same hairdresser,” Sally was saying. “And the same manicurist at Liz’s Nails.”

Marissa hid her hands in her tote bag as she dug for her car keys. She hadn’t had a manicure in more than a year. When it came down to a choice between food and good nails, she’d gone with food. Her sister, Jess, would most likely have gone with the good nails option. Just one of many ways they were different.

“Plus you’re working at the library here now,” Sally said. “Your boss, Roz, and I are in the same book club group. We’re also in the same knitter’s group. Do you knit?”

“No. I’ve done some crocheting but that’s about it.”

“You should try knitting. It’s not that hard. Anyway, I’m sure everything will check out. And I’m willing to have you pay the deposit over the next few weeks.”

“I really appreciate that.”

“Hey, I went through a divorce myself a number of years ago. I know how hellish it can be.”

Marissa just nodded.

“I still get angry about it sometimes,” Sally admitted. “When I do, I put on that Carrie Underwood song ‘Before He Cheats’ and dance. It makes me feel better. You might want to try that when you move in.”

“I don’t play my music loud,” Marissa assured her. “I usually listen with headphones.”

Sally laughed. “I never thought you’d be rowdy.”

“I’m not.”

“I believe you.”

“I’ll be back later today to sign the lease.”

“That’s fine. Unless you want to sign it now?”

“Really?”

“I’m a good judge of character and as I said, I know your parents. You’re a local.” Sally nodded. “I don’t need to check your references any more than that. If you want to sign the lease now…”

“I do.”

Marissa didn’t even read it before signing, she was in such a hurry to get things finalized. Finally a place where she could put her own things and not live in days gone by.

“Great.” Sally added her signature on both copies and gave Marissa her lease while keeping the other for herself. “It’s a safe building.” Sally said. “You couldn’t find a more secure place because the sheriff lives here. Next door to you, in fact.”

Marissa’s stomach dropped. “The sheriff?”

Sally nodded. “Connor Doyle.”

For a second, Marissa wanted to grab that lease back and rip it in shreds. How was she going to manage having Connor as her neighbor? She should have recognized the building from that Sunday morning when she’d been out walking and he’d confronted her, but she hadn’t. After all, he’d appeared out of nowhere and she’d walked away. It never occurred to her that he might have an apartment right here.

Sally said, “The college kids aren’t eager to live near the local law for some reason. But you’re different. I’ll bet it will make you sleep easier at night.”


Marissa seriously doubted that.





Chapter Four





“Are you okay?” Sally put a hand on Marissa’s arm. “You’ve gone all pale.”

“I’m okay.”

“Do you need a glass of water or something?”

Marissa shook her head.

“Look, here he comes now,” Sally said.

Marissa didn’t have time to run for it. Besides, that would be the cowardly thing to do. Appealing but cowardly.

“Good morning, ladies.” Connor was irritatingly cheerful.

Marissa hadn’t seen him much since that early morning when he’d called her Rissa. She’d welcomed the break from his company in the interval but she’d always been on her guard against running into him. One time she’d waited in her car when she’d seen him walk into the Kroger until he came out a short time later. Luckily, no one had knocked on her car window the way they had a few days later in the library parking lot.

“Having car trouble?” Roz had asked.

“No.” Marissa had started the rust-bucket VW, whereupon the sound of Copper’s “Heartbreak Lullaby” began to blare out of the demented sound system. She’d turned the demon lime car off again. “It won’t even let me eject the darn CD.”

“I know a good mechanic if you want to get that fixed,” Roz had told her.

Marissa had copied down the info even though she knew she couldn’t afford to pay a mechanic. First she had to get an apartment.

And now here she was, with her lease in her hand and her nemesis a few feet away.

“You’re just in time to meet your new neighbor,” Sally said. “Connor Doyle, meet Marissa Bennett.”

“We’ve met,” Connor said.

Marissa didn’t know which would be worse—him saying they’d been a couple a decade ago or him saying he’d pulled her over for being in the parade. She should have known he wouldn’t elaborate. Maybe he was hoping she’d jump to fill in the silence and stick her foot in her mouth. Not gonna happen. She was learning when to keep her mouth shut and this was one of those occasions.

“Well, that’s great then. You two already know each other.” Sally reached for the vibrating cell phone at her waist. “Sorry, I have to take this. Excuse me for a moment.” She moved away, leaving them alone in the foyer between the four upper apartments.

“So we’re going to be neighbors, huh?” Connor grinned at her as if able to read her tumultuous thoughts. “I’m guessing by the panicked look on your face that you didn’t know I lived in this building.”

“I’m not panicked.”

“No?”

“No.” She was, of course, but she’d rather eat bugs than admit that to him. “Everything is not always about you.”

“Fair enough.” He shoved his aviator-style sunglasses on top of his head so he could fix her with a don’t-lie-to-me stare. “So what were you thinking about to make you look so panicked?”

“My thoughts are my own.”

His grin widened. “That’s the first time you really sounded like a librarian. All prim and proper.”

“Librarians are not all prim and proper any more than cops are all boorish buffoons.”

“Just me, huh?”

“What?”

“You’re calling me a boorish buffoon.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Of course not. But it is what you meant, right?”

“I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I might incriminate myself.”

“Was that ex-husband of yours a lawyer or something?”

“Or something,” she muttered. Brad was actually in middle management at a telecom company but he had plenty of lawyer friends.

“Did you pick up a lot of legalese from him?”

“I learned a lot from him. Some of it good. Most of it very bad.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Are you?” she said. “Why?”

“What are you insinuating now?” Connor demanded. “That I want bad things to happen to you? I don’t. Why would I?”

“Not bad things, no. You’re indifferent,” she said. “You could care less, so why pretend otherwise? It’s too late to pretend to be polite.”

“Hey, I am very polite. Ask anybody.”

“I don’t have to ask anybody. I already know from my own experience with you that you’re not polite or even nice, because someone with either of those sterling character traits wouldn’t have done to me what you did.”

“So basically you’re telling me that I suck.”

“That would be a pretty accurate assessment, yes.”

“That was a long time ago. I could have changed.”

“I doubt that.” She went on the offensive. “Why do you care what I think about you?”

“Who says I do?” he countered.

Marissa bit her tongue and mentally reviewed her options. Could she ask Sally to tear up the lease she’d just signed a few minutes ago? She’d have to have a reason. Cold feet? She certainly couldn’t tell her new landlady the truth.

“Don’t let me scare you away,” Connor said.

His words were a challenge she couldn’t resist. “You couldn’t scare me away if you tried.”

“Oh, I probably could. But I don’t plan on trying, so you can relax.”

Right. As if she could ever relax around him. There was no way she could afford to let her guard down. She had to stay alert, stay aware and stay away.

Well, that last one was going to be more difficult given the fact that he lived next door, but she’d manage it somehow. Because that’s what she did. She managed. She coped. And, yes, she cried. But only between coping and managing, and only for short periods of time and in total privacy.

Actually those crying jags had gotten shorter but it was getting harder and harder to keep them that way, given the stress of living with her parents. Maybe if her self-esteem hadn’t already been in the basement she wouldn’t have been as bothered by the situation at home as she was.

But it was what it was. Her entire life lately was what it was. It certainly wasn’t what she’d planned or dreamed or hoped for.

“You somehow don’t look reassured by my words,” Connor said.

“I wasn’t thinking about you.”

“Weren’t you?”

“No. As I said before, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“That’s good to know.”

“You should also know that I have no intention of changing any of my plans because of you.” She discounted the one Kroger parking lot incident. “This was my hometown long before you ever showed up and it will continue to be my hometown long after you leave.”

“What makes you think I’m leaving anytime soon?”

“I didn’t say it would be soon. But that is what you do. You leave. You move on.”

“So did you. You left and moved on.”

Yes and look how well that turned out, she thought to herself.

“Just so you know, I don’t plan on leaving Hopeful anytime soon,” Connor said. “What about you?”

“I just got here and already you’re trying to get rid of me?”

“I don’t want to get rid of you. Far from it.” He deliberately eyed her from head to toe. “You liven the place up.”

“Are you saying Hopeful is boring?”

“No.”

“Then why does it need livening up?”


“I didn’t say it needed livening up. I said that you liven the place up. Two different things.”

“I’m done trying to decipher your words. I have to get to work.”

“Me, too.” With a sweep of his hand, he indicated that she should go first. “After you.”

Was he? Was he “after” her? Trying to get her interested in him again? Because there was no way she was going to do that. He could tease and tempt her all he wanted. He could bat those memorable eyes at her and flash his bad-boy grin and she would remain immune.

She had to if she wanted to survive.

* * *



By the time Connor arrived at police headquarters, word had already gotten out about his new neighbor. “Hey, I heard the new librarian in town just moved in your building.”

The comment came from his administrative assistant, Ruby Mae Rivers, otherwise known as the department’s version of TMZ without the videos of the stars. But her contacts made her a woman constantly in the know about everything there was to know.

Ruby Mae’s short salt-and-pepper hair never changed from day to day. Nor did her raspy voice. In her mid-fifties, she was a mother of five and grandmother of ten. She ruled them, and the people in the department, with an iron fist.

“News travels fast,” Connor said as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Some of the employees got their daily dose of caffeine from the Cups Cafe but not him. He liked his coffee hot and strong. None of that fancy frappucino shit for him. His family already didn’t approve of him working in a small town. If he started lining up for fancy coffee, they’d be sure to disown him. He wasn’t sure how they’d know, but somehow they would.

Sort of the way his mom could always tell when Connor and Logan were roughhousing in the living room, using her pillows as footballs to launch across the room, occasionally knocking over lamps and smashing them.

Growing up, Connor had spent time split between two worlds. The one his mom and grandmother created, and the more dysfunctional one his dad had.

“The mayor wants to see you ASAP,” Ruby Mae said.

Connor thumbed through his messages. “Anything going on that I should know about?”

“Not really. The hottest news is about you and your new neighbor.”

“What’s hot about that?”

“I just meant it’s the latest news.” Ruby Mae shuddered as he took a gulp of his coffee. “I don’t know how you can drink that dredge.”

“My granddad used to tell me that cop coffee put hair on your chest.”

Ruby Mae’s laugh was as deep as her voice. “A good reason for me to avoid it. How’s your granddad doing?”

“He’s doing great. In his mid-seventies and as ornery as ever.”

“I suppose you’re going to say that’s because of the cop coffee.”

“Nah. It’s because of good genes.”

“Oh.”

“And cop coffee.”

She returned his grin before reminding him, “The mayor is waiting.”

The village hall municipal offices took up the other half of the building.

“You wanted to see me?” Connor said.

“Yes. Thanks for coming.” The mayor indicated Connor should take a seat across from his massive desk. “I spent the morning with the school board and administration regarding your at-risk youth program.”

“What about it?”

“They want you to work with another program. You know, sort of join forces.”

“What other program?”

“One suggested by Marissa Bennett. Apparently she had a lot of experience with young adults in her previous library job.”

Connor was really pissed off. This program was special to him. He didn’t need Marissa messing it up for him. “What does she plan on doing? Having them read a bunch of books to turn them around?”

“She wrote up a proposal for the board.” Mayor Bedford handed it to him. “I suggest you read it and then the two of you should work together to make the new program work.”

“There was nothing wrong with the old program. With my program.”

“Nothing is so perfect that it can’t use a little improvement. Why don’t you go on over to the library now and meet with Marissa?”

He’d rather poke bamboo shoots beneath his fingernails. “I have a prior engagement.”

“Oh, right. You’ve got that presentation at the Hopeful Meadows Senior Center today. What’s the topic again?”

“Avoiding scams and identity theft.”

“Right. My aunt Gert is a resident there. She’s really looking forward to the presentation. Well, you’ll have to schedule your meeting with Marissa for another time then.”

“Yeah.”

“The sooner you two get together, the better.”

Connor had no intention of getting together with Marissa. He’d done that once back in college and it hadn’t worked out well.

“I hope you don’t take this as an insult against all the work you’ve been doing in the outreach programs,” the mayor said. “Two heads are better than one.”

Connor doubted that. Especially when one of those heads belonged to Marissa. He didn’t think clearly when he was around her.

Connor arrived at the senior center in a bad mood that got worse when the conversation immediately turned to his private life. He started his presentation professionally enough with the line, “I’ll be giving you some tips to help you avoid scams and ID theft issues.”

The mayor’s aunt Gert interrupted him “I heard that you and the new librarian are moving in together.”

“You heard wrong.”

“Is that why she was driving in the parade?” Gert continued. “Was she trying to get your attention?”

“No,” Connor said. “She just made a mistake.”

“Trying to get your attention is a mistake?”

“She doesn’t want my attention.”

Gert frowned. “Why not? You’re a good-looking fellow. She’s single now that she dumped that no-good husband of hers. What’s the problem? It’s not like there are a lot of choices for a divorced woman.”

“Maybe she’s looking for a younger man,” the woman sitting beside her piped up with. “One of those hottie college boys.”

“Why would she want a boy when she can have a man?” Gert retorted.

“You know they say a male’s sexual peak occurs when he’s eighteen and then it’s all downhill after that. Is that true?” Both women looked at Connor for an answer.

He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. “If you don’t have any questions about scams and ID theft, I’m leaving.”

“You’ve scared him,” the woman beside Gert scolded her.

“He’s a cop. He used to work in Chicago. I doubt he scares easily. Isn’t that right, Sheriff?”

It was at moments like this that Connor wished he’d stayed in Chicago.

* * *



“How does it feel to be back home again?” Roz asked Marissa once the two of them were seated in Roz’s office later that afternoon, “Are you settling in okay?”

Marissa nodded. “I just signed the lease on an apartment today.”

“I know. Sally called and told me.”

“Right.”

“Small towns.”

“I know.” Which had made it difficult keeping her relationship with Connor secret all those years ago. Now she was so glad that no one else knew about their history.


“I wanted to talk to you about that proposal you had regarding young adults at risk in our community. The school board reviewed it at their meeting and they’ve given it the green light.”

Marissa blinked. “I can’t believe they moved that fast. I thought it would take months and months.”

“Karen Griffith, the school guidance counselor spoke very highly of your plan. She was behind you one hundred and twenty percent. But there is one small catch. You’ll have to work with Connor Doyle and the program he already has in place.”

“Argh.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. I…umm…I just had something stuck in my throat. What do you mean, work with Connor?”

“The board wants you both to integrate your programs together.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Actually Marissa was positive it was the worst idea since NBC put Jay Leno where they did before returning him to the The Tonight Show.

“Well, the library budget certainly doesn’t have any funds to do this on our own,” Roz said. “We have to work with the school district and the mayor’s office. That’s where the funding is coming from. And their decision is that you and Connor have to make it work. Unless you don’t think that’s possible for some reason?”

What could she say—that he’d been her first lover and then dumped her? That he was a thorn in her side? That she was still battered and bruised from her divorce, still grieving the loss of her marriage and the vows she’d made? That working with Connor when she was still so vulnerable was emotionally dangerous for her? Of course she couldn’t say any of that.

“Is there a problem?” Roz asked.

“I didn’t anticipate that my program would be mixed with someone else’s.”

“I understand.”

“The two programs are not similar. I did study his program before coming up with my own.”

“I know you did. In an ideal world, you’d both be able to do your own thing. But that just isn’t possible in this economy. And with these conditions, more kids than ever are at risk. You two will just have to suck it up and do your best. Can you do that?”

Marissa nodded, trying to look confident even as a little voice in her head was shouting “Danger Ahead!”

“Good.” Roz smiled and turned her attention to a pile of papers on her desk. “I’m glad we got that settled.”

Marissa knew when she’d been dismissed. She headed out of the office, her mind swirling with any number of ways this entire project could go wrong.

She ruthlessly cut those doomsday thoughts off at the knees. She could do this. She’d just bragged to Connor that she wasn’t going to change any of her plans because of him. This was her chance to prove that. Or it was her chance to get rid of him…

No, she knew he’d never surrender his program and let her begin hers instead. She’d have to collaborate. And if she was being honest, he’d had some good results with his ideas. Not great, but good.

She was determined to be professional enough to work with him, no matter how difficult that might be. She could and would do this. She had no choice.





Chapter Five





The minute Connor walked in the library, he was confronted by an angry female glaring at him. He’d just left a senior center full of angry females. He didn’t need more aggravation.

“You keep doing that and you’ll get wrinkles,” he said.

She glared harder and growled, “I hate you.”

Hearing laughter behind him, Connor turned to find Marissa standing there with a smile on her face. “Charming the ladies, are you?”

The five-year-old little girl who’d proclaimed her hatred for him stomped off to where her mother stood beside the circulation desk, horrified by her child’s behavior.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff,” the mom said in a harried voice. “She’s having a bad day today.”

He smiled. “No need to apologize. Bad days happen to all of us at one time or another.”

He sure as hell was having one today. He refused to let that get him down. He could handle bad days with one arm tied behind his back. He couldn’t handle the memories of the kids back in Chicago that he hadn’t been able to save. Especially Hosea.

Connor clamped that line of thought shut and focused his attention on Marissa. “I assume you heard about the plan to merge our programs.”

She nodded.

“So how do we get out of this? I’m open to suggestions.”

“What do you mean, ‘get out of this’?” She frowned. “There is no getting out of it.”

“I don’t need you butting into my program.”

“Ditto.”

“So how do we fix this? How about you let me keep doing what I’m doing and just make a show on the surface of being involved,” he said.

“You are delusional.”

“I didn’t expect you to agree. Not right off the bat. But once you’ve interacted with these kids you’ll back off.”

“What makes you think that?” She didn’t bother telling him she’d already met a half-dozen kids and had enlisted their input in her program. She sensed from the way that Connor had marched into the library that he was carrying a chip on his shoulder the size of a boulder.

“You’re a librarian.”

“Your point being?”

“These kids are tough. You’re not going to turn them around by sticking a bunch of books in their hands. What are you going to do, have them read Dickens or Shakespeare?”

“Shakespeare knew a thing or two about gang violence. The Capulets versus the Montagues. And don’t try telling me we don’t have gangs in Hopeful. Gangs are everywhere.”

“I know how to reach these kids. You don’t.”

“How do you know?” she countered.

“You have no experience.”

“Yes, I do. At my former library I created a number of programs for at-risk teens.”

His expression clearly indicated he wasn’t the least bit impressed by her statement.

“If there’s no way out and we’re forced to work together then we need to set some ground rules.”

“I agree,” she said. “I’ve already made up a list.” She led him to the reference desk, where she’d left her file, and opened it up. “Here.”

“No.” Connor refused to take the pages she handed him. “You don’t get to make up the list. That’s my job. I do that.”

Marissa pointed to the paper. “See rule number one. It says I make up the list.”

“That’s wrong.”

“I suggest you direct your attention to rule number two. When you don’t agree with me, you may say so but not by stating I’m wrong or stupid or any other derogatory comments.”

“Telling you that you’re wrong is not derogatory,” he said. “It’s simply a stating of fact.”

“No, it’s not a fact. It’s merely your opinion.” Seeing the attention they were garnering, she said, “I suggest that we continue this discussion in one of the empty conference rooms.”

“How about your office?”

“I don’t have an office. I have a small cubicle, where we can be overheard.” At times it felt more like a partitioned prairie dog enclosure where every so often people popped their heads up to see over the wall.

“A conference room then.”


As they entered the room, she realized it was in effect a glass fishbowl that provided little privacy aside from preventing them from being overheard because the door closed. Anyone walking by would see them talking.

Which was okay. There was no problem with that. She had to get out of the mind-set she had from her time dating him in high school when her parents had warned her about the dangers of going out with a college boy.

The warnings had started from her mother the instant Marissa turned thirteen. The idea had no appeal to her at that age. But when she’d first met Connor at the pizza place, she’d instantly felt the connection. A glance from him meant more that she could have imagined.

She’d worked hard to keep their time together a secret from her friends and family. Even her co-workers didn’t realize that things had turned intimate with Connor. Marissa had really gotten into the whole secret rendezvous thing.

But those days were long over and she needed to remind herself of that fact. “If this is going to work we need to pool our resources,” she told Connor in a very professional voice.

“Or you could just step aside and let me do my work as I’ve been doing for several years now,” he suggested.

“I’ve been working with at-risk kids for a number of years as well.”

“Doing what? Telling them to read a book?”

Anger crept into her voice. “You are so full of it! Why are you so threatened?”

He stared at her in disbelief. “Me? Threatened? By you?”

She nodded.

“That’s funny. But I don’t have time for humor.”

“Your sense of humor used to be one of your strong suits.”

“That was a long time ago,” he said flatly.

“I asked around. People still think you have a good sense of humor and a commonsense attitude.”

“See? That’s what I’m saying. I have common sense.”

“You just said you don’t have time for humor.”

“I take this part of my job seriously.”

“So do I.” She paused to give him an I’m-not-backing-down look. “That’s something we can agree on. We both take working with at-risk kids seriously.”

“Yeah but our approaches are totally different.”

“You believe in tough love “

“I believe in showing them that the risks they take now have consequences. For example, they try huffing and they could die. The very first time. The kids don’t get the potential risks, including brain damage and death. Huffing is breathing fumes from household products to get high,” he added for her benefit.

“I know what huffing is. One in five kids will abuse inhalants by the eighth grade. The library is working with local schools and high schools to educate students and parents about the signs and dangers of inhalant abuse.”

“Great. You keep working on that and stay out of my way.”

“I wish I could stay out of your way and that you’d stay out of mine. But we’re stuck here so we have to make do. Getting back to the rules, number three is important. Before I introduce you to my group of kids, I want your assurance that you are not going to intimidate them.”

He crossed his arms across his chest and just glared at her.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. That look. Don’t use it on them.”

“It’s very effective,” he growled.

“That voice doesn’t work either.”

“What are you talking about? It works damn fine.”

“I want them to know we care what happens to them.”

“I want more than that. I want them to care what happens to them.”

“Well, of course I want that too,” she countered angrily. “But that’s not going to happen by scaring them.”

“Sure it will.”

“There are more effective ways to reach kids,” she said.

“Yeah, right. With books?”

“You have an attitude problem!”

“So what are you going to do about it?” he drawled. “Have me journal my feelings? Hug a teddy bear?”

“What a great idea.” She noticed a bear in the corner left over from a children’s program discussion they’d had earlier in the day. “Here you go.” She went over to grab it before handing it to him. “Hug it.”

“Is that a dare?”

“Absolutely. I dare you to hug that bear.”

He took it from her, twisted its arm and tossed it back.

“You call that a hug?” she scoffed.

“I don’t do my best work with teddy bears.”

“That’s obvious.”

“You already know from our time together how I hug,” he said.

“That topic of discussion is off limits.”

“So is me hugging a teddy bear where anyone can see.”

“What are you afraid of?” she said.

“Not teddy bears, that’s for damn sure.”

“I think you’ll learn a lot from observing the group’s interaction.”

“I plan on doing more that just observing.”

“Then we have a problem,” she said.

“You’re just now noticing that?”

No, she’d known she’d have a problem with him the second she identified him at the traffic stop. But she didn’t think she’d ever have to work this closely with him. Maybe she should have thought of that when she’d sent in that grant program request. Usually it took months and months or even a year or longer for something like that to get going. How was she supposed to guess that it would be approved so quickly or that it would come with strings tying her to Connor?

No, she couldn’t have anticipated that. The question now was how was she going to work with him?

“Have you read the grant program proposal that I wrote up?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then I suggest you do so. I read your previous year’s proposal. If you have a new one, I’d be more than happy to read it.”

“Why bother? We both know that you won’t approve of it.”

“I might surprise you.”

“You already have,” he said.

His look was no longer intimidating but it made her heart thump nervously. The kids weren’t the only ones at risk with this project. So was she. Big-time.

* * *



Marissa first met fifteen-year-old Jose Martinez her second day on the job. “So you’re the one who punked the parade,” he’d said. “You don’t look like a troublemaker.”

She’d been able to tell by the way he’d said it and by the way he was dressed that he considered himself to be a troublemaker.

“Nice T-shirt,” she’d said.

He’d appeared surprised by her comment.

“Are they characters from a graphic novel?” she’d asked.

“Yeah. From my graphic novel.”

“You did the artwork?”

He’d nodded defiantly.

“You’re good. We’re starting a teen group.” She had yet to come up with a catchy name for it. “Our first program is going to focus on graphic novels. You should come Wednesday after school.” She’d handed him a flyer she’d done up earlier that day.

He’d reluctantly taken it before walking away.

“You should stay away from that one,” an older man had come up beside her to say. “I’m Chester Flint, by the way. President of the library board. Since you’re new around here, you don’t know that Jose has spent time in juvenile hall for spray-painting graffiti like he wears on his T-shirts.”


“He’s got talent.”

Chester had looked at her as if she were a few pancakes short of a stack. “Talent? His only talent is for getting into trouble. We don’t want his type here.”

“?‘His type’? You mean because he’s Hispanic?”

“I am not a racist. And I’m offended by your inference that I am.”

Nice going, she’d told herself. Only on the job two days and already you’re in a fight with the president of the library board. Not smart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He’d looked down his nose at her. “You’d do well to watch your step.”

She’d nodded her agreement at his words. “I’m still learning the ropes here.”

He’d relaxed his posture. “In time you’ll understand what is expected of you.” He’d nodded at her before walking away.

Marissa hadn’t given up on the idea, however, and Jose did show up. The rest of the group had been recommended to attend by Karen Griffith, the high school counselor who’d called Marissa smart and perky. “These kids are at risk and I think you can help them,” Karen had said in a phone conversation.

Marissa’s interaction with the group of six was the catalyst for her writing the grant proposal for the program. They’d bonded in the ensuing month. She didn’t plan on allowing Connor to speak to them before preparing them for his arrival and attitude. Which is why she didn’t tell Connor about the meeting later that afternoon.

Red Fred was the first to arrive as always. His red hair and freckles along with his gangly awkwardness made him the butt of bullying. He considered himself a social outcast and a loner.

Jose was next to arrive. “Hey, dude, I got your T-shirt,” he told Red Fred. He handed over a black T-shirt with the same graphic novel character on his own.

Molly and Tasmyn came in together. Both girls were thirteen and had self-esteem issues—Molly because of her weight and Tasmyn because of the birthmark on her face. Both had single moms struggling to make ends meet.

Nadine and Spider were the latecomers as always. The two self-proclaimed computer geeks excelled at technology but lacked interactive social skills.

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.