by Cathie Linz
“That’s not necessary,” she said.
“So you do remember.”
“Yes,” she said. “And it’s not going to happen again. Good night.” She firmly closed the door on him and the temptation he provided.
* * *
Marissa’s very first memory was of seeing her sister shortly after Jess was born. “You lucky girl,” her mom had been telling her for nine months. “You’re going to have a sister of your very own!”
“I don’t want a sister,” Marissa’s five-year-old self said. “I want a Barbie.”
“You can have both. If you’re a good girl.”
Marissa had been a good girl for the most part ever since then. Her sister, Jess, on the other hand, had always been hell on wheels. One of Jess’s favorite activities as a toddler had been to put her arms around an eight-year-old Marissa and say “Love you!” right before yanking hard enough on Marissa’s hair to bring tears to her eyes.
Jess was turning twenty-three today, and she still had a way of getting to Marissa with that combination of sisterly love and trouble.
It didn’t help that Jess walked in the front door with a tiara on her head. “The birthday girl has arrived!” She struck a pose that would have done Heidi Klum proud. “Is that homemade red velvet cake I smell?”
“You know it is,” Marissa said. “You made Mom make it.”
“You are such a crab.” Jess set her iPod in the speaker docking station in the living room. “I brought my own birthday playlist.”
A second later, Katy Perry’s “Firework” filled the room. “Come on.” Jess grabbed Marissa’s hand. “Dance.”
Jess kicked off her sandals and jumped around the room, tugging Marissa with her. She finally noticed that Marissa wasn’t showing an equal enthusiasm. “You call that dancing? You’re barely moving your head.”
Marissa yanked her hand away. “I don’t like dancing.”
“Everyone likes dancing.”
“I don’t.”
“Since when?”
“Since as long as I can remember,” Marissa said.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
“You’d think I’d have noticed that before,” Jess said.
“You’d think.” Marissa couldn’t help the sarcasm the snuck into her voice.
“Maybe it’s just the wrong song.”
“It’s not.”
Jess ignored her and skipped ahead to the next tune, which was. Enrique Iglesias’s “I Like It.” “Is that better?” Jess asked even as she bopped around. “No? How about this one? Lady Gaga’s ‘Just Dance’ makes everyone dance.” Jess scooted around the room, tossing her hair, her hips, and lip-syncing with the song.
Marissa felt unexpected tears prickling her eyes. She wanted to dance, she really did want to join her sister. But something invisible yet incredibly powerful held her back. “I’m going to go check with Mom to see if she needs help in the kitchen,” she said before making her escape.
The tears were a little harder to hold back when Marissa saw her mom boogying to the song in the kitchen. “The birthday girl must be here, huh?” Her mom waved her offset icing spatula in the air to the beat of the music.
“This one’s for you, Mom,” Jess shouted out before playing Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life.”
“The greatest band ever,” Marissa’s mom shouted back before punching her arms in the air and almost splattering the ceiling with cream cheese frosting.
“Give me that.” Marissa took the spatula and started licking the frosting off it. She needed a sugar rush really badly.
“Why aren’t you dancing?” her mom finally said after the song ended and Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” came up next.
“That’s the question, isn’t it. Why can’t I dance?”
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you notice that I didn’t even dance at my own wedding?” Marissa ate more frosting.
“You didn’t?”
“No, Mom. I didn’t.”
“I guess I thought it was some sort of religious thing on Brad’s part.”
“No. It had nothing to do with him.”
“Maybe you’re just shy. Oh, there’s the doorbell. Will you get that for me, please?” her mom said.
Marissa reluctantly set the now-licked-clean spatula in the dishwasher and headed to the front door, walking past her sister who was still dancing to “Bad Romance.”
As if on cue, she opened the door to find Connor standing there with a huge grin on his face. “So you’re a Lady Gaga fan, huh? Who’d have guessed it.”
Chapter Fourteen
“What are you doing here?” Marissa said.
“I was invited to your sister’s birthday party, remember?” Connor said.
“And I told you not to come, remember?”
“I remember everything.” The look he gave her set her entire body on fire. “Every touch, every kiss…”
“Shh.” She put her hand to his lips and looked around nervously.
“What’s the problem?” He spoke against her fingertips. “We’re not teenagers anymore, trying to hide from your parents.”
“Hide what from our parents?” Jess asked from behind them.
“Nothing,” Marissa hurriedly said. “Connor was just leaving.”
“Don’t be silly,” Jess said. “He just got here. Come on in.”
“There’s a police emergency he has to attend to,” Marissa said. “Right?” She gave him the look.
He gave her the nice-try-but-no-cigar look in return. “Actually, the department can handle it on their own. They don’t need me tonight.” Now his eyes were traveling over her body, saying that she needed him tonight and he needed her.
“That’s good to hear,” Jess said.
Marissa didn’t know if it was good or not. She only knew that her resistance to Connor’s sex appeal was falling dangerously low. And he was wearing those damn jeans and chambray shirt again. Meanwhile, Lady Gaga sang on in the background about not wanting to be friends.
Jess pulled Connor into the living room and danced with him while Marissa stood by and watched. The man had moves. Damn, he could swivel his hips. You’d never know by looking at him now that he was a cop. He looked like a guy in one of those sexy jean ads. The man not only had moves, he had a damn good butt, too.
“Close your mouth, hon,” her mom said as she joined her. “You’ll catch flies.”
Marissa pulled her mother back into the kitchen. “You shouldn’t have invited him.”
“Why not?”
“Because this is a family gathering.”
“Jess has invited her guy friends. Why shouldn’t I invite yours?”
“First off, Jess’s friends aren’t coming. Second, Connor is not my guy friend.”
“He’s a guy and he’s your friend.”
Marissa eyed her suspiciously. “Have you been talking to his mom?”
“Not since they left, but that reminds me that I do owe her a call.”
Jess must have set her iPod on repeat because Katy Perry was singing “Firework” again.
Marissa wanted to stay in the kitchen and give her mom the many reasons why she shouldn’t contact Connor’s mom but she was more concerned with what Jess was doing with Connor in the other room.
She found him waiting for her by the living room entrance. “You stopped dancing,” she said.
“This is more a girl song,” he said before the music changed. “But this one by Enrique is better.” He took her hand and tugged her to him so fast she almost bounced off his muscular body.
“I don’t dance,” she said in a panicky voice.
He put his hands on her hips. “Just move these.”
“No, thank you.” Marissa pushed his hands away even though they felt damn good on her body. She pulled her fuchsia ruffled top into a more demure neckline and smoothed her nervous fingers down the sides of her black capri pants.
“Librarians do dance, you know,” Jess told her as
she twirled on by. “Some even belly dance.”
“This has nothing to do with my being a librarian,” Marissa said.
“Then what does it have to do with?” Connor asked.
Afraid it would make her sound stupid, Marissa couldn’t admit that she had no idea why she was so afraid to dance. Instead, she just shrugged.
“What’s wrong?” her dad asked as he entered the living room. He squinted at Connor. “You look familiar. Were you in one of my classes last semester?”
“He’s the town sheriff,” Jess said.
“What did my students do now?” her dad said to Connor. “Did they tell you I’d bail them out of jail?
“The spring semester has been over for two weeks now, Dad,” Marissa said. “Your students have all gone home.”
“Good thing. I need to focus on my research on the family of the Silver Pharaoh during the summer break. Did you know that dancing was a common part of life in ancient Egypt? I suspect their music didn’t sound like this, though.”
“It probably didn’t sound like your medieval madrigals either,” Jess said as the next song came on. “It’s my birthday, Daddy. That means I get to pick the music.”
“And you picked Lady Gaga?” he said.
Marissa was as surprised as Jess that their father was able to identify the pop singer.
As if reading her mind, her dad said, “I may not be totally up on popular culture but you’d have to be locked in a sarcophagus not to know who Lady Gaga is.”
“Right.” Jess laughed and hugged him.
Marissa wished she could share her sister’s free-spirited ability to express her emotions.
To her surprise, Connor took her hand and twined his fingers between hers. She didn’t pull away but instead took comfort in his touch. She flashed a brief smile of gratitude his way and was rewarded with one of his wicked grins.
“I left something in the car,” Connor said. “Marissa is going to come help me find it.”
A second later, they were outside on the front porch. Her childhood home lacked just one architectural style and was instead a hodgepodge of styles from various historic eras, which greatly upset her father and amused her mother.
“It’s a mutt of a house,” her mom used to say when Marissa was a kid before fondly patting the column on the corner of the front porch.
“Who ever heard of putting an Arts and Crafts column on a Victorian-style house?” her dad would mutter.
She knew she was thinking about those memories to avoid focusing on Connor, who was still holding her hand. Not only that, he was brushing his thumb over the top of her hand. The soft caress sent her back to her high school days when holding his hand on her front porch would have let her parents know that she was seeing a forbidden boy.
Looking at him now, there was still a flash of forbidden in his eyes. He might represent law and order in his day job but now that he was off-duty, he represented wicked temptation. He projected power in a way he hadn’t as a nineteen-year-old and that made him even sexier.
Like a fan at a rock concert, she leaned closer, drawn in.
He leaned forward, too. Was he going to kiss her? Right here on her parents’ front porch?
So what if he did? She wasn’t a teenager anymore. She was a free woman. Nervously licking her lips, she heard him groan before he finally did kiss her.
His lips had barely touched hers when they were interrupted.
“Hey, you two…Whoops.” Her mom stood in the front doorway grinning at them. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Carry on.” She shut the door.
Connor rested his forehead against Marissa’s. “What is it with us and interrupting moms? I’m sensing a theme here.”
Marissa was sensing that she was in deep trouble. What had they said at her divorce support group meeting the other night? Enjoy the rebound relationship but don’t confuse it with love.
Could Marissa do that? Could she enjoy sex with Connor without falling in love with him? Was she in love with him now?
No, surely not. She was attracted to him, yes. And he seemed to be attracted to her as well.
But that didn’t mean she loved him.
And it for sure didn’t mean he loved her.
She half expected him to walk away but he didn’t. Instead he leaned back and smiled at her. “I heard there’s red velvet cake being offered tonight.”
Marissa wondered if that was all that was being offered. His look told her he was wondering that, too. Was she on the menu? Dinner, red velvet cake and then a quick getaway for sex? Should she take a page out of Jess’s book and eat and run?
She still hadn’t decided after the vegetable stir-fry dinner. The conversation was sparse as everyone seemed content to focus on the yummy food.
Afterward, the red velvet cake was brought to the table with elaborate fanfare. Three candles were lit.
“Twenty-three candles wouldn’t fit on the cake so I only did the most recent three,” Marissa’s mom said before proudly setting her masterpiece in front of Jess. “Remember, you have to make a wish before you blow them out. But first we have to sing you ‘Happy Birthday.’ ”
Marissa had forgotten the family tradition. She hadn’t been home for a birthday in a decade.
“Well, sing fast,” Jess ordered. “The candles are melting.”
“So am I,” their mom said, waving her hand in front of her flushed face. “Hot flash!” She turned to confront her husband. “Did you turn off the air-conditioning?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think I’d remember if I did.”
“I don’t know about that. You forgot your wallet at home just yesterday.”
“I was deep in thought—”
“About the Silver Pharaoh, I know,” her mom said.
Jess clapped her hands to get their attention. “People, sing fast or I’m blowing these candles without you.”
So they launched into the super-speedy version of “Happy Birthday.” They’d barely finished the last “you” before Jess blew the stumpy candles out.
“You made a wish first, right?”
“I wished you’d get the song over with,” Jess said.
“You know if you tell anyone your wish, then it won’t come true.”
“You know, the ancient Egyptians have some interesting superstitions…” her dad began when her mom interrupted him.
“Not now, please.”
He frowned. “What? I was just going to—”
“Launch into another dissertation about ancient Egypt.”
“Actually, a dissertation is usually a lengthy written essay,” he began when his wife once again interrupted him.
“Get your mind out of ancient Egypt and focus on the here and now.” She jabbed her finger on the table, narrowly missing the plate that Jess was holding out for her with a slice of cake.
Marissa’s dad tried again. “I just thought it would be interesting—”
Marissa’s mom cut him off again. “Trust me, it’s not.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“Yes, I do. After twenty-five years of marriage, I know. Let’s not argue in front of the sheriff.” She sent a pointed look at Connor.
“Why?” Marissa’s father countered. “What’s he going to do? Shoot us?”
Marissa wondered if Connor was tempted. What was a person to do when Parents Behaved Badly? This all seemed like a page from a reality show or something. A bad dream, perhaps.
“I’m unarmed at the moment,” Connor said.
“Don’t pick on him,” Jess said. “It’s just Daddy being Daddy.”
“You always take his side,” Marissa’s mom said.
“Delicious cake,” Marissa said, frantically trying to redirect the conversation. “Did you do something different with the recipe this year?”
It actually worked. “No, I used the same recipe. You just haven’t had my red velvet cake for a while. Remember that cake with the pyramids on
it for your eighth birthday?” Marissa’s mom asked her.
“Why did you want a pyramid on your cake?” Jess asked.
“It was Dad’s idea,” Marissa said. She’d really wanted a German chocolate cake but that request had gone unnoticed.
“We’ll have to make one for you this year, Marissa,” her mom said.
“No, that’s okay,” Marissa hurriedly said. Everyone at her birthday party had made fun of her for weeks afterward because of that cake.
“It’ll be fun,” her mom said, No, it won’t. Marissa wanted to say the words aloud but didn’t want to hurt her mom’s feelings. Since they’d had that cloud-gazing episode in the park yesterday, her mom had seemed calmer and happier. Until the flare-up with her dad today.
“I hate to eat and run,” Jess said.
“Then don’t,” their mom said. “You haven’t even finished your slice of cake. At least do that before you take off.”
“Can I take some more slices with me to share with the Roberts brothers?”
“Sure. I’ll package up the rest of the cake to take with you. But first you have to open your presents.”
Marissa had gotten Jess an iTunes gift card.
“Thanks,” Jess said before instantly turning to her next present.
“I brought flowers for you,” Connor said. “I left them in the car.”
“I thought you and Marissa already went outside to get what you left in the car.”
“They got distracted,” Marissa’s mom said.
“Oh yeah?” Jess grinned. “Did you catch them making out on the front porch like a couple of teenagers?”
“My lips are sealed,” their mom said.
“Were Marissa’s lips sealed for the kiss?” Jess said.
Marissa jabbed her sister. “Jess! Shut up!”
Jess jabbed her right back like they’d done as kids. “You can’t tell me to shut up on my birthday.”
“Yes, I can.”
“I’m gonna go get those flowers now,” Connor said.
“You be sure to come back now,” Marissa’s mom said, sounding very Southern all of a sudden. “We certainly don’t want to say or do anything to scare you away.”
