Sweet Temptations Collection

by Brant, Marilyn

  Three strikes, Mister. You’re out.

  She heard him draw in a raspy breath before whispering, “Shelley? Shell Oliver?”

  ***

  Damned if this wasn’t the worst possible moment Shelley could appear, Garrett thought. Just when he was close to getting Cait on his side. He’d checked her classroom expenditures. Clean as a whistle. If she’d proven her trustworthiness, too, he might have even confided in her before long and enlisted her help.

  Wasn’t going to happen now, he realized, as Cait continued to glare daggers at him.

  Garrett turned his attention to his slinky ex-girlfriend and pondered life’s inscrutability. Of all the school districts in the country, Shell Oliver had to show up at this one.

  The redhead, however, did not seem the least surprised by his presence or by the disruption she’d caused.

  “Why, yes, darling,” she said. “Only, my name’s been Mrs. McAllister for three whole years now. The charms of the Midwest are pervasive, aren’t they?” Her blue eyes flirted unabashedly with him. She even grinned at the principal. Garrett noticed she ignored Cait entirely. Shelley took a couple steps closer to him.

  “Three years?” he said, clearing his throat. “I had no idea you’ve been out here that long, Shell.”

  “I suppose I should be offended,” she drawled. “How could your parents have overlooked telling mine how close we are—in proximity?” Shelley reached out and brushed exquisitely manicured scarlet nails down the forearm of his suit. She wrapped her fingers around his bare wrist and squeezed. It felt like the death-grip of a cobra.

  He caught Cait’s eye but he couldn’t explain this to her. He wasn’t even sure he could explain it to himself. Not that he’d be able to talk any sense into Cait now. She looked like she wanted to throw the nearest heavy object at him. He scanned the room. Yep. He could see her reaching for her stapler.

  Ronald Jaspers coughed twice, breaking the silence. “Well, now. I didn’t realize you two were so well acquainted. Maybe we should relocate this reunion to the conference room where the other board members are waiting.” He coughed again extra hard, as if to underscore the point. “Ellis. Mrs. McAllister.”

  Garrett nodded. Shelley McAllister grasped his elbow with her other hand and steered him toward the door. He threw a last-minute backward glance at Cait before he left, trying to apologize nonverbally, but he couldn’t tell from her expression if he’d succeeded in making his regrets known.

  “Have a good evening, Cait. I’ll talk with you later,” he said before Shelley all but shoved him out of the room.

  Cait didn’t respond.

  ***

  Cait pursed her lips, unclenched then re-clenched her fists. Garrett Ellis could just keep his lies and his career games to himself. If he could be taken in by a devil in a blue dress like Shelley McAllister, then he was no better than Ronald, an unthinking, wishy-washy puppet of the board, who could get sweet talked into anything in under three minutes.

  Darn it. Did Garrett ever date that snippity, uppity, superficial woman? God, it seemed that way. If so, Mr. Fruit and Nut deserved what he got…and he wasn’t nearly as intelligent as she’d given him credit for.

  Not that it mattered.

  Not that she cared.

  It just took away any concern she might have felt for his position, especially now that she was going to defy every single word the hotshot financial director said.

  ***

  “The Packers are gonna go all the way this year, I just know it,” school board president Mike Firenzi announced to Garrett and the other males in an impromptu huddle in the conference room. “And I’ll be watching it live and in person. Got the season tickets my grandpa used to have on Lambeau’s 30-yard-line.”

  Board members Jason Lenox and Doug Chippenak looked appropriately appreciative. Garrett nodded, trying his best.

  Mike grinned. “See how they decimated the Lions on Sunday’s preseason game? It’s almost like when Favre was playing.”

  “They’ll be engraving those Super Bowl rings before long,” Jason chimed in.

  “I heard the coach interviewed on ESPN yesterday…no, a couple nights ago, I believe,” Doug said, rubbing a graying sideburn and nodding leisurely. “And while they were talking, he said to the sportscaster…”

  Garrett ceased listening. Doug’s monotone had a tendency to inspire drowsiness. He glanced over at Shell Oliver or, rather, Shelley Oliver McAllister with growing surprise. Wasn’t she still supposed to be out East terrorizing rich graduates of the Ivy Leagues? She might have great legs—all three of the Oliver sisters did—but she used them to walk all over people.

  His mother had prattled on about her not that long ago. But most of his family couldn’t get the Midwestern cities straight. He only knew Shelley had left Atlanta, but he never much listened to gossip about which state she’d relocated to.

  He cringed.

  Man, oh man, he could only imagine what she’d been up to in this sweet, unassuming town for three years. The woman was a barracuda when she went after something.

  “Coffee, boys?” Shelley said, handing Garrett and the others steaming mugs of black brew. “Skim milk and sugar substitute are over there.” She pointed to the table behind her with a hot red fingernail, managing to make even that motion a seductive one.

  The men’s huddle disbanded so they could fix their coffees, but one distasteful form of small talk replaced another as Shelley attached herself to his arm again.

  “How’s your lovely sister Marianne doing?” she asked, tilting her fiery head to the left and smiling like Wile E. Coyote with Bugs Bunny in sight.

  “She’s happy. She lives in Pennsylvania now.”

  “Oh, yes. That’s right. Mama mentioned she’d moved in with that dashing doctor, Daniel Bentley—the Fourth.”

  He eyed her, irritated with the conversation already. His memories of Shell Oliver, the cute Georgia State coed he met at Hilton Head the summer before his senior year at Princeton, were coming back to him. Hard to believe their relationship lasted a whole four weeks. Marianne practically beat him up when she learned he and Shelley were dating. Those two were about as close as a snake and a mongoose.

  Garrett took a deep breath. “So, how did you meet Mr. McAllister?”

  “You mean Chucky-darling,” she all but squeaked. “Oh, my. Well, he was out visiting Atlanta on bank business. He’s the VP here in Milwaukee…”

  Appropriate. Shelley would, of course, snag a banker.

  “…It wasn’t more than four months after his divorce, and I was working at the downtown branch of First Liberty National. So, we just got talking, and he showed me photos of his two adorable girls. He has full custody,” she said with a knowing nod. “We hit it off real well, ate out at vegetarian restaurants, went jogging together…”

  Aha. He remembered her fixation on athletes. He wasn’t surprised “Chucky” was a runner type.

  “…Later he invited me up north to visit. Then he gave me this.” She waved around a diamond the size of an Olympic hockey rink and looked at him victoriously. “We celebrated our third anniversary in June.”

  “Congratulations, Shell. Your folks must’ve been pleased.” He thought of her stiff, stock-portfolio-assessing parents whom he’d met at the beach so long ago.

  “Yeah, they were.” She glowed.

  “How was it that you got so involved with the school board?”

  Shelley took a dainty sip of her coffee. “I have ideas, you know. Plus, Chucky thought it would be good for me to occupy myself with community issues, so I decided to run.” She sighed. “Everyone’s been so nice to me, real friendly and all, but it’s a little—” she leaned toward him to whisper, “provincial.” She batted her eyelashes, curved her full lips into a pretty smile. “Of course it’s much less so now that you’re here.”

  Garrett was rescued from having to respond by Ronald’s return. The older man balanced a plate of cookies in one hand and a box of pastries in the other. A few chocolate cr
umbs clung to the corners of his lips.

  The guy had the look of someone who could potentially pad his pocketbook with district funds, Garrett decided. This, in fact, was the superintendent’s biggest concern. The two went way back. But, despite that longstanding friendship, the head honcho suspected the principal above all others and told Garrett so.

  Not that he should be too quick to discount Shelley.

  He watched as she sauntered toward Ronald and hastily took the tray off his hands. The two shared a laugh over something Garrett couldn’t hear.

  “Now that all the refreshments are in the room,” Ronald said, “maybe we can relax and swap some ideas.” He held out the pastry box. “Cinnamon roll, anyone?”

  ***

  On Thursday morning Cait hung up her classroom telephone, fuming. Just why securing a location permit should be this difficult was beyond her. Every open venue in the town of Ridgewood Grove either had size restrictions that would keep out the kind of crowd the Hoopla would draw, or it didn’t allow food to be served, which was a given at the festival, or it was already booked for the first Saturday in October, the date she needed.

  The only privately owned facility both large enough and available on that day was the Four Gates Country Club, which belonged to school board president Mike Firenzi and his family. And that venue had to be crossed off the list simply because it was too expensive.

  The children would be returning from gym class in ten minutes, and Cait still had no idea how to turn the situation around. She slumped in her desk chair, flopped her head onto her folded arms and closed her eyes.

  “Stay up too late watching Casablanca last night, Cait?” Jenna asked, popping into the room. “Hey, what’s wrong? Is everything okay with your mom?”

  Cait managed a short nod. “Mom’s doing the same, but now I’ve got other problems.” She filled Jenna in on yesterday’s conversation with Garrett, her permit predicament and the lovey-dovey connection between the financial director and the redheaded school board member.

  “But we can’t give up on the Harvest Hoopla!” Jenna said.

  “We won’t, but I need some help brainstorming.”

  “Have you tried talking with Ronald?”

  “Yes, this morning. He doesn’t understand the festival’s cancellation either and he seems really disappointed, but he won’t go against what Garrett says. So we can’t host the Hoopla on school grounds. And now, it seems, we can’t host it anywhere in the town. Indoors or out.”

  “How about out of town?” Jenna’s lips twitched, her forehead wrinkled—sure signs that she was thinking hard. “What about a familiar town but one without so many restrictions?”

  “You mean, New Brighton?”

  “Well, why not? You know it like the inside of your shoe closet. You’re there all the time because of your mother anyway. It’s not too far away so children and families who want to go from Ridgewood Grove can still attend, but it’s far enough not to be under the jurisdiction of the formidable Mr. Ellis…”

  For the first time in twenty-two hours, Cait grinned. “So, my dear Mrs. Murray, you wanna be an honorary goblin?”

  Jenna wiggled a hand behind each ear and laughed aloud.

  ***

  “Cait!” Garrett called out to her in the parking lot.

  She cringed, but turned away from her car long enough to nod at him. Argh. She’d hoped to escape the building without a confrontation today. Ridgewood Grove Elementary School had been blissfully free of Garrett Macauley Ellis for the whole day. But of course he had to show up now and ruin it.

  “How are you, Garrett?” she said in her coolest voice as he jogged up beside her. He stood way too close for comfort. His body heat made her skin prickle.

  “Fine, thanks. Look, I’m really sorry we were interrupted yesterday, and I was at a meeting with the superintendent all day today, so I didn’t have a chance to talk with you.” He tried to give her one of those charming grins, but she wasn’t fooled. “Anyway, I hope you’re not still disappointed about the festival. Maybe it’ll turn out for the best this way and—”

  “So, you don’t have any connection to the school board, do you Garrett? Fascinating. Really.”

  He swallowed, gave her an odd look and took a small step backward. “Look, Cait, about that. I was—”

  “You were lying, weren’t you?”

  The surprise in his dark eyes and his heightened color let her know she’d touched a nerve. “Hey, what is this? Do you really think I had any idea Shelley was going to show up and—”

  “You’re answering a question with a question, Mr. Ellis.” She forced herself to keep her tone even. “But while we’re at it, let’s get back to what you just said. Why, exactly, would it be ‘for the best’ not to host the festival?”

  “Well, you—” He stared at her. “I can’t tell you but—”

  “But nothing. You’ve got your agenda, some big political plan, no doubt, complete with whatever career-ladder-climbing rationale you need to pull it off. Good Ole Boys scratching each other’s backs and all. And the only one it would be ‘for the best’ for is you.” She leveled her angriest look at him. “I take my work seriously,” she added. “More seriously than most people, maybe. I won’t let down those children, or the people I care about, because of some hypocritical administrator.”

  “Cait, I never intended to deceive you, I just meant—”

  “You just meant you expected me to fall into line based upon what you, our superintendent or certain members of our school board want. That I wasn’t supposed to fight any of you or even question your actions. That I have no resources available other than what you oh-so-powerful, righteous individuals have to offer. Isn’t that it, Garrett?” She opened her car door and shoved her tote bag inside. “Well, think again, because I am running the Harvest Hoopla. I figured out a way. And you can tell that to your darling friend Shelley McAllister!”

  He grabbed her by the arm, not roughly but firmly enough to keep her from jumping in the car. His expression was gray and grim. “Listen, you can’t do that. You’ll ruin everything I’m trying to do.”

  “Which you, of course, refuse to tell me. I’m supposed to trust you and your judgment, but you won’t trust me in return.”

  Cait shook herself loose from his grip and glared at him, a barrier of raw emotion inside of her bursting. Just who did he think he was? One thing was certain, she’d be damned if she’d repeat past mistakes and get forced into doing some man’s bidding based merely on faith in him.

  “Don’t you ever—EVER—tell me what I can or cannot do.” She pressed her pointed index finger against his chest, the lean and hard muscles creating a formidable, infuriating wall against her attack. “Your work extends to the boundaries of the school district only, not beyond it. Certainly not into my private life or thoughts. So don’t think for a second you can push me around.”

  She slipped into the car and slammed the door, pleased to see his too-handsome face turning an unnatural pink. She drove off without so much as a backward glance.

  STEP 5:

  Add 1 cup of milk.

  Make sure it’s fresh, wholesome and from

  America’s Dairyland (that’s Wisconsin, of course).

  ~From Mr. Koolemar’s Top Secret,

  Kool Kreme Ice Kreamations Recipe Book, pg. 97

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “I don’t know what to do with her anymore,” Cait’s brother said over the phone, his voice a combination of worry and annoyance. “I was over there this morning, and Mom had left the front door wide open. God knows who could’ve walked in. And now half the food in the basement freezer is spoiled because she forgot to close it completely.” Seth exhaled heavily. “We need to talk with her.”

  “I know,” Cait whispered. She was on the phone in her mother’s living room while the lady in question was freshening herself up in her bedroom upstairs. “I’m really frustrated, too. She’s losing everything, and I’m afraid to let her go out of the house by herself
for fear she’ll forget the way home…not to mention the dangers involved with her driving.”

  “No kidding. An accident at her age would be a nightmare.”

  Cait shuddered to think of their mother trapped in her Ford Escort. Maybe they’d just been putting off the inevitable. She needed time to collect herself. Seth must have felt this too because there was a long pause on the other end of the line.

  “What are you thinking, Seth?”

  “I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow night,” he said. “Maybe we can both meet there, have dinner together. Talk, just the three of us.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell Mom we’re going to have a little family meal. She and I can get some groceries later this evening.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Well, a start, anyway.”

  “Yeah,” Cait said. “Give kisses to Dianne and Mia for me.”

  “Will do. See you tomorrow.”

  Cait put down the phone moments before her mother came in wearing a somewhat odd mix of garments.

  “Did you borrow my green and gold scarf, dear? I can’t seem to find it.”

  The red scarf her mom was wearing provided a discordant contrast to her pink blouse, but Cait doubted the green and gold one would have been much of an improvement.

  “No, Mom. I can help you look later, but first we need to head to the market.” She pointed to the telephone. “Seth just called. He was hoping to pop by for dinner tomorrow night so the three of us could chat.”

  Her mother clasped her hands together in her typical gesture of excitement. “Oh, wonderful. Let’s make stuffed peppers. You know how my little boy loves them.”

  “Great idea.” Cait chose not to remind her mom that her “little boy” was a married father and dangerously close to thirty.