Flirting With Temptation. Cara Summers

she felt so…restless, so unsatisfied with her life in Fairview, Ohio? She tightened her grip on the envelope, and, for the first time, she understood how Eve must have felt in the Garden of Eden—irresistibly drawn by the promise of knowledge.

      But knowledge could be dangerous, she reminded herself as she hugged the envelope to her chest. She might not like the answers she would find.

      And she had obligations at the library. Dropping everything and flying off to San Francisco would be irresponsible…and wild…and wonderful…

      “Never act on impulse.” In her mind, Corie could hear her mother reciting her most frequently repeated commandment as clearly as if she were sitting right next to her in the car. The first time Isabella Benjamin had said those words, Corie had been six. After reading Peter Pan for the first time, she’d climbed onto the roof of the house and tried to fly. Six weeks in bed with a broken leg had given her ample opportunity to reflect on the virtue of being cautious. Not that she’d learned her lesson. Being cautious just didn’t seem to be part of her nature. She had to work at it constantly.

      A glance at her watch had her slipping out of the car and racing up the flagstone path. In less than fifteen minutes, Jack Kincaid was going to call and ask if she was going to use the ticket. The moment of decision was upon her.

      “Yoo-hoo! Corie!”

      Busted, Corie thought as she hit the top step of the porch and turned. “Afternoon, Ms. Ponsonby.”

      Since Corie’s mother had died two months ago, Muriel Ponsonby, Fairview, Ohio’s town crier, had made it her mission in life to watch over Corie.

      “You’re home early.” Eyes narrowing, Muriel moved to the steps of her porch. “You feeling all right?”

      Corie beamed a smile at Muriel. “I’m fine. It’s such a lovely day, I just decided to leave work early.”

      Muriel frowned. “You’ll make bridge club tonight?”

      “Wouldn’t miss it.” Muriel had seen to it that Corie had been invited to take her mother’s place in the bridge club, the quilting circle and the Friday evening book-discussion group. Corie tightened her grip on the airline ticket. If she stayed in Fairview, her life was all safely mapped out for her. She would turn into her mother.

      “Heard you got an overnight delivery letter at the library today. From San Francisco. Not bad news, I hope.”

      Corie had often thought that the U.S. government should have the kind of spy network that Muriel seemed to have in place. For one wild moment she was tempted to wave the envelope and say, “Just a little note from a lover I met on the Internet. I’m going to fly out and meet him on Wednesday.”

      But if she did that, Muriel and the entire quilting circle would probably rush to her house to do an intervention. Ever since her failed attempt to fly off the roof, she’d had a reputation for acting recklessly, and in Fairview a reputation stuck.

      Stifling the impulse to mention an Internet lover or any other kind, Corie backed toward her door, but she couldn’t resist saying, “It’s just an article I ordered for Dean Atwell—something on poisonous mushrooms.”

      “Poisonous mushrooms?” Muriel said, looking for all the world like a dog picking up a new scent. “Why would he want something like that?”

      Muriel didn’t seem to expect an answer. She was too busy backing toward her own front door. In a few minutes, the phone lines would be buzzing since everyone in town knew that Dean Atwell’s divorce was not going well. Any twinge of conscience that Corie might have felt at her lie was eased when she pushed her key into the lock and escaped into her house. She’d come home early to gather her thoughts. A quick glance at her watch told her that she now had less than ten minutes to finalize her decision.

      To go to San Francisco or not to go—that was the question. Placing the ticket on the small table next to the phone, Corie sank down into a straight-backed chair and fished her notebook out of her bag. From the time she’d been a little girl, doodling had always helped her to see things more clearly. Quickly, she sketched a huge Y. It was the same one she’d been drawing at the library all week. Following the right-hand prong of the Y would keep her trapped safely in her present cocoon as a college librarian in Fairview, Ohio, population eight thousand and dropping. She drew a little circle to represent a cocoon at the end of that path. Following the other path would offer her the chance to escape. To become a butterfly. Quickly, she sketched wings at the end of the left-hand prong. More important, she would get the opportunity to meet the man who could very well be her father and perhaps discover why her mother had kept his existence a secret all these years. Maybe she could figure out why she couldn’t be happy with the life her mother had chosen. And maybe, just maybe, she could figure out who she really was.

      Just the thought of that had a mix of anticipation and fear forming a tight, hard knot in her stomach. Placing her notebook on the table, she reached out and ran a finger down the envelope that contained the ticket. The choice should have been a no-brainer, and it would have been if it weren’t for the promise she’d made over and over again to her mother.

      Shifting her glance, Corie met the eyes of the woman in the small ivory-framed picture next to the phone. Her mother’s eyes were so serious, her mouth just hinting at a frown. Isabella Benjamin had worn the same expression on her deathbed and she’d made Corie promise one last time…

      Drawing in a deep breath, Corie said, “I know I promised you that I would never leave Fairview.”

      Deathbed promises should be binding, but it wasn’t fair. She would have promised her mother anything during those last days. The illness had come so suddenly, a bad cold that had spread to the lungs, and by the time the doctors had tried to treat it with antibiotics, it was too late. Corie touched her mother’s face in the picture. “I want to fly to San Francisco on Wednesday.”

      Though silence filled the hallway, Corie could hear the echoes of old arguments in her mind. Ever since she could remember, she’d wanted to leave Fairview, to see the world. Her mother had always argued against it. You’re much too impulsive to be on your own. She did have a tendency to leap before she looked—and the leaps often ended in disaster. There was the time she’d climbed a tree to rescue a cat, and the fire department had had to come for both of them. Of course, she hadn’t leapt that time; clearly, she’d learned her lesson that she wasn’t Peter Pan. Corie sighed and doodled some more. The biggest disagreement she’d ever had with her mother had been when she’d wanted to go away to college. In the end they’d compromised. She’d gotten to go to Ohio State, but she’d had to live at home and ride the bus to classes. And she’d had to promise to take a job at the small liberal arts college in Fairview when she graduated.

      As she studied her mother’s picture, Corie felt the familiar wave of frustration and love move through her. “I’m not like you.” Not yet.

      “I know a promise is a promise. But you lied to me about my father.” There she’d said it out loud. “You told me my father was dead.” And there was a very good chance that he was alive and kicking—running a very successful winery and health spa in the Napa Valley. She glanced at the cluster of stick figures she’d also drawn at the left-hand end of the Y. If Benjamin Lewis was her father, she had other family, too—two half-bothers and an Uncle Buddy. She’d done as much research as she could on them. Then with her pencil, she retraced the other stick figure she’d drawn a short distance from the cluster. If she flew out to San Francisco, she would also get to meet Jack Kincaid.

      In the past two weeks, she’d done research on him, too. Currently, he was writing feature articles for the San Francisco Chronicle. Before that, he’d spent eight years working his way up through various news services by covering hot spots throughout the world, and he’d written a Pulitzer prize-winning book based on his experiences. After pulling it out of her bag, she set it on the table next to her mother’s picture. She’d read every word of it, and it had held her spellbound. He’d traveled to all the places that she’d only dreamed about.

      Drawing in a deep breath, Corie shifted her gaze back to her mother’s