A Profiler's Case for Seduction(19)



“Good luck,” she said, and then they murmured goodbyes and she clicked off. Tossing the cell onto the sofa cushion next to her, Melinda once again reached for the wine goblet and made a silent toast to herself, commending her decision to leave her home, to never look back when she’d turned eighteen years old.

She wasn’t about to allow an alcoholic tramp of a mother, or an abusive father or a mealymouthed younger sister, who was following in their mother’s footsteps, to stop her from achieving the recognition and admiration she not only deserved but demanded.

She’d done it all on her own, with no help from anyone. She hadn’t had an older sister or brother to pull her up from her coattails and set her on the road to success. She’d carved her own path.

“Here’s to me,” she whispered out loud, “the smartest member of my dysfunctional family and the smartest person on this entire campus.” She drained her glass and leaned back against the sofa, a smug smile playing on her lush lips.





Chapter 4



She hadn’t been able to cancel the meal. Dora hadn’t seen Mark all week to get the opportunity to tell him that dinner out together wasn’t a good idea.

To make matters worse, she’d arrived at Manetti’s fifteen minutes early, like a pathetic loser who was afraid she might be stood up or who feared that if she was a single minute late he wouldn’t wait for her.

She sat in her car parked across from the popular restaurant and watched for Mark to arrive. Maybe he’d forgotten about tonight. He was a busy man with lots of things on his mind. The invitation had been three whole days ago. She imagined in Mark’s world three days could hold a lifetime of thoughts and actions, things that could drive a simple dinner invitation straight out of his mind.

Dora’s life was far less complicated and the idea of dinner with Mark had filled her head for most of the past three days. She flipped down the rearview mirror and checked to make sure she didn’t have lipstick on her teeth or hadn’t gone too heavy with the mascara wand.

It was ridiculous, the way she felt...the fluttering in her stomach, the sparking nerves in her veins. She wasn’t a young girl just beginning to experience the blossom of hormones; rather she was a forty-year-old woman on the verge of kissing her hormones goodbye.

She had many regrets from her past, but the deepest regret she’d have for the rest of her life was that she’d had no children. It had been a selfless decision she’d made because she’d known that the last thing she wanted was to bring an innocent child into the mess of her life.

In another year or two when she finally had her life perfect for bringing in a child, she’d be too old to parent, probably too old physically to have a baby the natural way. She’d long ago made peace with the fact that there would be no children for her, but that didn’t stop the wistful bittersweet pang that sometimes clutched at her when she thought about it.

That’s why she’d spoken to Mark about his daughter and the importance of him being a part of her life. Children should be considered gifts to take care of, not inconveniences to beat and abuse.

She sat up straighter in her seat as she saw a dark car pull into a parking space near the front of the restaurant. The car looked official and her heart danced as Mark stepped out of the driver side.

He was dressed in a dark suit, white shirt and a black-and-gray tie at his neck. She was grateful that she’d opted to put on panty hose and a dress instead of the less casual slacks and blouse. It was obvious Mark had made an extra effort by wearing a tie for the night.

Her dress was rust-colored, cinched at the waist and with a slightly flirty skirt. Although she was taller than most women to begin with, she wore black heels, knowing that Mark would be taller than her even with her high shoes. And there was nothing better for a woman’s confidence than a pair of heels that showcased the length and shapeliness of her legs.

Still, the last thing Dora felt was confidence. The flutter of nerves inside her stomach turned into a full orchestra of drumbeats and a discordant brass section. She could always just drive away, stand him up. That would be the smart thing to do, but surely a simple dinner couldn’t be a stupid thing.

Decision made, she got out of her car and headed for the entrance. Even outside the restaurant the evening air smelled of rich tomato sauce, of fresh garlic and spices, and her stomach rumbled shamefully because she’d been too nervous to eat anything all day.

The minute she stepped inside and saw Mark standing in the waiting area, a pleased smile curving his lips at the sight of her, her nerves magically vanished.

Carla Cassidy's Books