Make Me Sin Read Free Page B

raped and killed in my sleep. I’ve reminded her that if I were raped by an intruder in the middle of the night, I’d probably wake up before I was killed in my sleep. She didn’t find my logic amusing.
    Wearily, I drop my purse on the floor, sink onto the couch, and close my eyes. “You should try my cell, Mom. I’m hardly ever here.”
    “Well. I don’t want to bother you at work.”
    There’s a slight emphasis on “work.” This is an old argument. I’m in no mood to rehash it again. “How are you? How’s Dad?”
    “I’m fine, dear, thank you. Your father is . . .” A faint, ladylike sigh comes over the line. “Well, he’s taken another pro bono case.”
    She says it as if she can hardly bear the shame. To my mother, there’s only one thing worse than working, and that’s working for free. No matter that my father makes eight figures a year in his law practice, a single pro bono case will set her teeth on edge for months. I steer clear of that landmine, and head into safer waters.
    “And Gigi?”
    Her voice warms. “My baby is so sweet. We went to the groomer’s today for a bath.”
    I smile at the thought of my mother and her pampered bichon frise puppy taking a bath together at the dog groomers. When she talks about the dog, it’s always “we,” like they’re a single entity. She bought Gigi as part of her empty nest adjustment, and I swear she loves that dog more than anything else in her life. Probably because the dog is as much of a snob as she is.
    “I’m calling because your brother’s coming into town this weekend, dear. Will you and Eric come for dinner Sunday?”
    My smile grows wider. “Jamie’s coming out? Awesome! Business trip?”
    “I think it’s an immigration reform conference or some dreadful thing like that. You know your brother. Champion of the downtrodden.”
    My brother’s an attorney who works for the largest immigration law firm in Manhattan. The way she discounts his job always grates on my nerves. “He’s doing good work, Mom.”
    “Of course he is. But there must be plenty of people in this world better suited to help the poor.” She launches into a rant I’ve heard a dozen times before. “James graduated summa cum laude from Princeton. He’s brilliant, handsome, and comes from a good family. His grandmother is a countess, for God’s sake! He should be in politics, or marrying some heiress, but instead he’s earning an associate’s salary and rubbing elbows with the hoi polloi.” She sighs. “Honestly, I don’t know where I went wrong.”
    I have to bite my tongue in order to not recite a list. “Seven on Sunday?”
    “As always.”
    “Okay, Mom. I’m beat, so I’m going to hang up now. I’ll see you Sunday.”
    “With Eric,” she reminds me firmly. He’s the one thing in my life she approves of, even if he does have to work for a living. I can’t blame her. Compared to most of my exes, Eric is practically a saint.
    We say good-bye and hang up. Immediately there’s a knock on my door. It’s probably another solicitor selling magazine subscriptions. Darn that broken security gate!
    Not moving from the couch, I shout, “Who is it?”
    “It’s me, babe!” comes the muffled reply. “Surprise!”
    Eric. I’m not surprised. He enjoys showing up unannounced. I sometimes wonder if he’s trying to catch me with another guy. That would never happen because I’m not that kind of girl, but his tendency to drop by without calling is a little irritating. I rub my temples, drag a deep breath into my lungs, and then haul myself from the sofa.
    When I open the door, I’m immediately engulfed in an enthusiastic bear hug. The kiss Eric gives me is wet, and a little sloppy. He’s still in his police uniform. He smells like beer.
    “Hey. Did you just get off work?”
    He nods, grinning. I still haven’t taken off my heels, so I’m looking slightly down at him. This depresses me beyond reason. It must be the headache.
    “I thought we could have