“You think it could be Brad’s father? I thought you
said the man was an obsessed admirer. Someone who thinks I’m in love with him.”
Jack took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “That’s the most likely scenario, but it’s not impossible that this is motivated by revenge.” Jack pulled up to a stop sign. “Whoever it is, I’m going to do my best to get him. Now, before we run into anyone else, let’s talk about how we met and what I do for a living.”
Holly pulled her hand away, unable to bear his touch right then. He was methodically cataloging everyone in her hometown and categorizing them by the likelihood that they could be the killer. “You just tell me what you want me to know. I can’t even think right now.”
“Why don’t we start with directions to your uncle’s house? Do I keep going straight?”
She sat up and looked out the window, glad to have something mundane to focus on. “Another block, and turn right at the Baptist church.”
As Jack made the turn, Holly saw the Baptist preacher, Gil Mason, out pruning the shrubs by the church. When he looked up and waved, she waved back.
“We’ve only known each other a couple of weeks, right? So no one will expect us to know too much about each other.”
Holly shook her head. “We’re in the Deep South, Jack. People will ask about your family history before they ask your name. So, have you ever actually done any freelance writing?”
“No.”
“Do you really have an aunt in Maryland?”
“No.”
She sighed at his monosyllabic answers. “Okay, why don’t you give me the sound-bite version of your life.”
Jack handled the car easily and efficiently, his large, elegant hands lightly caressing the wheel. “I’m thirty-three. Live in Chicago. Never married before. I freelance while I’m working on my novel. I’m a good cook and a better lover, and once I saw you at the fitness seminar I couldn’t let you out of my sight.”
“Oh, dear,” Holly groaned, feeling her face heat up at his words. At least he was concise, and thorough. Although adding that “better lover” remark was just mean. She tried to banish the memory of the vision that had greeted her upon waking this morning. Jack lying in her bed, draped in her new white sheets.
She swallowed hard as they approached Uncle Virgil’s house. “Here we are. It’s the white house with the blue shutters.”
There were three or four neighbors outside, watering their lawns, walking their dogs, or just sitting on their front porch watching traffic go by. Holly waved at each of them, feeling their curious glances like little crawly things on her skin.
Jack pulled into the driveway and grinned at her. “Is that enough information for a start?”
She looked at him and her heart fluttered in her breast. She tried to tell herself it was because of his embarrassing words, not the disarming grin that transformed his face and made him look impossibly handsome. “I can’t tell anybody that.”
“Maybe not, but you’ll think it every time someone asks you about me. And that pretty pink blush will be worth more than a thousand words.”
Holly groaned, knowing he was right. “I don’t blu—”
Jack’s hand came around her neck and he kissed her. This time it wasn’t a sweet, comforting kiss. This kiss was hot, hard and intimate. His lips covered hers and his tongue teased her mouth open before she had a chance to react.
Holly forgot to breathe. His thumb caressed the skin just below her ear and she felt it all the way through her. All her fears, all her worries, melted beneath the strong assurance of his kiss. No one had ever taken such utter and complete control of her senses. His breathing grew rapid and ragged as her heart pounded and desire surged through her like summer lightning.
Just as she lifted her head and leaned toward him, craving more, he pulled away, leaving her half stunned. His eyes were stormy and troubled as he straightened and removed his hand from her neck.
“There,” he said hoarsely. “That should stir some gossip. Now, let’s go meet your family.”
Chapter Six
Holly’s great-aunt Bode was having a bad day. She hadn’t been the same since her stroke. She sat in her rocking chair and hummed, her toneless serenade punctuated by wracking coughs. Her faded blue eyes stared vacantly. Her salt-and-pepper hair was messy and tangled, and her dress had food stains down the front.
Uncle Virgil looked haggard as he took the teakettle off the stove. “Come on in, Holly, Jack,” he said, retrieving a box of tea bags from the cabinet. “Holly, come make the tea. You know the right amount of sugar to put in it.”
“Okay. Hi, Aunt Bode.” Holly kissed the paper-thin skin of her aunt’s cheek, then walked over to the kitchen area. “Didn’t the home attendant show up?”
Uncle Virgil shook his head. “I wish you’d call them for me. Bode doesn’t like this new woman.”
Holly wondered how many times the home attendant hadn’t shown up during the two weeks she’d been gone to the seminar. Why hadn’t Debi done anything? She sighed quietly. “Okay. I’ll call first thing in the morning. Where’s Debi?”
“Debi’s right here.” Her sister’s voice sounded strained behind her. “But not for long.”
Debi was dressed in a short leather skirt and a one-shouldered tank top. Her long bare legs were accentuated by high-heeled slides. She looked dangerously lovely, as only a tall, vital young woman can.
“Where are you going?” Holly asked as she un-pinned Aunt Bode’s hair and began to brush it, trying to suppress her frustration that Debi had let their great-aunt sit all day with messy hair and food-stained clothes.
“Out.” The single word was a challenge.
Holly saw Jack studying Debi, his face typically expressionless but his eyes full of interest.
Holly set the hairbrush down as Debi swung open the front door. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Jack and Uncle Virgil, and followed Debi out onto the porch.
“What have you been doing all day? Aunt Bode’s hair hasn’t even been brushed.”
Debi stopped halfway down the front steps and turned back. “What have I been doing? Chasing around after her, trying to keep her from hurting herself. You want to know why the home attendant didn’t show? Because Aunt Bode has decided she likes to throw food at people. What have you been doing all day, Miss Newlywed? Of course, I’m sure I know the answer to that.”
Holly cringed at the acid in her sister’s voice. She tried to curb her impatience, but too much had happened in the past twenty-four hours and her nerves were shot.
“You don’t know nearly as much as you think you do, Debi. Is it too much to ask for you to help with
Aunt Bode? You’re living here rent-free. You’re not working. I cook dinner over here at least three nights a week. It would be different if you were in school, but apparently you’ve decided not to finish your degree.”
Debi propped her fists on her hips. “You don’t know what I’ve decided. Registration isn’t over yet. I haven’t made up my mind. But what are you going to do about Aunt Bode if I do go back to school? She needs to be in a home. I’m sure not going to spend my life waiting on her and Uncle Virgil. I’m not like you. I don’t feel the need to jump every time they even look like they need something. Of course, now that you’ve set up housekeeping with your hunky stranger of a husband you’ll probably end up leaving this one-horse town. Then what will I do?”
Debi was really upset. Her eyes were bright with tears, her body stiff and straight, with her fists clenched at her sides, just like when she was a child.
Holly’s heart softened at Debi’s vulnerability. “Debi, honey, I’m not planning to go away. Where did all this come from?”
“Maybe it comes from me being afraid you’ve lost your mind. Where did
he
come from?”
Holly swallowed, wondering how to answer Debi’s question. She’d never lied to her little sister before.
“Jack O’Hara is no hometown boy, Hol. I don’t know where you found him or what possessed you to actually marry him, but he’s too sharp. Too intense. He’ll never live here. He’ll take you away.” She stopped, and tears glimmered in her eyes. She held up her hands. “Never mind. It’s your life. I don’t have any right—”
“Debi, come on. You’re my sister. I love you.”
Holly smiled and held out her arms. “It’s always been you and me, kid.” Debi might be a couple of inches taller than Holly, but she would always be her baby sister.
Debi backed away. “I’ve gotta go. I’ve got people waiting for me.”
Holly felt her sister’s rejection like a physical blow to her stomach. Debi had never refused a hug before. Holly took a step forward. “Debi, we need to talk about this. There’s more to it than you know.”
Debi folded her arms and sighed, putting on a sulky, impatient expression, and Holly knew from experience that her sister had stopped listening.
“Okay, go on. We’ll talk later. But try not to be too late getting back. You know how Uncle Virgil worries.”
“Trust me, I know. When will everyone accept that I’m an adult? I don’t need people telling me what to do. You should be grateful I’m staying here so you can play house with your hunky new husband.”
Holly flinched. Debi was feeling like Holly had abandoned her. She needed to know the truth. When they got home, she’d ask Jack about letting Debi in on their secret, that they were married in name only. That as soon as the stalker was caught, Jack would go on to his next case, and Holly would still be there to take care of everything.
The thought didn’t cheer Holly as she stood on the porch listening to the crickets and frogs after Debi’s Firebird sped away.
Farther down the street she heard another car engine flare to life and roar away, but when she looked, she didn’t see anything but a small cloud of dust.
The front screen door squeaked, and Holly knew
without looking that Jack was behind her. How could she tell? She took a long breath. It was some combination of scent, sound, and an aura that emanated from him. Soap and outdoors and the soft swish of cotton and calm strength.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, his voice closer than she’d expected. If she leaned back an inch, she could rest against him. She stiffened.
It occurred to her that although she’d never spent a lot of time regretting what might have been or yearning for what might be, she’d already gotten used to having Jack there to lean on, to depend on. What would it be like to know he’d always be there?
“Debi thinks you’re taking me away from her,” she said, trying to sound light, but failing.
“Yeah, I heard. How did she act when you married Brad?”
“She was eleven when I left for college. You’d have thought I died, the way she cried herself sick.” Holly hugged herself. “That was the age I was when our parents died. I think I know how she felt.” A lump grew in her throat. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am trying to get away.”
To her surprise, Jack slipped his arms around her waist. “What are you doing?” she whispered, dismayed at how easily his touch could banish her worries and make her feel safe.
“I’m comforting my wife. A good husband knows when his wife needs support.”
His breath tickled her ear. She shivered as a deep thrill spun through her.
“Is Debi always so volatile?”
“Volatile?” That was a good word for Debi. “You could say that,” she breathed, wondering if the neigh
bors were watching, amazed at how much she hoped they were, if it gave her an excuse to accept Jack’s embrace.
She continued talking because it kept her focused on something aside from his warm, hard body against her. “Debi was so young. She looked to me to take care of her.”
“To you? You were a child, too. What about your aunt and uncle?”
“Uncle Virgil has been a policeman his whole life. Aunt Bode’s always been eccentric. She was fun, except when she’d get into one of her moods, but she was never very motherly. She didn’t quite know what to do with two little girls.”
His fingers tightened and he pulled her closer.
“What about the car?” he asked with his typical single-minded focus.
But his practical words were at odds with his low, seductive voice, and his lips moving against her skin nearly caused her knees to buckle.
She struggled to concentrate. “The second one?” She angled her head away from his mouth, which was brushing her earlobe with disastrous effects on her ability to think.
“Mmm-hmm.” Jack took full advantage of her exposed neck and pushed her hair away with his hand as his tongue lightly touched the surprisingly sensitive place just behind her ear.
Her thighs tightened as her body reacted.
Lord, nobody had ever kissed her precisely there before. She had no idea that the delicate skin behind her ear could be so erotic.
For a few seconds, she was lost in sensation. She leaned back, only to come up against a shocking hard
ness pressing against her backside. He was aroused, too. A sense of power and satisfaction swirled through her. Jack O’Hara, for all his professional detachment, wanted her.
His arm tightened around her waist as he wound strands of her hair between his fingers and pulled her head back to press kisses along her jaw. He shifted, widening his stance, pulling her up close against his arousal.
“Holly, the car?”
His words finally sunk in, and she remembered that all this was an act.
He was just doing his job. She was his assignment. His being affected by her was nothing more than a man’s physical reaction to a woman.
“I heard it start up but I didn’t see anything,” she said tightly, pulling away from his touch, embarrassed that she’d let herself respond to him, even for a moment. He let her go.
A disturbing thought occurred to her as she turned around. “It was him, wasn’t it?”
To her consternation, he reached out and touched her cheek. Her response was instantaneous, an aftershock of the desire that had rocked her just a few moments before. So what if this was just a job to him. She wanted to know more about him, and about herself. She wanted to feel his hands against her bare skin, wanted to feel him cup her breasts, trace her waist and hips, touch her in places that hadn’t been touched in a long, long time.
“I’m going to take a look around. You didn’t see the color, the make, anything?” He met her gaze, his eyes frosty, his manner back to the consummate professional.