EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE (15 page)

She had dimples low on her back where her ass began to round. Unable to tear his gaze away, he swore silently. He wanted her again. How ridiculous was that? This woman who as a teenager had accused him of raping her, who now as a woman was obviously worried she may be carrying his child, and he didn’t want her to leave.

He sat up. “Hollin, don’t go.”

Dressed only in a white bra and white, bikini panties, she stood frozen in place for several seconds before turning around to face him. “Give me one good reason to stay.”

“I was acting like an ass.”

She didn’t argue.

“You confuse me, okay? I don’t know what the hell I want. But can’t we just enjoy it for whatever it is?”

Apparently not, he thought as he watched her push her arms into the sleeves of her blouse. “Hollin, you’re being ridiculous. I don’t even know why you’re angry at me.”

Her facial features softened. “I don’t know either. But you still haven’t given me any reason to stay.”

Lowering the sheet, he directed her gaze to his erection. “Is this reason enough?” he asked, and laughed when she dropped her slacks to the floor and climbed into bed beside him.

“Can I be on top this time?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said. “And this time, I promise to wear a condom.”

She didn’t argue with him. Instead, she lowered her head and kissed him thoroughly.

#

He stood outside on Wells’s deck, watching them through the patio door. They were naked and sweaty. It was disgusting. Hollin threw her head back, smiled, and rode that piece of trailer trash like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco. The slut.

All these years, he’d thought he was the only one who had been inside her, and now he knew for certain he was wrong.

For all he knew, Griffin wasn’t the only man she’d been fucking, either. She could have been getting it on with lots of guys in Boston, all the while pretending to be the innocent he’d believed her to be. The stupid, lying bitch!

She belonged to him, and no one made a fool of him like that and got away with it. She was no different than Rachel. She’d used him, too. Not that he cared. He didn’t give a damn about her. The girl had no scruples whatsoever. That bitch would fuck anything with two legs.

But Hollin was different, or at least he’d thought so. Until recently. She’d been sneaking around with Wells since she’d come home for the funeral. Had even gone to work for the bastard. Talk about sticking a knife in his heart.

Well, he’d had about enough.

Worrying he was going to be sick, he moved away from the door, pressed his back to the house and took several, deep breaths. He stared up at the sky and focused on a passing cloud, willing his stomach to settle.

He was confused. How had Wells convinced Hollin he hadn’t raped her? And after all this time? He wanted to know, had a right to know what the asshole had told her to change her mind.

And he intended to find out. Right before he killed her for betraying him.

Hollin paid for her mother’s prescription and was about to leave the drugstore when she noticed Sara MacDougal standing in one of the aisles. Hollin made her way toward her. “Hi, Sara.”

Sara looked up, surprise registering on her face. “Oh, Hollin.” She fumbled with the bottle of shampoo she was holding, then returned it to the shelf, knocking over two bottles in the process.

“Here, let me help,” Hollin offered, standing the bottles upright.

“Thanks. I’m just killing time before my next class.” Her hair had grown in the weeks since John’s funeral, and the short auburn curls helped to soften her features.

“So you’re still in school?”

“Yes. I have no idea what I want to do when I graduate. I’m majoring in business, but we’ll see.” She hiked her backpack higher on her shoulders.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.” Hollin glanced at her watch. “I don’t have to be at work for another hour. Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” Griffin had said he would meet her at the office at ten this morning.

“I . . . uh, actually I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Hollin smiled. “That’s okay. Maybe some other time. Anyway, it was nice seeing you.” She started to walk away when Sara stopped her.

“Hollin?”

Hollin pivoted around to face her.

“Coffee sounds nice.”

The Coffee Clutch was located in a shopping plaza directly across the street from the drugstore. They walked over and got a table by the window. The waitress quickly filled their mugs and then flew off without bothering to ask if they wanted anything else. Like one of the delicious looking pastries they’d seen in the bakery case when they’d entered. The smells were enough to make a person drool. Hollin hadn’t eaten any breakfast, and her stomach growled in protest.

The place was decorated with eclectic artwork and furnishings. On one wall was a mural boasting hundreds of tea cups in brightly colored patterns. And each of the six tables had mismatched chairs encompassing them. A little busy for her taste, but charming in an odd sort of way.

Sara’s gaze flittered nervously around the tiny room, skipping over the handful of customers. In the six years Hollin had known Sara, she’d only spoken to the woman half a dozen times or so. She barely knew her, but had always thought she was nice. Quiet, a little unpoised, but certainly pleasant enough. But until seeing her at the funeral, and then this morning, Hollin had never noticed how jittery and uneasy she was.

Hollin lifted her mug to her lips and took a sip of the hot liquid. It assaulted her empty stomach as if she’d just swallowed drain cleaner. Maybe she should have ordered a cup of herbal tea instead. She set the cup on the black lacquer table. “I was sorry to hear about Brad’s and your divorce. But just because we’re no longer sister-in-laws doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

Sara blinked as if confused. “I assumed you and the rest of your family hated me.”

Sara’s comment came as a surprise. “Why would we hate you?”

Sara averted her gaze and looked out the window. “I don’t know. But Brad made it sound as if you did.”

Hollin studied her ex-sister-in-law. She was dressed in jeans, sneakers and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Unlike the first time Hollin had met her, when her hair was shoulder length and she wore more feminine clothing.

But because her style had changed, and because she had divorced Brad, weren’t any reasons for Hollin, or anyone else in her family, to dislike Sara. “I apologize for whatever my brother could possibly have said to make you think something like that. But I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth.”

Sara finally looked at her. Her blue eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You don’t think I’m a freak?”

“A freak?
No, of course not. Why would I think that?”

Her gaze shifted again, then came back to Hollin. “Because I’m . . . gay.”

Hollin was stunned at first. How could Sara be gay? She’d been married to Brad for four years. “I didn’t know.” She frowned, trying to think how that was possible. “Are you sure?”

Sara laughed. “What else could it be? I shudder at the thought of any man touching me. I know he’s your brother, and I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I couldn’t stand for Brad to touch me. And besides, I met someone. A woman.” She smiled sincerely. “I’m definitely gay.”

“And you think my family hates you because of that?”

Shaking her head, Sara said, “I don’t know what to think anymore. All I know is that Rachel snubbed me once while Brad and I were separated. And when I mentioned it to Brad he said Rachel didn’t have much use for me.”

“I’m sorry, but Rachel doesn’t have much use for anyone these days, including me.” Or her own daughter, she wanted to add, but didn’t. “Well, I’m glad you told me, and I don’t see what difference it will make.” She reached across the table and laid a hand across Sara’s forearm. “I’d still like for you to be my friend.”

‘Thank you, Hollin.” She glanced at the chunky wrist watch on her arm. “Oh, I have to go.” Leaning over, she grabbed her backpack and unzipped it. “I have some money in here somewhere.”

“My treat, I insist.” Hollin put a few dollars on the table and stood.

Sara scraped her chair back noisily and together they walked to the door. Just as they stepped outside into the warm sunshine, Hollin came face to face with Neil Thorpe.

“Hi, Professor Thorpe,” Sara said with enthusiasm, then turned to Hollin. “I really have to run. Thanks. For everything.”

Hollin opened her mouth to say something, but it was too late. Sara had already disappeared around the corner.

“Hello, Hollin.” Neil looked hopeful as he stared down at her. The wind lifted a chunk of his blond hair.

“Hello.” Her tone was clipped. She went to step around him, but Neil was faster, blocking her way.
“Excuse me,”
she said, without bothering to hide her irritation. Pulling her blazer together, she buttoned it at the waist and tried to step around him again.

“Wait,” he said, placing a hand on her arm. “I really want to talk with you.”

“I’m sorry. I need to get to work.” She shook her arm free.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. How could you have gone to work for him, Hollin? And after what he did to you? Griffin Wells is an animal.”

Hollin refused to listen. “I really have to go.” Barely paying any attention to traffic, she darted across the street. A loud horn blared, scaring her half to death, but not nearly as much as when she’d looked up and seen Neil standing on the sidewalk. Quickly, she climbed inside her car and locked the doors behind her.

Neil stood in front of the Coffee Clutch staring at her as if she was crazy, and Hollin found herself staring back at him through the windshield. Although her heart raced, her breath came in short pants, and her palms grew clammy, she refused to look away.

“Was it you, Neil?” she whispered. “Was it you who hurt me that night?” She kept her gaze locked on him until he finally turned his back and disappeared inside the coffee shop.

#

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Griffin asked Hollin for the second time that morning. They were in his office, behind closed doors, discussing the condo project. Or at least they were supposed to be discussing it.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, uncrossing her legs then crossing them again.

But Griffin didn’t believe her. She wasn’t herself, and her mind definitely wasn’t on the project. He’d repeated himself numerous times in the thirty minutes since she arrived, watching as she buttoned and unbuttoned the blue corduroy blazer she wore more than a dozen times.

Pushing his chair back, he stood and walked around the desk to stand in front of her. He leaned his hip against the edge of the desk, and crossed one foot over the other. He kept his focus on her eyes. “Is this about yesterday afternoon? Did I say or do something to upset you?”

“No. Yesterday was . . .”

“Pretty spectacular,” he finished for her with a smug grin. Visions of her naked and riding him came to mind.

She blushed and pushed a lock of hair behind her ears. “Yes, it was. I never did thank you.”

Hollin amazed him. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s me who should be thanking you. Your trusting me meant more than you can imagine.”

She averted her gaze and looked at the legal pad in her lap.

Griffin sighed with impatience. “What is it?”

Glancing up, she said, “Nothing. Can we please get back to work?”

“Not until you tell me why you’re so jittery this morning. And don’t tell me it’s because you had too much coffee. I didn’t believe you ten minutes ago, and I’m not going to believe you now.”

She ran her tongue across her top lip. “If you must know, I ran into someone this morning that I’m not particularly fond of.”

“Who is he?”

“I didn’t say it was a he.”

“You didn’t have to. Who is this guy?”

She didn’t answer.

“Hollin,” he said, giving her a stern look as he pushed away from the desk and stood towering over her.

She swallowed. “You probably don’t even know him. He’s someone I went to high school with. He keeps popping up around me.”

“What’s his name?”

“Neil Thorpe. He’s a professor at the community college.”

Griffin thought for a moment, trying to place the name with a face. “Skinny guy? Blond hair?”

Hollin nodded. “He makes me uncomfortable.”

Griffin noticed the way she twisted her hands in her lap. “How?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“You said he keeps popping up around you. What does that mean exactly?”

“He came to see me a few times, at the house, and this morning I bumped into him on the street.”

“That’s it?”

She shrugged, and nodded. But there was more. He was sure of it.

“What else?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I think he likes me.”

Griffin walked back around the desk and sat down as he tried to read her mind. “You think he likes you. You mean you think he might be obsessed with you.”

Frowning, she said, “Yes.”

He studied her for a moment longer. Her eyes conveyed the misery and vulnerability within her. “There’s something else,” he surmised.

She licked her top lip again, her tongue just missing the tiny mole. “I have a feeling he’s been following me.”

Anger singed the edges of his control. He wanted to hurt this guy for frightening Hollin the way he had. “I’ll have a talk with him.”

Her eyes grew wide. “I don’t know if that would be such a good idea. Maybe I’m overreacting.”

He forced himself to temper his fury. “I’ll still have a talk with him.”

“Griffin, promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

He laughed. “Stupid’s my middle name.”

She glared at him. “That’s not funny. You know what I mean. Neil isn’t like you. He’s . . .” She paused for a moment as if trying to pick the right word or phrase to describe the man. “He’s docile.”

“Docile?”

“Yes. You know, timid, meek.”

“I know what docile means, Hollin. Just because I didn’t finish school doesn’t mean I’m ignorant.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply--”

He waved a hand, cutting her off. “I’m going to have a talk with Mr. Docile, Timid and Meek. And believe me, when I get through with him he’ll never so much as look your way again.”

And if he found out that Thorpe was the one who had raped Hollin, he would hate to think what he might do to the guy. Hurting him wouldn’t be enough. That he was certain of.

#

Except for the tall pole lights in the parking lot, it was dark at ten after nine, and he knew she’d be done working any minute now. He watched with anticipation as the girl came out of the mall and went in search of her car.

She was dressed in cheap clothing, a tight skirt and low-cut top, probably bought at the store where she worked. The sign at the entrance boasted everything was ten dollars or less. He shook his head in disgust. Why anyone would want to wear such tacky stuff was beyond him.

Her skinny legs were bare, her feet sporting boxy looking shoes that were supposed to be trendy but only looked hideous on her.

The surprise on her face when she saw him standing in front of her rusty Toyota was indescribable. Like he was some kind of god. Or her hero maybe.

“Greg!” she squealed, and ran her fake fingernails through her bleached blond curls, fluffing them. As if it would help her appearance somehow. Her makeup had all but faded. “Where have you been? I thought I was never going to see you again.”

“My wife knows about us, Mandy. She knows I’m in love with you, but she refuses to give me a divorce until after the baby is born.”

She stared at him open mouthed, and he thought for a moment he’d gotten her name wrong. Then she threw herself in his arms and held on. The scent of her dime store perfume was nauseating him, and he turned his head slightly to avoid smelling it.

“I don’t care that she knows. I love you, and you love me. That’s all that matters.”

A Hallmark moment for sure. He rolled his eyes.

She was so sincere, he almost laughed. What a stupid, little twit she was.

They’d met in this same parking lot a few months ago. Ross Park Mall was about an hour south of Whisper Lake. A sure bet no one would know him here. He’d seen her park her car and walk inside the mall. After slashing her tire, he’d waited and waited. He’d been about to give up on her until she finally came out more than four hours later. How was he supposed to know she worked there?

She’d been distressed seeing the flat tire and was about to call her mother to come and get her when he came to the rescue. He changed her tire for her, ruining his slacks on the wet slushy pavement. Afterward, she was so grateful, she agreed to join him for coffee.

He spent the entire hour telling her lies. How he was a plastic surgeon, that his wife was pregnant. That she refused to have sex with him any longer, and had only married him for his money.

He’d also told Mandy how beautiful she was, how he would do anything to spend time with someone real, like her, who appreciated him.

She’d giggled and blushed, and he’d felt like gagging the whole time. But she’d bought his lies, every last one of them. At the end of the evening, she’d offered to give him a blow job for his troubles. What a whore. She didn’t even ask him to wear a condom.