“I’m Jack O’Hara, Holly’s husband.”
Brad’s father looked at Jack’s hand. He didn’t offer his own. “I know who you are,” he growled.
“Sir, I’m glad to meet you. I know you wish your son’s widow well. I look forward to getting to know you and the rest of the people in Maze.”
Frasier never met his gaze. He barely looked at Holly. “Better tell your new husband to watch his step around here. It’s not a very friendly place for strangers.”
Stepping around Jack without further acknowledgment, he approached the counter. “Ames, I’ve got a book I need to mail.”
Holly caught Jack’s eye and silently gestured with a nod. He glanced back at Thomas Frasier, then followed her out.
Relieved that Jack didn’t intend to pursue his conversation with Mr. Frasier, Holly headed for the car.
Once Jack was in the driver’s seat, she pleaded with him. “There are so many things you don’t understand. Please don’t bait Mr. Frasier. He’s never gotten over Brad’s death.”
“Why not?”
“Are you a robot?” she cried, shocked at his response. “What kind of question is that? Because people never get over the death of a loved one. Brad was his son! He was just twenty-four. Nobody should die that young. He had his whole life ahead of him.”
Jack sent her an unfathomable look. “That doesn’t explain his hostility. I thought everybody in Maze adored you.”
She shrugged, her heart aching. If Uncle Virgil had told Jack everything, why hadn’t he told him about herand Brad? She rubbed her temple. She didn’t want to talk about this.
“Holly?” Jack’s voice took on a new timbre, a soothing, seductive tone. “I’m your husband. We’re being watched.” He put his fingers on the side of her face and urged her to look at him. “Smile for me.”
She raised her gaze to his, and saw a soft, smoky concern there that sent her heart racing and lodged a lump in her throat. She gave him a tremulous smile. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brad’s father glaring at them from the post office doorway, as Bob walked down the sidewalk.
Jack was just acting. She was surprised at how much that reminder hurt.
She forced her smile to stay in place, and touched his hand where it lingered on her cheek, aware that this was only the beginning of many falsely loving touches she was destined to endure before this nightmare was over.
Jack leaned over and kissed her, the hard line of his mouth softening, his lips warm, sure and slow. She closed her eyes, held captive by his mouth and the surge of need that erupted inside her. All thoughts of Brad’s father flew out of her head. Her lips parted and his tongue touched hers. Then he pulled away, ducking his head briefly before he met her gaze.
The hunger was there, she was sure of it, before he morphed back into the actor playing his role.
“What’s Brad’s father got against you?”
“What?” she murmured, half mesmerized by his kiss and his dark gaze.
“Holly.” He sounded impatient. “I’m a trained observer. I recognize hatred when I see it.”
Hatred? The fantasy of yearning his kiss had stirredwaned and she was thrust back into the real world, a world where a killer was stalking her.
“Mr. Frasier blamed me for ruining Brad’s pro football career. Several pro teams were watching him during his first year of college. I—thought I might be pregnant.”
He sat up a little straighter and stared at her. “You were pregnant? That’s not in my report.”
She shook her head, remembering the mixture of joy and fear she’d felt when she looked at the little blue stick.
“We were engaged, so we just moved up the wedding date and Brad registered for the fall semester. None of the pro teams had come forward with a concrete offer anyway. But then…the pregnancy test must have been wrong.”
“Or you miscarried?” His words were gentle.
She shook her head. It didn’t matter now. The baby she’d wanted simply hadn’t been
Brad’s father looked at Jack’s hand. He didn’t offer his own. “I know who you are,” he growled.
“Sir, I’m glad to meet you. I know you wish your son’s widow well. I look forward to getting to know you and the rest of the people in Maze.”
Frasier never met his gaze. He barely looked at Holly. “Better tell your new husband to watch his step around here. It’s not a very friendly place for strangers.”
Stepping around Jack without further acknowledgment, he approached the counter. “Ames, I’ve got a book I need to mail.”
Holly caught Jack’s eye and silently gestured with a nod. He glanced back at Thomas Frasier, then followed her out.
Relieved that Jack didn’t intend to pursue his conversation with Mr. Frasier, Holly headed for the car.
Once Jack was in the driver’s seat, she pleaded with him. “There are so many things you don’t understand. Please don’t bait Mr. Frasier. He’s never gotten over Brad’s death.”
“Why not?”
“Are you a robot?” she cried, shocked at his response. “What kind of question is that? Because people never get over the death of a loved one. Brad was his son! He was just twenty-four. Nobody should die that young. He had his whole life ahead of him.”
Jack sent her an unfathomable look. “That doesn’t explain his hostility. I thought everybody in Maze adored you.”
She shrugged, her heart aching. If Uncle Virgil had told Jack everything, why hadn’t he told him about herand Brad? She rubbed her temple. She didn’t want to talk about this.
“Holly?” Jack’s voice took on a new timbre, a soothing, seductive tone. “I’m your husband. We’re being watched.” He put his fingers on the side of her face and urged her to look at him. “Smile for me.”
She raised her gaze to his, and saw a soft, smoky concern there that sent her heart racing and lodged a lump in her throat. She gave him a tremulous smile. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brad’s father glaring at them from the post office doorway, as Bob walked down the sidewalk.
Jack was just acting. She was surprised at how much that reminder hurt.
She forced her smile to stay in place, and touched his hand where it lingered on her cheek, aware that this was only the beginning of many falsely loving touches she was destined to endure before this nightmare was over.
Jack leaned over and kissed her, the hard line of his mouth softening, his lips warm, sure and slow. She closed her eyes, held captive by his mouth and the surge of need that erupted inside her. All thoughts of Brad’s father flew out of her head. Her lips parted and his tongue touched hers. Then he pulled away, ducking his head briefly before he met her gaze.
The hunger was there, she was sure of it, before he morphed back into the actor playing his role.
“What’s Brad’s father got against you?”
“What?” she murmured, half mesmerized by his kiss and his dark gaze.
“Holly.” He sounded impatient. “I’m a trained observer. I recognize hatred when I see it.”
Hatred? The fantasy of yearning his kiss had stirredwaned and she was thrust back into the real world, a world where a killer was stalking her.
“Mr. Frasier blamed me for ruining Brad’s pro football career. Several pro teams were watching him during his first year of college. I—thought I might be pregnant.”
He sat up a little straighter and stared at her. “You were pregnant? That’s not in my report.”
She shook her head, remembering the mixture of joy and fear she’d felt when she looked at the little blue stick.
“We were engaged, so we just moved up the wedding date and Brad registered for the fall semester. None of the pro teams had come forward with a concrete offer anyway. But then…the pregnancy test must have been wrong.”
“Or you miscarried?” His words were gentle.
She shook her head. It didn’t matter now. The baby she’d wanted simply hadn’t been
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