by Debby Conrad
He clawed at her pantyhose, tearing them away from her hips. The blood pounded in her brain, made her hands tremble. She remembered her panties being torn from her that horrible night, and it was all too much. All she had to say was “No” and she knew he would stop.
But she couldn’t say it. She was hypnotized by his touch.
He found her mouth again, kissing her deeply. His hands went to her hair, tugging the clip free. Then, pushing her legs wide, he touched her, dipped his finger in and out of her, spreading her moisture with his fingers.
He dragged his mouth away from hers. “Tell me to stop,” he rasped, lifting her blouse from the waistband of her skirt. Hollin closed her eyes, shutting away all her doubts and fears and threw her arms around him.
Swearing, he kissed her again. She was lost, totally immersed in him. And then a buzzer sounded.
“Griffin?” The woman’s voice sounded grainy but close by.
Griffin tore his mouth away. “Fuck!” He moved back several steps, ran both hands through his hair. His eyes, black as marbles, zoomed in on her. His erection continued to tent in his slacks while he fought to get himself under control. Making his way to the side of the desk, he picked up the phone and barked into it. “Not now, Frannie!”
Hollin used the distraction to quickly hop off the desk and tuck her blouse into her skirt. She spotted her hair clip and purse on the floor and bent to retrieve them. She’d totally forgotten where she and Griffin were, that his secretary was right outside the office door.
Had she no scruples? No pride whatsoever when it came to this man?
“I think I should go,” she said, her voice unsteady as she smoothed a hand over her rumpled clothing.
Griffin nodded, releasing a noisy breath.
But when she started to walk, the remains of her pantyhose came puddling around her legs and ankles. She felt a shudder of humiliation as she shuffled to the chair, kicked off her shoes and removed the scrap of nylon. Bundling it into a ball, she pushed it into her purse and stood.
“I’m sorry,” Griffin said, glancing at her bare legs. “I’ll replace them.”
“No need. It was my fault. I . . .” She met his gaze, studying him. He was quite possibly just as uncomfortable as she was. She let herself flop back into the chair and let out a tiny snort. “Griffin, what are we doing?”
“That’s a good question.” He stalked to the desk, rested his hip on the corner. “All I know is you’ve got me turned inside out. I can’t be in the same room with you without touching you, without thinking about what it would be like to be inside you.” He looked into her eyes, as if he was gauging her reaction. “I keep telling myself you’re wrong for me. I’ve been telling myself that since you were fifteen. But I can’t get you out of my mind. Maybe once we finally . . . ”
He didn’t finish his statement, but she knew exactly where he was going with it. “Is that why you want to . . . fuck me?” she asked, suddenly furious inside. “So you can get me out of your system? One more notch on your belt?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. She stood, lifting her chin and forcing her shoulders back.
Griffin pushed off the desk. “Wait a minute! Don’t go getting all holier than thou on me. Not ten minutes ago you admitted that you didn’t know if it was me you wanted or if I was some kind of experiment to see if you could stand to have sex with a man.”
Swallowing her pride, Hollin knew he was right. What made her confession any less hurtful than his? She blew out a frustrated breath. “Okay, so what do we do about it?”
“I guess we take the plunge. Find out what it is we’re really feeling.”
She nodded reluctantly.
“But not here,” he said. “And not now. I’ve got a million things going on.”
Hollin tried to look dignified, businesslike again. “I didn’t realize you were so busy. I guess I should have called first.”
“It’s okay,” he said with a shrug. “I understand. You missed me, and wanted to stop by and say hello.” He raised his brows, and smiled hopefully. “Right?”
“You should smile more often. It looks good on you.”
His smile faded. “Yes, well I don’t think I’ve had a whole lot to smile about in my lifetime.”
Hollin picked at a loose thread on her jacket, then met his gaze again and relaxed her stance. “Ed Townsend said you were interested in buying some of my mother’s property.”
His brows shot up again. “He said your mother wasn’t interested in selling.”
“She’s not, but I don’t see where she has a choice. The place is mortgaged to the hilt and she owes back taxes. The house is literally falling apart.” She hated discussing her mother’s financial problems with Griffin, but it couldn’t be helped. “She loves that old house. I think she would wither up and die rather than sell it. But in order to keep the house and make all the necessary repairs, we’ll need cash. And that means selling off some of the land.”
He crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly. He seemed to be contemplating. “Your house sits smack in the middle of the most valuable section of the property.”
“The house isn’t for sale. I’m going to talk to my mother about selling off the section of land east of the house. There are about two acres there, if you’re interested.”
“Hollin, be reasonable. How long do you think you’re going to be able to hold on to the house?”
“As long as I can. I’m not going back to Boston. I’m going to stay here and get a job, help my mother.”
He shook his head with a look of dismay. “You’re dreaming.”
“I’d like two hundred thousand for the two acres.”
Griffin dropped his hands to his sides. “Are you crazy? I’ll give you fifty thousand, not a penny more.”
She thought for a moment. “Seventy-five, and I’ll have Ed write up a first right of refusal for any additional property.”
Narrowing his eyes, he studied her for a moment. “Fine. I’ll have my attorney draw up the papers and send them over to Townsend’s office.”
Hollin released the breath she’d been holding, feeling proud of the deal she’d made. Now she had to convince her mother to sell. “Okay then.” She moved toward the door.
Griffin followed, stepping around her to open it for her.
Not knowing exactly what to say, she moved past him and made her way into the reception area. The woman with the burgundy hair smiled politely, running her gaze over Hollin’s attire. Her eyes widened at the sight of Hollin’s bare legs, and she quickly looked away.
Hollin turned to Griffin. “I’ll be in touch once I talk to my mother.” She offered him her hand.
He ignored it. Instead, he leaned forward and brushed her cheek with a kiss. In a low voice, he said, “I’ll be looking forward to finishing our little meeting.”
Hollin walked to the front door on shaky legs. She took in the drawings hanging on the office walls with appreciation. But she knew he was still watching her. She could feel his eyes on her the whole while. She didn’t dare turn around as she opened the door.
#
Griffin kept his gaze glued on Hollin until she closed the door and disappeared from sight. He turned around to find Frannie watching him with interest. “Nothing happened,” he said, pointing a finger at her.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention to anyone that Hollin Pierce was here today.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Uh, huh,” he mumbled, doubtful, and started to walk back into his office.
Frannie let her breath out in a huff, got to her feet and slammed her hands on her ample hips. “Now you listen to me, Griffin Wells. I may gossip about Emma Snyder who has been cheating on her husband for years, and Anne Kowalski who makes the worst pies for the church bake-off, but I don’t gossip about people I care about.”
Frannie cared about him? Griffin almost laughed until she continued to se
t him straight.
“Do you actually think I would have come to work for you if I believed you had raped that girl?”
“A jury of my peers said otherwise.”
“Hah. Nate and Maryanne Whitaker are my dearest and oldest friends. When I moved back to Whisper Lake after Bill walked out on me in Chicago, the Whitakers recommended I call you about the job opening. They said you were a good man, paid a terrible price for a crime you didn’t commit. At the time that was good enough for me. But since I’ve come to work here, I’ve gotten to know you. Sure, you’re stubborn, grumpy and you sulk a lot. But you’re also fair and honest. And I know you aren’t capable of hurting anyone like that, no matter what those jurors believed.”
Griffin wanted to cry. With the exception of the Whitakers and a few business associates, he didn’t think he had any friends in town. He stood there, speechless, staring at his chubby secretary with the burgundy hair. What was he supposed to say her? He spread his fingers, letting her know he was at a loss for words.
“Go on,” she said, waving a hand at him. “You have work to do.”
He sucked in a breath, walked around the desk and hugged her. “Thanks, Frannie.”
She hugged him back, then broke away. “Get away from me before I start to cry.”
Laughing, he took a step backward. “Do you really think I’m grumpy?”
“You’re the worst.”
“Hmmm.” Griffin strode back to his office. “I’ll try to work on that,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. And then he shut the door behind him. “I’ll be damned. Frannie believes in my innocence.”
#
Hollin marched into Rachel’s room without bothering to knock. “Why have you been avoiding me?” she demanded of her sister, who was still in bed at shortly after one in the afternoon. Hollin had just returned from Griffin’s office.
“Get out,” Rachel mumbled, her words barely intelligible against the pillow. She turned her face away from the doorway and Hollin.
“You ran out of here several nights ago, after scaring me half to death, and then you’ve been sneaking in and out of here ever since. I’ve been worried sick about you, Rachel.”
Rachel pulled the covers over her head. “Go away.”
But Hollin wasn’t leaving, not yet. “Did that man with all the tattoos tell you I was at the Peacock Motel the other night?”
Rachel grunted.
“Who is he?”
“Nobody.”
“Well, he seemed pretty protective. He wouldn’t even let me in the room.” Sounds came from beneath the blanket, but Hollin couldn’t make out the words.
“You know, I don’t feel sorry for you. You’re beautiful. You have a darling daughter, who you don’t appreciate. A family who loves you.” She paused for a moment, hoping her words would sink in. “Why don’t you go back to school?” she suggested.
No response. Rachel had once wanted to be a veterinarian, but she’d dropped out of school before even getting a bachelor’s degree. They’d never owned any pets. Their mother thought animals were dirty and germy, and didn’t belong in the house. Which is probably why Rachel had leaned toward the profession in the first place.
Frustrated with her sister, Hollin said, “Fine. You don’t want to talk about you, then let’s talk about me.” She sat on the edge of the bed, angled her body so she could see Rachel’s form beneath the covers. “I haven’t had any luck finding a job yet.”
Obviously, Rachel didn’t care.
“I’m going to talk to Mom later about selling a few acres on the east side. With the money, we can maybe get a new roof, pay the taxes, and keep this ship afloat for a little while longer.”
Still nothing.
“Neil Thorpe scared me the other morning. He jumped out of the bushes. I think he’s been following me. It’s like he’s obsessed or something. And I’m actually frightened of him.”
Frustrated, Hollin sighed. “Rachel, I’ve been thinking about that night,” she said slowly. “And I don’t remember seeing a pocketknife anywhere near where I was raped. Griffin said at the trial that someone must have planted it. At the time, we all assumed he was only lying. But I realize now that it wasn’t Griffin who hurt me.”
“Damn it, Rachel. Talk to me.” She lifted her gaze skyward, then focused on the lump in the bed. “I think I’m falling for him. I think I’m falling for Griffin Wells.”
Rachel’s head poked out from beneath the covers then slammed into the pillow. She let out a low growl. “Why can’t you leave the past alone?”
“I don’t know. I just can’t. Maybe it’s because I ruined his life. And maybe it’s because I want to prove to myself I can be normal. I want to get married someday and have children. I don’t want to cringe every time my husband touches me, or wants to make love to me.” Thoughts of her sitting on Griffin’s desk that morning, him ripping her pantyhose and touching her so intimately, came rushing back. Her face heated with the memories. If it hadn’t been for his secretary interrupting them, they would have done it right there in his office.
She’d been so terrified and yet her passion for Griffin had outweighed her fears of sexual contact and intimacy. “Rachel, we’ve come close to making love twice now.”
Rachel flipped onto her back, pushed the hair from her face and rubbed at her mascara smeared eyes. “What did you say?”
Hollin smelled the scent of stale cigarette smoke on her. “You heard me. He wants to have sex with me, and I want to have sex with him.”
Using her elbows, Rachel pushed herself into a sitting position. “Of course he wants to have sex with you. What man wouldn’t want to have sex with you? You’re beautiful. But don’t be so stupid and naive, Hollin. He’s using you. He’s angry. How can you possibly think it’s anything more than that?”
“I don’t care why he wants me,” she said stubbornly, refusing to admit her sister’s words had hit a nerve. “All I know is that I’m going to sleep with him. Soon.”
Rachel’s blue eyes turned into hard, angry slits. “You can’t, you fool!” Before Hollin had a chance to respond, Rachel’s eyes widened. “Please tell me you’re not selling Mom’s land to him.” Hollin didn’t answer. “Oh my God. Don’t you see what he’s doing? He wants revenge. He’s trying to manipulate you. And he’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants.”
Hollin sat there, staring at her sister, refusing to listen. Rachel was wrong about Griffin. And then a thought flashed through her mind. “You haven’t once argued the point about Griffin being innocent.”
Rachel averted her gaze.
“You know something, Rachel. What is it that you’re not telling me?”
Their gazes locked and Rachel finally spoke. “You’re going to get hurt. I want to protect you, but I don’t know if I can. You survived the last time, but you may not survive the next time. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Without saying another word, Rachel rolled out of bed, wearing a tank top and matching panties. She shuffled past Hollin, into the bathroom and slammed the door.
Hollin’s subconscious thoughts came swimming to the surface. Who did Rachel think was going to hurt Hollin? Griffin? Burying her face in her hands, an even more terrifying realization washed over her. What if Rachel had known all along that Griffin wasn’t the one who had hurt her that night? And what if Rachel knew who it was who had hurt her? But that didn’t make sense because surely if Rachel knew something, she would have told her.
Hollin lifted her weary body from the bed and made her way across the room. She knocked on the solid wood bathroom door. “Rachel, we need to talk.”
“Go away. I’ve said all I’m going to say.”
Hollin tried the door knob, but it was locked. “Rachel, please.”
The door flew open suddenly and Rachel stood there, glaring at her. “You’ve always seen what you wanted to see. You think that everyone has good in them. Well, you’re wrong, Hollin. Some people are sick and evil and don’t give a damn who they hurt as long as they satisfy the
ir hunger. And until you realize that, you’re nothing but an open target.”
Hollin touched Rachel’s arm, but Rachel shook free. “I need to think,” Rachel said, looking at a blank space on the wall. “I have to find a way to stop him.”
“Who? Stop who?” Hollin asked impatiently.
Rachel tossed her head from side to side, refusing to look at Hollin. “Get out of my room, and leave me alone!”
“But--”
“Get out!” Rachel flung her arm toward the door, and Hollin left quietly.
She had no idea who to trust at this point. She only half believed Rachel, and didn’t quite trust her. Her own sister. Maybe if she talked to Brad. Together, maybe they could get Rachel into some kind of therapy.
And then she laughed dryly. What a joke! Rachel had never listened to Hollin or Brad about anything, and Hollin doubted she would start now. But talking to Brad still couldn’t hurt.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Angela fought the urge to cry. She reminded herself she was a lady. A Hollinsworth. And Hollinsworths didn’t cry. They were too proud. Angela barely cried when her husbands had died.
Tom Pierce’s death had shaken her world. He’d left her with two young daughters to raise and barely enough insurance money to last a few measly years. Her spirits had sunk into a well of despair. And then John MacDougal had come along. He’d spoiled her even more than Tom had. There wasn’t anything that man wouldn’t have done for her.
But now they were both gone, and she was broke. At fifty-five she was hardly in a position to go husband hunting. Although, in spite of a few wrinkles, she was an attractive woman. Because she didn’t drink and she watched her diet, she still weighed the same as the day she’d married John, more than twenty years ago.
But she didn’t have the energy to start over. Finding a man, a good man, took careful planning, and lots of patience.
It seemed like only yesterday when John and Brad had moved in with her and the girls. There was a time when she’d thought she’d made a mistake, that marrying a man with a son was too much of a strain on their marriage. Brad hadn’t seemed happy that his father had remarried, and he was jealous of Rachel and Hollin, especially Hollin. He used to torment the girls, make them cry. Shortly after her marriage to John, Angela had told him it wasn’t working, and John had promised to speak to Brad. She’d almost suggested that Brad go to live with his aunt Marsha. But before she’d voiced her opinion, Brad quickly fell into step, and the five of them had become a family.
