Irresistible Stranger

own troubles, if his daughter wasn’t such a huge, festering worry in his mind that he couldn’t always keep in.

“In high school. The arson fires that were never solved,” he said quietly. “She was in love with those boys. They took advantage, then jilted her. She was angry. She set those fires.”

“No, of course it wasn’t her!”

“Only then came the fire that killed the Campbells. Lily’s parents.” Griff eased to his feet, then crossed the room to quietly close the door. When he turned back, Conner’s ruddy complexion had gone gray, his eyes old. He lifted a hand to push it through his rumpled hair. The hand was trembling. He realized it. Griff saw it.

“It’s not like you think,” the sheriff said.

“So tell me how it was.”

“I didn’t know it was her. Not to start. It never occurred to me in a million years that it was my own daughter. “Once Conner started talking, it was as if a raw, festering boil had suddenly exploded.

“After her sister died, she just went searching for something, you know? She’d decide she loved some boy, sleep with him, probably scare the boy out of his mind with how fast and furious she was latching on. So he’d dump her. And then there’d be a fire.”

“Aw, hell.” Griff said it under his breath. He hadn’t known, not totally, not for dead sure, until the sheriff let loose.

“I didn’t associate those fires with Mary Belle. Why would I? At first I thought it was just vandalism. First one was in a school locker. I thought, probably pranks, a sports rivalry. It’s boys who set fires, almost never girls. And our Mary Belle, we were worried about her morals. But we weren’t worried about crime, certainly nothing like those fires. She’d never done anything like that, never got in any kind of trouble-”

“Why in God’s name did she pick on the Campbells?”

“She didn’t. But she was pregnant. I didn’t know. Her mother didn’t know. The house next to Campbells was empty, for sale. That’s where she and this boy were meeting at night. He had a way of getting in. Anyway she told him she was pregnant. Thought he’d marry her, they’d live happy ever after. He dumped her, called her a slut, said the only reason he was with her was for one thing…”

“And?”

“When the fire happened, when the Campbells died, I still didn’t know it was her. Nobody did. But she came crying to me, beside herself, guilty, ashamed, torn up. She never meant to hurt anyone else. She didn’t even mean to hurt him. She’d never harmed a person.”

Griff almost responded, realized every muscle in his spine was knotted tighter than barbed wire, and said nothing. Conner, he was pretty damned positive, had never told anyone about this. It had eaten him alive all this time.

“I’d do anything for my kids, you understand? I’d throw myself in front of a bus if I had to. When that fire happened-when she finally broke and told me-the Campbells, they were already gone. Nothing could save them. Nothing could make that right.”

“And you thought that made it okay to do nothing?” Griff had to keep the growl from his voice.

“No. Hell, no. But bringing it all to light was only going to ruin my daughter’s life, too-as well as the child’s in her belly. Her guilt, her responsibility, was to turn her life around. And she did that. She really did that. No, she didn’t make good marriages. But she’s been a good, fine mother. She pays her bills. She doesn’t play around at all anymore. She may look like she does, but she’s got her lights out at nine, just like her kids. She works hard, built that salon from scratch-”

Griff heard the word salon and a bullet went off in his head. He whirled around, grabbed the doorknob.

“What?” Conner said. “Where are you going?”

Adrenaline shot through Griff’s veins. Lily had babbled last night about getting some clothes, getting the soot and singe cut from her hair. Maybe there was another salon. It wasn’t as if Griff kept track of the women hairstylists in town. But the only one Lily had actually met was Mary Belle.

“What?” Conner repeated from behind him. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“I think Lily’s with your daughter. Right now.”

He didn’t look back to see what the sheriff did, he just ran.

He pushed through doors, down steps, past people. Torrents of rain bounced on the pavement, soaking him through before he’d made it a hundred yards. He passed his car-and yeah, it was right there-but to get three blocks, he could run faster, and did.

Enough had happened in the last three weeks to make the whole town jumpy. Griff running down Main Street attracted faces in windows, doors opening, a buzz of worried questions-and bodies in his way. He ducked and dodged, thinking that Lily had run through almost nine lives since she got here, but he was the one who wouldn’t survive if she wasn’t totally, completely all right.

He couldn’t be too late.

He couldn’t be.

Blinds were drawn on the salon windows; a sign at the door claimed the shop was closed for a few hours. That stopped him less than a second. Maybe the door was locked; if so, a sharp twist and push and it gave. He stepped in, had a heart attack. Damn near tripped over Mary Belle, who for some insane reason was curled on the floor crying her eyes out.

Lily was in a salon chair. Trapped. Tape circled her a half dozen times and her mouth was taped shut. Her eyes, her gorgeous eyes, were spitting tears-fear, rage, pain? In that first instant, he couldn’t grasp what was happening, the source of danger.

Lily made a muffled sound, bobbed her head over and over to the left. He crossed the room in long strides, saw in that single blink where she was trying to motion him…a hairdryer, plugged in, but the back off, revealing red-hot coils.

Then he got it. The counter of explosive products.

He yanked the plug, grabbed the dryer, heaved it into the farthest sink basin-traveling over the crazy heap of crying Mary Belle a second time. Then back to Lily. He ripped off the tape, heard her hoarsely cry his name. Then ripped at the tape wrapping her, unwinding it, his fingers fumbling blind, his gaze on her face, her lips, her eyes.

When he’d loosened all the miles of tape enough for her to break loose, she more than broke free, hurling herself up and into his arms.

His voice came out in rusty threads. “Damn stupid time to tell you, but I love you more than life.” More rust. His throat felt that raw. “I told you not to get a haircut here.”

“I know.” Her face lifted to his. She had to hear-so did he-the building commotion behind them. Bodies coming in. People talking. The sheriff’s voice. All he could see or hear was Lily. She took in a heave of a breath, a gulp of a sob. He soothed his fingers in her short hair, touching her, holding her, wanting to shield her. From everything. From now on. Forever.

“You won’t believe what stopped her,” she said. “Her youngest daughter telephoned. Mary Belle was all set to blow it up. To blow me up. And her daughter was just calling to ask about a spaghetti recipe or something that silly, and just hearing her daughter’s voice-that was it. Suddenly she caved. Curled up in that ball, started crying and couldn’t stop. Started rocking. But the coils on that hair dryer, Griff. They were hot. They were so red-hot. Another few minutes and…”

“Griff? Lily?”

A fire truck screamed from the street-this time, thank God, not needed-but Pecan Valley wasn’t going to risk not being ready ever again. A man’s hand cuffed his shoulder, trying to get his attention.

Griff wanted to get her out of here. Knew there were things that needed doing, saying, knowing. But for that instant, he just needed to breathe her in a little longer. Feel her hair, her skin. The frantic pulse in her throat was finally easing, that shocky glaze in her eyes softening. Her lips parted.

“You can’t mean it,” she said.

“Mean what?”

“That you’re in love with me. I mean…I know. We’ve been…two. I know we have something, are something when we’re together. But I told you it was all right, Griff.”

“Nothing’s been all right since you got here.”

“Which will make it easy for you to forget me.”