Gingerbread Man

Red."
    She sighed. "Mom wanted to know what I was doing out at your place earlier, when 1 saw ... whatever the hell I saw."
    "And you didn't want to tell her you were snooping?"
    She widened her eyes and put on the phoniest innocent expression he'd ever seen—and he'd seen plenty—then she quickly lowered her head. As if she knew he could see through the act. "I wasn't snooping. Exactly. But Mom would have blown it all out of proportion and started worrying about me if I had tried to explain."
    "Seems like a lot of people do a lot of worrying about you," he said.
    She shook her head. "Not because I enjoy it, believe me. At any rate, my mother assumed I'd been at your place because I had a crush on you. I decided to let her go with that. It's better for her than the alternative. And that led to this."
    He nodded slowly. "That almost makes sense."
    "What do you mean, almost?"
    She tipped her face up to ask the question, and he felt his body react again. He hadn't noticed the ripeness of her lips before. They were full. Plump and juicy looking. He forced his eyes up to hers instead. He was a cop and she knew something connected to the crime he was here to investigate. He felt it right to his toes. He needed to focus on that and nothing else. Anything else was too dangerous.
She
was too dangerous. She had secrets. Those haunted eyes told him so. Maybe he needed to remind himself of that—maybe once she verified it for him, his body would listen to the warnings his mind was sending. And maybe her secrets were all tied in with his case.
    "Why does your mom worry so much about you, Red? I mean, what would she have thought about your coming out to my place to spy on me that would have caused her undue concern?"
    She only shrugged, but she looked away from his eyes, he noticed. "Mom's a worrier."
    "I think there's more to it than that."
    "What makes you think so?"
    "I've seen enough to know a woman with a past when I see one. I think you have a history, Holly Newman."
    She shot him a look that should have knocked him flat. Like a bullet. "So what if I do?"
    "I want to know about it"
    She shook her head. "Don't go there, Vince."
    He held her gaze for a long moment. It was deep and shuttered. And more. It was afraid. "Why not? What do you have to hide?"
    She jerked free of him, stood there with her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I don't want to talk about it."
    He shrugged. "I am a cop, you know. I can find out anyway."
    She looked suddenly stricken. As if he'd scraped a nerve with a sharp blade. A throat cleared beside them, but Vince didn't shift his gaze. It was still locked with hers.
    "Is, uh, everything okay here? Holly?"
    She looked away first. "Fine, Uncle Marty," she said. Her voice was a little coarse.
    "You don't look fine." He glanced at Vince. "This guy giving you a hard time, honey?"
    Vince waited, watched her face. It was amazing the way she could compose it. Within a second the agitation was gone, and an easy smile replaced it. She looked at her uncle, and sighed. "Oh, it's not him. Heck, him I can handle. But I'm not feeling very well for some reason. I think I'm going to go on home."
    "Want me to call Doc Graycloud over here? Have him take a look at you?"
    "No. I'll just go say good night to Mom. Enjoy the rest of the party, you two." She didn't look at Vince again before she turned and walked away.
    Her uncle did, however. And his expression wasn't kind. "You know, her father died in ninety-four," Marty said. "So it's up to me to look out for her."
    Vince met the guy's stare. "Look, I know where this is going—"
    "Do you? Then you know that I'm going to tell you I don't think it's a real good idea for you to be seeing my niece. I tried to tell you to be gentle, take it slow, but it doesn't look to me like you listened very well."
    Vince shook his head. "You've got it all wrong. She's not my type, Marty."
    "No? Then it shouldn't be any hardship to stay away from her. Look, Vince, I like you. But Holly—she's been through a lot. I'm not going to stand by and see her get hurt again. I'm not sure she could take it."
    "What, exactly, is it that she's been through that has everyone in this town hovering over her as if she might crack at any moment?" Vince snapped. "If you don't mind my asking, I mean," he added, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.
    "I do mind your asking." Marty looked mean for just a moment, leaning closer. Then he caught himself, backed off and pushed a hand through his scant hair