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An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Once Burned

ISBN 9781419917073

Edited by Helen Woodall.

Photography and cover art by Les Byerley.

Electronic book Publication September 2008

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in

part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing,

Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of

this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or

print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement

without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and

a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print

editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your

support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales

is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

O NCE B URNED

Desiree Holt

Dedication

As always, to my husband, my white knight and hero, without whom none of this

would be possible. To Helen, editor extraordinaire, who makes my books sing and

knows more than anyone what that takes. And to Cindy, whose friendship means more

to me than she’ll ever know.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the

following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Dallas Morning News : A. H. Belo & Company

McDonald’s: McDonald’s Corporation

Star Trek: Paramount Pictures Corporation

U-Haul: U-Haul International, Inc.

Welcome Wagon: Welcome Wagon International, Inc.

Once Burned

Chapter One

The call came at seven-thirty in the morning, as Cassie Fitzgerald was getting ready

for work. She was hardly prepared for either the sound of Harley Graham’s voice or the

news he was delivering. She hadn’t spoken to him in years and now his announcement

hit her like a blast of cold air.

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of sad news, Cassie, honey but your mother passed away

early this morning.”

She clenched the receiver to stop the shaking in her hand, processing his words.

Her heart felt as if a fist was squeezing it and tears for a woman she’d wiped out of her

life were like grains of sand behind her eyelids. Memories she’d kept barricaded in the

closet of her mind sprang loose to assault her.

“Cassie? You still there?” Harley prodded, as the silence stretched.

She swallowed hard against the sudden tightness in her throat. “Yes, I’m here.”

How did he expect her to react? She and her mother had never been close and the

six years since she’d left home had stretched their relationship beyond the breaking

point. Once a month she made the obligatory phone call, a tense conversation for both

of them. Not even Diane’s death had brought her back. Especially Diane’s death. No,

Diane’s murder. Say it, Cassie. Your sister was murdered .

“I didn’t know she was ill,” Cassie finally managed, wetting her lips with her

tongue. No, all her mother had done was complain about “that terrible Griffin Hunter”

and moan about the loss of Diane. She could picture Harley on the other end of the call,

holding the receiver with infinite patience. As a young doctor he had delivered both her

and Diane, helped them through their father’s suicide and now apparently tended the

last of the Fitzgeralds who lived in Stoneham.

“She hadn’t been doing too well lately,” he said. “I wouldn’t exactly say she was

sick but she’d really been failing. I’ve been treating her for some heart problems but last

night I guess she just gave up the ghost.”

She could hear the reproach in his voice. His silent criticism hummed across the

long-distance connection. Well too bad. He wasn’t the one who’d had to flee to save

herself. For six years she’d been able to shut Stoneham completely out of her mind—the

only way she could save herself from emotional destruction. Now, damn it, she’d be

back in the place she ran away from, pouring hot salt water into open wounds.

“I’ll have to make arrangements to take some leave from the office,” she told him.

“But I can’t take more than a couple of days.” She would let them know right away that

she wouldn’t be gone for long. She had no desire to linger in Stoneham. The town held

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