She took a step backward when she saw the hard-set lines of his jaws and the bleak look in his eyes. “What on earth has happened, Michael?” she cried. “I hate a hypocrite,” he growled. “God in heaven how I hate a mealy-mouthed hypocrite.” She ran to him and reached up to grasp his broad shoulders. “Who—what are you talking about?” He looked over the pointed cellophane peak of her hood, his big hands hanging loosely against his body. “And more than that, I hate to be a sucker. But I am.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Just pile on the old hokum thick enough and I’ll fall for it. And all because I thought I knew what the real thing was.” Lucy shook him with all the strength of her hands. “Don’t look like that,” she pleaded. “You—frighten me when you’re like this.” Shayne looked down at her upturned face as though he realized for the first time that she was digging her fingers into his shoulders.
What do You think about Murder & The Married Virgin?
