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Santori. He could already picture the conversation…dead criminals didn’t fall out of Christmas trees every day.
    “You didn’t let on that you’re not a paying guest, did you?” Holly’s grandmother asked as Zach walked into the kitchen. She sat alone, repairing more of those crystal ornaments.
    He’d allowed the old woman to talk him into playing the part of guest for the cameras. In truth, that was only a slight exaggeration—he wasn’t planning on leaving this place until he was sure Holly was safe. And until he’d helped her out of the mess she’d created with the authorities by not reporting the body right away.
    And until after he’d figured out if the feelings he was experiencing for her were reciprocated.
    He had known from the second she’d answered the door that he still wanted her. He’d known from the second she’d kissed him that she wanted him, too.
    But until that moment in the kitchen when Holly had melted against him for support, he hadn’t realized that he still felt so much more than simple lust.
    But did she?
    “It sucks that we don’t have any guests here, talking up the place.”
    Aside from the incongruity of the word “sucks” coming out of an elderly woman’s mouth, Zach couldn’t help agreeing.
    “Or at least lying around, making the rooms look occupied.”
    The old woman sounded a little too self-satisfied during that last bit. As if she had something up her sleeve. “What are you up to?”
    “Oh, nothing,” she said. “You go on, keep playing a satisfied visitor. Reading a book by the fire in the study would be a nice touch.”
    She was trying to get rid of him again. He’d been sticking close to the body, both to ensure that the TV people didn’t stumble across it and to make sure no one else touched the corpse. But he’d let himself be talked into saying a few words to the reporter, a perky blonde named Candy, leaving Holly’s grandparents alone briefly. Now, her grandfather had disappeared and Nana looked about as innocent as one of the robbers.
    His palms started to sweat. “What did you do?”
    She shrugged but didn’t look up.
    Zach glanced toward the pantry. He almost knew before he strode over and yanked the door open that it would be empty. Well, except for plenty of cleaning supplies.
    Just no dead Leo Meaney.

    Somehow, Holly managed not to shriek when she walked out onto the sunporch and saw the room was occupied. She swallowed the sound, wondering how the dead burglar, last seen in her pantry, had gotten out here.
    He was lying on the chaise lounge, a blanket tucked around him. A pair of sunglasses covered his eyes and he looked like a vacationer enjoying an afternoon nap—as long as one didn’t notice the stiffness of his form or the slightly blue tinge to his skin.
    “Whoops,” she whispered, grabbing the perky reporter, Candy, by the arm. “A guest is napping. He’s, uh, been ill and we shouldn’t disturb him.”
    “Really? I thought I just saw him snoozing in a room upstairs. He must move pretty quickly for someone who’s sick.”
    Oh Lord, that must have been when Holly had been posing for some pictures in the lobby. Candy had gone wandering—and her grandparents had obviously been doing some, uh, redecorating.
    “He looks so peaceful, maybe we could get one shot—”
    “No!” That came from Zach, who’d followed them onto the porch. He met her eyes, silently offering his support. “The man said he wished to maintain his privacy. He wouldn’t sign a release to be photographed.”
    Candy shrugged. “Too bad. But I do understand.” Offering Holly a huge smile, the reporter followed Holly back inside then added, “well, I think we’re finished. I have to tell you, The Hollyberry Inn is absolutely delightful.
    “Thank you so much,” Holly replied. “This means the world to us.”
    As she led the woman out, warming under even more compliments, Holly could only think of what would happen as soon as the news van pulled away. Zach