Kitabı oxu: «Like Silk»
“Please…”
Her voice, in that broken plea, jerked him back to the moment at hand. “Please what?”
“Don’t take me to the hospital.”
So she wasn’t catatonic after all. Or in total shock. Both good signs that filled him with relief. At least it didn’t appear she was going to collapse on him, a fear he hadn’t heretofore wanted to address.
“That’s where you belong,” he stressed, disturbed anew that she would even hesitate.
“If you try to make me go, I’ll get out of the car.”
“And do what?” He knew his sarcasm was lost on her, but he couldn’t stop the words.
“Keep walking.”
“And die?”
“That wouldn’t be a bad thing,” she said, her voice breaking.
“With a keen sense of characterization and emotions, Ms. Baxter will please. The story is charming.”
—Romantic Times on Tempting Janey
Like Silk
Mary Lynn Baxter
www.mirabooks.co.uk
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
One
Were there any skeletons in his closet?
Collier Smith would rather not dwell on that subject, but he had no choice—not since he’d just found out he was being seriously considered for the federal judgeship in the central district of his home state.
“Yes, yes,” he muttered out loud, thinking how incredibly lucky he was to even be in the running for such a prestigious position at the young age of thirty-eight. What was even more incredible was that he had no political experience.
A federal judge. Awesome. His dream come true—if it happened, he reminded himself, jerking the reality chain. But if the cards fell right and he ended up as the president’s chosen one, he would not only make himself proud, but his stepdad, Mason, as well. Collier knew Mason wanted this position for him with every fiber of his being, and Collier feared the consequences if it didn’t come to fruition.
He squirmed against the pinch of guilt that tightened his gut. It should be his stepbrother, Jackson, who was vying for the job, not him. If only Jackson hadn’t been in that accident and lost the use of his legs. If only… There were so many of those in his life that Collier couldn’t begin to sort through them all.
His mind reverted back to his buried skeletons, but he quickly dismissed them again. He refused to dwell on the negative. For the moment he wanted the luxury of indulging himself and basking in his good fortune.
Unable to contain the excitement building inside him, he slapped the steering wheel with one hand, then felt the vehicle swerve.
Sudden fear tightened Collier’s fingers back on the wheel and forced him to pay closer attention to what he was doing. A man couldn’t drive unfocused through these rolling hills, especially with a slow drizzle hitting the windshield and numerous multicolored leaves falling from the trees that surrounded him.
Though it was nearing darkness, he could still see and appreciate the beauty of early fall in Tennessee. Rarely did he get the chance to sneak away from the booming law office where he was a partner and treat himself to a weekend alone in the family’s rustic cabin nestled away from the hectic wear and tear of everyday life.
However, he wasn’t on a pleasure jaunt, he reminded himself, facing reality once again. The high-profile case he’d taken had turned out to be more complicated and demanding than he’d expected. He needed some quiet time to study and prepare.
Too, he needed some space from the woman he’d been seeing for some time now. Lana had been pressuring him to set a wedding date, which would mean an engagement ring, announcement party, the whole nine yards. None of those held any appeal. He wasn’t even sure he loved her. Even if he did, the thought of marriage scared the hell out of him.
Dislodging that unsettling thought, Collier watched the cascading leaves, reminding himself to enjoy that small pleasure. His blue eyes narrowed on a big red leaf stuck on the windshield. He laughed out loud for the pure hell of it, despite the fact the drizzle had turned into a steady rain, making driving that much more treacherous.
Gripping the wheel even tighter, Collier slowed his speed as he rounded a curve. That was when he saw her. Or at least he thought it was a her. With the rain, he couldn’t be sure. What he was sure of, however, was that someone was walking toward him on the side of the road.
Leaning closer to the wheel and further narrowing his eyes, he decided it was definitely a woman and that she seemed to be in a world of hurt.
She was weaving as if she was drunk or completely disoriented. Either way, the situation was dangerous for both of them. Collier’s heart raced, and his palms turned sweaty. If he hadn’t slowed down, he might not have seen her until it was too late.
He could have struck her down.
Cool it, he told himself, breathing deeply to control his erratic pulse. He hadn’t hit her. But what the hell was she doing on this stretch of highway at this time of the evening? And alone, to boot?
He was sure it wasn’t by choice, a thought that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Something terrible must have happened, because no one in her right mind would be afoot in these hills in this rain at dusk.
What should he do?
Keep on going, pretending he hadn’t seen her? Stop? He blew out a pent-up breath. Numerous reasons why he shouldn’t stop flooded his mind. He ignored them and pulled off the road. Even though she was bound to have heard the noise behind her, she didn’t so much as turn around. She kept moving forward in that same dazed, weaving motion.
Aiding a stranger was the last thing he needed to be doing, yet how could he just drive away and leave her?
He drove past her onto the shoulder, then opened the door and stepped out, flinching against the bone-chilling rain that struck him in the face. Controlling his growing anxiety and frustration, he caught up with her, stopping short of touching her. “Ma’am?”
Only after he spoke did she halt and turn slowly around.
Collier swallowed a gasp and a curse. Even though the elements were against him, her features were visible. Two things were immediately evident: she was young, and she was hurt. Gut instinct told him she’d been physically assaulted. One side of her face was bruised and swollen. And visible through her torn clothing were signs of other scrapes and bruises on her chest.
If she’d been in an accident of some kind, there would be a vehicle around. As it was, the two of them were alone, the cold rain becoming more of a problem by the second.
The fact that she was shivering and couldn’t seem to stop jolted him into action. He had to get her into his car, then to a hospital. Shock had apparently set in, and that put her in more jeopardy than her wounds.
He suppressed another curse and motioned toward his Lexus. “Come on. Get in my car.”
She didn’t argue, but she didn’t move, either.
“Please,” Collier said, hearing the coaxing note in his voice, something that didn’t come easily to him. “I can help you if you’ll let me.”
She remained motionless. Rounded eyes that seemed to take up more of her small face than necessary were centered directly on him, though he would have bet she wasn’t seeing him at all.
“Please,” he said again, reaching out and lightly touching her arm.
She flinched, and his lips tightened. “Sorry. But you have to get in my car. You need help.”
Though she still remained mute, she took a step toward his vehicle. Careful not to touch her again, he rushed to open the door. Once she was seated, he slammed it shut and strode back to his side, releasing his held breath.
Too close to call. What if she’d refused to get in? What would he have done then? Since that was a moot point, he didn’t have to go there. Now all he had to do was get her to the hospital and his responsibility would end.
Immediately he turned to her. She sat rigid, staring straight ahead. “I have a cell phone,” Collier said in an awkward tone. “Is there someone I can call to meet you at the hospital?”
He had no idea if his words had penetrated, but he had to try. He would have to leave her, the thought of her fending for herself even at the hospital suddenly pricked his conscience, which in turn made him furious at himself.
What the hell was the matter with him? She wasn’t his problem. He’d best remember that. But she was so pitiful, like a helpless, wounded animal or worse, a wounded child.
“Please…”
Her voice, in that broken plea, jerked him back to the moment at hand. “Please what?”
“Don’t take me to the hospital.”
So she wasn’t totally catatonic after all. Or in total shock. Both good signs that filled him with relief. At least it didn’t appear she was going to collapse on him, a fear he hadn’t heretofore wanted to address.
“That’s where you belong,” he stressed, disturbed anew that she would even hesitate.
“I’m not going.”
While weak and trembling, her voice held conviction, increasing his alarm and frustration.
“You—”
“If you try to make me go, I’ll get out.”
“And do what?” He knew his sarcasm was lost on her, but he couldn’t stop the words.
“Keep walking.”
“And die?”
“That wouldn’t be a bad thing,” she said, her voice breaking.
Now what? Collier thrust his hand though his hair. “Look, you need medical attention. But then, I obviously don’t have to tell you that.”
“I’ll be all right. Please, take me home.”
Curbing his growing anger, he asked, “Where is home?”
“Chaney.”
That was a small town twenty miles north of Haven where he lived, which meant turning around and driving farther back than he’d already come. “Is anyone there?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not taking you home.”
“You…you have to.”
“The hell I do,” he muttered. “Besides, the weather’s getting too bad to be on the highway.” While that wasn’t quite truth, it was as good an excuse as any.
She began sobbing quietly.
Cursing, Collier shoved the car into gear and drove off. He was about to make an incredibly stupid and dangerous move. He was taking her with him to the cabin. But what choice did he have?
Two
Collier peered at his watch.
She’d been in the shower far too long to suit him. He hoped she was all right, but he was concerned. She’d seemed so fragile, so breakable, when they had arrived at the retreat that he had again questioned his judgment in not taking her straight to the nearest hospital whether she wanted him to or not.
She’d seemed so weak that he’d been tempted to offer to help her undress and get into the shower, but the words had stuck in his throat for more reasons than one. Now he was wondering what to do. Check on her? Would that be appropriate? Hell, he didn’t know. He’d never been in a situation like this before. This woman was a total stranger. He didn’t even know her name, yet she had suddenly become his responsibility.
Not for long, he told himself, a grim expression changing his features. Come morning, they would both be headed back toward civilization, although that would of course put a kink in his plans. Once he left, he doubted seriously if he’d return to the cabin, despite how much was resting on the case. It demanded copious research, meaning he needed time alone without interruption, something he couldn’t get at the office or at home.
Her timing couldn’t have been worse, dammit.
How had she gotten herself into such a nightmarish situation, anyway? He was loathe to travel down that mental path on his own or with her, but he knew the journey was inevitable. At some point she had to talk to him. She owed him that. He was curious. And sad. And angry. Not just because of her but for her. No woman deserved to be treated in such a vile manner.
The bastard who had done this to her should get his just deserts. But that certainly wasn’t his responsibility, and he wasn’t about to assume it. He wanted her out of here ASAP. That was his objective.
Collier stared at his watch again, then, frowning, looked at the closed door across from his room. Although hers was the smallest of the five bedrooms, he’d chosen it because of its location. He felt compelled to be near her so he could keep an eye on her.
He’d been afraid to put her upstairs, where most of the guests stayed. Until Jackson’s tragic accident, Mason had often used the cabin for entertaining special clients of the firm. Now, for the most part, it remained empty, except for rare times like this weekend when a member of the family was lucky enough to sneak off and head for these hills.
For some reason, Collier had never entertained the thought of bringing Lana here. He almost laughed, trying to picture her wandering aimlessly through the large airy rooms looking to find something to occupy her time. She would hate the peace and quiet the hideaway offered. She always had to be busy making a statement, whatever the hell that meant.
Enough of Lana. His plate was full without bringing her into the equation. Suddenly he felt the urge to do something. His pent-up energy needed another outlet. When they had first arrived, he’d started a fire in the huge rock hearth and left it crackling and spitting, which effectively broke the sharp silence. But now he needed something else, another project.
The kitchen. Once there, he paused. Coffee or hot chocolate? He opted for both, thinking he’d need the caffeine fix long after she’d settled in for the night. And she just might drink a cup of the chocolate. Maybe that would help calm her fractured nerves. Disposing of that chore in record time, Collier made his way back into the great room, coffee in hand. After taking two sips, he set his cup on the nearest table.
She still hadn’t made an appearance.
Deciding that his “guest” had definitely had enough time to take care of her personal needs, he strode to her door and knocked. No answer. He knocked again. More silence greeted him. Concern driving him, he knocked again. “Are you okay?”
“I’m…fine.”
When her breathy voice reached his ears through the door, he went weak with relief. He’d had visions of all sorts of things having happened to her, all of them bad—and under his roof, too.
“May I come in?” he asked, feeling like a stranger in his own house and not liking it.
“All…right.”
He didn’t know what he’d expected when he saw her again, but it wasn’t what he got. She’d been such a mess when he’d picked her up—wet, bedraggled and hurt, physically and emotionally—that he hadn’t really looked at her. And once they had reached the cabin, he’d shown her straight to her room and left her there. It seemed as though neither of them had been comfortable in each other’s presence.
Now, though, she was standing directly in his line of vision, and some vision she was, too, despite the nasty bruising on the side of her face, where it looked like someone had slapped her good and proper. For a second he couldn’t get any farther than her delicate but perfectly cut features, especially her white, translucent skin and heart-shaped lips. And her lush black hair. He couldn’t escape that. Even though the tousled curls were still damp, they looked like silk.
Her figure was perfectly cut, as well. Barefoot and wearing nothing but a terry robe that had been hanging behind the bathroom door, she stood tall and willowy, with a small waist, full breasts and long legs. A man couldn’t ask for a better package. If he were interested, that is. And he wasn’t. He couldn’t believe he was standing there like an idiot and cataloging her assets.
He coughed. “By the way, I’m Collier Smith.”
“I’m Brittany Banks.”
Before he thought, he almost said the trite words “pleased to meet you.” Under the circumstances, they would have sounded absurd. But then, this whole scenario was absurd.
It was at that moment that her robe gaped open and he saw the nasty cut above her left breast. His throat constricted at the sight. “That needs attention.”
Brittany pulled the sash a little tighter, closing the gap somewhat. Then, as he watched, blood seeped through the material and stained it a bright red. His stomach revolted. Where else was she damaged? Had her attacker raped her? From the get-go, that thought had teetered on the edge of his mind, but he hadn’t let himself go there.
“How ’bout you sit on the side of the bed and let me take a look-see?” He had forced himself to speak in a flat, unemotional tone so as not to further spook her. But he was determined to tend to her wounds, whether she liked it or not.
“If you have some salve, I can take care of it.”
“I don’t think so,” he said stoically. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
He wasn’t lying. Even though she was rational enough, he knew she was still in shock and could crash at any time, and that time appeared imminent. He saw her hand on the doorjamb, her knuckles white from clinging to it. She was barely able to stand on her own.
It wasn’t too late to go with his gut instinct and take her to the emergency room, he reminded himself, walking toward her. “I still think you ought to be in the hospital.”
She gave her head a shake, her silky hair caressing her cheeks.
“Then you ought to be in bed,” he said in a strained voice, thinking how personal, how intimate, that sounded, as his blood pressure pounded like thunder through his veins.
“It does look inviting.”
She almost smiled, which sent another disturbing pang shooting through him. Ignoring it, and without asking permission, he took her lightly by the arm and eased her down onto the side of the bed.
“Hold on while I grab some medicine and gauze,” he said grimly and left her there.
Minutes later, he was back. She was still where he had left her, but her eyes were closed and her head sagged to one side, though he sensed she wasn’t asleep. For a brief second he stared at her, feeling another disturbing pang. Tightening his mouth, he reached the bed. Easing down beside her, Collier gently touched her arm.
Her eyes popped open, and their gazes met and held. Something hot and instant leaped between them, a heat that defied all logic and explanation. Swallowing hard, Collier was the first to look away, though his heart was beating much too fast. Something was happening, something he’d never experienced, and it was scaring the hell out of him.
He fought the strong urge to get up and run like the devil himself was chasing him. Curiosity on his part and need on hers clearly won the battle raging inside him, forcing him to stay put.
“I’ll try not to hurt you,” he said more brusquely than he had intended. But he was shaken, which left him no recourse but to try to protect himself as best he could. Knowing that she was naked under the robe made his mouth go bone-dry.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said in a breathless tone.
“Yes, I do.”
The intoxicating scent of roses assaulted his senses as he eased the terry robe off a creamy shoulder, further exposing the nasty scrape. Without looking at her, he squeezed a generous amount of salve onto a finger, then placed it on her bare flesh. And rubbed. Instantly he went hard, his erection pushing against his zipper.
Had she picked up on his reaction? More than ever, he dared not look at her. He almost couldn’t move that finger over the wound. Again the urge to flee was almost too tempting to ignore. Yet he wasn’t sure he could even stand, mortified by his own behavior.
She seemed unaware of his dilemma, because she didn’t pull away, for which he was thankful. She needed medical attention, and, for the moment, he was the only one who could provide it.
“Who did this to you?” he asked in a steely tone.
“I’d rather not say.”
He peered up at her, his lips tight. “Why would you want to protect such an animal?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Why don’t you try me?”
She licked her lower lip, then whispered, “Please.”
Please what? he wanted to shout. Please don’t kiss you senseless? Sweat drenched him; he was losing it.
He forced himself to look at her, he hoped without showing any of his chaotic thoughts. “Did he rape you?”
Her face paled. “No.”
“Did he try?”
“Yes, but he didn’t succeed.”
“Don’t make me pull the details out of you. You owe me that much.”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she focused on him. “I…we were in his car when he attacked me. We’d gone out to dinner—” Her voice broke, and she wiped at the tears.
That gesture was almost more than Collier could take. He wanted to lick those tears away, to soak up all her pain and heartache and make it disappear. Instead he forced himself to say, “Go on.”
“When I wouldn’t let him…touch me, he became angry, then mean.”
“How did you get out of the car?” Collier suspected he knew the answer to that question. Nonetheless, he wanted to hear her say it. He was no shrink, but he knew she needed to talk about this.
“He…pushed me.”
“That sonofabitch!” He’d like nothing better than to break the man’s neck for damaging her perfect skin and body, not to mention her mind. What kind of animal did these kinds of things? He knew. A sicko. In his profession, he’d dealt with more than his share.
“I have no idea how long I’d been walking when you stopped.”
“I’m assuming no other cars had passed.”
“If they did, they didn’t bother to stop.”
Silence ensued while he gritted his teeth and placed the bandage over the scrape. Without asking permission, he gently pushed her robe completely off her shoulders and checked for other injuries that might require his attention.
Having her full, pointed breasts so close, barely hidden, almost begging to be touched, was almost his undoing. His erection pinched that much harder as he continued on his mission, all the while trying to ignore what was happening to his body.
Finding no other wounds worthy of medication, he covered her, then moved out of harm’s way to the rocking chair near the bed. “Tell me his name.”
“No.”
He gave a start. “No? Why not?”
“It’s none of your business,” she said in a small voice.
“As an attorney, what if I want to make it my business?”
Her mouth worked. “Why would you do that?”
“Does it matter?” His tone was tight.
He wished he knew what was going on behind those lovely eyes. Even in her vulnerable state, she seemed a master at guarding her secrets.
“I have to handle this in my own way, in my own time.”
Boy, had he heard that one before. “You’re not going to file charges.” His words were a flat statement of fact.
“No, I’m not,” she said, though she kept her gaze averted.
Feeling his attorney modus operandi kick in, he wanted to fire more questions at her, weaken her resolve until she agreed to make the scumbag pay. But he sensed that tactic wouldn’t work with this woman, that underneath her fragility was a strong will, so he kept his mouth shut. Besides, she was right. It wasn’t any of his business.
“Would you like a cup of hot chocolate?” he asked, changing the subject.
“No, thanks. I just want to go to bed.”
“No problem.” He took a deep breath, then stood. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you need?”
“I’m sure.” She paused, locking her gaze on his. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
“You’re welcome,” he lied, then turned and strode out of the room.
A short time later, Collier’s frustration continued to rise along with the water. With too much rain, the bridge up to the house became impassable. Under normal conditions that wouldn’t be a bad thing, since he had tons of work to keep him occupied.
However, Brittany Banks had put a whole new spin on things. After the way she’d affected him, work remained the furthest thing from his mind. What was there about her that had his gut in such a mess? That ignited his libido? Hell, he was practically engaged to a woman with whom he had everything in common.
With Brittany, it was just the opposite. It was a given from the way she was dressed that she didn’t have much money, much less move in the same social circles he did.
Disgusted with his thoughts and with himself, Collier turned back to the stack of papers piled on the coffee table. Man, did he need to be busting his butt. Defending a bigwig from a large energy company on sexual harassment charges brought against him by one of the female employees would not be a piece of cake. He had to be prepared. There could be no mistakes on his part, especially with the federal appointment in the offing.
Still, his mind was cluttered with the woman occupying the guest room. Running a close second to that thought was another equally as chilling. What if someone got wind of this incident—like the press, for instance? What would happen? They’d have a field day coming up with all kinds of inappropriate sexual connotations. With him under consideration for the federal judgeship, that would be the worst possible scenario.
Shuddering, Collier stared out the window and watched a bolt of lightning rip across the sky.
Three
Brittany found it hard to believe she’d actually slept. Opening her eyes, she peered at the clock on the table bedside her. Six o’clock. Time to get up, only she wasn’t at home, in her bed. For a moment she lay unmoving, the events of the previous evening suddenly leaping to the forefront of her mind in living color. When she thought of Rupert Holt’s groping hands and slimy lips on her body, she couldn’t bear it. Groaning, she squeezed her eyes shut again, fighting off the queasiness in her stomach.
Following several deep breaths, she felt her nausea finally subside, but tears took its place, clogging her throat. Was it still raining? She listened, her sore body tense. Yes, it was still coming down, though seemingly not with the same fierceness as last night. But more rain of any kind could not be good, not on the side of this mountain.
She had to get home.
Hot tears continued to drench her face, but Brittany didn’t try to stop them. She hadn’t cried, not even when she’d been alone with her rescuer. She’d been so exhausted, she’d fallen into a deep sleep, too tired to cry.
Now, however, with a new day staring at her, reality hit like another of Rupert’s blows. She winced, feeling the tears jam her throat. For a second she feared she might choke.
How could something so awful have happened to her? How could she have let it happen? She almost never went out with a man. Following one disastrous love affair long before her brother Tommy was incarcerated, she’d sworn off men. Since then, she’d held herself aloof, making sure no one approached her.
But Rupert Holt had been so attentive, encouraging her to talk, especially about Tommy. He’d seemed genuinely concerned about her brother’s plight, even hinting that he was willing to help seek his release, until he’d caught her in a weak moment.
He was one of Haven’s leading businessmen, chairman of the board of his wife’s high-end furniture manufacturing company, which did business all over the world. On top of that, he was the travel agency’s most lucrative client, and she’d been reluctant to offend him, since she needed her job.
Still, she should have known he was setting her up. When things sounded too good to be true, they usually were. But he’d been such a gentleman, she’d been fooled. The fact that he was a married man with grown children, and so much older than she was, had lulled her; anything other than friendship between them had never occurred to her.
How stupid and gullible she had been.
Yet never in her wildest imagination would she have picked him to be an abuser of women. That kind of man fit in the category with her drunken stepfather, who’d been a lowlife scumbag from the time he’d married her mother until his death several years afterward.
Rupert was good-looking and charming. He was a big man, with steel-gray hair, crisp blue eyes and more than his share of charm. Although he’d rarely mentioned his wife, she hadn’t attached anything significant to that. His behavior toward her just didn’t make sense. Why had he resorted to violence?
A renewed sense of fear coiled tightly in the pit of Brittany’s stomach, only subsiding when she told herself that he couldn’t hurt her anymore. She was safe. But for how long? When she returned to her job at the travel agency…
She wouldn’t think about that now. She had to put Rupert and what had happened out of her mind, bury it deeply in a secluded part of her heart and forget it. Since she couldn’t do anything to get back at him, that was the only logical thing to do.
Pretend it never happened.
Life would go on. She would continue with her classes at the college. Work at the travel agency during the week. Slave at the diner on weekends. Business as usual.
But logic told her that wouldn’t work. All she had to do was look in the mirror. The emotional damage she could hide; the physical she could not. She’d been a mess last night. This morning she’d probably be downright frightening.
If only she had a way to get back at Rupert for taking advantage of her. For hurting her. Even her vile stepfather had never struck her in the face, though he’d raised many a welt on her back and legs when her mother hadn’t been around.
Rupert wasn’t drunken trash like Cal Rogers, but there must have been that same evil glint in Rupert’s eyes, though she’d obviously missed it.
Big mistake.
Maybe, if she’d seen it, she could have stopped him from assaulting her. Instead, his change of personality had come out of the blue, as if he’d suddenly snapped, becoming a different man from the one she’d known.
He’d taken her to one of Haven’s most upscale restaurants, which was a treat for her, since she’d never been there. Following a couple of glasses of wine, the meal had been served. Over dinner, he’d been attentive, asking about her classes at the college, which he knew was her passion. Then they had discussed her weekend job at the diner, waiting on tables. She wasn’t proud of that second one, but it was all she could find that didn’t conflict with her hours at the travel agency.
“You shouldn’t have to wait tables, you know,” he’d said in a low, kind voice, bringing up the topic.
She’d flushed, then looked away, uncomfortable discussing her personal life with him or anyone else. “I guess Sissy told you,” she finally responded. Sissy Newman was her boss, who had a big heart as well as a big mouth. She and Rupert were good friends, which wasn’t going to help her situation. In fact, Sissy thought Rupert and his wife could walk on water.
“Does it matter how I found out?”
“No,” she said, stifling a sigh. “I’m not ashamed of it.”
“What if I found you another part-time job? Would you be interested?”
Brittany suppressed her sudden excitement. “What did you have in mind?”
“Nothing yet.” He paused with a chuckle. “But with my connections, I’m sure I could come up with something more suitable.”
“That would be nice.” Brittany paused, then added, “You know where to find me.”
His eyes probed. “That I do.”
She averted her gaze, shielding herself from the intensity she saw there, unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth. If he could wangle her another job, she would be forever grateful. Standing on her feet into the wee hours of the morning was not something she looked forward to, nor was putting up with obnoxious customers and their rudeness.
“So, about your brother…”
Brittany gave an audible sigh. “Nothing’s changed. He still maintains his innocence, and he’s still begging me to get him out.”
“I’m willing to help you out there, too, you know. Only you’ve never given me the green light.”
“Maybe that’s because I don’t understand why you’d want to.” She knew her words sounded much more suspicious than she’d intended, but she hadn’t done anything special for this man, which made his sudden generosity a bit suspicious.
Rupert shrugged and smiled. “Let’s just say I have the connections and like to help where I can. Besides, Sissy tells me how hard you’re working to get your degree, and how tough it is.”
“It has been hard, but that’s the only way I can help Tommy.”
“We’ll talk more about that later,” Rupert said, turning to the waiter, who was hovering, and ordering a mixed drink.
He hadn’t stopped with one, either. By the time they left the restaurant, Brittany could have sworn he was drunk, though his actions never confirmed that, not even when he got behind the wheel.
Only after they had been driving for a while and he pulled off the road did she grow alarmed. And she’d had reason, because he’d immediately reached for her and begun kissing her, hard and deep, trying to force his tongue into her mouth, while running his hands up her legs to her panties.
“No!” she cried, desperately trying to push him away.
But he was too strong and determined. When she wouldn’t comply, he’d slapped her. The more she’d struggled, the more violent he’d become, until she blacked out.
The next thing she remembered was being shoved out of his car onto the side of the highway, cold rain assaulting her bruised body.
Suddenly Brittany pulled herself into a fetal position on the bed and sobbed quietly into the pillow. If the stranger in the other room hadn’t come along, she shuddered to think what would have happened to her. She couldn’t have walked much longer. Worse, some other sick, violent person could have come along and finished her off.
Still, she hated the thought that she was at another man’s mercy. For all she knew, he could turn out to be worse than Rupert. Her instincts resisted that thought, though. She barely remembered what her rescuer looked like, but she sensed he would never hurt a woman.
The way he’d touched her had told her that.
Brittany’s breath caught as she thought about how she’d inhaled the subtle yet expensive scent of his cologne, how manly he’d smelled. But it was the way his hands had felt on her bare flesh that lingered. Stop it, she told herself, panicking. The fact that he would never touch her again was what was important.
As soon as she got up and dressed, she could return home, she assured herself. She could escape from this nightmare, then figure out how best to put herself and her life back together. No matter what Collier Smith advised, she had no intention of reporting Rupert to the police for fear of repercussions, both professionally and emotionally.
She had no confidence in the justice system, especially against an adversary like Rupert Holt. Who would believe a nobody like her, whose brother was a jailbird?
What about Tommy? Another hard shudder went through her, and Brittany panicked. She was due to visit him in a couple of days, on Sunday, but she couldn’t go with her face all bruised.
Suddenly she wished she could get her hands on Rupert, first for hurting her and second for dashing her hopes of getting help for Tommy. Every time she visited him in that awful place, her heart broke anew.
What a difference there was between her circumstances and those of the man who had helped her. From what little she had noticed of her surroundings, it was obvious he was someone of means, the complete opposite from her. She and Tommy had been left to fend for themselves after the death of their mother when they both were young. Her drunken stepfather and Tommy’s father had contributed little to their upbringing; most of the time they hadn’t even known where he was.
Brittany had struggled all her life to get where she was today, which still wasn’t where she wanted to be. At thirty, she was still trying to get her degree so that she could become financially secure, something she had never known. After that, she would like nothing better than to flee her hometown and live somewhere else. Anywhere else.
But leaving Chaney wasn’t an option, not until she was able to hire an attorney and start working to get Tommy released from prison.
Because of her brother’s one terrible error in judgment, she might as well wear a scarlet letter on her chest. Even though the accident had happened three years ago, she was still shunned and talked about. Long before the mishap, her family was considered trailer park trash. Now she had no chance of earning anyone’s respect in the town where she’d grown up.
The fact that Tommy was in prison would never be laid to rest, especially since he had permanently injured the son of the town’s most prestigious family.
Yet Brittany loved her brother and felt responsible for him, though she definitely saw his faults. He’d caused her more than her share of heartache during his teenage years, even joining a gang for a short time and getting arrested, though she’d believed him when he told her someone had set him up in order to get even with him. Still, it was the accident that had done the real damage.
Following the accident, they had hauled him down to the police station, since he hadn’t had a scratch on him. Once there, Tommy had called her almost in hysterics. Clamping down on her own hysteria, she had gone to him immediately. She never would forget the desperate look on her brother’s face when she’d walked into police headquarters.
“Sis,” he’d told her, “I swear I didn’t know my head wasn’t clear when I left the party.”
“Come on, Tommy, surely you felt something.”
“Not until I turned onto the highway, then, wham, it hit me. Suddenly I didn’t know where I was or what I was doing.” He paused, his voice cracking when he spoke again. “Hell, I don’t even remember hitting the guy’s car. My drink was doctored. I know it was. Someone’s out to get me.”
“Tommy—”
“Say you believe me,” he pleaded, grabbing her hands and clinging to them. “I know I’ve been in my share of trouble, but you know I’ve never driven drunk. You know that.”
And she did. Yet there was always a first time. Still, she wanted to believe him—for her own sake as well as his. “Oh, dear Lord, Tommy, what are we going to do?”
“Make this go away, sis,” he sobbed. “You always make things right. I know you won’t fail me now.”
But she had failed him, and miserably, too. Because she’d had no means to hire adequate counsel to represent him, Tommy had been assigned a court appointed attorney who failed to substantiate his claim that he’d been drugged. As far as she could tell, the man had hardly bothered to try. That was why, when Rupert had offered to champion her cause with an attorney, she’d dropped her guard.
Never again.
Deciding she’d wallowed in self-pity long enough, Brittany forced her sore limbs to move into a sitting position, then upright. Soon she would be dressed and on her way home.
Four
Stranded.
No other word adequately described the situation. During the night, the rain had come down in buckets. Without even having to walk outside and take a look, Collier knew the bridge was impassable. Whether he liked it or not, he wouldn’t be taking his guest anywhere. And whether she liked it or not, she wouldn’t be going anywhere.
Through the years, Mason had kept saying he was going to do something about the bridge, get a crew up here to rebuild it, so this kind of problem wouldn’t rise every time the water did. But he hadn’t followed through. Collier figured it was because the retreat wasn’t used all that much anymore, which was a shame, since it was a great place for R & R.
And work.
He began to pace the floor again, as he had been on and off for hours. Good thing the floors were hardwood; otherwise, he would have worn a trail in the carpet. Lord knew he’d tried to work—all night, in fact. Yet he hadn’t made a dent in the case. Instead he’d been consumed with thoughts of the woman in the next room and his bid for the judgeship.
Though far apart in reality, they seemed closely related in his disjointed mind. He shouldn’t be holed up in this cabin with a lovely woman with an obviously shaded past. With secrets. The worst kind of woman to get involved with.
The hell of it was, he wasn’t involved. So why was he getting himself all worked up over something he hadn’t done? Loaded question. Loaded answer. When he’d touched Brittany Banks, it had been like tossing gasoline on an open flame. And that flame was still smoldering in his gut.
He’d never reacted to a woman as strongly, certainly not Lana. He could go for days, even weeks, and not touch her, and it wouldn’t bother him.
But he knew the woman in the nearby room was a different story. He would bet that underneath her aloof exterior were seething emotions that, when tapped in the right way, would run as hot as molten lava. Of course he would never find out. He didn’t intend to touch her again.
If only he could stop thinking about how good she’d smelled, as if she’d just bathed in a tub of roses. How her soft bare flesh had felt under his fingers, how he’d ached to caress her full breasts and suck her dark, pink nipples.
Collier drew air through his dry lungs, once again feeling that unwelcome tightening of his groin.
He’d been tempted to check on her during the night. Thank heaven his good sense had overruled that crazy thought.
He needed to get out of here. He needed to get her out of here. If she knew how he felt, how he had reacted to her body, she would be more petrified than she already was. He froze. Had she guessed? Had she picked up on the raw hunger gnawing inside him? Had she seen it in his eyes? He hoped not, for both their sakes.
She must never suspect how deeply she affected him. When she awakened, he would be the perfect gentleman and host—cool but polite. And accommodating. Somehow they would get through this day. Hopefully, by tomorrow morning, the rain would have stopped and the bridge would be passable.
Until then, he had to think with his head and not his libido.
His thoughts suddenly brightened when he turned them back to the judgeship. He still couldn’t believe his good fortune. However, he wasn’t going to rely on his hopes, because nothing was certain and plenty could still go wrong. Granted, he had a lot going for him. He was a prestigious attorney who rarely lost a case, and he came from a family that was highly visible in the political arena. When it came to working for and contributing to the party, he could hold his own.
“No one has the record or the credentials you have, boy,” Mason had said when the call came from one of the senators. “You’ll be a shoo-in.”
“Now, Dad, don’t count the chickens before they hatch.”
“The hell you say.” His father’s white bushy eyebrows drew together, forming a frown. “As much time, energy and money as this family has poured into Washington’s coffers, you should be a sure thing.”
“Well, I’ll do my part. You know I want this appointment as badly as you want me to have it. But then, so do the other guys who made the cut to the final four.”
“I’m not worried about them,” Mason said with his typical air of self-confidence. “You’re the best man for the job. No doubt about it.”
“You wouldn’t be a bit prejudiced, now would you?”
Mason almost smiled. “Maybe, but it’s the truth. Because I’m so sure of it, I’m going to have a precelebration party.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why the hell not?”
“What about Jackson? He seems more depressed than ever.”
“That’s one of the reasons I’m going to do it,” Mason countered fiercely. “Maybe it’ll get him out of that room of his.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
“You let me worry about your brother. You just worry about keeping your nose clean and not stepping on anyone’s toes.”
As much as he would have liked to do that, Collier feared he’d already pulled the pin out of one grenade when he’d agreed to defend the energy company on the sexual harassment charge. That could become a real sticky situation if some feminist got in on the action. But he’d given his word, and he had no intention of backing off, regardless of whether his dad approved or not.
As far as Brittany Banks went, no one would ever know that he’d been alone up here with her. She would remain a secret. He hadn’t done anything wrong—not yet, anyway—which meant he had no reason to feel guilty. Still, to the press and anyone else interested in probing into his life, a sure thing with the potential appointment, someone would make something of the matter, especially with Lana and her high-profile family in the picture.
Hearing a sound, Collier paused in his thoughts and whipped around. She was standing just barely inside the room. Their gazes met, and an unwanted jolt went through him. “Good morning,” he managed to say through a throat that sounded like it had been shredded with razors.
“Good morning,” she responded, her voice sounding soft and a bit uncertain. The side of her face seemed more swollen this morning, the bruising more pronounced. His blood boiled hot again. Damn that bastard. One of these days…
He reined in his renegade thoughts and asked, “Did you sleep okay?”
“Actually I did, which surprised me,” she said, moving deeper into the room. “I guess I was totally wiped out.”
“I’m sure you were.”
Suddenly an awkwardness fell between them, followed by a tense silence. Maybe it was because when she moved her robe had loosened far enough that the upper portion of one breast was exposed. He groaned inwardly, his breath spiking.
As if she sensed where his gaze was targeted, she flushed and pulled the sash tighter. “I looked for my clothes, but…” Her voice trailed off, and she swallowed hard.
No doubt she felt the hot tension, too. He didn’t know why that made him feel better, but it did. “I hung them in the laundry room to dry,” he forced himself to say around his elevated breathing. “But I’m not sure they’re wearable.”
“I’ll have to wear them anyway.”
He rubbed the five-o’clock shadow on his chin in frustration. She was right. As far as he knew, there wasn’t one article of women’s clothing on the premises.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject.
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Come on and I’ll make us some breakfast.” He had to do something to ease the tension, needed to keep busy. His insides felt ready to explode.
Once he had freshly dripped coffee on the small kitchen table, along with bowls of oatmeal and plates of toast, he finally sat down across from her. He kept his eyes averted for fear she would pick up on his raw and growing hunger for her, which could only make the situation even more uncomfortable.
He grimaced, then focused his attention on the oatmeal. It reminded him of a glob of cement. He almost got up and dumped it into the sink. If only he hadn’t given in to the urge to play the Good Samaritan.
“When can you take me home?”
The sound of her soft, Southern voice pulled him up short. Oh, boy. His grimace deepened. “I can’t. At least, not today.”
Her face lost what little color it had, making her eyes appear deeper and darker than before.
“The bridge is impassable,” he added flatly.
Her lower lip quivered, which was almost more than he could handle. “What if…” Again her voice faded into nothingness.
“I know what you’re thinking, but it’s supposed to clear. As soon as it’s safe, trust me, we’ll be out of here.”
Brittany bit down on that deliciously plump lip, stopping the trembling. Though she didn’t say so, he sensed she was terribly upset by the turn of events. Hell, so was he. But he couldn’t do anything about it, and neither could she.
“I have to get back to my job.”
Her dark brown eyes implored him, and he stifled a curse. “I’m sure you do, but that’s not going to happen. Not today.”
“There’s…nothing you can do?”
He shoved the bowl away, dropping all pretense of eating. “Nope, except wait.” He paused, angling his head. “Where do you work?”
“At a travel agency in Haven. I’m also taking classes at the college. Tonight, however, I have to be—” She stopped midsentence. “Never mind. It’s not important.”
He frowned. “If there’s someone you need to call, feel free.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said in a forlorn voice. “I can’t go to the diner looking like this anyway.”
“Diner?”
Her chin seemed to lift a notch as she met his gaze. “I work on weekends as a part-time waitress.”
A waitress.
He didn’t know why that bothered him. There was nothing wrong with that job. Maybe he was more of a snob than he realized.
Finally collecting himself, he said, “Like I said, make any calls you want.”
“Thanks,” she said tightly.
He wanted to bombard her with questions, asking why the hell someone who looked like her had to sling hash. More to the point, he wanted to know everything there was to know about this lovely creature who had dropped into his life.
But his throat felt suddenly paralyzed, especially when that lower lip started to quiver again. For a long moment he couldn’t take his eyes off it, imagining his tongue running across its soft inner lining.
“Don’t.”
He gave another start. “Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that,” she said in a slightly cracked voice.
Distress spilled from her eyes, which made him feel more like a heel than ever. Realizing he was on the verge of falling off a very high cliff, he stood and muttered roughly, “Sorry.”
When she didn’t respond, he added, “Look, stay and finish your breakfast. I’ve got work to do.”
Rupert Holt slammed the paper down on the desk in his study so hard that his cup rattled in his saucer. Coffee sloshed on the wood. “Damn!”
He ignored the mess his burst of temper had made, continuing to seethe. Let one of his maids clean it up. He paid them enough.
The last thing he wanted was for Collier Smith to get that appointment to the federal bench. No son or stepson—it didn’t matter—of Mason Williams would succeed in any political arena if he had his way. And as long as he had the money to back up his mouth, he usually got what he wanted.
But then, so did Mason. He had as much clout, prestige and money as Rupert himself had. Yet Rupert was determined to best him. Besting his contemporary had become one of his most sought after goals. He felt justified, too, since the law firm of Williams, Smith and Rutledge had represented him on a lawsuit that had gone sour, costing him a bundle of money.
While that was bad enough, Mason’s superior attitude rankled just as much. The fact that he hailed from an old Southern family, with roots going back before the Civil War, didn’t make Mason any better or his shit smell any sweeter.
Rupert would have given his left ball to have the same social clout Mason and his family had, but no matter how much money he made, no matter how many of the rough edges he whittled off his personality, his efforts never seemed to be enough.
In the social circles of Haven and the surrounding county, he was always going to be one down simply because he didn’t have a family tree of distinction.
A crock of crap. That was his thought on the subject. He had news for the snobs: he could hold his own when push came to shove. And with this federal appointment wide-open, the shoving had started.
Hell, he was a staunch Republican, in good standing with the party muckey-mucks, and he had his own man in the race for the judgeship, a man who was much more qualified than Smith.
Before he could mount an attack against the William and Smith armies, however, he had to fix a more pressing problem—Brittany Banks. Somehow he had to make up for the damage he’d done to her before she returned the favor and damaged him.
Sweat dampened his shirt as the ramifications of his poor judgment hit home. He couldn’t remember when he’d gotten that drunk or lost control so completely and so quickly.
But when she’d told him no and looked at him as if he was some reptile that had just crawled out from under a rock, he’d lost it. He remembered slapping her hard at least once. What happened after she cried out remained fuzzy, except for when he shoved her out of his vehicle.
If she blabbed and his wife found out… Sweat covered Rupert’s entire body as he suddenly lunged up from the table and walked to the window. The grounds of his mansion were a sight for any eyes, especially when the leaves were at their peak. Now the beauty of his estate held little fascination for him. His mind was too cluttered with neutralizing the damage.
He’d already ordered two dozen long-stemmed red roses to be sent to the travel agency that afternoon if Brittany showed up for work. Suddenly his entire system threatened to shut down.
What if she was dead?
Although it hadn’t been freezing last night, it had been cold and raining. And he’d just dumped her on the side of a highway like a piece of garbage. Someone could have come along and run over her, or worse.
His sweat turned into a chill, making him shake. He’d already called the local hospitals to see if she’d been admitted. So far, so good. If she didn’t show up at work in a few days, he would have to hire a private eye to find her. If she was dead…
He almost lost the contents of his stomach. He shouldn’t have gotten so stinking drunk. He knew he couldn’t handle it. Angel, his wife, would have his head on a platter, not to mention what would happen to his position in the company. She would strip him of all power. He thought he’d conquered his drinking problem, or at least had it under control, but apparently he hadn’t.
The thing was, he hadn’t wanted a woman in a long time. And he couldn’t remember ever wanting one as badly as he wanted Brittany, even if she was trailer trash.
And to think she’d rejected him. No one thwarted Rupert Holt and got away with it. This time, though, he feared he’d taken his rage and vindictiveness too far. Until he knew for sure, he had to back off.
His only hope was that Brittany was a survivor. Considering what she’d been through already, she would bounce back. When she surfaced, he would make amends, take care of the problem. Her brother was her Achilles’ heel, so he’d keep hammering on his willingness to help Tommy. Before long, he would wear her down and get back into her good graces. She would never say a word to anyone.
Suddenly feeling better, Rupert turned his attention back to Collier. He eyed the cordless phone on the buffet and reached for it. Might as well start the dice rolling against Smith.
He punched out a number and waited.
Pulsuz fraqment bitdi.
