Книга - Like Silk

Like Silk
Mary Lynn Baxter


The moment Collier Smith pulled to a stop on that rainy Tennessee mountain road and gently led the dazed, badly bruised woman into the warmth and safety of his car, his own life was shattered.Brittany Banks was the wrong woman at the wrong time. But could there ever be a right time? He was a high-powered attorney on the fast track for a federal judgeship, engaged to a prominent socialite. Brittany Banks was a vulnerable beauty from the wrong side of town. And, in a cruel twist of fate, she was a reminder of the past he had struggled to forget. So why her, why now? Why this insatiable longing, this fierce need to protect her, to possess her–a need that will drive him deeper into her world…perhaps at the cost of his own.







“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 (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)




Contents


Chapter One (#u214ec19d-288c-54dd-9800-d769fae70b06)

Chapter Two (#u55a685c1-9e61-510c-b2ac-a9233b343dbb)

Chapter Three (#u3acfd7a1-d812-557c-8276-beb4ebd2611f)

Chapter Four (#ucacc6dd3-1e1a-5e16-a2de-df1a62fd87e1)

Chapter Five (#u991f9023-b245-5f1c-a5c4-ea235c966788)

Chapter Six (#uf076ae86-0d40-561a-b14a-00f587e1db2a)

Chapter Seven (#u58ff8310-0e19-5e84-821f-0ab869961446)

Chapter Eight (#u3b1681ed-9eec-5036-b2d4-92829f154dfd)

Chapter Nine (#u0ab3f5d6-a333-5ed3-83ca-b1058bf652c8)

Chapter Ten (#uc012b097-0084-5800-8dbb-fc4f1ad368ba)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Forty-One (#litres_trial_promo)




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.




Five


Would this mess ever end? The rain had been falling all day and into the night, which meant the bridge was completely submerged. They were truly marooned.

It had to quit. It just had to. The day had been long and not really profitable, though he’d remained in his room for most of it. When he was lucky enough and got a respite from thoughts of Brittany, he’d actually gotten a little work done. Not nearly enough, however. He’d used most of his energy debating what to do about her.

Absolutely nothing, his common sense had told him. As soon as they were able to get back to civilization, Brittany would no longer be his responsibility. So why did he feel so responsible? Go figure.

It was apparent she’d wanted to avoid him as much as he had her. Still, he’d forced himself to knock on her door a couple of times and ask if she was all right, telling her to help herself to anything in the kitchen she might want. Once he’d heard her rummaging around in there and been tempted to join her, but he hadn’t. He knew he wasn’t playing the gracious host, not anywhere close to it. But this entire situation was so bizarre that he had no real idea how to behave.

Brittany Banks made him uncomfortable. That was the stark truth. She made him want something he couldn’t have. Her. Every time he was around her, he got a hard-on. He wasn’t proud of his urges, but he was proud that he’d stayed away from her.

As it was, she’d been to hell and back. He had no intention of sending her back there again, which was what would happen if he touched her. Just that thought knotted his stomach even tighter. He wasn’t thinking like a rational man but like a teenager in heat.

Actually it was worse. Instead of tending to business, he’d spent his time lusting after a woman who, under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have looked at twice or given the time of day.

Well, maybe that was going a bit too far. He probably would at least have noticed her. With her beauty, all she had to do was walk into a room and heads would turn. Especially men’s. She transmitted sexual signals with her every move, yet she seemed totally unaware of them.

That was what made her so intriguing.

Enough, Smith. Brittany Banks had taken up enough of his time. He had to forget her and turn his attention to what counted in his life. Tomorrow. Surely the rain would cease then and they could leave. She would go her way and he would go his. If she chose to let that scumbag who attacked her get away with it, then so be it. He wasn’t going to beg her to do the right thing and turn him in.

Now all he had to do was get through the remainder of the night.

Collier shifted his gaze toward the bed bathed in lamp-light. While it certainly looked inviting, he knew that once he lay there, his eyes would stay wide-open as if they had been glued.

What would his mother’s advice be? His insides stilled. Why had the late Hannah Smith Williams come unexpectedly to mind? The answer was a no-brainer. He missed her. Despite the fact that she had died when he was only thirteen, he remembered every detail about her.

She was the prettiest, sweetest woman he’d ever known. And she always smelled so good, like roses. Maybe that was why Brittany’s scent had captivated him. Hannah had been perfect in every way, or at least he’d thought so. And still did.

Unwittingly his mind slid back to that awful day when he’d come home from school and rushed into the parlor where his mother would wait for both him and Jackson. On that particular day he’d been alone, with something important to tell her.

Hannah had been sitting in her usual chair, close to the fireplace, where the burning wood hissed pleasantly in the hearth. Her eyes had been closed, and she’d looked peaceful and beautiful, even more so than usual. He’d dashed to her side, expecting her to open her eyes, smile, then hold up her cheek for a kiss.

“Hey, Mom, I’m home.”

No response.

“Mom!” he called again, kneeling beside the chair and poking her. “Wake up.”

Still no response. He shook her shoulder gently, grinning, thinking she was playing a trick on him. “Come on, I know you’re just playing possum.” He shook her harder.

When she didn’t respond, he frowned, rose to his feet and hollered for Maxine, the housekeeper, who was like a second mother to him. She stormed into the room. “What on earth, boy? You’re yelling like a banshee.”

“It’s Mom!” he cried. “She…she won’t wake up.”

He moved aside as Maxine ran to Hannah and began to shake her gently. “Miz Hannah, wake up. Collier’s home.”



She placed her fingers on his mother’s throat, feeling for a pulse. It wasn’t what Maxine said afterward but rather the sudden terrified expression on her face that told him something was wrong. Horribly wrong.

“What’s the matter with Mom? Is she sick?”

“Come with me,” Maxine said, not looking at him. “Let’s go into the other room and call your dad.”

“No, I’m not leaving Mom.” Collier’s tone was belligerent. “She’ll want me here when she wakes up.”

“Please do what I say.”

Collier stiffened. “Why?”

“Because your mother’s not going to wake up,” Maxine blurted, then covered her mouth with her hand, as if she knew she’d spoken out of turn.

Collier’s eyes suddenly filled with tears, and he backed up toward his mother. Once there, he whipped around, dropped to his knees beside her and placed his palm against her face. “She’s not dead!” he sobbed in a fierce tone. “Don’t say that!”

“Collier, please,” Maxine whispered, touching his shoulder.

He shrugged her hand away. “No! I have to make her breathe again. You have to help me.”

“Collier, don’t,” Maxine whispered again in a broken voice.

“No!” he screamed, leaning over and beating on Hannah’s chest. “Wake up, Mom. Please don’t die. Please don’t. Please.”

But no amount of pleading on his part had changed the hard, cold fact that his mother was indeed dead. What happened immediately afterward became sketchy. Until this day, he couldn’t remember the details of Mason’s arrival, the funeral or the days following. All he remembered was knowing that his life as he’d known it was over, that nothing would ever be the same again. And it hadn’t been.

Hannah had been his greatest protector, his biggest champion and his fiercest disciplinarian. For the longest time after she’d died, he had been so angry with God and everyone around him that he’d been unbearable. Looking back, he actually felt sorry for Mason, who had been left with two teenage boys to rear alone.

Mason had married Collier’s mother when he had been only two years old. Mason’s son, Jackson, had been six. Both his mother and Mason had been divorced. Collier’s birth father hadn’t wanted anything to do with him after his mother had caught him with another woman and left him. Even so, as a result of the nasty divorce that followed, his father had refused to give his permission for Mason to adopt him.

Despite that, Mason was the only father Collier had ever known. And while Mason had been good to him, certainly treated him like his younger son, Collier knew that he wasn’t and nursed deep insecurities.

That feeling had worsened after his mother’s death. Hannah had represented the softer, gentler side of the family. Mason was hard-edged and expected too much from his sons. That worsened, too, once they became his total responsibility. He hadn’t a clue how to handle the needs of two boys. A succession of nannies was the order of the day.

Yet he and Jackson had survived those difficult years, both becoming successful attorneys any father could be proud of. Even so, Collier felt he hadn’t quite made the grade yet, that he still had more hurdles to jump.

In many ways, though, he was just like Mason despite the fact that no blood linked them. Collier was smart, ambitious and driven, all the attributes that had launched Mason to the top of his profession and earned him the bucks and respect that went with it.

Despite the similarities, Collier continued to feel that he still didn’t measure up, that he had something more to prove. That was why he had to get that appointment to the bench. Maybe then he would finally feel like Mason’s son in every respect.

If Jackson hadn’t had that accident, he wouldn’t feel quite as much pressure. It wouldn’t dog his every waking moment, this need to succeed because the eldest son hadn’t. Too, he yearned to take away some of the pain that Jackson’s misfortune had put in his father’s heart.

Mason harped constantly on the injustice of it all, making closure impossible. He grieved daily over Jackson’s unwillingness to continue to practice law. Instead Jackson seemed content to simply sit in his room at the mansion and nurse his bitterness and anger. And become weaker by the day.

As a result, Collier often felt pangs of guilt for remaining upright and whole, something that Jackson would never be again. He had always idolized Jackson, positive he was smarter, wittier and more likely to succeed. When the accident occurred, Collier had felt his own heart and spirit break.

Now, however, though Jackson refused to make a new life for himself, Collier refused to give in to his brother’s despair. He was determined that sooner or later Jackson would be productive again. On that point, he and Mason were in total agreement.

Thinking about his mother’s untimely death and his brother’s plight left him more depressed than ever. “Ah, to hell with it,” he spat aloud, crossing to the bed and plopping down on it. Perhaps if he lay there long enough, he would fall asleep, regardless of his restless mind and heart.

He awakened with a start, totally disoriented for a moment, then realized where he was. He couldn’t identify what had interrupted his sleep. He peered at the clock. Midnight. His rest had certainly been short-lived.

Collier heard the noise then. This must be what had awakened him, and this time he recognized it. Someone was sobbing. Brittany was sobbing. Before he had time to think, he lunged off the bed and headed for her room. Without hesitation, he opened the door, then eased onto the side of her bed, scared shitless that she had internal injuries only a doctor could fix.

“Brittany,” he whispered, hearing the note of panic in his voice but unable to control it.

The small lamp burning in the corner gave him access to her face. When she gazed up at him, the stark sadness in those eyes opened an emotional floodgate inside him. It was all he could do not to grab her and hold her tightly, aching to absorb some of that pain.

Instead he ignored that need and concentrated on his fears, growing more alarming by the second. “Are you in pain?” he rasped.

She blinked back tears. “No. I…guess I was dreaming. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

“Hush,” he said gently.

As if they had a will of their own, his hands began wandering over her body, searching for broken bones, signs of something, anything, he might have missed.

Only after a sob suddenly caught in her throat and her big brown eyes locked on his did he pause, realizing one hand was covering her breast.

For the longest time, neither one of them moved. The feelings clamoring through him were so raw, so all-consuming, so terrifying, that he could only stare back at her while her nipple budded in his palm.

“Collier,” she breathed, placing a hand on his cheek.

Further indulging himself in this moment of madness, he lowered his mouth to hers. At first he simply grazed her lips. But when she answered his groan and pressed her mouth closer, his need increased to a feverish pitch. He drank from the sweetness she offered him, kissing her with a deep and frightening intensity.

All the emotions that had been smoldering inside him since that first night exploded. Only after he had no more air in his lungs did he let her go and pull back.

Mutual shock seemed to paralyze them both for several seconds, the sound of the rain barely drowning out the rapid beat of their hearts.

“Dear God,” Collier said in a strangled tone before easing her back onto the pillow, horror washing over him.

Before she could respond, he got up, turned and walked out the door.




Six


“What on earth is going on?”

Brittany tightened her grip on the phone. “You did get my message, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Sissy Newman, the owner of the travel agency, responded. “But I didn’t like the vibes I got. You sounded different, like something was wrong. Is it?”

“Yes,” Brittany admitted, “but I can’t go into it right now.” She had left a generic message and the phone number on Sissy’s machine after Collier had given her permission to use the phone. She had called the diner, as well. She hadn’t wanted to lose either of her jobs.

“As long as you’re okay.” Sissy paused. “I’m assuming you’re not coming in today.”

Sissy sounded a bit out of sorts, since Brittany often worked on Saturdays, but Brittany took no offense. The older woman was her friend and had been for years. She knew Sissy had her well-being at heart. She was the only person Brittany felt like she could count on in a time of crisis.

But because Rupert was Sissy’s biggest client, his involvement made for a sticky situation. While she couldn’t entirely keep what had happened from Sissy, she wasn’t about to go into it on the phone or tell her who had hurt her.

“No, I’m not,” Brittany hedged.



“When are you going to tell me what’s going on? It’s not like you to miss work.”

Brittany willed the tears back. “I know.”

“Are you sick? Why don’t you just say so?”

“Please, Sissy, I’ll explain later. I promise. Just trust me, okay?”

“All right,” Sissy said with a sigh. “I know when to back off. You take care now, and let me hear from you.”

Once the phone was back in its cradle, Brittany sat still for a minute. That was when she realized how quiet it was. Had it stopped raining? Crossing to the window, she opened the blind. Peeping out from behind the clouds was the sun. Relief washed through her.

Did that mean they could leave? She dared not get her hopes up, but she couldn’t help it. After what happened between her and Collier Smith last night…

For a second her mind simply closed down and she couldn’t get enough air through her lungs for a decent breath. Feeling dizzy and slightly queasy, she tried not to think about that soul-depriving kiss.

Crazy.

That was the only word for it. She was shocked and mortified at her own behavior. Long after he’d lurched off the bed and torn out of the room, she had lain awake, thinking that the trauma she’d suffered had affected her mind, made her so weak and vulnerable that she hadn’t known what she was doing.

Liar. She’d known, all right.

Not only had he kissed her, but she’d kissed him back. This time fresh tears burned her eyes. Furious with her inability to control her frayed nerves, she made her way into the bathroom, flipped on the light and looked in the mirror.

She still looked the part—an abused woman. Another sick feeling washed over her. If there was a positive note to this, at least only one side of her face had born the brunt of Rupert’s fist. She dug her nails into her palms, not even wincing against the pain.

Damn him. Damn herself for letting him do this to her. He shouldn’t get away with it. He should have to pay. Collier was right about that. But turning him in wasn’t the answer, either. She knew Rupert and his connections. He would find some way to make everything her fault, deal her more misery than she could handle. With Tommy, two jobs and college, her plate was full.

Rupert had the money and the power to squash her. She had neither. Because she was without means, young and alone, she had been an easy target. However, when the time was right and she knew she had a chance to get Rupert, she would. Her gentleness was often perceived as weakness. But that wasn’t so. She was smart enough to pick the battles she could win. One of these days, Rupert would pay.

Turning away from her bruised face, Brittany made her way back into the bedroom, her eyes going immediately to the bed. Collier’s image rose to the forefront of her mind, bigger than life. Who was this man? Other than the fact that he was an attorney, she didn’t know anything about him. Yes, she did. She knew he had class and money, and that he was good-looking, though not magazine good-looking. His angular jaw and slightly crooked nose prevented that.

Still, he had plenty of entries in the plus column. He was tall and slender, with just the right amount of well-defined muscles and lines in his face to give him character. His dark hair, free of any gray, accented his deep blue eyes and long sooty lashes.

She wondered if he was married. Probably. The good ones always were, and she judged him to be in his late thirties, too old to still be single. He wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t mean anything these days. If he wasn’t married, he was certainly involved.

Suddenly she pictured him easing down beside her, taking her gently into his strong arms, his potent male scent enveloping her as his lips lightly brushed her sore cheek before claiming her lips as though they were his for the taking.

Her body quivered with emotion.

She’d felt safe and warm, like nothing could ever hurt her again. She ached to feel that way again, to have his arms around her, his hungry mouth on hers, his hand on her breast. Feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, Brittany covered them with her hands and swallowed a cry of dismay. Even so, the image wouldn’t go away, nor did she really want it to.

That was what frightened her the most. Those seething emotions he’d stirred in her left a hard, aching knot in the pit of her stomach.

What was he thinking? Her face flamed brighter. She couldn’t imagine. He’d had every opportunity to take advantage of her, to make her a victim again, but he hadn’t, thank God. As horrifying as the thought was, she didn’t know if she would have stopped him if he’d tried to make love to her.

While that admission almost brought Brittany to her knees in remorse, she couldn’t change how she felt. But she vowed he would never know. Once he took her home, this chapter in her life would end. She found strength and comfort in that fact. No matter that she would never forget him, never forget he’d saved her life.

Yet she dreaded seeing him again, didn’t want to feel that sudden rush of sexual awareness when he came near her. But since she had no choice in the matter, she brushed that thought aside and slipped into her clothes, clothes that would be discarded the minute she got home.

Home.

That sounded like heaven. While it didn’t have much in the way of amenities, it was hers. And she couldn’t wait to get back there. Then and only then would she begin to heal and pick up the pieces of her shattered life.

In the meantime, there was Collier to face. In the daylight.

He was out of here. They were out of here, he corrected mentally.

First thing that morning, he had put on his boots and trudged down to the bridge. Apparently it had stopped raining shortly after he’d left Brittany’s room, which had given the water plenty of time to subside.

Now all he had to do was tell Brittany the good news and they would be off. Amazingly, the words stuck in his throat, while a shock of guilt ran through him. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the coffee he’d just drunk sour in his stomach.

He’d kissed her, for god’s sake.

No, it had been much more than that. It had been another assault, only this time motivated by a desire to arouse pleasure, not pain. Still, there was no excuse for his loss of control. After what she’d been through, how could he have done such a thing? Had he no shame?

But there was something about her that had tapped into his sexual reservoir, creating a raw hunger inside him that nothing would appease except her. And even though he’d indulged himself and given in to that hunger, it hadn’t fixed his problem. Instead it had made it worse. If he had his way, he would kiss her again and again. In fact, he wished he never had to stop kissing her.

It had been lust at first sight.

He ignored the blood pounding through his body, settling into his loins, and concentrated on tying a knot in his runaway thoughts. But recognizing his lust for what it was didn’t seem to slow his hammering pulse or keep his mind off her.

The phone rang, and for a moment he was tempted not to answer it. But maybe a dose of reality was what he needed to get him back on track. He reached for the receiver.

“What it is?” he demanded.

His top-notch investigator, Kyle Warren, chuckled. “I see you’re still your same sweet self.” Then his tone sobered. “Get any work done?”

“Tons,” Collier lied.

“I was hoping you’d say that. So when are you heading back?”

“ASAP, now that the bridge is passable.”

“I was afraid you were marooned, which wasn’t a bad thing, not with as much work as you had to do.”

“Anything pressing I need to know about?” Collier asked, changing the subject. He was tempted to ask about his brother, but he knew there wouldn’t be any change there, much to his regret.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m calling. Otherwise, I swore I wouldn’t bother you.”

“Let’s hear it.” Collier heard the tired note that had crept into his voice. He was back on track, all right, the fast one.

“You need to stop by Ashton on the way in.”

Ashton was the prison in the next county. Collier frowned, his thoughts jumping back to Brittany. He could hardly stop by the prison with her in the car. “Whatever it is, can’t it wait?”

“I don’t think so. It’s Jim Sauterwhite. He tried to kill himself last night.”

“Shit,” Collier muttered. Jim was one of his old school buddies. He had been convicted on attempted murder charges, with his wife the target. Though he maintained his innocence, he had been convicted nonetheless and was serving a twenty-year sentence. Collier made it a point to visit him from time to time.

“What the hell happened?”

“I don’t know,” Kyle admitted. “The details are sketchy. I just thought, since the prison’s on your way in, it would save you a trip.”

“Look, I’ll see him, but not today.”

There was a short silence, then Kyle said in a puzzled tone, “Suit yourself.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, later.”

Collier hung up and headed for Brittany’s bedroom door. His gut instinct told him that she would be ready and waiting. He paused, his hand on the knob, sweat lining his upper lip.

Apologize. That was the first order of the day. But he knew he couldn’t bring himself to do that, because he wasn’t sorry. Not for the right reasons, anyway. His chest felt like it was caving in. He paused, took a deep breath, then let loose a few expletives under his breath.

He opened the door, nipping his circling, self-hating thoughts in the bud.




Seven


“So what’s the verdict?” Kyle asked.

Collier faced the door and watched as the investigator strode in, a stack of papers in hand. “Man, you and Dad. Give you a whip and your torture chamber would be complete.”

Kyle was of medium height and weight, with medium brown hair and eyes. Everything about him was medium, except his intelligence. There was nothing medium about that. He was one of the sharpest men Collier had ever worked with. He shuddered to see the day Kyle took a notion to leave.

Since he wasn’t married and had no ties that bind, he had a reputation for getting bored and moving on to greener pastures. Because of that, Collier worked hard to make sure he was one happy—and busy—employee.

He gave Collier a pointed look. “Learned it from the chamber master.”

Collier snorted, then rose behind his desk. “Somehow I don’t think that’s a compliment.”

“Sure it is,” Kyle muttered offhandedly, then grinned.

“Sit your ass down.”

Kyle chuckled. “I need something to get me going. You got any coffee? I didn’t even take time to stop by the kitchen.”



“I’ve been here since dawn-thirty. I’m working on my second pot, so help yourself.”

“Man, you must be wired and ready to go.”

“I’m wired, all right, but not ready to go. Not with that harassment case, if that’s what you mean.”

Kyle didn’t respond. Instead he crossed to the coffee bar in a far corner of the opulent office, where he poured himself a generous cup. Once he was seated directly in front of Collier’s desk, he said, “I was thinking about the appointment.”

“You’re rushing things. I’m one of four in the pot.”

This time Kyle snorted. “You’ll get the appointment. I’m not worried.”

“Well, I am,” Collier countered flatly.

Kyle swallowed a mouthful of coffee, then set his cup down. “Why? From what I know of the other candidates, you’re far superior to any of them.”

“Are you forgetting I have no, quote, ‘political experience,’ unquote, under my belt?”

Kyle shrugged. “So?”

“So the others have, especially Travis Wainwright.”

“That prick. He won’t get to first base.”

Collier frowned. “Are you forgetting he’s Rupert Holt’s choice? You know what power that guy wields with Senator Riley.”

“The senator’s backing you, right?”

“That’s the impression I got, but you never really know.”

“Ah, you’re just borrowing trouble.”

“Don’t think I’m not going to fight for the job, because I am,” Collier stressed. “I want it, and Dad wants me to have it. I can’t, won’t, disappoint him.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Kyle responded, his tone confident.



“We’ll see. But it’ll be tough. If I get anywhere close to being the top choice, the FBI’s going to jump in and scrutinize me closer than a bug under a microscope.”

“So?” Kyle said again. “You don’t have any skeletons in your closet.”

“We all have skeletons.” Collier sighed, then rubbed his chin. “But now’s not the time to go into that.”

“If anything will give you trouble, it’ll be this upcoming case.”

“I’ve thought about that, and so has Dad. He’s not happy I took it.”

“As far as the firm goes, it’s damn lucrative and good for business. It never hurts to have a bigwig like Luther Brickman in your pocket.”

“Only if I win his case.” Collier took a heavy breath. “You know how tricky harassment cases are. I probably wouldn’t have taken it if I’d known I’d be up for the judgeship.”

Kyle grinned. “Doesn’t matter. You can have both.”

“Yeah? Then you’d better get cracking on your end. The woman who’s his main accuser is one tough cookie. This could get nasty. And there are other cases awaiting my attention.” Collier raised his eyebrows. “Are you forgetting that?”

“Nope. Just tell me what I need to do and it’ll be done.” Kyle paused. “By the way, did you get through all those depositions?”

“No.”

Kyle’s jaw went slack. “No? How ’bout some of them?”

“Didn’t do that, either.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” Collier said impatiently.

“But that’s why you went to the cabin.” Kyle’s tone was incredulous. “I thought you said you got a lot of work done?”

Collier knew he should cut the other man some slack, but he was reluctant to talk about Brittany. Just the thought sent cold chills through him. Not that he had to give Kyle any of the juicy details, he reminded himself with a trace of sarcasm. Yet he felt it necessary to tell him the bare facts, just in case the incident came back to bite him on the butt. Under the circumstances, he was probably overreacting. But with the stakes being so high, he couldn’t take that chance.

“What’s wrong?” Kyle’s words were as blunt as his tone.

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly.”

“Hell, man, stop hedging. Something happened, and of all people who should know, it’s me.”

Collier took a deep breath. “I picked up a woman.”

“Where?”

“On the side of the highway.”

“Holy shit,” Kyle said under his breath. “I think you’d better pretend I’m a priest and you’re in a confessional.”

Collier told him the gist of what had happened.

“Holy shit,” Kyle muttered again, getting to his feet, his eyes narrowed on Collier. “That was about the craziest-assed stunt you could’ve pulled.”

“You would’ve stopped, too, and you damn well know it.”

“Not if I had as much to lose as you,” Kyle shot back.

“Well, it’s a done deal, so there’s no point in arguing about it now.”

“Does Mason know?”

“Hell no, and he’s not going to, either.”



“Then you’d better pray nothing comes of this. If that little tramp decides to accuse you of trying to rape her…”

Fury choked off Collier’s voice. But when he spoke, his words were cold and hard. “She’s not a tramp. Don’t ever say that again.”

Kyle was taken aback by his tone. His face drained of color. “Sorry, boss, didn’t mean any offense.”

“Just forget it, okay?”

“No problem for me, as long as it isn’t one for you. Just keep the dangers in mind, that’s all.”

Kyle’s refusal to back down made Collier respect him even more. Right now, he needed someone to keep him on the straight and narrow.

The mere thought of Brittany melted his bones and gave him a hard-on. No matter, there could never be a repeat performance. No more self-indulgence.

“It’s not like I’ll be seeing her again.”

“I hope that would go without saying.”

“Well, I’m saying it. I have no intention of jeopardizing anything.”

“That’s music to my ears.” Kyle reached for his cup, then took a sip, only to frown. “Damn, nothing’s worse than cold coffee.”

Collier nodded toward the bar. “Make a fresh pot, then.”

“Nah. Gotta get to work. My desk is piled almost as high as yours.”

“Let me know when you dig up something on Virginia Warner.” He frowned as he said the name of the woman who had brought suit against Brickman. “She can’t be as lily-white as she appears.”

“No one is. We just have to find her skeletons.”

“Get on it.”



“Will do.” Kyle rose and headed for the door. “I’ll check in later.”

Collier nodded, his thoughts turning inward as he felt a sudden prick of conscience. What was the matter with him? He’d never let going for someone’s jugular bother him before, though he never veered from the law. He’d never had a grievance filed against him, and he enjoyed a reputation for being honest and above reproach in his work.

But he didn’t like to lose and rarely did. However, he’d never tried anyone on sexual harassment charges before, and, as he’d told Kyle, he fully expected things to get nasty.

If anything would catapult him to the top of the judgeship list, it would be his integrity and his dogged determination. All the more reason why he couldn’t let this soul-draining attraction to another woman cost him everything he held near and dear.

Suddenly Collier went numb all over, Kyle’s words coming back to haunt him. Then he dismissed those words as crap. Brittany wouldn’t accuse him of being the one to assault her. She wasn’t that type of woman.

How do you know? a little voice asked.

He didn’t, nor did he want to. He didn’t want to know anything about her. He just wanted her; he wanted her body. He wanted only to taste every morsel of her delicious flesh, then bury himself inside her.

Shit!

Sweat saturated his entire body, while his mouth went as dry as cotton. He had to stop thinking like that. He had to stop thinking about her. When they left the cabin, she’d spoken very little. In fact, she’d told him how to get to her trailer and that was it. Only after he’d pulled up at the curb in a run-down part of Chaney did she speak. She’d thanked him in her gentle, husky-toned voice, keeping her eyes averted. It had been all he could do not to grab her, the desperate feeling gnawing inside him threatening to override his sanity.

But he’d quelled that sexual urge and just nodded, then watched as she’d walked up onto the rickety porch and disappeared inside. He’d gripped the steering wheel so hard he thought his knuckles would surely crack while his stomach pitched.

Finally he’d rammed the Lexus into gear and driven back to Haven, back to his upscale condo with the words “from two different worlds” seared on his brain with a red-hot branding iron.

Now, as he blew out a ravaged breath and tried to regroup, his phone jangled. He automatically punched the lighted button and listened to his secretary, Pamela Nixon, say, “Ms. Frazier’s on line one, sir.”

Lana, he thought, despising himself because he had no desire to talk to her.

“My God, what happened to you?”

Sissy Newman stood inside the door of Brittany’s living room with her mouth gaping and her cloudy green eyes wide, something Brittany didn’t often see. Usually Sissy was unflappable; that was why she made such a good travel agent. The public rarely rattled her.

Though she was slightly overweight, with gray hair she refused to color, she had a lot going for her. She wore stylish clothes and had a great personality. Childless and widowed, having lost her husband a few years ago right after she turned sixty, Sissy’s whole life was wrapped up in her work and her friends. Brittany considered herself fortunate to be part of both.



“It’s a long story, so you’d better come on in and sit down.” Brittany paused. “You have time, right?”

“After seeing your face, you bet I do.”

“Want some hot chocolate?” Brittany asked, once Sissy was seated.

“That does sound good.”

Brittany thought so, too, since it was a cold, drizzly day, more characteristic of winter than fall. She had the space heater in the room up as high as it would go, and still she was cold. But she knew it wasn’t altogether the weather that kept her chilly. Her heightened nerves were responsible; it was like they were sitting on the outside of her skin.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Sissy asked, her eyes tracking Brittany as she returned from the kitchen and sat on the sofa, folding her legs under her.

“Drink some of your chocolate,” Brittany said lightly, dreading the next few minutes, when she would have to rehash the horror she’d endured. Sissy wouldn’t rest until she told her, though Brittany had no intention of telling her the whole story.

“To hell with the cocoa. I want to know whose fist you ran into. I can’t accuse Tommy—”

“Sissy!”

“Just kidding.”

A short silence ensued while both women sipped the steaming cocoa. Then Sissy put her cup down and said pointedly, “I’m waiting.”

“It’s not an easy thing to talk about,” Brittany said, still hedging.

“Did…he rape you?”

“I don’t think so. I blacked out, but…”

Sissy swore, which was so out of character it almost made Brittany smile.



“Other than your face, do you have other injuries?”

“Some cuts and bruises.”

“So what happened?”

Brittany explained, but without mentioning Rupert’s name—or Collier’s.

“What a horrible experience,” Sissy said in a numb-sounding voice. “It’s a miracle you survived, and it’s another miracle someone came along to pick you up. Even though you won’t tell me who’s responsible, I hope to hell you told the police.”

“No.”

“Dammit, Brittany, why not?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

Clearly frustrated, Sissy snapped, “That’s not smart. Hell, I didn’t even know you were seeing someone, much less that he would turn out to be a violent creep.”

“Please, Sissy, don’t ask me anything else. I’ve told you all I’m prepared to.”

“Fine, but if that bastard touches you again, I won’t let you off the hook so easily.”

“You know how I feel about depending on the law,” Brittany said by way of another excuse. “After the way Tommy was railroaded, you, of all people, should understand.”

“I understand, but in this instance, I don’t agree. But you have to do what you have to do.”

“Thanks for your support.” Brittany tried to smile.

“Can I do anything for you?” Sissy asked. “I feel so helpless.”

“Nothing except give me a few more days off.”

“What about your classes?”

“I’ll go to those and work in the diner.”

“Can’t you forget the diner? I’ll advance you—”

“No,” Brittany interrupted. “I’ll be okay.”



Sissy stood, her mouth stretched in a thin line. “When you come to your senses, I’ll be here for you. Meanwhile, take care and heal.” She leaned over and brushed Brittany’s other cheek. “And that’s an order.”

Brittany gave her a watery smile. “Thanks.”

“I’ll see myself out.”

Once Brittany was alone, her head hit the back of the sofa, though it wasn’t all that comfortable. A spring jabbed her in the back of the neck, forcing her to shift positions and making her wince again. Her body was just now beginning to feel the effects of her ordeal. But at least the bruising had paled somewhat, and she no longer scared herself when she looked in the mirror.

Maybe Tommy wouldn’t even notice. Ha. She knew better, but right now, she didn’t have to think about that. Nor did she have to think about Collier Smith. That problem was solved. He was out of her life.

Though she would never forget the hot, physical attraction that had crackled between them, it had been his special way of cutting through her shield and finding her tender spots that made him unforgettable. He was the type of man she had searched for all her adult years and never found. Until now. But she could never have him.

He had gone back to his world and left her in hers.




Eight


“Hey, Dad.”

“Son, you’re just the person I wanted to see.”

Son.

Collier’s heart always beat a little faster every time Mason called him that. He didn’t remember reacting like this when he was younger. He guessed that back then he’d just taken it for granted he belonged to Mason. But since he’d become an adult and learned the cold truth, that word had taken on new meaning. If only Mason could have adopted him…

“What’s going on?” Collier finally asked with a smile, something that didn’t come often or easily of late.

“I’ve set the date for the party,” Mason said without preamble.

Collier propped his foot on the bottom stair, almost wishing he hadn’t stopped by the mansion before heading for the office. It had been a while since he’d seen his brother, and he felt like a heel. Though officially retired, Mason maintained an office at the firm and spent a lot of time there. Not so with Jackson. If Collier wanted to see him, he had to make an effort.

“Your silence tells me you don’t approve.”

Collier blew out his breath. “No. I wish you hadn’t done it.”

“It’s the right thing to do.”



“I don’t agree,” Collier countered. “It makes me uncomfortable. We have to face facts. I might not get the appointment. Nothing’s for sure, you know.”

Mason gestured impatiently. “All the more reason to start tooting your horn now, especially since a friend called and told me Rupert Holt’s out lobbying strongly for his candidate, Travis Wainwright. I refuse to let Rupert get the upper hand.”

“When are you two going to stop taking punches at each other? This has been going on far too long. You ought to call a truce.”

“He’s the one with the ax to grind,” Mason said doggedly. “The one who keeps the pot boiling.”

Collier suppressed a sigh. “Regardless of how you feel about Rupert, Wainwright’s a credible candidate. He’s got a good chance of getting the presidential nod.”

“Over my dead body. No one associated with Holt’s going to kick your ass.”

Mason’s thick white eyebrows bunched together, giving him a fierce look. Collier understood why his mother had fallen for him. Not only was he downright handsome—tall and robust, with white hair and blue, blue eyes—he was highly intelligent and filled with boundless energy. And at sixty-six, he was blessed with good health.

Yet, since the tragedy that had befallen his eldest son, there was another side of Mason that had risen to the surface. He’d developed a vindictive, angry streak. Before, he’d been personable and levelheaded. Now, almost anything, insignificant or not, could set him off like a rocket.

No matter, Collier loved him and wanted to find favor in his eyes in everything he did. Sometimes, though, he thought that was an unattainable goal.



“Did you hear what I said?” Mason demanded.

“Uh, no.”

“Dammit, boy, where’s your head?”

Deliberately ignoring Mason’s irritation, he asked, “What were you saying?”

“That you need to give me a guest list for the dinner.”

“I can’t talk you out of it?”

“No,” Mason said with force. “I’m convinced it’s the right thing to do.”

“All right,” Collier conceded with a sigh. “At least Lana will love it.”

“Speaking of Lana, when are you two going to tie the knot? Hell, her old man can do as much or more than anybody to help you get that appointment. This would be a perfect time to announce your intentions. The news might even make the front page of the paper.” Mason’s face suddenly brightened. “Why not do it at the dinner party?”

Collier’s stomach bottomed out. “Whoa! You’re getting way ahead of things. Besides, that’s something personal between Lana and me.”

“Well, don’t lollygag much longer.” Mason’s chin jutted. “It’s high time you were married with a family.”

“Dad, can we change the subject?”

“Yes, but only because I have an appointment. Will I see you at the office?”

“I’m heading there after I look in on Jackson.”

Mason’s features tightened. “I’ll warn you. He’s in more of a funk than ever, and not very pleasant to be around.”

With that, he walked out the door. Collier remained motionless for a moment, trying to regain his momentum, feeling as though he’d been hit by a mini hurricane.

Shaking his head, he finally turned and bounded up the stairs to Jackson’s suite. Following the accident, Mason had had an elevator installed in the house so Jackson wouldn’t be confined to his quarters. He’d also added a full gym and all the amenities, including a trainer and physical therapist.

At first Mason had done everything in his power to make sure his son walked again. But when it became clear that that wasn’t going to happen, he’d focused on making him as comfortable as possible. But nothing, no amount of money or attention, had been able to help Jackson’s attitude.

Forcing himself to be upbeat, Collier tapped on his brother’s door. Only after he got no response did he ease it open. Jackson was sitting in front of the smoldering fireplace in his wheelchair, sound asleep.

Collier was tempted to wake him, thinking he could sleep most anytime. But for some reason, he refrained from doing so. Perhaps it was because Jackson looked so peaceful, so at ease, something he never was when he was awake.

Even though his lower half was no longer functioning, his upper half was in fine form. Before the paralysis, he’d been a tall, fit, good-looking blond man with piercing blue eyes, so like Mason’s. Now, at forty-two, his upper body had become the focus of his attention. He’d honed those muscles to perfection, in contrast to his wasted lower body.

Too bad he didn’t work that hard on his attitude, Collier thought. Lately, it had sucked. As Mason had pointed out, Jackson had been even more bitter than usual, feeling unusually sorry for himself. Collier hoped his bid for the federal judgeship hadn’t been the catalyst.

Collier would gladly give that up to have his brother whole again.



He continued to look at Jackson, guilt pounding him once again. He was unable to get over the idea that he’d somehow let his brother down.

He hadn’t been there for him when the accident occurred or right afterward. He’d been in the Soviet Union on a case that had represented a golden opportunity for the firm. He’d wanted to come home. He’d made his plans to do just that, only to have Mason demand that he remain in Russia, claiming Jackson didn’t want to see him or anyone else.

He’d gone with Mason’s call, but he’d never forgiven himself for it, thinking that if he’d come home, he might have been able to break through the barrier Jackson had erected between himself and the world. But hindsight was twenty-twenty, and now he had to live with the fact that he hadn’t gone with his heart.

Suddenly Collier jerked his mind back to the present and noticed that the coverlet had slipped slightly to one side, exposing one of Jackson’s legs. It was terribly thin and stiff, as if it was artificial. Collier’s heart turned over, and he felt the sting of tears behind his eyes.

Blinking them back, he crossed lightly to the chair, reached down and replaced the crocheted afghan. When Jackson still didn’t stir, he stepped back. Such a waste of such a brilliant mind. Before the accident, Jackson had been a crackerjack attorney, and he still could be. Unfortunately, he’d chosen not to practice law any longer. Instead, he seemed content to sit and brood behind these walls.

Something had to give soon. But what? Although Collier had asked himself that question numerous times, he still had no answer. Nothing seemed able to shake his brother out of his depression. If by some chance Collier did get the appointment to the bench, there would be a big void in the office. Maybe then Jackson would come to his senses.

Collier clenched and unclenched his fingers. Dammit, it wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair.

What a morning.

Collier had been busier than a cranberry merchant, though he couldn’t say he’d accomplished all that much. He had stopped by the prison to see his friend, though. He’d done that immediately after he’d left the mansion.

Afterward, it had taken him a while to get his head back on straight. First Mason, then Jackson, and finally Jim’s sad plight, had started his own day off on a down note. Not that he’d needed a reason. Ever since he’d left Brittany in her sparse surroundings, he hadn’t been able to settle down.

His insides felt like jumping beans had set up shop there. He’d flitted from one case to another. It was a continuation of the night, when he’d lain awake, his mind ping-ponging between Brittany, wondering what she was doing, what she was thinking, and the judgeship, asking himself what dirt his opponents would uncover on him.

He’d counted every slow turn of the ceiling fan in his room before daylight had forced him out of bed.

Forget her.

He might as well. He sure as hell couldn’t see her again. It would be political and emotional suicide. He might as well get a gun and shoot himself in the head and be done with it. If he didn’t, Kyle would, he reminded himself brutally. Despite that, thoughts of Brittany refused to die a natural death, regardless of how many drinks he took or how often he saw Lana.

It was inconceivable that it had only been a week since he’d left Brittany. It seemed an eternity already. Lust for her gnawed constantly at his gut.

“Good, you’re here. Since Pamela wasn’t manning the desk, I thought I’d take a chance on catching you.”

That was the only reason Darwin Brewster had made it into Collier’s office. Pamela knew better than to let that happen.

Still, Collier was glad of the interruption, even if Brewster was the only attorney in the entire firm he had trouble stomaching. The guy badly needed an attitude adjustment, and, on several occasions, Collier had obliged him.

“What’s up?” Collier asked, pushing his folder aside and peering at his uninvited guest.

While not handsome, Darwin did have a gift of gab that seemed to charm his clients, especially the women. His deep brown eyes, thick hair and perfectly groomed mustache apparently made up for his lack of stature. He was short, and thin almost to the point of gauntness. Collier suspected his arrogant attitude stemmed from the “little man syndrome.”

When in a group, Darwin’s demeanor proclaimed he was the best, brightest and most intelligent one in the room. If you didn’t believe him, you could just ask him. He would admit it. That arrogance irritated the hell out of Collier. If he’d had his way, he would never have taken the man on board the firm.

But Mason had been Brewster’s champion, something Collier failed to understand, especially since he had been the court-appointed attorney for that Rogers kid who was responsible for Jackson being in a wheelchair.

Shortly after the scumbag was sent to the pen, Mason had insisted on hiring Brewster. Ever since, Brewster had been in like Flynn. And though Mason’s high regard for him stuck in Collier’s craw, he had to admit that the man knew the law and had won some tough cases.

He hoped Darwin’s track record would carry over to the personal injury case they were working on together. Darwin was second chair.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about.” Darwin looked up from the folder in front of him. “We go to trial next week.”

Collier hadn’t needed a reminder. “I know.” To his knowledge, the details had been pretty much worked out, and he was ready. Apparently Darwin wasn’t. “So what’s on your mind?”

Darwin cleared his throat, though his eyes didn’t waver. “I want to be lead counsel.”

Collier didn’t so much as flinch. “Oh, and why is that?”

“For one thing, I feel like I’ve put in more work and know the facts better. Also, the last few weeks, I’ve really bonded with our client. She’s the one who asked that I be in charge.”

“So you asked.”

Darwin looked a bit confused. “And?”

“The answer is no,” Collier responded in a smooth and controlled tone.

“But—”

Collier stood. “No buts, Brewster. Consider yourself lucky to still be on the case. Now get the hell out of my face and out of my office.”




Nine


Would her life ever get back to normal? Would she ever get her energy back?

Since the accident, she’d not only been exhausted but restless, edgy, as if something else terrible was about to happen. For one thing, she kept waiting for Rupert Holt to come through the door of the agency. To date that hadn’t happened, and maybe it wouldn’t. With any luck, he was running scared, not because of her and what she would do, but because of his wife.

According to Sissy, Angel Holt’s family was the money behind Rupert. So why had he taken the chance of cheating on her? Maybe his wife didn’t care. Maybe she did her thing and Rupert did his, which was to take advantage of unsuspecting women like her. How many other notches did Rupert have on his sexual belt?

Despite the warmth in her Honda, Brittany shivered. She couldn’t get out of her mind just how close she’d come to losing her life that night on the lonely stretch of highway. The resurgence of that thought made her breakfast congeal in her stomach.

A part of Brittany had been tempted to throw caution to the wind, make a phone call and rat on the sleazebag. If she told Rupert’s wife what her husband had done, surely that would bring him to his knees. But she couldn’t. That wasn’t the way she operated. When and if she got the chance to nail Rupert, she wouldn’t use his wife as the hammer.

She simply wanted never to see him again and to get on with her life. A bitter smile erupted. She could have done that if she hadn’t met Collier Smith. He had her mind so fractured, her insides so tangled, nothing made sense anymore.

Did she want to see him again? Was that what all her stewing was about? Apparently so, or she wouldn’t be in such a mess. She thought about him constantly, when she was in bed, in class, at the diner, at the agency. It didn’t matter; he seemed to have attached himself to every aspect of her mind and body.

She’d even gone so far as to envision Collier walking in one day with a lovely bouquet of flowers and asking her to dinner. After he’d wined and dined her, he would take her to his place and make slow, leisurely love to her, his lips and hands acting out her fantasy.

Ridiculous.

She told herself that over and over, but to no avail. She couldn’t seem to close the door on him. Shifting positions, Brittany took a deep breath, then let it out. Just as it had been for her outer wounds, time was the perfect healer for the mind, she reassured herself. It would take care of her heart as well as her face. When she didn’t see Collier again, he would soon fade from her mind and become nothing but a sweet memory.

Meanwhile, her goal had not changed. She’d been sidetracked, for sure, but she would get her degree, no matter how many tables she had to wait on or how many creeps like Rupert she had to deal with at the agency.

But no one would ever violate her again.

She wouldn’t put herself in a vulnerable situation again.



Regardless of who promised to help her or Tommy, she wouldn’t fall for it. Her brother was her responsibility, always had been and always would be. As soon as she got her degree and a decent job, she would be able to help him.

Thinking of Tommy made her realize she was near the prison. Suddenly her anxiety increased, not because she was about to go behind prison walls, but because of how she looked.

Tightening her lips, Brittany shifted her concentration back to the highway. At least the sun was shining, she thought, trying to buoy her spirits. Where she was headed might be depressing, the beauty surrounding her certainly wasn’t. Fall in the South had a way of cloaking itself with such bursts of brilliant foliage that it took a person by surprise.

Brittany soaked up that beauty, feeling its serenity comfort her like a balm. It wouldn’t last long, this feeling of peace. As soon as she was seated in that stark room and saw Tommy in his drab prison garb, looking lean and strained, that black, hard core of grief would settle in the pit of her stomach once again.

One of these days, he would walk out of that miserable place.

Realizing she was on the prison grounds, Brittany whipped into the nearest parking space and got out, the immense size of the plain brick buildings further intimidating her. Gritting her teeth, she made her way inside, refusing to acknowledge the smells, the sounds, that were part of this drab world.

Soon she was through security, seated, and waiting for her brother. When she saw him coming, she plastered a smile on her face, though she had to catch her lower lip between her teeth to keep it from quivering. Now that she was here, she realized anew how difficult it was going to be to keep the truth from Tommy.

Once he was seated behind the glass directly in front of her, they both picked up their phones simultaneously, though Brittany hated touching those phones with a passion. She’d been tempted to bring a can of Lysol and spray the receiver, except that she knew it would make her brother feel worse than ever.

“Hey, sis,” he said, then narrowed his eyes and added, “What the hell happened to you?”

“Hello to you, too, brother dear,” she said in a light, forced tone.

“Who hit you?” he asked coldly, his brown eyes narrowing to slits.

Hesitating on purpose, Brittany perused him closely, as she did every week when she saw him, checking to make sure he wasn’t run-down or ill. Before his incarceration, he’d been thin and small boned, like her. But he was tall, which made up for his lack of weight, and very healthy, rarely sick until he started smoking pot. At one time he might have been considered good-looking, with his dark wavy hair, dark eyes, tanned skin and sullen-slanted mouth.

Now, after three years behind bars, his entire face had become sullen, which made him anything but good-looking. He appeared much older than his twenty-three years. She noticed right off that he’d lost some weight, which didn’t help his appearance. Had he been ill?

She voiced that thought. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t try and change the subject.”

“Okay, I was involved in a minor auto accident,” she lied. “I ran off the road and hit a tree.”

A smirk tightened his lips. “It looks like your boyfriend might’ve worked you over.”



Brittany winced, then said in a dull tone, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Well, you should. Do you ever have any fun?”

“I’d rather not talk about me.” But then, he wasn’t really interested, anyway. He hadn’t even bothered to ask for any details. While she should have expected his self-centeredness, it still smarted. She wondered what he would do if she really had been in an accident and couldn’t come see him.

“Okay, we’ll talk about me,” he said bitterly, “and all the fun I’m having in here.”

“Tommy, please—” Her voice broke. “I know you hate this place, and I hate you being here. But right now, there’s nothing more I can do.”

“What if you went back and tried to find Renee?”

“Oh, Tommy, she’s long gone. You know I went to her trailer and tried to find her right after it happened.”

“I know, but maybe she’s come back.” He moved the receiver closer to his mouth. “What about knocking on that shithead lawyer’s door again? The one who sold me down the river. Maybe he’s had a change of heart.” Tommy finished with a sarcastic smile.

Heaven forbid, Brittany thought, hiding her dismay. She didn’t relish the thought of facing Darwin Brewster again. “You know better than that,” Brittany responded in a tired voice. “He’ll never admit to any wrongdoing. You’re just grasping at straws.”

Tommy thrust a hand through his hair. “But you don’t understand. You can’t understand. Some days I think I won’t survive if I have to stay here. It’s making me nuts.”

Brittany fought back tears. “You’re making it harder on yourself.”



“Don’t preach to me,” he said angrily. “I get enough of that shit in here.”

Some days there was no pleasing Tommy. Today was one of those days. It appeared that no matter what she said or did, it would be wrong. Something had happened to ignite his temper, though she didn’t dare ask what.

“Is there anything you need?” she asked instead.

“Yeah, but you obviously can’t hack it.”

Another low blow, which she didn’t deserve, but she took it, nonetheless. If only she didn’t feel so responsible for her brother, so responsible for everything that concerned him—good, bad or indifferent. She continually berated herself for not having taken better care of him, for not keeping a tighter rein on him. If she had, then maybe he wouldn’t have ruined two lives—his own and Jackson Williams’.

Realistically she knew she couldn’t hold herself responsible for his behavior on the night of the accident or any other night. Considering the way they’d been reared, she’d done her best. And while she remained loyal to him and really did believe in his innocence in this particular situation, she wasn’t blind to his shortcomings.

Tommy had done a lot in the past to bring shame on both of them.

Still, she loved him and would continue to work diligently to get him released, back into society where he could get counseling for his problems.

“How ’bout some money, sis? Maybe a little extra for this week. What you gave me two weeks ago didn’t last. Cigarettes keep going up.”

“Sure.” Although she didn’t have any extra money, she fished what she did have out of her purse and clutched it in her hand. Before she left, she would stop by the office, where the cash would be put in his account. “I wish you’d try and stop smoking.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Paling under his insulting tone, Brittany stood. Enough was enough. She’d had all of his ill-temper she wanted for today. Maybe next time he would be a little more considerate.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“What’s your hurry?”

“Your attitude.”

“How the hell would you like it if you were innocent,” he lashed back, “and no one believed you?”

“I believed—believe—you.”

“Then get me out of here.”

Brittany suppressed a tired sigh. “I’ll see you next week.”

Collier found Jackson in his suite, parked in his usual place, in front of the fireplace, staring into it. Although he could only see his profile, he knew Jackson was brooding. “I hear you’re under the weather, big brother.”

“So?”

Collier barely held on to his temper. When Jackson was in one of his moods, which was all the time lately, he could be as trying as hell. After Mason had told him that Jackson was suffering with a bout of the flu, he’d detoured by the mansion on his way home from a Sunday in the office to check on him, hoping to cheer him up a bit. So much for his gesture.

When the silence became stifling, Collier made another attempt to carry on a normal conversation. “Once you’re up to it, I could sure use your help on this sexual harassment case I’m working on, or that’s working on me, I should say.”

“I think you have enough attorneys on staff to assist you,” Jackson muttered darkly.

Collier lost it. “Dammit, Jackson, you won’t give an inch, will you?”

“If you’re going to start—”

“Start what?” Mason asked, walking through the open door.

“Same old shit,” Jackson said petulantly, rolling his wheelchair toward the window, turning his back to both men.

Collier looked at his stepfather and shook his head in frustration, loving and hating his brother all at the same time.

As if he could read Collier’s mind, Mason spoke to Jackson’s back, “Son, you’re not being fair.”

Jackson turned his chair abruptly and glared at the two of them. “Look, since I feel like hell, I’d prefer to be alone.”

Without a word, Collier headed for the door with Mason in tow, his features set like concrete, then swung back around. “I’ll concede this battle, big brother, but you’re not about to win the war. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to give the outside world another shot.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

Later, in the foyer, Mason balled his fists and said, “What are we going to do? We can’t just let him keep going this way.”

“He’ll snap out of it,” Collier said with more confidence than he felt, concerned for his dad as well as his brother. Jackson’s attitude was taking more of a toll on Mason each day. “Maybe you should cancel the dinner party, though.”



“No.” Mason’s tone was obstinate. “Somehow I’ll get him out of that room. I refuse to give up on him, dammit. You’ve got to help me.”

Mason’s desperation was almost palpable. Collier reached out and squeezed him on the shoulder. “We’ll think of something.”

“Such a goddamn waste,” Mason said, looking away, talking more to himself than to Collier. “Even if he is in a wheelchair, he could be in the running for a judgeship.”

Collier flinched inwardly. “You’re exactly right.”

Mason whipped around, his mouth working. “Look, Collier, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I—”

“Forget it,” Collier said in a bleak tone. “I understand, and I couldn’t agree more.”

A few minutes later, he drove off, feeling as if he’d just been gutted.




Ten


Collier was about to get out of his vehicle when he heard a noise behind him. He peered into the rearview mirror and cursed. Lana had pulled into the driveway.

He should be ashamed for not wanting to see her. But then, he didn’t want to see anyone right now except… Cursing again, he shut that thought down and tried to improve his mood. What was the matter with him? He should be thrilled to see Lana. After all, he was thinking about marrying her. He must have strong feelings for her.

Her timing was bad. That was all. After his encounter with Jackson, he was in a pissy mood and wanted to be alone, get a hot shower, down a couple of beers, then hit the sack.

So much for that plan.

“Hey,” he said, after getting out and watching her exit her sleek Jag and walk toward him. No doubt about it, she was a looker. Tall and model thin, with highlighted brown hair, gray eyes and a full lower lip. That lower lip gave her a petulant look that matched her personality perfectly. If things didn’t go Lana’s way, there was hell to pay. But then, things rarely didn’t go her way. Her daddy saw to that. He had more than his share of money and clout in this country. And he doted on his only child.

Lana smiled back at him, then grazed his cheek with her scarlet lips. “Hey, yourself.”



“What brings you here this time of day?”

She poked him in the chest with a matching nail. “You.”

“That’s nice.”

Lana gave him a suspicious look. “You sure don’t sound like it.”

“Sorry, it’s just that it’s been a helluva day and I’m beat.”

“All the more reason why you’re coming with me.”

“Where?”

“To dinner.”

“Not tonight. I’m only fit for bed.”

She gave an angry toss of her head, then complained, “You’re not being fair. I haven’t seen you in ages. If you won’t have dinner, then at least have a drink with me.” That same long nail made its way slowly and deliberately up and down his chest. “Please.”

Usually such a blatant gesture raised the hair on the back of his neck. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again, he thought with alarm.

“Collier, darling.”

He forced another smile. “Uh, sorry. You name the place.”

“Get in.”

He shook his head. “I’ll follow you, so you won’t have to bring me back home.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what I had in mind.”

He leaned over and kissed her lightly. “I’ll be right behind you.”

A few minutes later they were facing each other in the bar area of one of the nicer hotel restaurants, a favorite haunt of Lana’s and her women friends. For what was considered happy hour, the place was fairly deserted, Collier noticed, perusing the area. He was glad. He wasn’t in the mood to make small talk with anyone.

“I’ve missed you,” Lana said, her voice dropping to a husky pitch as she laid her hand on the back of his.

“Me, too.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “You sure?”

He sighed, withdrawing his hand. “Of course, but like I told you, it’s been crazy at the office.”

“Well, things will change after you become a federal judge.”

“You’re awfully confident.”

“Daddy says it’s going to happen.”

Collier gave her a lopsided smile. “And that makes it so, huh?”

“You can make fun all you want, but you know better. Once Bill Frazier makes up his mind about something, it’s a done deal.”

“You won’t hear any complaints on my part. Sitting on that bench would be a dream come true for both me and Mason.”

“Good.”

He took a sip of his drink and watched her over the rim, thinking he could do a lot worse than Lana. Yet…

“So?” she asked.

“So what?”

“When are we going to set a wedding date?”

Collier’s stomach suddenly bottomed out. “I don’t think this is the time to talk about that.”

“I think the timing’s perfect.”

“Lana—”

She ignored him. “Daddy wants that, too. For us to get married soon, I mean.”

“I thought we might wait until I’m either in or out of the running for the judgeship. My name could be scratched any day. Besides, I’ve taken on a case that could eat my lunch. I don’t need to be distracted.”

She leaned her head to one side and smiled coyly. “Are you saying I’m a distraction?”

“You betcha,” he declared with forced enthusiasm.

“Mmm, maybe I’ll let you off the hook a bit longer, but only if you’ll promise not to neglect me like you have been lately.”

Collier finished his drink in one swallow and signaled the bartender for a refill. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Collier Smith.” Lana reclaimed his hand, then pressed another of those long, blood-red nails into his palm.

He winced.

“Just don’t wait too long,” she added with false sweetness. “Daddy wouldn’t like that, not one iota.”

“Are you threatening me?” Although he kept his tone light, the steely edge was there.

Flushing, she said, “You know better than that.” She paused and gave him her most engaging smile. “So do you want to talk about your case?”

“You know I can’t do that.”

She smiled. “Good. That stuff’s boring anyway. Let me tell you about my latest charitable project. I know it’s going to be a huge success.”

Collier sipped his drink and listened.

A short time later, his torture finally ended. He accompanied Lana to her Jag, then looked on as she took off, full speed ahead, the way she did everything. Whenever he left her, he often felt as if he’d been caught in a whirl-wind.

He headed for his condo. Once there, he grabbed his briefcase and made his way inside, only to stop in his tracks. For some reason, spending an evening alone no longer interested him. In fact, the emptiness ahead made him feel like a stranger in his own home.

Suddenly he whipped around, and got back into his Lexus, knowing that what he was about to do would merely make matters worse.

Still, he cranked the engine and backed out of the driveway.

Another day without Rupert walking through the door.

Lately that was how Brittany had come to measure the success of her days at the agency. She knew that was absurd and no way to live, but she couldn’t help it. Every time the door opened, her heart lodged in her throat until she peered from under thick lashes and saw who it was.

The flowers were what kept her on edge.

They continued to arrive. The smell and the thought were both sickening. She’d always loved flowers, but at the moment she wouldn’t care if she ever saw another one again.

How dare he think he could win her over with flowers after what he’d done to her? Just the thought made her furious.





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