Like Silk

“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.”