Читать книгу Like Silk - Mary Baxter Lynn - Страница 10

“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.