Like Silk

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  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 qu
elled 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.