Like Silk

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  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.

  As soon as she got off from work, she took them by the local hospital and left them at the nurses’ station. So far, she’d gotten by with that ploy because Sissy had been out of town. Otherwise, she would have demanded to know what was going on.

  If Rupert didn’t call a halt to this madness soon, she would have to take measures on her own. That thought made Brittany’s skin crawl. That was why she always shed her clothes the second she arrived home and took a hot bath.

  Anything associated with Rupert Holt made her feel dirty.

  Now she was in her robe, her face devoid of makeup, a cup of decaffeinated coffee in hand, ready to study for the remainder of the evening. She had two hard tests coming up, and she wanted to ace them. Concentrating, however, was difficult. Her recent visit with Tommy had left her feeling more depressed than usual, which cluttered her mind. He seemed to be on a downward spiral, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

  She couldn’t believe he’d asked her to try to find Renee again. Worse was his mention of Darwin Brewster. The one and only time she had talked with him alone, it had been an awful experience. After the trial and Tommy’s sentencing, she’d marched into his office, demanding to know why he hadn’t called Renee to the stand.

  “I didn’t believe her story,” he’d told her in a condescending voice.

  Her temper had flared. “How can you say that, when she backed up Tommy about his drink being spiked? She said she saw Chad Creekmore spike it.”

  “I don’t think that happened, Miss Banks. I think she just made it up, hoping to get your brother off.”

  Brittany had been horrified. She agreed with Tommy. At the last minute, Darwin Brewster had indeed hung him out to dry, and there had been nothing she could do about it after the fact. Still, with that horror driving her, she had gone to see Renee, only to find her trailer deserted.

  She hadn’t stopped there, although she hadn’t told Tommy that. A few days later she’d paid Chad a visit. He’d been in a rival gang. Even though Tommy no longer participated in gang activities, old enemies died hard.

  Chad worked as a mechanic in a local garage. He’d been alone that day, working under a car.

  When she’d called his name, he’d rolled out, then risen to his feet, grease covering him from head to toe. A big glob was matted in his hair. Still, that grime failed to hide the tattoos covering his hairy arms. He was husky and dark complexioned, with dirty, shoulder-length hair.

  “I’m Tommy Rogers’ sister,” she said, forcing herself not to show how revolted she was by him.

  He spat tobacco on the dirty concrete, his eyes raking over her, a glint in them. She cringed inwardly.

  “Whatcha’ want?” he finally asked.

  “The truth.”

  He gave her an ugly grin, revealing stained teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady.”

  “That stuff you put in my brother’s drink,” she said boldly. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  He took a step toward her, clutching a wrench in his hand. “You got balls, I’ll have to hand you that. But I suggest you git your sassy ass back where you came from. I don’t know nothin’ about no drink.”

  Brittany backed up, the foul odor coming from his body taking her breath away. “It’s your fault he had the wreck, and I can prove it.”

  “Lady, you can’t prove Jack shit.” He slid the wrench back and forth across his palm, giving her a leering grin. “But if you’ll make it worth my while, I’ll say anything.”

  “Go to hell,” Brittany spat, then spun on her heel and headed back to her car, her heart pounding.

  Forcing her thoughts away from that awful day, she shuddered, still amazed that she had pulled such a stupid stunt. But she’d been so desperate she hadn’t used good judgment. Another shudder went through her. He could have raped her, or worse.

  Thinking of that brought Collier back to the front of her mind, not that he had ever gone far, she reminded herself ruefully. Sometimes she thought his hands on her and that heart-stopping kiss had been a figment of her imagination, or simply a dream.

  She wondered if he ever thought of her.

  To think that he did somehow brought her a strange kind of comfort. When the knock sounded on the door, she gave a start, thinking it was Sissy. When she reminded herself that Sissy was out of town, she frowned.

  Rupert?

  No way. He would never be bold enough to show up at her home. Or would he? Her heart upped its beat, and for a second she considered ignoring the knock. But when it turned more insistent, she hurried toward the door.

  Her hand curled around the knob, but not before switching on the dim porch light. “Yes?”

  “Brittany, it’s Collier.”

  At first she was so stunned she couldn’t respond. She simply stood there, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  “Brittany, please, let me in.”

  What on earth was he doing there? All sorts of crazy explanations flooded her mind. None of them made any sense. While she couldn’t comprehend the reason for his presence, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hadn’t this been what she’d wanted? What she’d been wishing for?

  Without further thought, she jerked open the door, knowing her eyes were wide and questioning. So much for her vow not to become another name in what she knew must be the Collier Smith army of women.

  For a second he continued to stand on the porch, unmoving, staring back at her. His dark eyes seduced her on the spot, causing her stomach to flutter and her heart to beat out of sync. And though there was a cold, damp breeze whistling through the trees, it couldn’t stop the current of heat that flared to life between them, setting them both on fire.

  Brittany drew in her breath and held it, her gaze moving to his lips, remembering how they had felt against hers.

  Collier cleared his throat, finally breaking the heavy silence. “I shouldn’t be here, you know.” His voice sounded hoarse, as if he’d swallowed a rusty nail.

  Did she ever. But she didn’t voice that thought. Instead she stood there and waited. “You’re going to freeze,” she finally said in a soft tone, her teeth starting to chatter, more from nerves, she suspected, than from the chill.

  “So are you.”

  She stepped aside. That was when he swore under his breath, then strode across the threshold. For what seemed like eons, they stood silently in the middle of the small living room, its warmth enveloping them. Still, she couldn’t seem to stop shivering.

  “This is insane.”

  His voice had that rusty edge to it again. Coming here had apparently not been easy for him. So why had he done it? Dare she hope he simply wanted to see her again?

  “Then why did you come?” she asked with a tremor.

  Their eyes met again. Another flare of heat surged between them.

  “You know why,” he muttered, his jaw clenched.

  She licked her lower lip.

  His eyes darkened. “I had to see you, make sure you were all right.”

  “I’m…fine.”

  “I can see that. Your face is healing.”

  Suddenly it hit her how pale, how awful, she must look without any makeup.

  As if he sensed what she was thinking, he shook his head. “You look lovely just the way you are.”

  Those huskily spoken words sent a shaft of longing though her, so intense that her knees almost buckled. “Is that why you came?” she asked inanely. “To check my face?”

  “No…yes, I mean—” His voice failed, then he cursed again, “Hell, I just wanted to see you.”

  She didn’t say anything, choosing to stare at him, to appease the hunger gnawing inside her.

  “I shouldn�
��t be here.” Despite the words, he didn’t move.

  “You’ve said that already.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know.”

  Exhaustion was written in the irregular planes of his face; he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Suddenly it was all she could do not to reach out and ease some of those lines away. Any excuse to touch him.

  Realizing where her thoughts had taken her, Brittany felt her face flush with high color. God, this was madness—him being here, her letting him stay.

  Yet he still made no effort to leave.

  “Would you like some coffee?” she asked at last, for lack of anything else to say.

  His features seemed to clear somewhat, become less tense. “That’d be great. Anything you have.”

  “That’s it, I’m afraid,” she added by way of an apology. She loved wine but couldn’t afford it. Oh, every once in a while she would treat herself to a bottle of the cheap stuff and sip on it. But mostly, if she had it at all, she kept it on hand to have when Sissy stopped by. Having been reared in an alcoholic’s home, booze was something she was careful not to abuse. “I have some milk.”

  He smiled.

  That action was so unexpected that she was totally caught off guard. The wattage was so high-powered, it took her breath away.

  “I’ll settle for the coffee.”

  She forced her heart rate down. “Please, have a seat.”

  “Are you sure?” The intensity had returned to his eyes and his voice.

  “No, I’m not sure at all.”

  “Me, either,” he rasped.

  Eleven

  Brittany forced herself to downplay her confused emotions and ignore the uncomfortable silence that seemed to have become another person in the room. Standing in front of him, watching the light play over his deeply masculine features, emphasizing the dark stubble on his face, she inhaled the faint aroma of his cologne, making her senses spin.

  With very little encouragement, she could lose total control and give in to the need that was stampeding through her.

  “I should put on some clothes,” she said breathlessly, shifting away from the laserlike intensity of his eyes, suddenly conscious of how scantily she was clad, positive he could see through the material of her robe. But then, he’d already seen her flesh, she reminded herself.

  “No, please,” he said. “I won’t be here that long.”

  “I’ll…get the coffee,” she said, almost desperately, escaping to the kitchen. Once there, she leaned against the counter and struggled for a decent breath. After she finally got herself together enough to prepare a tray, she made her way back into the small living area, where she was struck again by the way his commanding presence seemed to dwarf the size of the room.

  He looked so out of place here, like a misplaced modifier. He was meant for much bigger and better things than a trailer. No doubt about it, he was out of his element in her shabby surroundings.

  Though obviously not as neatly dressed as when he’d left the house that morning, he could still hold his own with anyone. His gray sports jacket and charcoal slacks looked great with his longish dark hair. Actually, the fact that he was slightly disheveled made him that much more attractive.

  Inhaling another shaky breath, Brittany placed the tray on the scarred coffee table, conscious again of just how few amenities she had. She wondered what he was thinking. She shouldn’t care, but she did. While she might only have the barest of necessities, at least what she did have was neatly arranged and spotlessly clean.

  “The coffee’s good.”

  Brittany gave him a startled look, then colored. She hadn’t even realized he’d filled their cups. “Sorry.”

  “For what?” he asked warmly, his eyes probing.

  “For…” Her voice failed under the smothering feeling in her chest. Please Lord, let him stop looking at her like that, aggravating a treacherous intimacy already present in every word, every look, making each a caress in itself.

  “I can’t believe you’re not coffee-logged.” She tried to inject some light humor into the room, hoping to erode some of the crackling tension.

  “Close to it,” he admitted with an endearing half smile, easing his long legs out in front of him.

  She couldn’t stop her gaze from dipping to the intense flexing of his leg muscles as they rippled under his pants. She dared not raise her eyes any further for fear of what she might encounter at the apex of his thighs.

  Good Lord! After deliberately reaching for her cup and taking a swallow, she averted her gaze off him entirely. Had she gone stark-raving mad or what? She was behaving like some man-hungry tramp.

  “Brittany.”

  The low, raspy sound of his voice jerked her back around. “Have you changed your mind?”

  “About what?”

  “Filing charges against that bastard.”

  Her cup shook before she placed it back on the table. “No.”

  “Is there anything I can say that would persuade you otherwise?”

  She shook her head.

  “You know he might do the same thing to someone else.”

  Brittany cut him a look. “God, I hope not.”

  “You know he might.”

  She licked her dry lips. Was it her imagination, or did she hear a slight groan part his lips? “I know,” she admitted reluctantly, determined to keep her mind focused and not pay attention to every detail about him. And while she didn’t want to discuss the near-rape with Collier or anyone else, at least they were on somewhat settled ground.

  It was those heated looks and suffocating silences that agitated this madness.

  “I just want to see that he gets what’s coming to him.”

  “Please…”

  “Okay, I’ll shut up.”

  She felt herself smile. “That would be nice.”

  He chuckled, which sent another shaft of longing through her.

  “Do you want a warm-up on your coffee?” she asked suddenly, too suddenly, knowing she shouldn’t say or do anything to encourage him to stay. Yet she wanted him to do just that. As for the reasons behind such a crazy notion, she refused to delve into that subject. It bordered on insanity.

  “I’m already wired, so a little more won’t matter.”

  This time she beat him to the pot and filled his cup. They sipped in silence for a long moment, though the silence itself remained deafening.

  “It looks like I stopped you from studying.” He cut his gaze toward the pile of books on the opposite end of the couch.

  “I’m always looking for an excuse not to open them.” She paused, then added, “That’s not true. I actually love going to school, though it’s hard.”

  “I know. Although it’s been a while since I was in law school, I haven’t forgotten how tough it was. And it’s still tough. Actually, attorneys, if they’re worth their salt, spend as much time studying the law as upholding it.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “So what are you planning to be when you finish?”

  “Don’t you mean when I grow up?”

  His chuckle deepened.

  “You have to think it’s a bit odd that I’m thirty and still going to school.”

  “Not hardly. As many adults are enrolled in college nowadays as kids.”

  “True. It’s just that sometimes I feel really self-conscious.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t. You should just keep on keeping on.”

  Brittany couldn’t believe they were sitting there talking—with her wearing nothing but a robe, for heaven’s sake—carrying on an almost normal conversation, as if they actually knew each other and had something in common.

  Dumb and dangerous.

  Still, she was tempted to flood him with questions about himself. Personal questions. Yet she didn’t dare, more for her own protection than his. The more she knew, the more she would want to know. And why? Nothing would ever come of their relationship. Her instinct told her that, and it had served her well in the past.
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br />   As if he suddenly realized the same thing, Collier held his silence. Brittany wanted to tear her gaze off him, but she couldn’t, especially not when his eyes were locked with hers.

  The air was immediately recharged with electricity. Brittany swallowed hard and watched as he rose abruptly to his feet. “I should go.”

  She stood as well, tightening the sash on her robe, a gesture he apparently didn’t miss, because she watched his darkening gaze drop, then settle at the V where her breasts came together.

  “Brittany…”

  Her name came out sounding rough but gentle, though his features were a mixture of torment and uncertainty.

  “You’re…right, you should leave.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Brittany crossed to the door. She knew he was right behind her; she could feel his breath on her neck, which made chills cover her body.

  It was in that moment that they both reached for the knob, their hands touching. Instantaneously they stiffened and stared at each other, their breathing suspended.

  Brittany’s lips parted on a muted cry, which seemed to be all he needed to do the unthinkable. He grabbed her and crushed her mouth against his.

  Lust, hot and lethal, shot into her stomach, then lower. At first she could only cling to him in desperation while his hot, moist lips plundered hers, as if trying to suck the very life out of her.

  But he didn’t stop there. His hands ran possessively over her body, parting her robe, where he covered a pulsating breast. It was only when that same hand made its way down to the valley between her legs that she cried out.

  Collier, looking dazed, turned her loose and stepped back, his breathing coming in hard spurts. “You don’t have to kick me out,” he muttered harshly. “That honor belongs to me.”

  Despite how busy the agency had been, Brittany wasn’t all that tired. On the contrary, she was glad to be busy, wanted to be overwhelmed with work. That way she wouldn’t have time to think.

  Sissy’s return had been delayed, which made the responsibility of the agency sit squarely on Brittany’s shoulders and those of a part-time employee. Today, however, Liz, had also been out, sick with the flu. It was a good thing she hadn’t had class. Otherwise she would have had to put a Closed sign on the door for a few hours.