How dare she just waltz in here, as if she had a right, and interfere in his life? He wasn’t interested in being her friend or anything else.
He rolled his chair to the front window, where he peered outside. That was when he got a glimpse of her getting into her car. He winced, suddenly wishing he could call her back. It was okay that she’d come this one time. He’d been glad to see her; he would admit that.
He just couldn’t let it happen again.
Thirteen
Collier surveyed the scene in front of him. The mansion was ablaze with lights. Flowers adorned every table, candles sweetened the air, the Waterford sparkled, and the music vibrated.
Everything was perfect.
So why didn’t he feel perfect as well? The supposedly small party given for him had turned into a giant gala, just as Collier had feared. Mason didn’t seem to know how to do anything on a small scale, certainly not when it came to politics.
And this evening, politics had top billing. Several high-ranking members of the Republican party hierarchy were on hand, including United States Senator Newton Riley, who was openingly supporting him for the position. He couldn’t have asked for a sweeter deal, though he still thought the shindig was premature and too presumptuous.
Not Mason, though. From the way he was blustering, he appeared to think the appointment was a done deal. At times throughout the evening Collier had fought the urge to caution his dad to go a little easier, to tone down the rhetoric. But he’d known it wouldn’t do any good. Mason was in his element and loving every minute of it.
And for the most part Collier was, too, except that Jackson had stuck to his guns and refused to join them. At first Mason had been livid, but Collier had finally calmed him down enough to reason with him.
“Dad, you’ve got to stop badgering Jackson.”
“Dammit, he can’t spend the rest of his life rotting in that room.”
“Yes, he can, if that’s what he chooses.”
Those words drew a glare from Mason. “Since when did you change sides on the issue?”
Collier rubbed his chin and squelched a sigh. “I haven’t changed sides. But what else are you going to do? Forcibly lift his chair and haul him downstairs?”
“Of course not,” Mason snapped, red-faced.
“Well then, back off.”
“And let him just waste away to nothing, like he’s done for the past three years?” Mason’s tone had grown fierce again.
“No. We’re not giving up. We’re merely picking our battles. On this one, Jackson’s dug his heels in, so you might as well admit defeat.” Collier paused. “Oh, by the way, he had a visitor.”
Mason was clearly shocked. “Are you serious?”
“Yep. Haley Bishop. Remember her?”
“Of course. He almost married her.”
“According to Maxine, she showed up unannounced and walked right into Jackson’s room.”
“I bet she didn’t stay long.”
“You’re right. She didn’t.”
Mason’s features dimmed again. “Well, I’m not about to get my hopes up.”
“One of these days he’ll come around and be your son again.” Collier squeezed Mason on the shoulder. “You wait and see.”
“If that day happens, I figure I’ll be dead and buried. Meanwhile, it’s up to you to make me proud.”
“I’ll do my best,” Collier said with a sinking heart. Talk about pressure…
“I know you will. And tonight’s the first step toward that.”
And what a night it had been so far, Collier reminded himself again, one that political dreams were truly made of. And to think he was the center of attention, a fact that filled him with anxiety and excitement.
As he continued to stand off to one side, Lana and her father caught his attention. They were working the crowd, talking to the bigwigs in the party who had the money and the clout to influence both the senator and the president himself.
In fact, everyone in attendance was in his corner and had promised to work on his behalf. Mason had made sure of that. Still, nothing was a given, he reminded himself.
Earlier in the evening, he and Senator Riley had had a private visit, which had certainly been encouraging, but it had also stirred some unrest in him, since the senator had gone straight for the jugular.
Even without his straightforward manner, the man himself would have been intimidating from sheer size alone. Not only was he tall, he was thick, especially his neck and shoulders. He could have once played line-backer for a professional football team or been a wrestler.
He had a thatch of white hair, bushy brows, and green eyes that didn’t seem to miss anything. Longevity in the senate alone had given him power. Yet he’d apparently earned it, too, the old-fashioned way, by showing up on the Hill and doing his job. He had gained respect from both parties, another plus for Collier.
The only criticism most associated with Riley was his penchant for the bottle. Although Collier had never seen him have more than a few drinks at a time, Riley had a reputation for getting stinking drunk. Because his face stayed flushed and he spoke in a bourbon-edged voice, Collier suspected there was some truth to that rumor.
No matter. The man’s personal life was his own business.
“Have you ever done anything you’re ashamed of, young man?” he’d demanded, after having come up behind Collier and slapped him on the back.
For a moment Collier didn’t know which caught him off guard the most—the blow or the bluntness.
Having assumed it was the latter, Riley chuckled. “You’d better get used to questions like that.”
“If you say so,” Collier responded with a smile and in a smooth voice, having jerked himself back on target.
“There’s a lot more where that one came from.”
“Were you wanting an answer to yours now, Senator?”
“Nope. Just wanted you to be thinking about your past. It wouldn’t hurt to try to remember every time you took a crap.”
“Oh, shit,” Collier muttered.
“Literally, my boy, literally.”
They both laughed, then the senator sobered. “This could be a tough, dirty fight, since you’ve got such stiff competition. But then, I guess you’re aware of that.”
“Oh, you bet I am. I don’t think Mason is, though.”
“He will be.”
There was an ominous note in Riley’s voice that sent a cold chill through Collier. “It could get that nasty?”
“With Rupert Holt lobbying for Travis Wainwright, you bet your sweet ass. My phone’s been ringing off the bloody wall, both on your behalf and his.”
“And Wainwright’s got the political experience,” Collier pointed out in a concerned tone. “As you well know, I’m not part of the ‘political mash potato circuit,’ so to speak.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’ve got an unblemished record as an attorney, which is one of your biggest assets.”
“I hope that still holds true in a few weeks.”
The senator made a face. “What does that mean?”
Collier explained about the sexual harassment case he’d taken on.
“Hell, man, out of all the clients who come through that door, why did you have to choose an explosive one like that?”
“I’d already made the commitment before I knew I had a snowball’s chance in hell of getting in the top four.”
“Well, do whatever it takes to make sure none of the shit that hits the fan gets splashed on you.” Riley paused and sipped his drink. “Your biggest ace in the hole is that you and your family have tossed big bucks and big chunks of time into the political arena for years. That, along with your distinguished career, will count big on your behalf.”
“Let us pray.”
“Meanwhile, keep your nose to the grindstone and stay out of trouble.”
Collier took his outstretched hand and shook it. “Will do, sir. And thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, boy. Wait till the preside
nt gives you the nod, then you can thank me.”
Now, as Collier forced his mind off that conversation and back to the present, he realized he should be circulating, shaking hands and making small talk. Suddenly he felt weary rather than pumped. Strange, distracted, as if his body was there but not his mind. Definitely not his heart. Brittany had that. What if she were here…?
His spirits took another nosedive. Had he lost his mind? Hadn’t the senator just told him to stay out of trouble? And Brittany was definitely trouble.
“For heaven’s sake, get that look off your face.”
“What look?” Collier asked innocently, staring down into Lana’s upturned features.
“Like you want to turn tail and run.”
“Relax, I’m not going anywhere.”
She squeezed his arm. “Oh, yes, you are, darling, straight to the federal bench, then who knows where from there.”
“Whoa, you’re going too fast for me.”
She kissed him on the cheek, then winked. “But not too fast for us. Together. As a team.”
“Lana—”
“By the way,” she interrupted, batting her eyelashes at him, “you haven’t said anything about my dress.”
“It’s smashing.” And it was. Collier didn’t think he’d ever seen Lana look more beautiful than in the jet-black beaded dress that made her look as if she was covered in thousands of diamonds when she moved.
“Well, I wanted to look my best for you tonight.” She paused, her features brightening even more. “Ah, here come Daddy and Mason.”
“Quite a party in your honor, young man,” Bill Frazier said, giving Collier his big, famous grin that showed off a mouthful of slightly crooked teeth.
“That it is.”
Bill nudged Mason’s arm. “Think this night might do the trick? Kick our boy here into the top spot?”
“The only thing missing is the press.” Mason drew his brows together in a concentrated frown. “I could kick myself for not inviting that reporter friend of mine.”
Lana’s grip on Collier’s arm tightened. “That would’ve been the icing on the cake. I can just see the headlines now.”
“I hardly think I’d make headlines,” Collier said tightly. “Anyway, I’m glad we saved the press for another time.”
“Stop being so modest, darling. You’ve got to get used to being in the limelight.”
“You’d better listen to my daughter,” Bill said in his robust tone. “And speaking of my daughter, when are you going to make an honest woman out of her?”
“That’s right, son,” Mason said.
Collier cursed silently before flashing a brittle smile. “Soon, gentlemen, soon.”
“Is that a promise?” Bill asked, pinning Collier with bold gray eyes.
Collier smiled. “Come on, give me a break. Lana, too.”
“Speak for yourself,” Lana said, grinning. “I’m loving it. I was beginning to think I’d have to hog-tie you to get a commitment.”
“Well, we all just heard him,” Mason said in a jubilant voice before adding, “Guess I’d better excuse myself and circulate. You, too, Collier. Make sure you say a personal word to everyone.”
“Don’t you worry,” Lana said, pulling on Collier’s arm. “I’ll see that he does all the right things. Come along, darling.”
Collier plastered another smile on his face and fell into step beside her.
Collier stared at the clock on his bedside table. It was only midnight, but he was beat.
Yet he’d enjoyed the party, at least for the most part. He wanted the federal job, wanted it with a passion, though he wasn’t looking forward to all the brouhaha that apparently went along with it.
Had he always felt that way? Or did his sudden impatience with the process have anything to do with his involvement with Brittany? He flinched against that unvarnished thought. Involved? Was that what he was?
He pushed back the panic. Perhaps the word involved was a bit strong. Obsessed. Somehow that seemed to fit his feelings much better. No matter. He couldn’t ignore the fact that he couldn’t get Brittany off his mind, or that she was a factor in everything he felt and did these days.
The idea that he’d thought about her with Lana by his side was disturbing, to say the least. The time he’d spent at her trailer hadn’t helped. It had made him want to return there, created an ache in his gut, and not just because he had the hots for her body, either. She had a calming effect on him, as if he’d just been given a reprieve from the fast track he lived on.
Nor was she pretentious at all, so unlike Lana. Being the center of attention didn’t seem to interest Brittany, though it was something Lana thrived on. Different women. Different worlds.
Maybe if he saw her just one more time, never mind the reason. Then his conscience taunted him. Why string out the inevitable? Why risk Lana finding out about her? Why risk political suicide for a woman with whom there was no future?
To appease that raw hunger in his gut, he told himself. To see her, to smell her, to touch her, just one last time, God help him. Then he would walk away, cold turkey.
That was a promise.
Fourteen
Collier still couldn’t believe Brittany was sitting across from him in the restaurant, that she had agreed to go out to dinner. But she had, and for the time being he wasn’t about to analyze her reasoning. Or his. It didn’t matter that it was risky taking her out in public. The only thing that mattered was that she was here, in the flesh, in all her quiet beauty.
When he’d arrived at the office this morning, he had lollygagged around until he thought it was all right to call her, though when he’d reached for the phone and punched out the number, he was unsure what to expect. Would she tell him to go to hell, hang up in his ear, or be cordial? Even though he hadn’t wanted to admit it—and still didn’t—he’d been as nervous as a kid about to experience sex for the first time. His mouth had been dry and his palms clammy.
As luck would have it, he’d caught her at home, which had made it easier, because he wouldn’t have liked calling her at work. The name of the travel agency would have been easy enough to find out, along with everything else there was to know about her, if he’d chosen to do so.
It seemed as if the less he knew about Brittany Banks, the safer he would be. Common sense told him that if he kept her at arm’s length personally and emotionally, he had a better chance of getting out of this sexual abyss with his sanity and his soul intact.
Otherwise…
The sound of her soft, husky-toned voice when she answered the phone had suddenly stabbed him in the gut like a sharp knife. For a long moment he’d held his breath before releasing it. “Brittany?”
“Yes.”
The tiny catch in her voice didn’t escape him, meaning she recognized him. “It’s Collier.”
“I know.”
Silence.
“Did I interrupt anything?” he asked inanely, not caring if he had or not. Just hearing her voice and having her remain on the line was a gift from heaven.
“No.”
She wasn’t about to make this easy for him, he realized, digging deeply for another breath. “I’d like to take you to dinner.”
Another silence.
“Are you still there?” Two stupid questions in a row. Boy, was he making progress.
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“Collier…I…”
He could feel his control slipping. Bottom line, he didn’t know what she was about to say, what excuse she was about to give, but he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t want to hear it. He only wanted her to acquiesce.
He squelched the rising panic inside him and said, “Please.”
Another heartbeat of silence. “When?”
“Tonight.”
“Tonight?” she echoed in a dazed voice.
“If not tonight, then tomorrow night.” He knew he sounded pushy and rash, but he didn’t care.
“I have class then.” She paused. “Ton
ight’s about it for me.”
Though she didn’t sound overjoyed at the prospect of spending an evening with him, she didn’t make him beg, either, for which he was grateful. If his churning gut was any indication, he would have done that and more in order to see her again.
One last time.
Now, as he stared at her across the table, having just been served coffee and dessert, he thought she was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen, though everything was so simple. She had on a plain long-sleeved black knit dress that hugged her slender curves just right and complemented her translucent skin, which bore little makeup. A pair of silver studs in her delicate earlobes and a watch were the only jewelry she wore.
Simple elegance.
Those words fit her to a tee. So different from Lana. So different from any woman he’d ever been with. In a class by herself. As he peered at her over the rim of his cup, he couldn’t understand why she was still single, why someone hadn’t snapped her up.
Secrets.
Those lovely, expressive eyes held secrets, secrets he would give his eyeteeth to know without having to ask. “You’re not eating your dessert,” he said, putting his cup down.
She smiled. “It looks delicious, but I’m stuffed.”
“You didn’t eat all that much.”
“Oh, yes, I did.” She paused and tilted her head. “You’re not eating yours either.”
“I know.”
Their eyes met and held, as they had during most of the meal. When that happened, it was as if they’d been zapped by a volt of electricity. He felt it, and he knew she did, too. The same sexual awareness that blazed in his insides was reflected in her eyes.
“The meal, this place, everything was lovely.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I wanted you to.”
“Why?”
Though the question was quietly asked, it packed a wallop. More to the point, it nailed his butt. But he didn’t try to worm his way out of it. “I wanted to see you.” He was tempted to reach out and cover her hand, but he refrained, taking another sip of coffee instead. “Isn’t that what you wanted, too?” His gaze trapped hers again, and, as usual, his insides went haywire.
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