Like Silk

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  “That’s a solution, for sure,” Rupert acknowledged, “but I think going that route’s pretty dicey.”

  Wainwright fiddled with a button on his expensive jacket. “Why? There’s bound to be someone there who’s willing to be bought.”

  Rupert pitched his head back and laughed. “You’re going to do just fine, my man, just fine and dandy.”

  Wainwright leaned forward, his full lips thinning unnaturally. “I want this appointment, Rupert. And by all rights I should have it. After all, I have the credentials and the experience. Smith doesn’t have either one.”

  Rupert scowled. “Even if he did, I don’t want that bastard to have it.”

  “So any ideas whose shoulder in the firm we can tap to get us some dirt on Smith? Just a hint of impropriety and Smith’s screwed.”

  Rupert’s scowl eased into a chuckle. “Whether he’s guilty as charged or not.”

  “Right. And with him handling that sexual harassment case, which I think is suicidal, he’s setting himself up to take a fall. There’s bound to be some trash under his rug he’d like to keep hidden.”

  “Absolutely,” Rupert agreed wholeheartedly. “If not his, then his old man’s.”

  “Whatever. Just as long as Senator Riley ends up recommending me.” Wainwright’s heavy chest extended a little further.

  “Consider it done, my boy. I think I know just the person.” Rupert stood and extended his hand. “Now, you’d best get yourself back on the job and let me do the same.”

  After giving Wainwright time to leave the premises, Rupert followed suit. A few minutes later he walked through the door of the travel agency. The gods had given him a break. Brittany was working, and she was alone.

  “Sissy’s not here,” Brittany said, her eyes wider than usual.

  Fear. That was what he saw. Rupert grimaced inwardly. He would have to do something about that. He’d have to work that much harder to regain her trust. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, lusting after her. The idea that she didn’t want him with equal lust made him crazy. And more determined than ever to have her.

  No one said no to Rupert Holt and got by with it, except his wife. And he didn’t want her. It had been years since he’d touched Angel except in a perfunctory manner. She had her charities and her church to keep her warm, and that was all right by him.

  “I didn’t come to see Sissy,” Rupert finally responded.

  Brittany sat stiff as a block of wood. “I…we don’t have anything to say to each other.”

  He aimed for his usual spot on the edge of the desk and perched there. Although Brittany didn’t so much as flinch, she recoiled nonetheless; he could see it in her eyes. Dammit, apparently he had done more damage than he’d thought. But then, he’d been so stinking-ass drunk, he couldn’t really remember the details of that night. They remained as fuzzy as a bad nightmare.

  “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong,” he countered smoothly. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  “Your ploy, whatever it is, isn’t going to work.”

  “Why don’t you wait till you hear me out?”

  She glared at him. “You’re wasting your time.”

  Her unbending attitude fueled his anger, but he suppressed it. He had to go easy, treat her like an injured animal who was gun-shy and ready to bolt. Thank God only the remnants of the blows he’d dealt her remained. Still, she seemed paler than usual. On closer observation, her eyes were slightly swollen, as if she’d been on a crying jag.

  He bet that little creep of a brother was responsible.

  “Is Tommy in trouble again?”

  When he had first started wooing Brittany, getting her to warm up to him, he’d encouraged her to talk about her brother, manufacturing sympathy when she had told him about the boy’s plight. Now he had to reinforce that sympathy. If anything would lure her into his bed, it was that no-good half brother of hers.

  However distasteful it was for him to help that piece of shit, it would be worth it if Brittany were nice to him again. Thinking about his hands and mouth on her young, ripe body made him ache. Maybe she would even come to like him slapping her around a bit, to enhance the pleasure. He’d become real adept at that, or so he’d been told.

  “I don’t want to talk about Tommy.”

  “Sure you do,” he countered with ease. “I told you I would help, and I’m willing to do exactly that. All you have to do is say the word and I’ll have an attorney out there to talk to him just like that.” Rupert snapped his fingers, then waited.

  He sensed her hesitation rather than saw it. His breathing quickened. She was tempted, which was a start. And while she hadn’t yet taken a bite of the carrot, she’d at least leaned toward it. Meanwhile, he had to have some assurance she wasn’t going to do anything stupid.

  “Please leave,” she said, hate radiating from her eyes. “And don’t come back.”

  He forced a smile, then leaned closer. “You know, my offer can work the other way, too.” He paused for effect. “If you so much as think about ratting on me or stop being nice to me, I can hurt your little brother. Real bad.”

  Brittany gasped, her face growing even paler. Before she could make a comeback, however, he turned and walked out.

  Sixteen

  “I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Come on, Lana, can’t you see I’m up to my ears in work?” Collier flung his hand toward the mess on his desk, emphasizing his point. “I’ll take you out on the town another time.”

  “I’m not asking to go out on the town,” she countered dramatically, “only to get a quick cup of coffee, for heaven’s sake, on a Friday night. We don’t have to go far. There’s a diner close by that will have coffee. Please,” she continued in a wheedling tone. “I have to tell you, though, I’d much rather have a glass of wine, a wonderful dinner, then a long night in bed.” She paused, then toyed with her lower lip. “With you, of course.”

  “Lana…”

  “I know, I know. You have to work.”

  “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “I know you will—and soon, too. Meanwhile, I’m willing to lower my expectations in order to spend some time with you.”

  Collier blew out a frustrated breath, leaned back in his chair and stretched. It wouldn’t kill him to humor her, he told himself. In fact, it would probably do him good to get out of the office for a while, clear the cobwebs from his brain. So why was he so reluctant to go? Why was he making such a big deal out of such a little thing?

  It was Lana herself.

  He didn’t want to be with her. While that thought didn’t make him feel any better about himself, it was the truth. He couldn’t tell her that, though. She would think he’d lost his mind, and in truth, he was afraid he had. If he couldn’t be with Brittany, then he would just as soon work. Crazy. But then, he’d been thinking like a crazy man lately.

  “Collier, you’re acting like an ass.”

  He shook his head to clear it. “You’re right, I am.”

  “So come on, let’s hit the road,” she quipped, her mood brightening considerably. “It’s not often I’m in the treating mood.”

  Collier stood, reached for his sports jacket and slipped into it. “This has to be a quickie. I go to trial in a few days.”

  “Speaking of trial,” Lana said with a frown, “Daddy’s not happy about you taking that harassment case.”

  “That’s too bad,” Collier responded, letting his irritation show.

  “Since I obviously stepped on a nerve,” she said in an equally irritated tone, “we’ll finish this conversation over our coffee. Maybe a shot of caffeine will put you in a better frame of mind.”

  Don’t count on it, he almost said, then caught himself. Lana was right. He was acting like an ass, and she hadn’t done anything to deserve his ill-humor. Except bug the hell out of him, of course. Maybe he should end things between them tonight, he told himself, his emotions skidding off into uncharted waters. Then sanity reasserted itself. What was the matter wi
th him? He cared deeply for Lana. He must. He planned to marry her, make a home and family with her.

  Brittany was just a sexual fantasy, a sexual rush that would soon fade. Sex alone was never enough glue to hold any relationship together.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Lana commented after they were in her car and she was skillfully maneuvering her Jag down the street. “Still nursing your foul mood?”

  He cut her a lopsided smile, feeling more put out with himself by the second. “You’re not about to cut me any slack, are you?”

  “Should I?”

  “Nope.”

  She giggled, then reached over and trailed her long red nails teasingly up his leg. “I can’t believe you won’t forget about work for a little while and come home with me. I can’t even remember the last time we fucked.”

  He flinched at her use of that crude word, something that had never seemed to bother him before, since it was a regular part of her vocabulary. “Lana, how ’bout giving it a rest?”

  “One of these days you’re going to tell me that and I’m going to tell you to go fuck yourself.”

  “Maybe a cup of coffee will put you in a better mood.”

  Lana killed the engine, then cut her gaze toward him.

  “No matter how much of an ass you are, I’d never leave you.”

  Collier leaned over, kissed her on the cheek, then muttered, “Let’s go get drunk on coffee.”

  Although he was certainly no connoisseur of diners—he could count the times he’d been in one on a single hand—this one seemed incredibly busy. They had to sit in a dingy far corner.

  Perhaps that was why he didn’t see her right off. When he did, he visibly sucked in his breath and held it. He knew he must look like someone had hit him in the gut with a crowbar.

  Brittany? Here? Dressed in a uniform? Waiting on tables? So this was the diner where she worked part-time. Had Fate sent him here? He shut his eyes, then opened them again.

  She was no illusion. She was here, in the flesh, across the room, taking some guy’s order. And looking as lovely as he’d ever seen her look. But weary, as if she could drop on her feet at any moment. He swallowed the hot bile that rose up the back of his throat.

  “Collier, what on earth’s the matter with you?” Lana hissed, reaching out and clasping his hand. “You’re not having an attack of some sort, are you?”

  He twisted his head and stared at Lana, only it was Brittany’s face and body that filled his vision. “What did you say?”

  “Oh, for chrissake, you heard me.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Lana said with sarcasm.

  He forced his gaze to stay off Brittany. That was the only way he was going to keep his emotions in check. Thank God she wouldn’t have to wait on them. He didn’t think he could have handled that.

  “What made you go berserk all of a sudden?” Lana asked, unwilling to let the matter drop.

  Good question. He had known Brittany waited on tables on weekends. She’d told him that. And there was nothing wrong with that, per se. It was a perfectly legitimate and decent job. Just not for Brittany.

  “Collier, the waitress is here,” Lana said, not bothering to disguise her impatience.

  “Uh, I’ll have just coffee, please. Black.”

  “I’ll have some cappuccino.”

  Once their waitress had shuffled off, Lana narrowed her eyes on him. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. I swear I thought you were having a heart attack, or worse.”

  “Sorry.”

  Lana gave him an incredulous look. “Is that all you have to say?”

  “Yes.” Collier didn’t blink. “I’m okay, so let’s just drop it.”

  Lana tightened her lips, which meant she wasn’t happy and would like to pitch one of the tantrums that usually got her what she wanted, at least from her father. But he wasn’t her father, and she seemed to know just how far she could push.

  Forcing his mind off Brittany and the fact that she was within touching distance, only he couldn’t touch her, he forced himself to say the first thing that came to mind.

  “So your dad’s not happy I’m defending that energy company executive.” Collier really didn’t give a shit what her father thought, but he knew that sooner or later she would get around to reopening that can of worms, so he might as well get it over with. Too, it was something to talk about, something to get his mind off Brittany.

  And pigs fly.

  “Not at all. In fact, he asked me to ask you to reconsider.”

  “Can’t do that.”

  “Yes, you can. Your firm can do anything it wants and get by with it.”

  “That’s a crock, and you know it.”

  “What if it blows up in your face? What if you lose? That’s what concerns Daddy.”

  “I won’t lose,” Collier replied with much more confidence than he felt. “If it’s any consolation, Mason feels the same way, but I’ve made a commitment, and I’m going to honor it.”

  “Even if the man you’re defending is a grab-ass scumbag?”

  “That hasn’t been proven,” Collier said coldly.

  “Yeah, right,” she snapped.

  Their coffee arrived at that moment. When Collier looked up at the waitress and smiled, he caught a glimpse of Brittany. She was staring at him. He wanted to shift his gaze, pretend he didn’t see her, didn’t recognize her, but he couldn’t.

  He did see her. He did recognize her. And he still wanted her. It had been days since that episode in the car, and he’d hoped that some of his frantic, tangled emotions concerning her would have abated. That hadn’t happened.

  And to make matters worse, she had seen him. And was returning his stare with a shocked look on her face. As their eyes held from across the room, he could barely breathe.

  Brittany was the first to shift her gaze, but not before giving Lana the once-over. Then, with a look of contempt on her face, she turned her back. It was all he could do not to bolt out of the booth, close the distance between them and grab her.

  Then what?

  “Your coffee’s getting cold.”

  Collier swung back around and forced himself to pay attention to Lana.

  Brittany’s heart was pounding, and her hands were shaking so hard she could barely carry the empty tray back to have it refilled. She couldn’t believe he was here, in the diner, of all places.

  Impossible.

  Of course it was. Her mind had merely conjured him up. She eased her eyes back around. He was there, parked in a booth in life-size reality. In truth, she had noticed him the second he’d walked in. She just hadn’t wanted to admit it. A person couldn’t miss him. Or her. They stood out like sore thumbs in this place.

  Brittany closed her eyes for a second, trying to regain her composure. Why in heaven’s name had they chosen Sam’s Diner? Although it wasn’t a dump, it was no first-class joint, either, not by any stretch of the imagination. Certainly not a place that either one of them would be likely to frequent.

  So why was he here?

  A wave of panic upped her heart rate another notch. Had he chosen to come here because of her? Had he somehow found out she worked at this particular diner? Once those thoughts darted through her mind, she realized how absurd they were, how ludicrous. He didn’t care enough about her to poke that deeply into her personal life.

  He only cared about her body, she reminded herself painfully.

  If she’d had her choice, she would have just disappeared on the spot. But she didn’t have a choice. She had to have this job. Collier Smith wasn’t worth losing it over. She would simply have to do what she’d done so many times in the past when confronted with awful situations. Suck it up and endure.

  Get through it.

  She could chalk up this invasion of her territory as one of those freakish coincidences that just happened and wouldn’t ever happen again. However, getting through it was going to be tough, especially with his unofficial fiancée in tow.

  L
ooks. Class. Money. The list could go on. She had it all, but then, so did Collier. They were a different breed from her and the rest of the patrons in the diner. In fact, the beautiful couple had become the center of attention, especially the woman. Out of one corner of her eye Brittany saw some of the men rubber-necking, their mouths slightly gaping, as if they were salivating.

  Trying to ignore the envy pinching her stomach, first that Collier was with the other woman, and second because she was so lovely, Brittany quickly averted her gaze.

  “’Bout damn time you got here to git the grub.”

  The cook’s harsh voice refocused her attention, and she reached for the plates, though her hands remained far from steady. By the time she made it back to the table, her customer was glaring at her.

  Oh dear, she’d seen that look before, and it wasn’t good.

  “Lady, what the hell took you so long?” the man bellowed.

  Brittany cringed inwardly before responding in a low, tense voice, “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Well, I ain’t eatin’ no cold shit.” His voice grew louder.

  “I’ll be happy to take care of the problem if you don’t like it.” She could smell the liquor on his breath and suspected he was half-drunk. She knew every eye in the diner was stuck on her.

  “Damn straight you will.”

  “I’ll wait while you check it,” she said, holding her tone as low as possible.

  He picked up the piece of chicken with his large, beefy fingers, then bit into it. Instantly he threw it down, then spat it out. “Not only is it cold, the sonofabitch ain’t done.”

  Horrified at the sudden turn of events, Brittany reached for the plate. That was when it happened. The man chose that moment to slam the glass he was holding down on the table, shattering it.

  “Oh!” she cried, jumping back, but not soon enough. A piece of glass pierced the top of her hand, and blood spurted. Feeling sick, Brittany quickly stuck her hand down in her apron pocket.

  “You bastard, you owe the lady here an apology.”