Missing class was not an option.
However, not studying apparently was. Since the night of Collier’s unexpected visit, it seemed her mind had been on hiatus. She hadn’t been able to do one thing sensibly, especially study.
However, she didn’t think she’d messed up too badly on either test. Unfortunately she hadn’t gotten her grades yet, so she would have to stew a bit longer. Realizing that the agency was empty for the first time that day, Brittany got up and stretched her aching back muscles, then walked into the bathroom, where her eyes strayed to the mirror.
Slowly but surely, her bruises were fading. At least she no longer felt like a freak when customers walked in and exclaimed in an astonished voice, “What happened to you?”
She’d told the same untruth so often that now it just rolled off her tongue without hesitation. And though she felt guilty about her little white lie, there was nothing she could do about it.
What she could do something about, however, was Collier and the way he dominated her thoughts. Twice now, he’d brought her to the brink of ecstasy, leaving her heart emptier than ever.
The buzzer sounded as the door opened.
Her head came up, and she froze. She wanted to move, though. She wanted to get up and dash out the back door. Only sheer force of will kept her still.
With a bouquet of flowers in hand, Rupert Holt strode farther into the room, his big stride eating up the distance between them. It was all Brittany could do to stand and not flinch.
“I was hoping you’d be here,” his said, his blue eyes narrowing on her.
Too bad such a perverted person lurked beneath that pose of confidence and good looks, she thought. For a man well into his sixties, with his steel-gray hair and blue eyes, he would never fail to be noticed, especially not by a woman. But underneath that outward charm was a vicious streak, one she’d experienced firsthand.
“What do you want, Rupert?” she asked, her tone colder than icicles.
“To apologize in person.”
“I don’t want your apology.”
He laid the flowers down and perched on the edge of her desk. “I had too much to drink. I know that’s no excuse.”
“You’re right. It’s not.”
“It won’t happen again.”
She laughed, but with no humor. “You’re right about that.”
Though he flushed, he peered more closely at her face, then reached out a hand.
She recoiled visibly, and for a moment she saw a flicker of that hidden menace reappear in his eyes. Renewed fear coursed through her when she realized she was alone. Panic gripped her.
“You don’t ever have to be afraid of me again,” he said with a smile, apparently reading her thoughts. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“What about your wife, Rupert?” she asked with blatant scorn. “Are you going to make it up to her, too?”
Though his smile fled, his tone remained unchanged. “Let’s leave her out of this, shall we? She has her life, and I have mine.”
“Fine. Then you go about yours and leave me with mine.”
“I want to see you again, Brittany,” he said, his voice dropping. “I can’t let our relationship end on this note.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Relationship? Are you crazy? The only reason I went to dinner with you was because you conned me into thinking you were going to help my brother.”
“And I aim to make good on my word. That’s a promise, too.”
“Yeah, right.”
His flush deepened under her sarcasm. “You see me again, and I’ll prove it.”
“I don’t think so.”
Rupert got up and crossed to the door, where he stopped, then turned back around. “This isn’t over, Brittany. Meanwhile, I suggest you talk to your brother. I bet he’d have another opinion. Think about that.”
Once the door shut behind him, Brittany fell against the chair, feeling as if someone had deflated her. No way would she let that bastard near her, yet he’d used Tommy like a carrot again, dangling him in front of her.
She buried her head in her hands. What was she thinking? She would be insane to believe anything Rupert said or go anywhere alone with him ever again. Suddenly Tommy’s pinched, agony-filled face filled her vision.
“Damn you, Rupert Holt,” she snapped. “Damn you!”
Twelve
Jackson rolled his wheelchair out of the bathroom and into his living area. As usual, he locked it in front of the fireplace. Yet he could still see out the French doors to the balcony and grounds beyond.
Sometimes he sat for hours and stared at the gardens behind the estate, watched a squirrel jump from branch to branch, then nibble on an acorn. Fidgety little fellow, he’d often think before his gaze moved on. On nice days, he would even roll out onto the balcony in order to get a taste and smell of the outside world. Today, however, was not a nice day.
It was another of those cold, damp days, typical of early fall. At least the trees were still strutting their colorful cloaks of leaves which made for a lovely scene, especially if nothing else was going on in a man’s life.
A deep sigh filtered through Jackson as he brought his eyes back to the fire. Bad weather seemed to be harder on him mentally and physically. Understandable. Arthritis had settled into some of his good joints, though he tried to ignore that fact.
Still, he was strong as an ox in his upper body, which was something, anyway. His trainer always worked him hard. But lately his therapist, whom the family didn’t know he’d hired, had also put him through some grueling paces, promising Jackson he would eventually see results.
Fat chance.
Despite his piss-poor attitude, he’d hung tough. Another sigh parted his lips. Mentally he was lower than a snake’s belly, so low he couldn’t even stand his own company. He’d dismissed his valet, Harry, told him to take a much-needed day off. Harry hadn’t wanted to leave, Jackson could tell, but he hadn’t given him any choice. He hadn’t wanted anyone underfoot.
Maybe his lousy frame of mind had something to do with the dinner party his dad was giving tonight in honor of Collier’s bid for the judgeship. He knew Mason would have a fit if he didn’t attend. Guess what? He wasn’t about to let himself in for that kind of abuse from well-meaning friends. He’d been there and done that. Besides, he’d retired from any kind of social life.
He had all he needed in his suite on the second floor and was perfectly content to remain behind these walls. He was surrounded by books he loved, priceless oil paintings he’d collected on past trips abroad, and a state-of-the-art gym in which to keep his upper body fit. He had all he could ask for.
Except the use of his legs.
Jackson muttered a dark curse as the past seemed to rise out of nowhere and blast him with memories of that horrible day when he’d awakened in the hospital and found out he couldn’t move his legs. The pain that had hit his heart had been much worse than the pain wracking his body.
“No!” he’d cried in gut-wrenching anguish, determined to show the doctor he was wrong, that he could indeed walk.
“Mr. Williams, you can’t,” Dr. Tatum had told him, jumping up and trying to restrain him.
Jackson had knocked his hand away, then jerked back the sheet and tried with every ounce of strength he possessed to move his limbs. They remained lifeless. Facing the truth that he was only half a man had been the darkest moment of his life.
Jackson drew a deep breath, jerking himself back to the moment at hand, at the same time trying to calm his racing heart, knowing what had put him in such a foul mood. Confrontation was imminent. Before much longer, Mason would come charging into his room, demanding to know what time he planned on coming down this evening.
Maybe he ought to bite the bullet and attend, make his dad and brother’s day. No way. He simply wasn’t up to facing the stares of pity or the well-meaning questions he would get asked. Shortly after the accident, he’d had hopes of being part of the normal, functioning world again, b
ut it hadn’t worked out. He hadn’t given it a chance; he realized that. But the fact that he would never walk again was a horror that haunted him daily, that he couldn’t get past.
He hated himself and what had happened to him.
Still, he was glad for Collier. If he had to have a step-brother, he couldn’t have asked for a better one. Collier was the cream of the crop. And he knew Collier still looked up to him, though he also knew his little brother would like to throttle him for shutting himself off from the world.
Well, Collier would have to get over it, just like his dad. Collier was more than capable of taking up the slack. If the appointment came through, all the better. He deserved the honor and would make a damn fine judge. Even though he wasn’t blood kin, lawyering was in Collier’s veins the same as it was in Mason’s and his own.
Used to be in his, Jackson corrected.
He never intended to practice law again, though he continued to keep up with the changes in the codes and statutes, and stay on top of recent court opinions. But that was his secret, one he had no intention of sharing with his family. If his dad had any inkling he remained interested in any aspect of the law, he’d never give up trying to get him back into the office.
Not going to happen.
He couldn’t face rolling himself around the firm, in and out of the courtroom. Ironside he wasn’t and never would be. Now, if he could walk into a court of law…
Jackson jerked his mind off that thought just as he heard the tap on his door. His features darkened; he figured it was Mason, his verbal arsenal loaded and ready to fire.
“Yes,” Jackson responded in a crisp tone.
The door opened, and Maxine’s head eased around it. “I know you don’t want to be disturbed, but—”
“But what, Maxine?” Although he sometimes lost patience with the housekeeper, just as he did with everyone else, he adored Maxine and she adored him. Most of the time she didn’t take any crap from him, either. She would stand up to him when no one else would.
Today, however, even she seemed on edge.
“You have a visitor,” she said in a near-whisper.
“You know I don’t do visitors.”
“I know that, sir, only she refuses to take no for an answer.”
“She?”
“Yes, sir. It’s a woman, and she says she’s your friend.”
He snorted. “I don’t have any women friends.” He waved his hand. “Tell her I have the flu, that I’m contagious. Tell her anything you want to. Just get rid of her.”
“But, sir—”
“Maxine!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jack, give a poor woman a break.”
Jackson froze. No one called him Jack except— Before that thought could mature, a tall, striking woman skirted around Maxine and breezed across the threshold.
“Haley!” he said in a shocked tone. “What—”
“What am I doing here? That should be obvious.” She grinned. “I came to see you.”
Jackson closed his eyes, then opened them quickly, positive they were playing a trick on him, that Haley Bishop, the only woman he’d ever considered marrying, wasn’t standing in front of him, looking better than he’d ever seen her look.
Had it been five years since he’d seen her? If so, she didn’t look a bit older or worse for wear, though he knew she was thirty-five. Apparently life hadn’t dealt her any severe blows.
She had always been tall—five-ten, to be exact—though now she seemed even taller. Maybe that was because before his accident he’d peered down at her, instead of the other way around.
Her hair was still a dark auburn and worn in a shoulder-length bob. Her light brown eyes and freckles remained highly visible and were as winsome as ever. But more than her wholesome beauty, it was her personality that was the clincher. It was magnetic and drew people to her like bees to honeycomb.
“Cat got your tongue?” she asked with a grin, showing off her perfect set of white teeth.
“You might say that,” Jackson muttered darkly.
“Hey, don’t be such an old fuddy-duddy. I know you didn’t want company—Maxine made that quite clear—but—”
“You don’t play by the same rules as everyone else, right?”
Her grin widened. “Right.”
“What are you doing here, Haley? Really?”
“I told you, I came to see you. Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Would it matter if I said yes?”
“No.”
Jackson simply shook his head and gestured toward the sofa nearest his wheelchair. For a moment after she was seated, silence filled the room, both of them staring into the flames.
“You’re looking well,” Haley finally commented in a sober tone.
“Bullshit.”
She laughed, that impish glint returning to her eyes. “It sucks, doesn’t it? Being in that chair, I mean?”
No one else would have dared say that to him, but then again, Haley really did play by her own rules. He would rather have it that way. He didn’t like to be mollycoddled. People could pretend all they wanted that he wasn’t in a wheelchair, but he was. And that fact wasn’t going to change.
“Yeah, it sucks. Big time.”
“I heard about what happened, and I was tempted to come to the hospital, but I knew that wouldn’t be smart.”
“You’re right. I refused to see anyone, even my family.” He paused, switching the subject. “So what brings you back to Haven? Are you still with the same insurance company?”
“That I am, and they’ve transferred me back here. This office had gone to pot, and the powers that be thought I was the one to straighten it out.”
“I’m surprised you’d leave Dallas.”
Haley shrugged. “I was getting tired of the rat race, the traffic, the whole nine yards. It’s a pain in the butt.”
Jackson smiled, much to his surprise. He’d thought his lips had forgotten how. “I’m sure your mother’s glad to have you back.”
“Yeah, she is. And my sister, too. She wants help with those brats of hers.”
“Speaking of brats, do you have any?”
“I’d rather have a husband first,” she said pointedly, tilting her head to one side and giving him a direct look.
He shifted his gaze, feeling a slight flush steal up his face. Hell, he hadn’t been the one who had walked out. It had been her. They had been together for nearly two years when she told him she was taking a promotion in Dallas. He’d been dumbfounded and devastated. But he hadn’t wanted to stand in the way of her career, so he’d held his pain inside and wished her good luck.
Later, he’d considered going after her, thinking he’d let her off the hook far too easily. Then the accident happened, and he’d thanked Fate he’d left her alone. No way would he have wanted her to live in hell with him. He couldn’t have handled that.
“So you’re not married?” he said into the growing silence.
“Nope.” Her gaze trapped his again. “And no prospects, either.”
Dammit, what did she want? For sure he was out of the running. So why was she here? If it was for old times’ sake, then to hell with that. To hell with her!
“I find that hard to believe,” he said, wishing she would leave.
“Why didn’t you ask me to marry you, Jackson?”
Her softly spoken words hit him with the force of a bomb. He jerked his head back and narrowed his eyes. “That’s beside the point now, don’t you think?”
“No,” she said bluntly. “I know you loved me, and I definitely loved you.”
“You had a strange way of showing it. All of a sudden you decided to choose your career over me.”
“That’s not true! I wanted to marry you, but you showed no signs of giving up your bachelorhood for me or anyone else.”
“Dammit, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why should I have had to?”
They stared at each other fiercely for what seemed like an eternity, then Jackson l
et go of another expletive before saying in a dull tone, “What difference does it make now? You should be rejoicing you’re not tied to a cripple.”
“Stop it!”
His eyes widened. “It’s the truth. I’ll never walk again. There’s no way to pretty that up.”
“I’m not trying to. It’s just that you could still lead a productive life.”
Jackson’s expression soured. “Don’t you start that shit. Since the accident, that’s all I’ve heard, especially from Dad.”
“You’re not practicing law?” She sounded appalled.
“No.”
“So what are you doing?”
“Feeling sorry for myself.”
Haley laughed. “At least you’re honest.”
Another silence descended over the room.
“Will you let me come see you again?”
“What’s the point?”
“I’m still your friend. I was that even before I was your lover.”
His face lost its color. “Dammit, Haley, do you always have to say what’s on your mind?”
She smiled. “You used to like that.”
“Not anymore,” he said crossly.
She got up, walked to his chair, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He sucked in his breath and held it until she straightened. “You really need to get a better attitude. We’re going to have to work on that.”
“What’s this ‘we’ shit? I don’t want to see you again.”
“I’m sure you don’t, but that doesn’t matter.”
“Haley—”
“I’ll be back—and soon, too,” she said, grabbing her purse before squeezing him on the shoulder. “Meanwhile, give Mason and Collier my best.”
“Haley, I—”
His words fell on deaf ears as he heard the door close firmly behind her. If he’d had an object handy, he would have thrown it against the wall, needing an outlet for his pent-up frustration and anger. Instead he remained sitting stiff as a rod, seething, his pulse pounding in his temples.
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