Like Silk

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  Her eyes clouded; then she said in a soft, troubled tone, “When it comes to you, I have no idea what I want.”

  “We’re on the same page, then,” he admitted brusquely, turning away and letting go of a sigh.

  Throughout dinner, very little conversation had taken place. But somehow that hadn’t seemed to matter. It was as if small talk between them wasn’t necessary. They had simply enjoyed the good wine, the good food and the good coffee. And each other, he reminded himself almost painfully.

  He’d had a long, difficult day at the office and in court. He had needed some quiet time, and being with Brittany bought him that luxury. Dining with Lana, on the other hand, would have been anything but soothing. She would have chattered nonstop about her busy day, then grilled him about his.

  Collier cursed silently, telling himself he had to stop comparing Brittany to Lana. Lana was the woman he was going to marry, not Brittany, dammit.

  Now it seemed their time together was nearing an end, yet he couldn’t bear that. He didn’t want to take her home and say goodbye. He hadn’t had enough time to soak up all the special movements, smiles, gestures, that were exclusively hers. He needed much more time. His gut clenched. Time was a luxury he didn’t have. He was crazy to keep seeing her. Yet that was exactly what he wanted to do, more than anything.

  “Are you about ready to go?” he asked abruptly.

  “Yes.”

  He loved the fact that she wasn’t a nonstop talker, that her answers to questions were brief and to the point. He’d first picked up on that in the cabin, but he’d attributed her quietness then to the bizarre circumstances. The other times he’d been with her had borne out that fact, though, and tonight was no different. He signaled for the check.

  “I know why you brought me here,” she said into the silence.

  He faced her, narrowing his eyes on her. “Here? To this restaurant?”

  “Purposely away from Haven is what I mean.”

  There was suppressed hostility in her voice and eyes. And something else, too—pain. He had hurt her. His gut clenched even tighter.

  “You were embarrassed to be seen with me in town, weren’t you?”

  “Dammit, Brittany—” Further words dried up in his throat. She’d caught him red-handed. He could lie to her, but she would see through that just like she had seen through his ploy.

  “Are you married?”

  Another mental jab in the solar plexus made him wince visibly. “No.”

  “Engaged?”

  He opened his mouth to deny that, then thought better of it. “Not officially,” he admitted dully.

  “At least you’re honest,” she responded tersely.

  He felt like a first-class ass. “But she’s not the reason—”

  The waiter chose that moment to arrive with the check, which brought him a reprieve. Still, he didn’t have a clue how he was going to get out of this mess. If he’d had any idea she was so astute, he wouldn’t have pulled such an asinine stunt.

  Nothing he could say would make up for the harm he’d done. She damn sure deserved better than she’d gotten. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed to be seen with her—far from it. It was just that it wouldn’t be smart, but not for the reason she thought.

  Once the check was taken care of, they left, a heavy silence walking between them. That silence remained the entire way to her trailer. Only after he shoved the car in Park did he break it. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Then what it is?” she asked, staring straight ahead instead of looking at him.

  The night was crystal clear; a big moon and lots of stars beamed from overhead, allowing him carte blanche to study her profile. And what a lovely profile it was, too, he thought, drinking in the tilt of her nose, the fullness of her lower lip, the graceful curve of her neck, the jut of her breasts….

  “You’re ashamed of me, aren’t you?” she asked into the silence.

  Her words yanked his mind back to the moment of brutal reckoning. “Dammit, that’s not true!”

  Without warning, she began groping for the door handle. It was when she pulled it up that his reflexes responded. His hand clamped down on her arm. She swung around and stared at him out of round, tear-filled eyes.

  Suddenly all the air seemed to woosh out of the vehicle as their eyes met and held. Collier groaned as he jerked her against him and ground his lips down on hers. It was a raw, hungry kiss that communicated his desperation in a way no words could have.

  She whimpered under the assault. But then when he eased the pressure of his lips and began playing tag with her tongue, he felt her rigid body relax and give way under his.

  When breathing was no longer possible, he pulled his mouth off hers, transferring it to her neck, where he licked and nibbled a path down to the vee of her dress.

  “Collier,” she moaned, placing her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Frantic to feel and taste more of her delectable flesh, he moved his hand down her hips, then back up under her dress, to the warmth between her legs.

  Although her panty hose kept him from making direct contact with that warmth, he wedged his hand there nonetheless and stroked back and forth, creating a friction that increased her moans. Realizing he’d made her wet and that she was about to orgasm, he pressed his lips to hers once again, at the same time increasing the pressure between her legs. Momentarily she threw her head back and cried out. Moisture dampened his hand, and he cupped her mound tighter until her shudders had passed.

  He couldn’t believe how easily, but how hard, he’d made her come. Though he was rock-hard and hurting, he was willing to sacrifice his own desire for her, something he’d never been willing to do with any other woman.

  He’d always been a selfish lover. Until now. Until this fragile woman had come into his life.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered after watching the shocked, dazed look come over her.

  “Collier, my God,” she began, then her voice played out as she stared at him wild-eyed.

  “I loved making you come.” He wiped a tear off her cheek with a thumb. “Don’t be ashamed.”

  “Please,” she said in a broken and mortified voice, turning her head away.

  “Please what?” he whispered.

  “Please let me go.”

  “Of course you can go. I would never make you do anything against your will, Brittany. Always know that.”

  “Where do we go from here?”

  He had to strain to hear her strangled words. “I don’t know,” he said in a tortured voice. “I wish to hell I did.”

  Without responding, she opened the door and got out. This time he didn’t try to stop her. Still, he didn’t crank the engine. He sat there for the longest time, unable to move, feeling like a boulder was lodged in the pit of his stomach.

  “Good morning, my dear.”

  Rupert laid the paper aside and watched as his wife walked over to the buffet and helped herself to coffee and the sweet rolls the housekeeper had put there just for her. A frown marred his face when she heaped two of the goodies on the plate before taking a seat adjacent to him.

  “I don’t know why you insist on eating that junk.”

  “Because I happen to like it,” she said in an even tone.

  He scowled. “It’s not good for you.”

  “Don’t you mean it’s not good for you, because it makes me fat and you don’t like that?”

  His scowl deepened.

  “I don’t intend to have this conversation every morning for the rest of our married lives, Rupert. You’re going to have to accept the fact I’m putting on weight in my old age and be done with it.”

  He would never accept it, though he wasn’t about to tell her that, not when she controlled the stock in the company he ran, and quite successfully, too, he might add. He didn’t have the guts to tell her point-blank that he was appalled at how she looked, embarrassed by it.

  The only saving grace was that they weren’t together much in public. While she supported
his love of politics, especially when it came to money, she rarely attended the functions. Hell, she was too busy attending church, the first love of her life.

  That was why, if she ever found out he’d been unfaithful to her, she would send him packing in a heartbeat. He’d become too used to the good life, even if it didn’t carry the social standing he coveted. While her old man had left her rich and he himself had added millions to the family coffer with his sound business practices, his dream of being on the same rung of the social ladder as Mason Williams continued to elude him.

  Angel didn’t give a fig about that. And even though she didn’t want him to make love to her anymore, she would be mortified if she knew he was getting it on the side, under the influence of alcohol.

  If she ever found out he’d hit a woman…

  The thought of that happening sent his breakfast surging up the back of his throat in the form of hot bile. He swallowed with difficulty, then felt himself relax. She wouldn’t find out. He’d do whatever it took to make sure that didn’t happen.

  In order to pursue Brittany, he had to have deep pockets, which he did. And if he played his cards right, which he intended to, then maybe he could leave Angel’s fat ass one of these days.

  Meanwhile, he didn’t intend to let up until Brittany was at least in his bed.

  “My, but you’re quiet this morning.”

  “I have a political matter on my mind.”

  “The federal appointment?”

  “Right.”

  Angel bit into the first roll, then sipped some coffee. “I understand Collier Smith has a leg up in the race. That must really stick in your craw.”

  Blood rushed into Rupert’s face. “Travis Wainwright will get the appointment,” he said tersely.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I won’t have it any other way. I wield as much power in the party as Mason Williams, and Senator Riley owes me a favor, which I intend to collect on this deal.” Rupert peered at his watch. “Which reminds me, I’m supposed to meet Travis in my office shortly. He’s driving up for a strategy session.”

  “Good luck,” Angel said with her mouth full.

  Disgusted, Rupert stood, then turned and walked out of the room. One of these days he was going to walk out of the house and never return.

  Fifteen

  “Tommy, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said in his tight but petulant tone.

  Brittany had made her usual midweek phone call to her brother, but the instant she’d heard his voice, she’d known something wasn’t right. Since she’d been responsible for Tommy for so many years, she could pick up on the most minute details.

  “Something’s happened. You can’t fool me. Are you sick?”

  “No.”

  A chill darted through her. “Are you in trouble, then?”

  “It wasn’t my fault.” That petulant whine had thickened.

  Brittany’s heart plummeted. Since he’d been behind bars, Tommy had already had several scrapes with other inmates. After the last one, when he’d been sent to the infirmary, she’d thought he had learned his lesson. Apparently not. She began to wonder if her brother had it in him to become a responsible and polite citizen.

  “Tommy, you—”

  “Dammit, sis, it wasn’t my fault. Why won’t you believe me?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe,” she responded with as much calm as possible. “It’s what the guards and the warden believe that counts.”

  Another muffled curse filtered through the line. Brittany bit her lip to keep from making a sharp retort. She didn’t need another crisis in her life. For the moment, Collier was enough. Now Tommy had to go and pull another stunt.

  “Look, if you don’t hold on to your temper, you’re going to get badly hurt.” Her voice broke, and she paused to regroup. “You know how that thought makes me crazy, how it makes me worry.”

  “Then get me out of this hellhole, sis.”

  “Tommy, for god’s sake, don’t you think I’m trying? I’m working two jobs, going to school and pinching what few pennies I have in order to hire you a decent attorney.”

  “But that’s not going to happen anytime soon,” he said bitterly.

  A weary sigh escaped. “You’re right. I won’t lie to you about that.”

  “If only you had a man. A rich man.”

  “That’s not fair, and you know it.” Her voice broke again, this time from rage. How dare he want her to get involved with someone just so he could help him.

  “And this is fair?”

  “Even if I had a man, there’s no guarantee he’d be willing to come to your rescue.”

  “What the hell,” Tommy muttered, “you don’t have one, so what’s the point? Hell, you don’t even like men.”

  “I don’t like you when you’re in this kind of mood.”

  “So hang up.”

  Brittany gritted her teeth, suddenly wanting to get her hands on him and throttle him. But the other side of that coin was that she wanted to put her arms around him and love him. Such a young life, wasting away behind bars. It wasn’t fair. Continually beating up on herself, however, wasn’t going to solve the problem. If only she had the means of proving Tommy was indeed telling the truth, then maybe…

  “Sis?”

  “Yes?”

  “I got beat up again.”

  She had a death-grip on the receiver. “Oh, Tommy,” she said in a terrified voice, “please, from now on, just mind your own business. Don’t do anything that will call attention to yourself. Promise me.”

  “Sis, you don’t understand.”

  “Promise me!”

  “All right already. Just calm down. You’re screaming in my ear.”

  Brittany made a valiant effort to gather her scattered wits. “One of these days, I’m so afraid you’re going to get—” Her voice stopped. She couldn’t say that word.

  “Killed. Even if you can’t say it, I can.”

  “Tommy, please.”

  “Look, I gotta go. I’ll see you this weekend.”

  “Wait. You never told me how badly you’re hurt.”

  “Does it matter?”

  The next sound she heard was the dial tone buzzing in her ear.

  After slamming the phone back in its cradle, Brittany folded her arms, bent her head and sobbed. When the crying jag ended, she didn’t feel any better, just spent, as if she’d been put through a wringer washing machine.

  “Oh, Mamma,” she whispered with longing. “If you were here, you’d know what to do. You’d know how to help Tommy.”

  Her mother, Harriet, had always known what to do about everything until her drunken stepfather completely broke her spirit. Until then, she’d been the most loving, gentlest person Brittany had ever known.

  Despite the fact they were poor, they had never lacked for the essentials—food and clothing. If Harriet had been aware that Cal Rogers was a closet drinker, she wouldn’t have married him. She’d told Brittany that over and over, which had been one of her many ways of apologizing for bringing such pain into their lives. But once Harriet had made the commitment, she’d been determined to hang in, to make it work, to change Cal.

  Ha.

  That never happened. What had happened was her mother had finally kicked him out after coming home from work one day and finding him whipping Brittany with a belt. Tommy, just a toddler at the time, had been next in line, cringing in the corner of the kitchen, too terrorized to move.

  As long as she breathed, Brittany would never forget the horror of that moment when her mother had walked through the door, dead on her feet after cleaning houses all day. She had run to her mother, blood oozing from her legs from the harsh blows of Cal’s belt.

  The next day her stepfather was gone, and Brittany never saw him again.

  Shuddering, she slid her mind off that awful time and rose to her feet. What a day, but at least it was over. It was time for her bath and bed. But once Brittany’s head hit the pillow,
she couldn’t sleep. For one thing, heavy winds and rain, accompanied by thunder and lightning, pounded the roof and shook the trailer.

  That wasn’t the real reason, though. Thoughts of Collier and their latest fiasco had plagued her relentlessly. She’d had difficulty concentrating in class and at the agency. Even now, as she lay staring at the dreary ceiling, her face turned crimson.

  Mortified. And appalled. Those words best described the feelings churning inside her. If only she hadn’t hesitated. But his hand had clamped down on her arm so unexpectedly, so quickly, she hadn’t had time to think. Only feel.

  Some feeling it was, too.

  She wondered what he thought about her?

  Placing her hands against her hot cheeks, Brittany moaned. What difference did it make? She would never know. He wouldn’t be back. Even though he’d all but denied it, he hadn’t wanted to be seen with her in public, at least not in Haven where he lived and worked. She suspected his unofficial fiancée wasn’t the only reason. No matter what he said, she wasn’t good enough for him.

  That cut to the core.

  She removed her hands from her face and clutched the sheet.

  He wanted a fling.

  Any idiot could figure that out, and she was no idiot. Just vulnerable and gullible. And she actually liked him. As screwy as that sounded, it was the truth. She wished circumstances could be different, that he would be interested in her as a person rather than a sex object. Yet she couldn’t cry wolf. She was as much to blame as he was.

  For the first time in her life, she had the hots for a man.

  Brittany whimpered against that unadulterated truth. But she wouldn’t deny it. She had wanted him as badly as he’d wanted her. And still did. She could still feel the texture of his skin, smell his sweat, taste him. Fighting against the heat and stark misery that washed through her, she turned her face into the pillow and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Regardless of the need raging through her, she refused to be used. She didn’t want to become any man’s side dish.

  “We need someone in that firm who’s on our side.”

  Rupert carefully eyed Travis Wainwright, the man from Nashville whom he was backing for the federal appointment, who was occupying the chair in front of his desk.