Like Silk. Mary Baxter Lynn
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He didn’t want to know anything about her. He just wanted her; he wanted her body. He wanted only to taste every morsel of her delicious flesh, then bury himself inside her.
Shit!
Sweat saturated his entire body, while his mouth went as dry as cotton. He had to stop thinking like that. He had to stop thinking about her. When they left the cabin, she’d spoken very little. In fact, she’d told him how to get to her trailer and that was it. Only after he’d pulled up at the curb in a run-down part of Chaney did she speak. She’d thanked him in her gentle, husky-toned voice, keeping her eyes averted. It had been all he could do not to grab her, the desperate feeling gnawing inside him threatening to override his sanity.
But he’d quelled that sexual urge and just nodded, then watched as she’d walked up onto the rickety porch and disappeared inside. He’d gripped the steering wheel so hard he thought his knuckles would surely crack while his stomach pitched.
Finally he’d rammed the Lexus into gear and driven back to Haven, back to his upscale condo with the words “from two different worlds” seared on his brain with a red-hot branding iron.
Now, as he blew out a ravaged breath and tried to regroup, his phone jangled. He automatically punched the lighted button and listened to his secretary, Pamela Nixon, say, “Ms. Frazier’s on line one, sir.”
Lana, he thought, despising himself because he had no desire to talk to her.
“My God, what happened to you?”
Sissy Newman stood inside the door of Brittany’s living room with her mouth gaping and her cloudy green eyes wide, something Brittany didn’t often see. Usually Sissy was unflappable; that was why she made such a good travel agent. The public rarely rattled her.
Though she was slightly overweight, with gray hair she refused to color, she had a lot going for her. She wore stylish clothes and had a great personality. Childless and widowed, having lost her husband a few years ago right after she turned sixty, Sissy’s whole life was wrapped up in her work and her friends. Brittany considered herself fortunate to be part of both.
“It’s a long story, so you’d better come on in and sit down.” Brittany paused. “You have time, right?”
“After seeing your face, you bet I do.”
“Want some hot chocolate?” Brittany asked, once Sissy was seated.
“That does sound good.”
Brittany thought so, too, since it was a cold, drizzly day, more characteristic of winter than fall. She had the space heater in the room up as high as it would go, and still she was cold. But she knew it wasn’t altogether the weather that kept her chilly. Her heightened nerves were responsible; it was like they were sitting on the outside of her skin.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Sissy asked, her eyes tracking Brittany as she returned from the kitchen and sat on the sofa, folding her legs under her.
“Drink some of your chocolate,” Brittany said lightly, dreading the next few minutes, when she would have to rehash the horror she’d endured. Sissy wouldn’t rest until she told her, though Brittany had no intention of telling her the whole story.
“To hell with the cocoa. I want to know whose fist you ran into. I can’t accuse Tommy—”
“Sissy!”
“Just kidding.”
A short silence ensued while both women sipped the steaming cocoa. Then Sissy put her cup down and said pointedly, “I’m waiting.”
“It’s not an easy thing to talk about,” Brittany said, still hedging.
“Did…he rape you?”
“I don’t think so. I blacked out, but…”
Sissy swore, which was so out of character it almost made Brittany smile.
“Other than your face, do you have other injuries?”
“Some cuts and bruises.”
“So what happened?”
Brittany explained, but without mentioning Rupert’s name—or Collier’s.
“What a horrible experience,” Sissy said in a numb-sounding voice. “It’s a miracle you survived, and it’s another miracle someone came along to pick you up. Even though you won’t tell me who’s responsible, I hope to hell you told the police.”
“No.”
“Dammit, Brittany, why not?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
Clearly frustrated, Sissy snapped, “That’s not smart. Hell, I didn’t even know you were seeing someone, much less that he would turn out to be a violent creep.”
“Please, Sissy, don’t ask me anything else. I’ve told you all I’m prepared to.”
“Fine, but if that bastard touches you again, I won’t let you off the hook so easily.”
“You know how I feel about depending on the law,” Brittany said by way of another excuse. “After the way Tommy was railroaded, you, of all people, should understand.”
“I understand, but in this instance, I don’t agree. But you have to do what you have to do.”
“Thanks for your support.” Brittany tried to smile.
“Can I do anything for you?” Sissy asked. “I feel so helpless.”
“Nothing except give me a few more days off.”
“What about your classes?”
“I’ll go to those and work in the diner.”
“Can’t you forget the diner? I’ll advance you—”
“No,” Brittany interrupted. “I’ll be okay.”
Sissy stood, her mouth stretched in a thin line. “When you come to your senses, I’ll be here for you. Meanwhile, take care and heal.” She leaned over and brushed Brittany’s other cheek. “And that’s an order.”
Brittany gave her a watery smile. “Thanks.”
“I’ll see myself out.”
Once Brittany was alone, her head hit the back of the sofa, though it wasn’t all that comfortable. A spring jabbed her in the back of the neck, forcing her to shift positions and making her wince again. Her body was just now beginning to feel the effects of her ordeal. But at least the bruising had paled somewhat, and she no longer scared herself when she looked in the mirror.
Maybe Tommy wouldn’t even notice. Ha. She knew better, but right now, she didn’t have to think about that. Nor did she have to think about Collier Smith. That problem was solved. He was out of her life.
Though she would never forget the hot, physical attraction that had crackled between them, it had been his special way of cutting through her shield and finding her tender spots that made him unforgettable. He was the type of man she had searched for all her adult years and never found. Until now. But she could never have him.
He had gone back to his world and left her in hers.
Eight
“Hey, Dad.”
“Son, you’re just the person I wanted to see.”
Son.
Collier’s heart always beat a little faster every time Mason called him that. He didn’t remember reacting like this when he was younger. He guessed that back then he’d just taken it for granted he belonged to Mason. But since he’d become an adult and learned the cold truth, that word had taken