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Still no response. He shook her shoulder gently, grinning, thinking she was playing a trick on him. “Come on, I know you’re just playing possum.” He shook her harder.
When she didn’t respond, he frowned, rose to his feet and hollered for Maxine, the housekeeper, who was like a second mother to him. She stormed into the room. “What on earth, boy? You’re yelling like a banshee.”
“It’s Mom!” he cried. “She…she won’t wake up.”
He moved aside as Maxine ran to Hannah and began to shake her gently. “Miz Hannah, wake up. Collier’s home.”
She placed her fingers on his mother’s throat, feeling for a pulse. It wasn’t what Maxine said afterward but rather the sudden terrified expression on her face that told him something was wrong. Horribly wrong.
“What’s the matter with Mom? Is she sick?”
“Come with me,” Maxine said, not looking at him. “Let’s go into the other room and call your dad.”
“No, I’m not leaving Mom.” Collier’s tone was belligerent. “She’ll want me here when she wakes up.”
“Please do what I say.”
Collier stiffened. “Why?”
“Because your mother’s not going to wake up,” Maxine blurted, then covered her mouth with her hand, as if she knew she’d spoken out of turn.
Collier’s eyes suddenly filled with tears, and he backed up toward his mother. Once there, he whipped around, dropped to his knees beside her and placed his palm against her face. “She’s not dead!” he sobbed in a fierce tone. “Don’t say that!”
“Collier, please,” Maxine whispered, touching his shoulder.
He shrugged her hand away. “No! I have to make her breathe again. You have to help me.”
“Collier, don’t,” Maxine whispered again in a broken voice.
“No!” he screamed, leaning over and beating on Hannah’s chest. “Wake up, Mom. Please don’t die. Please don’t. Please.”
But no amount of pleading on his part had changed the hard, cold fact that his mother was indeed dead. What happened immediately afterward became sketchy. Until this day, he couldn’t remember the details of Mason’s arrival, the funeral or the days following. All he remembered was knowing that his life as he’d known it was over, that nothing would ever be the same again. And it hadn’t been.
Hannah had been his greatest protector, his biggest champion and his fiercest disciplinarian. For the longest time after she’d died, he had been so angry with God and everyone around him that he’d been unbearable. Looking back, he actually felt sorry for Mason, who had been left with two teenage boys to rear alone.
Mason had married Collier’s mother when he had been only two years old. Mason’s son, Jackson, had been six. Both his mother and Mason had been divorced. Collier’s birth father hadn’t wanted anything to do with him after his mother had caught him with another woman and left him. Even so, as a result of the nasty divorce that followed, his father had refused to give his permission for Mason to adopt him.
Despite that, Mason was the only father Collier had ever known. And while Mason had been good to him, certainly treated him like his younger son, Collier knew that he wasn’t and nursed deep insecurities.
That feeling had worsened after his mother’s death. Hannah had represented the softer, gentler side of the family. Mason was hard-edged and expected too much from his sons. That worsened, too, once they became his total responsibility. He hadn’t a clue how to handle the needs of two boys. A succession of nannies was the order of the day.
Yet he and Jackson had survived those difficult years, both becoming successful attorneys any father could be proud of. Even so, Collier felt he hadn’t quite made the grade yet, that he still had more hurdles to jump.
In many ways, though, he was just like Mason despite the fact that no blood linked them. Collier was smart, ambitious and driven, all the attributes that had launched Mason to the top of his profession and earned him the bucks and respect that went with it.
Despite the similarities, Collier continued to feel that he still didn’t measure up, that he had something more to prove. That was why he had to get that appointment to the bench. Maybe then he would finally feel like Mason’s son in every respect.
If Jackson hadn’t had that accident, he wouldn’t feel quite as much pressure. It wouldn’t dog his every waking moment, this need to succeed because the eldest son hadn’t. Too, he yearned to take away some of the pain that Jackson’s misfortune had put in his father’s heart.
Mason harped constantly on the injustice of it all, making closure impossible. He grieved daily over Jackson’s unwillingness to continue to practice law. Instead Jackson seemed content to simply sit in his room at the mansion and nurse his bitterness and anger. And become weaker by the day.
As a result, Collier often felt pangs of guilt for remaining upright and whole, something that Jackson would never be again. He had always idolized Jackson, positive he was smarter, wittier and more likely to succeed. When the accident occurred, Collier had felt his own heart and spirit break.
Now, however, though Jackson refused to make a new life for himself, Collier refused to give in to his brother’s despair. He was determined that sooner or later Jackson would be productive again. On that point, he and Mason were in total agreement.
Thinking about his mother’s untimely death and his brother’s plight left him more depressed than ever. “Ah, to hell with it,” he spat aloud, crossing to the bed and plopping down on it. Perhaps if he lay there long enough, he would fall asleep, regardless of his restless mind and heart.
He awakened with a start, totally disoriented for a moment, then realized where he was. He couldn’t identify what had interrupted his sleep. He peered at the clock. Midnight. His rest had certainly been short-lived.
Collier heard the noise then. This must be what had awakened him, and this time he recognized it. Someone was sobbing. Brittany was sobbing. Before he had time to think, he lunged off the bed and headed for her room. Without hesitation, he opened the door, then eased onto the side of her bed, scared shitless that she had internal injuries only a doctor could fix.
“Brittany,” he whispered, hearing the note of panic in his voice but unable to control it.
The small lamp burning in the corner gave him access to her face. When she gazed up at him, the stark sadness in those eyes opened an emotional floodgate inside him. It was all he could do not to grab her and hold her tightly, aching to absorb some of that pain.
Instead he ignored that need and concentrated on his fears, growing more alarming by the second. “Are you in pain?” he rasped.
She blinked back tears. “No. I…guess I was dreaming. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
“Hush,” he said gently.
As if they had a will of their own, his hands began wandering over her body, searching for broken bones, signs of something, anything, he might have missed.
Only after a sob suddenly caught in her throat and her big brown eyes locked on his did he pause, realizing one hand was covering her breast.
For the longest time, neither one of them moved. The feelings clamoring through him were so raw, so all-consuming, so terrifying, that he could only stare back at her while her nipple budded in his palm.
“Collier,” she breathed, placing a hand on his cheek.
Further indulging himself in this moment of madness, he lowered his mouth to hers. At first he simply grazed her lips. But when she answered his groan and pressed her mouth closer, his need increased to a feverish pitch. He drank from the sweetness she offered him, kissing her with a deep and frightening intensity.
All the emotions that had been smoldering inside him since that first night exploded. Only after he had no more air in his lungs did he let her go and pull back.
Mutual shock seemed to paralyze them both for several seconds, the sound of the rain barely drowning out the rapid beat of their hearts.
“Dear God,” Collier said in a strangled tone before easing her back onto the pillow, horror washing over him.
Before she could respond, he got up, turned and walked out the door.
Six
“What on earth is going on?”
Brittany tightened her grip on the phone. “You did get my message, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Sissy Newman, the owner of the travel agency, responded. “But I didn’t like the vibes I got. You sounded different, like something was wrong. Is it?”
“Yes,” Brittany admitted, “but I can’t go into it right now.” She had left a generic message and the phone number on Sissy’s machine after Collier had given her permission to use the phone. She had called the diner, as well. She hadn’t wanted to lose either of her jobs.
“As long as you’re okay.” Sissy paused. “I’m assuming you’re not coming in today.”
Sissy sounded a bit out of sorts, since Brittany often worked on Saturdays, but Brittany took no offense. The older woman was her friend and had been for years. She knew Sissy had her well-being at heart. She was the only person Brittany felt like she could count on in a time of crisis.
But because Rupert was Sissy’s biggest client, his involvement made for a sticky situation. While she couldn’t entirely keep what had happened from Sissy, she wasn’t about to go into it on the phone or tell her who had hurt her.
“No, I’m not,” Brittany hedged.
“When are you going to tell me what’s going on? It’s not like you to miss work.”
Brittany willed the tears back. “I know.”
“Are you sick? Why don’t you just say so?”
“Please, Sissy, I’ll explain later. I promise. Just trust me, okay?”
“All right,” Sissy said with a sigh. “I know when to back off. You take care now, and let me hear from you.”
Once the phone was back in its cradle, Brittany sat still for a minute. That was when she realized how quiet it was. Had it stopped raining? Crossing to the window, she opened the blind. Peeping out from behind the clouds was the sun. Relief washed through her.
Did that mean they could leave? She dared not get her hopes up, but she couldn’t help it. After what happened between her and Collier Smith last night…
For a second her mind simply closed down and she couldn’t get enough air through her lungs for a decent breath. Feeling dizzy and slightly queasy, she tried not to think about that soul-depriving kiss.
Crazy.
That was the only word for it. She was shocked and mortified at her own behavior. Long after he’d lurched off the bed and torn out of the room, she had lain awake, thinking that the trauma she’d suffered had affected her mind, made her so weak and vulnerable that she hadn’t known what she was doing.
Liar. She’d known, all right.
Not only had he kissed her, but she’d kissed him back. This time fresh tears burned her eyes. Furious with her inability to control her frayed nerves, she made her way into the bathroom, flipped on the light and looked in the mirror.
She still looked the part—an abused woman. Another sick feeling washed over her. If there was a positive note to this, at least only one side of her face had born the brunt of Rupert’s fist. She dug her nails into her palms, not even wincing against the pain.
Damn him. Damn herself for letting him do this to her. He shouldn’t get away with it. He should have to pay. Collier was right about that. But turning him in wasn’t the answer, either. She knew Rupert and his connections. He would find some way to make everything her fault, deal her more misery than she could handle. With Tommy, two jobs and college, her plate was full.
Rupert had the money and the power to squash her. She had neither. Because she was without means, young and alone, she had been an easy target. However, when the time was right and she knew she had a chance to get Rupert, she would. Her gentleness was often perceived as weakness. But that wasn’t so. She was smart enough to pick the battles she could win. One of these days, Rupert would pay.
Turning away from her bruised face, Brittany made her way back into the bedroom, her eyes going immediately to the bed. Collier’s image rose to the forefront of her mind, bigger than life. Who was this man? Other than the fact that he was an attorney, she didn’t know anything about him. Yes, she did. She knew he had class and money, and that he was good-looking, though not magazine good-looking. His angular jaw and slightly crooked nose prevented that.
Still, he had plenty of entries in the plus column. He was tall and slender, with just the right amount of well-defined muscles and lines in his face to give him character. His dark hair, free of any gray, accented his deep blue eyes and long sooty lashes.
She wondered if he was married. Probably. The good ones always were, and she judged him to be in his late thirties, too old to still be single. He wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t mean anything these days. If he wasn’t married, he was certainly involved.
Suddenly she pictured him easing down beside her, taking her gently into his strong arms, his potent male scent enveloping her as his lips lightly brushed her sore cheek before claiming her lips as though they were his for the taking.
Her body quivered with emotion.
She’d felt safe and warm, like nothing could ever hurt her again. She ached to feel that way again, to have his arms around her, his hungry mouth on hers, his hand on her breast. Feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, Brittany covered them with her hands and swallowed a cry of dismay. Even so, the image wouldn’t go away, nor did she really want it to.
That was what frightened her the most. Those seething emotions he’d stirred in her left a hard, aching knot in the pit of her stomach.
What was he thinking? Her face flamed brighter. She couldn’t imagine. He’d had every opportunity to take advantage of her, to make her a victim again, but he hadn’t, thank God. As horrifying as the thought was, she didn’t know if she would have stopped him if he’d tried to make love to her.
While that admission almost brought Brittany to her knees in remorse, she couldn’t change how she felt. But she vowed he would never know. Once he took her home, this chapter in her life would end. She found strength and comfort in that fact. No matter that she would never forget him, never forget he’d saved her life.
Yet she dreaded seeing him again, didn’t want to feel that sudden rush of sexual awareness when he came near her. But since she had no choice in the matter, she brushed that thought aside and slipped into her clothes, clothes that would be discarded the minute she got home.
Home.
That sounded like heaven. While it didn’t have much in the way of amenities, it was hers. And she couldn’t wait to get back there. Then and only then would she begin to heal and pick up the pieces of her shattered life.
In the meantime, there was Collier to face. In the daylight.
He was out of here. They were out of here, he corrected mentally.
First thing that morning, he had put on his boots and trudged down to the bridge. Apparently it had stopped raining shortly after he’d left Brittany’s room, which had given the water plenty of time to subside.
Now all he had to do was tell Brittany the good news and they would be off. Amazingly, the words stuck in his throat, while a shock of guilt ran through him. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the coffee he’d just drunk sour in his stomach.
He’d kissed her, for god’s sake.
No, it had been much more than that. It had been another assault, only this time motivated by a desire to arouse pleasure, not pain. Still, there was no excuse for his loss of control. After what she’d been through, how could he have done such a thing? Had he no shame?
But there was something about her that had tapped into his sexual reservoir, creating a raw hunger inside him that nothing would appease except her. And even though he’d indulged himself and given in to that hunger, it hadn’t fixed his problem. Instead it had made it worse. If he had his way, he would kiss her again and again. In fact, he wished he never had to stop kissing her.
It had been lust at first sight.
He ignored the blood pounding through his body, settling into his loins, and concentrated on tying a knot in his runaway thoughts. But recognizing his lust for what it was didn’t seem to slow his hammering pulse or keep his mind off her.
The phone rang, and for a moment he was tempted not to answer it. But maybe a dose of reality was what he needed to get him back on track. He reached for the receiver.
“What it is?” he demanded.
His top-notch investigator, Kyle Warren, chuckled. “I see you’re still your same sweet self.” Then his tone sobered. “Get any work done?”
“Tons,” Collier lied.
“I was hoping you’d say that. So when are you heading back?”
“ASAP, now that the bridge is passable.”
“I was afraid you were marooned, which wasn’t a bad thing, not with as much work as you had to do.”
“Anything pressing I need to know about?” Collier asked, changing the subject. He was tempted to ask about his brother, but he knew there wouldn’t be any change there, much to his regret.
“Yeah, that’s why I’m calling. Otherwise, I swore I wouldn’t bother you.”
“Let’s hear it.” Collier heard the tired note that had crept into his voice. He was back on track, all right, the fast one.
