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“Please…”
Her voice, in that broken plea, jerked him back to the moment at hand. “Please what?”
“Don’t take me to the hospital.”
So she wasn’t catatonic after all. Or in total shock. Both good signs that filled him with relief. At least it didn’t appear she was going to collapse on him, a fear he hadn’t heretofore wanted to address.
“That’s where you belong,” he stressed, disturbed anew that she would even hesitate.
“If you try to make me go, I’ll get out of the car.”
“And do what?” He knew his sarcasm was lost on her, but he couldn’t stop the words.
“Keep walking.”
“And die?”
“That wouldn’t be a bad thing,” she said, her voice breaking.
“With a keen sense of characterization and emotions, Ms. Baxter will please. The story is charming.”
—Romantic Times on Tempting Janey
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
One
Were there any skeletons in his closet?
Collier Smith would rather not dwell on that subject, but he had no choice—not since he’d just found out he was being seriously considered for the federal judgeship in the central district of his home state.
“Yes, yes,” he muttered out loud, thinking how incredibly lucky he was to even be in the running for such a prestigious position at the young age of thirty-eight. What was even more incredible was that he had no political experience.
A federal judge. Awesome. His dream come true—if it happened, he reminded himself, jerking the reality chain. But if the cards fell right and he ended up as the president’s chosen one, he would not only make himself proud, but his stepdad, Mason, as well. Collier knew Mason wanted this position for him with every fiber of his being, and Collier feared the consequences if it didn’t come to fruition.
He squirmed against the pinch of guilt that tightened his gut. It should be his stepbrother, Jackson, who was vying for the job, not him. If only Jackson hadn’t been in that accident and lost the use of his legs. If only… There were so many of those in his life that Collier couldn’t begin to sort through them all.
His mind reverted back to his buried skeletons, but he quickly dismissed them again. He refused to dwell on the negative. For the moment he wanted the luxury of indulging himself and basking in his good fortune.
Unable to contain the excitement building inside him, he slapped the steering wheel with one hand, then felt the vehicle swerve.
Sudden fear tightened Collier’s fingers back on the wheel and forced him to pay closer attention to what he was doing. A man couldn’t drive unfocused through these rolling hills, especially with a slow drizzle hitting the windshield and numerous multicolored leaves falling from the trees that surrounded him.
Though it was nearing darkness, he could still see and appreciate the beauty of early fall in Tennessee. Rarely did he get the chance to sneak away from the booming law office where he was a partner and treat himself to a weekend alone in the family’s rustic cabin nestled away from the hectic wear and tear of everyday life.
However, he wasn’t on a pleasure jaunt, he reminded himself, facing reality once again. The high-profile case he’d taken had turned out to be more complicated and demanding than he’d expected. He needed some quiet time to study and prepare.
Too, he needed some space from the woman he’d been seeing for some time now. Lana had been pressuring him to set a wedding date, which would mean an engagement ring, announcement party, the whole nine yards. None of those held any appeal. He wasn’t even sure he loved her. Even if he did, the thought of marriage scared the hell out of him.
Dislodging that unsettling thought, Collier watched the cascading leaves, reminding himself to enjoy that small pleasure. His blue eyes narrowed on a big red leaf stuck on the windshield. He laughed out loud for the pure hell of it, despite the fact the drizzle had turned into a steady rain, making driving that much more treacherous.
Gripping the wheel even tighter, Collier slowed his speed as he rounded a curve. That was when he saw her. Or at least he thought it was a her. With the rain, he couldn’t be sure. What he was sure of, however, was that someone was walking toward him on the side of the road.
Leaning closer to the wheel and further narrowing his eyes, he decided it was definitely a woman and that she seemed to be in a world of hurt.
She was weaving as if she was drunk or completely disoriented. Either way, the situation was dangerous for both of them. Collier’s heart raced, and his palms turned sweaty. If he hadn’t slowed down, he might not have seen her until it was too late.
He could have struck her down.
Cool it, he told himself, breathing deeply to control his erratic pulse. He hadn’t hit her. But what the hell was she doing on this stretch of highway at this time of the evening? And alone, to boot?
He was sure it wasn’t by choice, a thought that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Something terrible must have happened, because no one in her right mind would be afoot in these hills in this rain at dusk.
What should he do?
Keep on going, pretending he hadn’t seen her? Stop? He blew out a pent-up breath. Numerous reasons why he shouldn’t stop flooded his mind. He ignored them and pulled off the road. Even though she was bound to have heard the noise behind her, she didn’t so much as turn around. She kept moving forward in that same dazed, weaving motion.
Aiding a stranger was the last thing he needed to be doing, yet how could he just drive away and leave her?
He drove past her onto the shoulder, then opened the door and stepped out, flinching against the bone-chilling rain that struck him in the face. Controlling his growing anxiety and frustration, he caught up with her, stopping short of touching her. “Ma’am?”
Only after he spoke did she halt and turn slowly around.
Collier swallowed a gasp and a curse. Even though the elements were against him, her features were visible. Two things were immediately evident: she was young, and she was hurt. Gut instinct told him she’d been physically assaulted. One side of her face was bruised and swollen. And visible through her torn clothing were signs of other scrapes and bruises on her chest.
If she’d been in an accident of some kind, there would be a vehicle around. As it was, the two of them were alone, the cold rain becoming more of a problem by the second.
The fact that she was shivering and couldn’t seem to stop jolted him into action. He had to get her into his car, then to a hospital. Shock had apparently set in, and that put her in more jeopardy than her wounds.
He suppressed another curse and motioned toward his Lexus. “Come on. Get in my car.”
She didn’t argue, but she didn’t move, either.
“Please,” Collier said, hearing the coaxing note in his voice, something that didn’t come easily to him. “I can help you if you’ll let me.”
She remained motionless. Rounded eyes that seemed to take up more of her small face than necessary were centered directly on him, though he would have bet she wasn’t seeing him at all.
“Please,” he said again, reaching out and lightly touching her arm.
She flinched, and his lips tightened. “Sorry. But you have to get in my car. You need help.”
Though she still remained mute, she took a step toward his vehicle. Careful not to touch her again, he rushed to open the door. Once she was seated, he slammed it shut and strode back to his side, releasing his held breath.
Too close to call. What if she’d refused to get in? What would he have done then? Since that was a moot point, he didn’t have to go there. Now all he had to do was get her to the hospital and his responsibility would end.
Immediately he turned to her. She sat rigid, staring straight ahead. “I have a cell phone,” Collier said in an awkward tone. “Is there someone I can call to meet you at the hospital?”
He had no idea if his words had penetrated, but he had to try. He would have to leave her, the thought of her fending for herself even at the hospital suddenly pricked his conscience, which in turn made him furious at himself.
What the hell was the matter with him? She wasn’t his problem. He’d best remember that. But she was so pitiful, like a helpless, wounded animal or worse, a wounded child.
“Please…”
Her voice, in that broken plea, jerked him back to the moment at hand. “Please what?”
“Don’t take me to the hospital.”
So she wasn’t totally catatonic after all. Or in total shock. Both good signs that filled him with relief. At least it didn’t appear she was going to collapse on him, a fear he hadn’t heretofore wanted to address.
“That’s where you belong,” he stressed, disturbed anew that she would even hesitate.
“I’m not going.”
While weak and trembling, her voice held conviction, increasing his alarm and frustration.
“You—”
“If you try to make me go, I’ll get out.”
“And do what?” He knew his sarcasm was lost on her, but he couldn’t stop the words.
“Keep walking.”
“And die?”
“That wouldn’t be a bad thing,” she said, her voice breaking.
Now what? Collier thrust his hand though his hair. “Look, you need medical attention. But then, I obviously don’t have to tell you that.”
“I’ll be all right. Please, take me home.”
Curbing his growing anger, he asked, “Where is home?”
“Chaney.”
That was a small town twenty miles north of Haven where he lived, which meant turning around and driving farther back than he’d already come. “Is anyone there?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not taking you home.”
“You…you have to.”
“The hell I do,” he muttered. “Besides, the weather’s getting too bad to be on the highway.” While that wasn’t quite truth, it was as good an excuse as any.
She began sobbing quietly.
Cursing, Collier shoved the car into gear and drove off. He was about to make an incredibly stupid and dangerous move. He was taking her with him to the cabin. But what choice did he have?
Two
Collier peered at his watch.
She’d been in the shower far too long to suit him. He hoped she was all right, but he was concerned. She’d seemed so fragile, so breakable, when they had arrived at the retreat that he had again questioned his judgment in not taking her straight to the nearest hospital whether she wanted him to or not.
She’d seemed so weak that he’d been tempted to offer to help her undress and get into the shower, but the words had stuck in his throat for more reasons than one. Now he was wondering what to do. Check on her? Would that be appropriate? Hell, he didn’t know. He’d never been in a situation like this before. This woman was a total stranger. He didn’t even know her name, yet she had suddenly become his responsibility.
Not for long, he told himself, a grim expression changing his features. Come morning, they would both be headed back toward civilization, although that would of course put a kink in his plans. Once he left, he doubted seriously if he’d return to the cabin, despite how much was resting on the case. It demanded copious research, meaning he needed time alone without interruption, something he couldn’t get at the office or at home.
Her timing couldn’t have been worse, dammit.
How had she gotten herself into such a nightmarish situation, anyway? He was loathe to travel down that mental path on his own or with her, but he knew the journey was inevitable. At some point she had to talk to him. She owed him that. He was curious. And sad. And angry. Not just because of her but for her. No woman deserved to be treated in such a vile manner.
The bastard who had done this to her should get his just deserts. But that certainly wasn’t his responsibility, and he wasn’t about to assume it. He wanted her out of here ASAP. That was his objective.
Collier stared at his watch again, then, frowning, looked at the closed door across from his room. Although hers was the smallest of the five bedrooms, he’d chosen it because of its location. He felt compelled to be near her so he could keep an eye on her.
He’d been afraid to put her upstairs, where most of the guests stayed. Until Jackson’s tragic accident, Mason had often used the cabin for entertaining special clients of the firm. Now, for the most part, it remained empty, except for rare times like this weekend when a member of the family was lucky enough to sneak off and head for these hills.
For some reason, Collier had never entertained the thought of bringing Lana here. He almost laughed, trying to picture her wandering aimlessly through the large airy rooms looking to find something to occupy her time. She would hate the peace and quiet the hideaway offered. She always had to be busy making a statement, whatever the hell that meant.
Enough of Lana. His plate was full without bringing her into the equation. Suddenly he felt the urge to do something. His pent-up energy needed another outlet. When they had first arrived, he’d started a fire in the huge rock hearth and left it crackling and spitting, which effectively broke the sharp silence. But now he needed something else, another project.
The kitchen. Once there, he paused. Coffee or hot chocolate? He opted for both, thinking he’d need the caffeine fix long after she’d settled in for the night. And she just might drink a cup of the chocolate. Maybe that would help calm her fractured nerves. Disposing of that chore in record time, Collier made his way back into the great room, coffee in hand. After taking two sips, he set his cup on the nearest table.
She still hadn’t made an appearance.
Deciding that his “guest” had definitely had enough time to take care of her personal needs, he strode to her door and knocked. No answer. He knocked again. More silence greeted him. Concern driving him, he knocked again. “Are you okay?”
“I’m…fine.”
When her breathy voice reached his ears through the door, he went weak with relief. He’d had visions of all sorts of things having happened to her, all of them bad—and under his roof, too.
“May I come in?” he asked, feeling like a stranger in his own house and not liking it.
“All…right.”
He didn’t know what he’d expected when he saw her again, but it wasn’t what he got. She’d been such a mess when he’d picked her up—wet, bedraggled and hurt, physically and emotionally—that he hadn’t really looked at her. And once they had reached the cabin, he’d shown her straight to her room and left her there. It seemed as though neither of them had been comfortable in each other’s presence.
Now, though, she was standing directly in his line of vision, and some vision she was, too, despite the nasty bruising on the side of her face, where it looked like someone had slapped her good and proper. For a second he couldn’t get any farther than her delicate but perfectly cut features, especially her white, translucent skin and heart-shaped lips. And her lush black hair. He couldn’t escape that. Even though the tousled curls were still damp, they looked like silk.
Her figure was perfectly cut, as well. Barefoot and wearing nothing but a terry robe that had been hanging behind the bathroom door, she stood tall and willowy, with a small waist, full breasts and long legs. A man couldn’t ask for a better package. If he were interested, that is. And he wasn’t. He couldn’t believe he was standing there like an idiot and cataloging her assets.
He coughed. “By the way, I’m Collier Smith.”
“I’m Brittany Banks.”
Before he thought, he almost said the trite words “pleased to meet you.” Under the circumstances, they would have sounded absurd. But then, this whole scenario was absurd.
It was at that moment that her robe gaped open and he saw the nasty cut above her left breast. His throat constricted at the sight. “That needs attention.”
Brittany pulled the sash a little tighter, closing the gap somewhat. Then, as he watched, blood seeped through the material and stained it a bright red. His stomach revolted. Where else was she damaged? Had her attacker raped her? From the get-go, that thought had teetered on the edge of his mind, but he hadn’t let himself go there.
“How ’bout you sit on the side of the bed and let me take a look-see?” He had forced himself to speak in a flat, unemotional tone so as not to further spook her. But he was determined to tend to her wounds, whether she liked it or not.
“If you have some salve, I can take care of it.”
“I don’t think so,” he said stoically. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
He wasn’t lying. Even though she was rational enough, he knew she was still in shock and could crash at any time, and that time appeared imminent. He saw her hand on the doorjamb, her knuckles white from clinging to it. She was barely able to stand on her own.
It wasn’t too late to go with his gut instinct and take her to the emergency room, he reminded himself, walking toward her. “I still think you ought to be in the hospital.”
She gave her head a shake, her silky hair caressing her cheeks.
“Then you ought to be in bed,” he said in a strained voice, thinking how personal, how intimate, that sounded, as his blood pressure pounded like thunder through his veins.
“It does look inviting.”
She almost smiled, which sent another disturbing pang shooting through him. Ignoring it, and without asking permission, he took her lightly by the arm and eased her down onto the side of the bed.
“Hold on while I grab some medicine and gauze,” he said grimly and left her there.
Minutes later, he was back. She was still where he had left her, but her eyes were closed and her head sagged to one side, though he sensed she wasn’t asleep. For a brief second he stared at her, feeling another disturbing pang. Tightening his mouth, he reached the bed. Easing down beside her, Collier gently touched her arm.
Her eyes popped open, and their gazes met and held. Something hot and instant leaped between them, a heat that defied all logic and explanation. Swallowing hard, Collier was the first to look away, though his heart was beating much too fast. Something was happening, something he’d never experienced, and it was scaring the hell out of him.
He fought the strong urge to get up and run like the devil himself was chasing him. Curiosity on his part and need on hers clearly won the battle raging inside him, forcing him to stay put.
“I’ll try not to hurt you,” he said more brusquely than he had intended. But he was shaken, which left him no recourse but to try to protect himself as best he could. Knowing that she was naked under the robe made his mouth go bone-dry.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said in a breathless tone.
“Yes, I do.”
The intoxicating scent of roses assaulted his senses as he eased the terry robe off a creamy shoulder, further exposing the nasty scrape. Without looking at her, he squeezed a generous amount of salve onto a finger, then placed it on her bare flesh. And rubbed. Instantly he went hard, his erection pushing against his zipper.
Had she picked up on his reaction? More than ever, he dared not look at her. He almost couldn’t move that finger over the wound. Again the urge to flee was almost too tempting to ignore. Yet he wasn’t sure he could even stand, mortified by his own behavior.
She seemed unaware of his dilemma, because she didn’t pull away, for which he was thankful. She needed medical attention, and, for the moment, he was the only one who could provide it.
“Who did this to you?” he asked in a steely tone.
“I’d rather not say.”
He peered up at her, his lips tight. “Why would you want to protect such an animal?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Why don’t you try me?”
She licked her lower lip, then whispered, “Please.”
Please what? he wanted to shout. Please don’t kiss you senseless? Sweat drenched him; he was losing it.
He forced himself to look at her, he hoped without showing any of his chaotic thoughts. “Did he rape you?”
Her face paled. “No.”
“Did he try?”
“Yes, but he didn’t succeed.”
“Don’t make me pull the details out of you. You owe me that much.”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she focused on him. “I…we were in his car when he attacked me. We’d gone out to dinner—” Her voice broke, and she wiped at the tears.
That gesture was almost more than Collier could take. He wanted to lick those tears away, to soak up all her pain and heartache and make it disappear. Instead he forced himself to say, “Go on.”
“When I wouldn’t let him…touch me, he became angry, then mean.”
“How did you get out of the car?” Collier suspected he knew the answer to that question. Nonetheless, he wanted to hear her say it. He was no shrink, but he knew she needed to talk about this.
“He…pushed me.”
“That sonofabitch!” He’d like nothing better than to break the man’s neck for damaging her perfect skin and body, not to mention her mind. What kind of animal did these kinds of things? He knew. A sicko. In his profession, he’d dealt with more than his share.
“I have no idea how long I’d been walking when you stopped.”
“I’m assuming no other cars had passed.”
“If they did, they didn’t bother to stop.”
Silence ensued while he gritted his teeth and placed the bandage over the scrape. Without asking permission, he gently pushed her robe completely off her shoulders and checked for other injuries that might require his attention.
Having her full, pointed breasts so close, barely hidden, almost begging to be touched, was almost his undoing. His erection pinched that much harder as he continued on his mission, all the while trying to ignore what was happening to his body.
Finding no other wounds worthy of medication, he covered her, then moved out of harm’s way to the rocking chair near the bed. “Tell me his name.”
“No.”
He gave a start. “No? Why not?”