was still trying to get her degree so that she could become financially secure, something she had never known. After that, she would like nothing better than to flee her hometown and live somewhere else. Anywhere else.
But leaving Chaney wasn’t an option, not until she was able to hire an attorney and start working to get Tommy released from prison.
Because of her brother’s one terrible error in judgment, she might as well wear a scarlet letter on her chest. Even though the accident had happened three years ago, she was still shunned and talked about. Long before the mishap, her family was considered trailer park trash. Now she had no chance of earning anyone’s respect in the town where she’d grown up.
The fact that Tommy was in prison would never be laid to rest, especially since he had permanently injured the son of the town’s most prestigious family.
Yet Brittany loved her brother and felt responsible for him, though she definitely saw his faults. He’d caused her more than her share of heartache during his teenage years, even joining a gang for a short time and getting arrested, though she’d believed him when he told her someone had set him up in order to get even with him. Still, it was the accident that had done the real damage.
Following the accident, they had hauled him down to the police station, since he hadn’t had a scratch on him. Once there, Tommy had called her almost in hysterics. Clamping down on her own hysteria, she had gone to him immediately. She never would forget the desperate look on her brother’s face when she’d walked into police headquarters.
“Sis,” he’d told her, “I swear I didn’t know my head wasn’t clear when I left the party.”
“Come on, Tommy, surely you felt something.”
“Not until I turned onto the highway, then, wham, it hit me. Suddenly I didn’t know where I was or what I was doing.” He paused, his voice cracking when he spoke again. “Hell, I don’t even remember hitting the guy’s car. My drink was doctored. I know it was. Someone’s out to get me.”
“Tommy—”
“Say you believe me,” he pleaded, grabbing her hands and clinging to them. “I know I’ve been in my share of trouble, but you know I’ve never driven drunk. You know that.”
And she did. Yet there was always a first time. Still, she wanted to believe him—for her own sake as well as his. “Oh, dear Lord, Tommy, what are we going to do?”
“Make this go away, sis,” he sobbed. “You always make things right. I know you won’t fail me now.”
But she had failed him, and miserably, too. Because she’d had no means to hire adequate counsel to represent him, Tommy had been assigned a court appointed attorney who failed to substantiate his claim that he’d been drugged. As far as she could tell, the man had hardly bothered to try. That was why, when Rupert had offered to champion her cause with an attorney, she’d dropped her guard.
Never again.
Deciding she’d wallowed in self-pity long enough, Brittany forced her sore limbs to move into a sitting position, then upright. Soon she would be dressed and on her way home.
Four
Stranded.
No other word adequately described the situation. During the night, the rain had come down in buckets. Without even having to walk outside and take a look, Collier knew the bridge was impassable. Whether he liked it or not, he wouldn’t be taking his guest anywhere. And whether she liked it or not, she wouldn’t be going anywhere.
Through the years, Mason had kept saying he was going to do something about the bridge, get a crew up here to rebuild it, so this kind of problem wouldn’t rise every time the water did. But he hadn’t followed through. Collier figured it was because the retreat wasn’t used all that much anymore, which was a shame, since it was a great place for R & R.
And work.
He began to pace the floor again, as he had been on and off for hours. Good thing the floors were hardwood; otherwise, he would have worn a trail in the carpet. Lord knew he’d tried to work—all night, in fact. Yet he hadn’t made a dent in the case. Instead he’d been consumed with thoughts of the woman in the next room and his bid for the judgeship.
Though far apart in reality, they seemed closely related in his disjointed mind. He shouldn’t be holed up in this cabin with a lovely woman with an obviously shaded past. With secrets. The worst kind of woman to get involved with.
The hell of it was, he wasn’t involved. So why was he getting himself all worked up over something he hadn’t done? Loaded question. Loaded answer. When he’d touched Brittany Banks, it had been like tossing gasoline on an open flame. And that flame was still smoldering in his gut.
He’d never reacted to a woman as strongly, certainly not Lana. He could go for days, even weeks, and not touch her, and it wouldn’t bother him.
But he knew the woman in the nearby room was a different story. He would bet that underneath her aloof exterior were seething emotions that, when tapped in the right way, would run as hot as molten lava. Of course he would never find out. He didn’t intend to touch her again.
If only he could stop thinking about how good she’d smelled, as if she’d just bathed in a tub of roses. How her soft bare flesh had felt under his fingers, how he’d ached to caress her full breasts and suck her dark, pink nipples.
Collier drew air through his dry lungs, once again feeling that unwelcome tightening of his groin.
He’d been tempted to check on her during the night. Thank heaven his good sense had overruled that crazy thought.
He needed to get out of here. He needed to get her out of here. If she knew how he felt, how he had reacted to her body, she would be more petrified than she already was. He froze. Had she guessed? Had she picked up on the raw hunger gnawing inside him? Had she seen it in his eyes? He hoped not, for both their sakes.
She must never suspect how deeply she affected him. When she awakened, he would be the perfect gentleman and host—cool but polite. And accommodating. Somehow they would get through this day. Hopefully, by tomorrow morning, the rain would have stopped and the bridge would be passable.
Until then, he had to think with his head and not his libido.
His thoughts suddenly brightened when he turned them back to the judgeship. He still couldn’t believe his good fortune. However, he wasn’t going to rely on his hopes, because nothing was certain and plenty could still go wrong. Granted, he had a lot going for him. He was a prestigious attorney who rarely lost a case, and he came from a family that was highly visible in the political arena. When it came to working for and contributing to the party, he could hold his own.
“No one has the record or the credentials you have, boy,” Mason had said when the call came from one of the senators. “You’ll be a shoo-in.”
“Now, Dad, don’t count the chickens before they hatch.”
“The hell you say.” His father’s white bushy eyebrows drew together, forming a frown. “As much time, energy and money as this family has poured into Washington’s coffers, you should be a sure thing.”
