Mary Baxter - Like Silk

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?”

“It’s none of your business,” she said in a small voice.

“As an attorney, what if I want to make it my business?”

Her mouth worked. “Why would you do that?”

“Does it matter?” His tone was tight.

He wished he knew what was going on behind those lovely eyes. Even in her vulnerable state, she seemed a master at guarding her secrets.