Page 70 of You'll Find Out
Brig had worked solely for Chambers Oil for the last six years, and in that time his father had trained him well. Brig had become the best troubleshooter ever on the payroll of Chambers Oil. No problem had seemed insurmountable in the past, and usually Brig flourished with only a few hours of sleep. But not now—not tonight. In the past the problems had come one at a time, or so it seemed in retrospect. But since Jason Chambers’ death, the entire company appeared to be falling apart, piece by piece. Somehow, Brig was expected to hold it steadfastly together. A sad smile curved his lips as he now understood that maybe his father had only made running the company seem simple. “I’ve got to hand it to you, old man,” Brig whispered as he held his drink upward in silent salute to his father.
Maybe I’m just not cut out for this,he thought to himself as his lips pulled into a wry grimace.Maybe I just don’t have what it takes to run an oil conglomerate.
As he sat in his father’s favorite worn chair, his elbows rested on the scarred wooden desk, the same desk he remembered from his childhood. Brig took a long swallow from his warm scotch. It was his third drink in the last hour. He rubbed the back of his neck mechanically and rotated his head before tackling the final task of the day. His frown deepened as he stared at the untidy stack of papers banded loosely together in the bottom drawer of the desk. A few moments earlier Brig had discovered that this drawer, and this drawer only, had been kept locked. So this was where Jason Chambers had kept all of his personal records—the transactions that were hidden from the disapproving eyes of the company auditors and the disdainful glare of tax attorneys. Brig had suspected that the papers existed, but he had always figured that they were the old man’s business, no one else’s concern. He smiled sadly to himself and silently cursed his father for the reckless, carefree lifestyle that had ultimately taken his life. “You miserable son-of-a-bitch,” Brig whispered fondly. “How could you do this to me?”
His gray eyes lowered to the first scrap of paper in the stack, a yellowed receipt from a furrier for a sable coat. Brig couldn’t help but wonder which one of the dozen or so women his father had dated over the last few years had ended up with the expensive prize. With an oath of disgust, leveled for the most part at himself, Brig tossed the papers back into the drawer, slammed it shut, and locked it. He was too tired to think about his father or the string of women who had attracted Jason Chambers since his wife’s death.
“If I had any sense I’d burn those blasted papers and forget about them,” he muttered to himself; to open that portion of his father’s life seemed an intrusion of the old man’s privacy. Unfortunately, the inheritance tax auditors didn’t see things from the same perspective. He dimmed the desk lamp, picked up his drink, and walked to the window to draw the shade. Flickering lights in the distance caught his attention and he left the shade open. He narrowed his eyes and squinted to be sure just as the twin beams of light flashed once again. Headlights. Someone was coming.Who?Brig’s thoughts revolved backward in time to earlier in the afternoon. He was certain he had ordered his secretary to keep his whereabouts under wraps. Hadn’t Mona understood him; he didn’t want to be disturbed. He needed this weekend alone.
Don’t get crazy,he told himself as the car drove up the long gravel road. Brig Chambers couldn’t hide, not since he took command of Chambers Oil. If someone wanted to find him badly enough, it wouldn’t be hard to do. It didn’t take a genius to guess that he would be spending a quiet weekend in Jason’s rustic cottage in the mountains. Brig had hoped that the two-hour drive from Denver would discourage most people interested in contacting him. He had the foresight to take the phone off the hook, and he hadn’t expected to be interrupted. From the looks of the strong headlights winking through the trees, he’d been wrong. Perhaps it was critical business. He checked his watch. Why else would someone be coming to the cabin at nearly ten o’clock at night?
The car rounded the final curve in the driveway and Brig strained to get a glimpse of the driver. Who the hell was it?
* * *
Becca’s heart was racing as rapidly as the engine of the rental car she had picked up at the airport. All of the confidence she had gathered at dawn had slowly ebbed with the series of problems she had encountered during the day. It was almost as if she were fated not to meet Brig again. To start off her day, the flight had been delayed, then there was a mixup in her hotel reservation, not to mention that the rental car which was supposed to be waiting for her had never been ordered, according to the agency’s records. It had taken an extra four hours to get everything straightened out. To top off matters, when she had finally managed to arrive at Chambers Oil, she had been politely but firmly rebuked. The efficient but slightly cool secretary had informed Becca that Brig Chambers was gone for the remainder of the day and wasn’t expected back into the office until Monday morning. If no one else could help her, then Becca was out of luck. No, the silver-haired woman had replied to her query, Mr. Chambers hadn’t left a telephone number where he could be reached . . . if Becca would kindly leave her name and number, Mr. Chambers was sure to get back to her early next week. Becca had declined. It had seemed imperative at the time that she see Brig in person. Right now, she wasn’t so certain.
After cresting the final hill and following the road around an acute turn, Becca stepped lightly on the brakes of the rented sedan. In front of her, silhouetted against a backdrop of rugged, heavy-scented pine trees, stood the rustic cedar cabin of Jason Chambers. Soft light from the paned windows indicated that someone was inside. Becca swallowed with difficulty as six abandoned years without Brig stretched before her. After all of the pain, would she be able to see him . . . or touch him? There was no doubt in her mind that he was in the house; she only hoped that he was alone and that he would see her. The angry years apart from him dampened her spirits and she wondered fleetingly why she had decided to come to the lonely cabin to seek him out. She had even brought her overnight bag with her. Was it an oversight or had Dean been right all along?
Before the questions that had been nagging at her could steal all of her determination, Becca switched off the ignition, opened the car door, and stepped into the night.
As Brig sipped his scotch he watched the idling car sitting in the driveway. The engine died and Brig strained to identify the driver. When the car door opened and the interior light flashed for a second, he caught a quick glimpse of a woman stepping from the car. Brig’s jaw tensed. This wasn’t just any woman, but a tall, graceful woman with a soft mane of golden hair, which shimmered in the moonlight. He didn’t catch sight of her face, but he knew intuitively that she was incredibly beautiful. The pride with which she carried herself spoke of beauty and grace. Hazy, distant clouds of memory began to taunt him, but he savagely thrust aside his cloudy thoughts of another striking blonde, knowing that she was lost to him forever. Though she still occupied his dreams, he denied himself conscious thoughts of her. Why did she still haunt him so? And why could he remember every elegant line of her face with such breathtaking clarity? He was a damned fool when it came to Becca Peters. He always had been.
Brig cocked an interested black eyebrow as he stared voyeuristically at the well-shaped stranger hurrying to the porch. Whatwomanwould be looking for him in the middle of the night, at this secluded mountain home? An expectant smile lit his face only to withdraw into a suspicious frown when he realized that the gorgeous creature now rapping upon his door was probably another one of his father’s mistresses, coming to claim what she considered rightfully hers. Brig drained his drink as he advanced toward the door. He hoped to hell that the blonde wasn’t wearing a sable coat.
In the past week Brig had secretly dealt with one of his father’s mistresses. Nanette Walters was a calculating bitch who was ready to spill her guts about her relationship with Jason Chambers to any interested gossip columnist for the price of a oneway ticket to the Bahamas. Fortunately, Brig had gotten to her first. The thought of Nanette’s aristocratic beauty and easily bought affections soured Brig’s stomach and he clenched his jaw in determination as he steeled himself against what would certainly be another cold, expensive demand by one of his father’s latest women.
Every muscle in Brig’s body had tensed in anticipation by the time he reached the door. The insistent rapping had stilled, but the woman was persistent. Brig hadn’t heard her restart the car and leave. He jerked the door open and let the light from the interior of the house spill into the night. The pale lamplight rested on the long, tawny hair of the woman standing on the porch and a familiar scent hung in the night air. Brig felt himself waver. He couldn’t see her face; her head was bent over her purse and she was rummaging through it as if she was looking for something. Disgust forced a smile of contempt to Brig’s lips when he understood: The blonde obviously had her own key to his father’s private retreat.
The stranger lifted her bewitching green eyes and Brig’s breath caught in his throat. Memories of making love to her in a fragrant field of spring clover clouded his mind. Was she an illusion? As his stunned gaze met and entwined with hers, Brig couldn’t help but slip backward in time. It was as if six long years of his life had suddenly disappeared into the darkness. He damned himself for the stiff drinks.It couldn’t be Becca, not after six unforgiving years.
“Rebecca?” he whispered, not believing the trick his mind was playing on him. He must have had more to drink than he thought. A thousand questions surfaced as he stared at her and just as quickly those questions escaped, unanswered. It had to be Rebecca—the resemblance was too perfect for it to be unreal. What was she doing here, at his father’s private cabin in the middle of the night?
Wasn’t it just yesterday when they had made love in the rain? Couldn’t he still taste the warm raindrops on her smooth skin? He closed his eyes for just a moment—to steady himself—and his dark brows knitted in the confusion that was cutting him to the bone. Why the hell couldn’t he think straight?
* * *
The sound of his disbelieving voice whispering her name moved Becca to tears. Her answer caught in her swollen throat. Why hadn’t she sought him out sooner? Why had she waited so long? Was pride that important?
A wistful smile, full of the memories they had shared together, touched her lips. He looked so tired . . . so worried. Her lips trembled when she realized that he, too, might be vulnerable. He had always been so strong. Without understanding the reasons behind her actions, she reached up and touched his rough cheek with her fingertips.
His eyes flew open. They were as she had remembered them: deep-set and steely gray. They touched her as no other eyes had dared. They held her imprisoned in their naked gaze, encouraged rapturous passion.
“Brig,” she murmured, her voice raw. “How are you?” Her hand still caressed his cheek.
He studied her for an endless second, but ignored her concerned inquiry. His eyes probed deeply into hers, asking questions she couldn’t hope to answer. “What are you doing here, Rebecca?”
“I came to see you.”
It was so simple and seemed so honest. For an instant Brig believed her. He needed to trust her. Perhaps it was the look of innocence in her found, verdant eyes, or maybe it was the effect of more than one too many drinks. But that didn’t entirely explain his feelings. More than likely it was because, in the past few weeks, he had felt so incredibly alone. Whatever the reason, Brig couldn’t resist the look of naive seduction in her eyes. “God, Rebecca, why did you wait so long to come back?”
Chapter 3
He didn’t think about the past and gave little consideration to the future. Instead, Brig took Becca into his arms and crushed her savagely against him. He couldn’t let her vanish as quickly as she had come. His lips captured hers almost brutally, as if he could reclaim in a single kiss what had been lost to him for so long.
Becca’s knees weakened in his embrace and she wound her arms possessively around his neck to cling to him in silent desperation. She returned the fever of his kiss with the same passion she felt rising in him. Tears of joy ran unashamedly down her cheeks and lingered on her lips. He tasted the depth of her longing in the salt of her tears.
Becca didn’t resist when he lifted her from the porch and carried her inside the cabin. Instead she held him more tightly than before and wondered if she would feel the ecstasy of dying in his arms.
