Aftershocks

His own body hardened immediately in response to the expression in her eyes and the press of her body against his. Their minds might have dozens of reasons why intimacy was a bad idea, but their bodies didn’t care.

Patrick thrust his hands into her hair, pulled her head down to his and kissed her. He couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate life.

The heat that flared between them was amazing. Hotter than he could have imagined. With a soft sigh, Briana flicked her tongue into his mouth, making him half crazy with excitement.

It was as though all the electricity that surged between them was too much for the city’s power grid. As he deepened the kiss, pulling her even closer against him, they were plunged into darkness.

CHAPTER TWO

BRIANA CLOSED her eyes. Not that it changed anything. They were trapped in a pitch-black elevator, and she couldn’t see anything whether her eyes were open or shut.

But closing her eyes was an automatic response to the passion roaring through her system. She wanted to hold it to her, shut it in tight, let it bubble and boil behind her eyelids.

She wanted Patrick to kiss her and keep on kissing her.

She’d wanted it for weeks.

But she’d never imagined anything could feel so good.

So lost was she in the sensations of his lips moving on hers, his hands in her hair, his body hard and muscular beneath hers that she almost forgot her purpose. The one thing she’d strived for in the two months she’d worked here.

Her purse had tumbled from her shoulder when Patrick had thrown them both to the floor. Hanging on to a thread of sanity, she groped around and found her bag. Slipping a hand inside, she automatically identified objects. The rectangular smooth item was her wallet, the flat metal object was…no, that was her cell phone. Her fingertips continued to search even as desire built within her.

Ah, there. Larger, wider, metal. Her tape recorder. With a moan that was only half-feigned to cover the click, she pushed the On button.

Now they had Patrick.

That handy, high-powered tape machine was going to record a lot of inappropriate behavior in this elevator-moaning and sighing. Kissing noises, for sure. If she was lucky, words of lust and carnal intent. She intended to record the entire incident. No one could call it sexual harassment-she was an adult and at the moment couldn’t be more consenting-but the tape would damage Saint Patrick, as her uncle derisively called him, and his credibility.

Naturally, she had no intention of actually having sex with Patrick-not to help her uncle achieve his revenge, anyway.

In fact, if it were anyone else who’d told her that Patrick had manufactured the lies that had cost her uncle-Councilor Cecil Thomson-the mayor’s office, she wouldn’t have believed him.

Her uncle had been Briana’s biggest fan since her own parents were killed in a car accident when she was five.

She owed her upbringing, food, clothes and shelter to her mother’s sister, Aunt Shirley, and her husband, Uncle De

But it was her mother’s brother, Cecil, and his wife, Irene, who had financed her education, gymnastics instruction and piano lessons, even a couple of trips to Europe. And the extras that her legal guardians couldn’t afford for her.

Her aunt and uncle back in Ohio had given her love and security when she was so lost and alone. From them she’d learned the values of hard work and frugality and the importance of honesty and loyalty. But Briana had had to share them with their own children.

Cecil and Irene had no children, so they always said Briana was like their own daughter. And there were times, she had to admit, when she’d cheerfully have changed her guardianship from the good, decent De

Briana had no interest in ru

Uncle Cecil had worked hard as a Courage Bay councilor for years. Of course, he had a full-time job as a banker, but she knew he got a lot more pleasure from politics than from banking. After the last mayor left office in disgrace, Uncle Cecil had discussed his plans with her to run for mayor himself and she’d eagerly offered to fly out and help with his campaign.

He’d chuckled. “Honey, I’ve lived in this town all my life. Managed the biggest local bank, served on council. There’s nobody even ru

But the call she’d received just a couple of weeks later hadn’t been to tell her of his victory, but to warn her not to believe the lies that were being spread about him.

“That lying weasel fireman didn’t have a hope. Not a goddamn hope of wi

Briana was furious. “How could anyone destroy a man’s reputation and his marriage over a municipal election?” she’d cried, tears of rage almost choking her.

“They’re lies, honey. All lies. I would never do…never do that to your aunt.”

Of course, the minute she’d gotten off the phone with her uncle she’d started searching the Internet. It didn’t take her long to access the electronic version of the Courage Bay Sentinel, the town’s daily newspaper.

The paper had printed an old arrest photo of a man, supposedly her uncle, being booked for public lewdness. In fact, the twenty-year-old incident suggested her uncle had been caught having sex with a prostitute in a public place.

A man who would treat his niece with such love and generosity and who’d always had a close and loving relationship with his wife wouldn’t do such a thing. Briana was sure of it, and if her uncle insisted the paper had printed lies, she believed him.

The next day, when she was calmer, she’d called him and suggested he sue the paper for libel and the police department for…well, she wasn’t certain of the law, but there was obviously gross wrongdoing there, as well.

He’d heard her out, and then, in a voice that sounded old and defeated, said, “There’s a record there, honey. It’s false. I know it and you know it, but there’s no way to prove that. O’Shea-” he spat the word “-with his co

“But…but the prosti-the woman involved. Surely she’ll testify on your behalf.”

“She might, if she hadn’t died more than five years ago. She was a drunk. Drove her car off the road.” He laughed mirthlessly. “They set me up pretty good.”

“This isn’t right, Uncle Cecil. There must be something we can do to stop this injustice. Tell me. I’ll do anything.”

At the time, she’d had in mind letters to congress to initiate some kind of internal inquiry within the Courage Bay police department, getting the media involved, but her uncle stopped her. “I’ll only make a fool of myself if I try to fight these boys. No. I’ll never be mayor now.” He sighed heavily and in that moment she knew how much becoming mayor had meant to him. “But revenge, they say, is a dish best served cold. Your support means the world to me, honey. I’ll let you know when I need you.”