Colton's Christmas Baby (3 page)

“I'm out of here, man,” Duke said.

“Will you just stand guard for me? I just need a few minutes.” He started with the leather book. “Surely there's something in here that will tell what happened to my inheritance.”

Inside the book were receipts for wire transfers. All of them were withdrawals from his account made over a period of three years. “Bingo,” he said softly. “My money.”

Though clearly reluctant, Duke moved over to take a look.

“How do you know it was yours?” Duke asked. “You know when Grandfather died he left all of our money in the same account. I authorized Darius to take mine, and maybe Wes, Finn, Maisie and the others did the same.”

“But I didn't authorize anything. Yet Darius claims the account has been closed and there's nothing there.”

“Did you see the bank statement?”

“He wouldn't let me.” Damien flashed him a grim smile, reaching for the manila folders. “Oh, damn.”

“That looks like a second set of accounting records for the Colton ranch.” Duke scratched his head. “Why would he have that? Unless…”

Without answering, Damien continued digging. “Look here. A list of some sort of vendors and receipts for transactions.”

“Transactions of what?”

“I don't know.” But he had a good idea. The FBI had approached him shortly after he'd been released from prison, intimating they were investigating Darius. Damien, still smarting from his father's refusal even to visit him in prison, had agreed to act as their insider, an informant of
sorts. This was exactly the sort of thing they'd expect him to report.

“I think our father has been running a little business on the side.”

Duke cursed. “What are you going to do? You can't be thinking of turning him in?”

“I don't know.”

“Damien, you know how the old man is. I doubt he'd survive a year being locked up. I'm not sure I could do that to him.”

“But then again, he didn't steal your money, did he? You handed it over to him, lock, stock and barrel.”

“Please, think about this before you do anything rash.”

Flipping through the last of the folders, Damien reached for the metal box. Duke reached for his hand to stop him. “Hold up.”

“What?”

“You've found enough. Put it back. I think we need to talk to Wes and Finn before we do anything.”

Clenching his jaw, Damien stared at his twin. “I'm not asking you to do anything.”

“This is a family matter.” Moving with purpose, Duke took the metal box, folder and notebook and placed them back in the safe, exactly the way they'd been. “We—or you—aren't doing anything until we talk to the others.”

“What about Maisie?” Damien asked. “She has a right to be involved, too.”

Duke shot him a hard glance. “If you can trust her to keep her mouth shut, fine. But you know, she's been contacting that TV show, trying to get them out here to do an exposé on the town.”

“She's been talking about that, but I don't think anyone there took her seriously.”

“I know. Let's keep it that way, okay?”

Reluctantly, Damien agreed, watching as Duke resecured the safe and replaced the painting.

“Come on,” his brother said, putting a hand on Damien's shoulder. “Let's go to the kitchen and see if we can rustle up a late-night snack. There are bound to be some of those hot wings left.”

Feeling both disgruntled and slightly relieved, Damien agreed. A decision needed to be made about Darius, but he wouldn't have to make it alone.

 

The next morning the snowplows worked the roads bright and early. Eve woke to the peculiar blinding whiteness of sun on snow. As she padded to the kitchen to make a pot of decaf and get the hearth fire going before letting Max out, she couldn't stop thinking of Damien and his offer.

Just looking at the man made her mouth go dry. What he proposed was very, very tempting. The fact that she could even think like this should have made her angry with herself, but she was pragmatic at heart and believed in calling a spade a spade.

Damien Colton made her go weak in the knees. Always had, always would.

The knowledge unsettled her. So much so that after she'd finished her first cup of coffee, she started cleaning her kitchen. She knew she'd find comfort in the physical work and satisfaction in the finished results.

About ninety minutes into her cleaning binge, when she'd finished the kitchen and the two bathrooms and started on the den, Max's barking alerted her that a car had pulled up into the drive. Her mother. Perspiring and grungy, and knowing she could use a break, Eve went to the front door and opened it wide.

“You're out bright and early on a snowy morning,” she said brightly.

Bonnie Gene's gaze swept over her daughter. “It's not morning. It's well after noon.”

“Well, good afternoon then.” Eve wiped her hands on her sweats. “You caught me in the middle of cleaning. What's going on?” Moving aside, she waited until her mother entered before closing the door.

“I have fantastic news!” Bonnie Gene gushed the moment she stepped inside. Sweeping into the foyer in her usual dramatic fashion, she eyed Eve's pitiful attempts at Christmas decorating before focusing back on her daughter.

“You are not going to believe this. Guess what I've arranged?”

“I'm almost afraid to ask.”

“Can the sarcasm.” Too excited to note—or care about—Eve's less-than-enthusiastic reaction, Bonnie Gene clapped her gloved hands together. “I've set you up on a blind date.”

“Not another blind date,” Eve protested.

“This is not an ordinary blind date—it's the coup de grâce of all blind dates! You are going out with Gary Jackson!”

“Who?”

“You know, Gary Jackson the attorney? He just moved here a few months ago and I know for a fact all the single girls want to go out with him. He's tall, handsome and—”

“Full of himself.” Eve dragged her hand through her hair. “Mother, we agreed. No more blind dates.”

“
You
agreed. I said nothing. And listen, this one is too good to be true. You can't pass this up.”

“Does he even know?”

Bonnie blinked. “What?”

“Does this Gary Jackson even know he has a blind date
with me? Remember, the last guy you set me up with and forced me to go on a date with had no idea. I was never so embarrassed in my life.”

“Oh, for Pete's sake.” Bonnie Gene rolled her eyes. “It all worked out, if I remember correctly.”

“No, it didn't. He was a stalker, mother. I had to get Wes Colton involved. Thank goodness that guy left town.”

Removing her coat, Bonnie Gene wandered into the great room, standing in front of the fire. “Ahhh. That feels so good. Listen, both Gary's mother and I went through a lot of work to arrange this. I'd really appreciate you going on this date. As a favor to me.”

The old guilt trick. Eve refused to fall for it. “No.”

“Come on. What else do you have to do?”

Eve crossed her arms. “Do you really want a list?”

Dropping down onto the couch, her mother sighed, removing her gloves and scarf and loosening her coat. “You know I only want what's best for you.”

“Yes, but you've got to stop this obsessive trolling to find me a husband. I'm nearly forty. I can find my own man.”

“Oh, can you?” Bonnie Gene pounced. “Then tell me, what have you been doing to try and meet someone?”

“Here we go again. Mother, don't start.”

“Fine. But you know I want grandchildren.”

If ever Eve had been tempted to reveal her pregnancy, now would be the time. But her mother would broadcast the news all over town and right now, with the Mark Walsh fiasco in full swing, the last thing Honey Creek needed was more scandal. Nope, Eve just wanted to get through the holidays before dropping her bombshell.

“I know you want grandchildren, Mother. You've informed me of that nonstop for the last ten years.”

“Well, then,” Bonnie said brightly. “Since I've already arranged this date, will you please go?”

Bonnie Gene looked so contrite, Eve softened. As she always did. Sucker. “I'll go, but only if you give me your absolute word that this is the last blind date you arrange for me.”

Grinning, Bonnie Gene nodded. “Do you want me to pinky swear?”

“Just give me your word, Mother.”

“Fine.” Huffing, Bonnie Gene grimaced. “You have my word. No more blind dates.”

“Ever.”

“Fine. No more blind dates ever.” Her frown faded and she grinned. “Maybe this date with Gary Jackson will lead to something permanent and you won't
need
another blind date.”

Oh geez. “Maybe. Who knows?” Sighing, Eve went into the kitchen. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“I'd love one. Do you want my help picking out an outfit for your date?”

Midway to the kitchen, Eve paused. Turning, she eyed her mother, dreading the answer yet knowing she had to ask.

“When is this date with Gary Jackson, by the way?”

“Tonight.”

E
ve nearly said a curse word in front of her mother. “Tonight? How could you do this to me?”

“Please,” Bonnie scoffed. “You've got over six hours to get ready. It's not like you have to be there for lunch or anything.”

“Where's there?”

“You're meeting him for drinks and dinner at the Corner Bar and Grill.”

Of course. Her mother knew that was Eve's favorite place, as well as the second-most popular place in town, Kelley's Cookhouse being first.

Putting the kettle on the stove, Eve got out two mugs and two teabags of orange pekoe tea.

“Everyone will see me there,” she groused, secretly glad her mother hadn't chosen to have her meet Gary at the family's barbecue restaurant. She'd done that before and Eve had spent the entire evening answering questions
about what it was like to be part of the family that owned a famous franchised restaurant. Worse, her date had expected free food and had ordered one of everything on the menu. He'd been shocked, then angry, when Eve had informed him they still had to pay.

“Exactly! There's a live band tonight, the High Rollers, I think. So you know the place will be packed. Everyone will see you there with Gary,” Bonnie enthused. “That man is quite a catch. The town will be talking about it for days!”

A catch? Mentally, she rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Mom. I'm not exactly fishing.”

“No, you're not,” her mother said with a wry twist of her mouth. “Which is why I have to help you. You've got me baiting the hook and casting for you. Now all you've got to do is reel him in.”

Reel him in.
Had they been mysteriously teleported back to the fifties when she hadn't been looking? Deciding to ignore the phrase, as she always did when Bonnie Gene started on this subject, Eve stared at the teakettle, willing it to whistle. A good cup of tea went far to sooth frazzled nerves.

Taking her silence for assent, Bonnie Gene came closer. “What are you going to wear? If you'd like, I could pick out your outfit.”

“Oh, for—” Biting off the words, Eve forced a smile. “Mom, don't worry about that. I've got it covered.”

Six hours later, standing in front of the mirror, Eve wondered why she'd agreed to this. She couldn't help but wonder if Gary Jackson wondered the same thing. If he was such a “catch,” as her mother put it, she doubted he needed to be set up on a blind date.

But, heavens knows, Bonnie Gene Kelley could be pretty persistent when she wanted to be.

For her dinner date, Eve had chosen a thick sweaterdress with a cowl neckline in flattering shades of brown, cream and gold. Brown leggings and soft suede knee-length boots completed her outfit. She brushed her shoulder-length blond hair until it shone, swiped a tube of lip gloss over her lips, and told herself she was ready.

In fact, she'd rather be doing almost anything else. Even pooper-scooping Max's poo seemed preferable to yet another blind date set up by her own mother. How pathetic was that?

Still, she reminded herself, slipping on her parka and snagging her purse and car keys on her way out, none of this was Gary Jackson's fault. He could be a nice guy. She should give him a chance.

Thirty minutes later, covertly checking her watch, she knew she'd been wrong. From the instant she'd walked into the Corner Bar and taken a seat in the booth across from him, Gary Jackson had talked nonstop. About his law practice, what kind of car he drove, what stocks he'd invested in, where he lived and what kind of furniture graced his abode, blah, blah, blah. Every single time she thought he might be winding down, he'd start on another tangent. About himself, of course.

No wonder the guy couldn't find a date. She'd be willing to bet he'd jumped on the chance when her mother had offered her as the sacrificial lamb.

Poker-faced, she sipped her soft drink and tried to keep from yawning. Even on a weekend date, the man wore a button-up shirt and tie, along with a wool sport jacket and slacks.

“Anyway, when they asked me to help out with the Mark Walsh investigation…”

Finally, something interesting. “You're helping out with that? How? You're a lawyer, not a criminal investigator.”

She'd barely got the words out before Gary was off and running. Not about the Mark Walsh case, which she might have been interested in hearing, instead, he rambled on about how anyone, even the lowliest criminal, needed an attorney and how lucky the people of backwater Honey Creek, Montana, were to have him. Because he was the best, the brightest, the most like a shark, etc.

While she sat, steaming and wishing she could drink alcohol. Since she couldn't, she practiced scathing remarks she'd like to say but couldn't.

Finally, she'd had enough. “Excuse me,” she tried to interrupt. Either Gary had gone hard of hearing or was so involved in what he was saying that she had to repeat herself three times. In the end, she simply got to her feet, waved her hand at him, and headed toward the restroom. She could have sworn he continued talking to the air after she'd left.

This was a disaster. If it weren't that her mother would find out, she'd sneak out the back and leave him talking to himself.

The hallway to the restrooms was long and blessedly deserted. She took her time, aware that every second away from Gary was a second of peace and quiet. Finally she had no choice but to make her way back.

“Eve?” a deep familiar voice called her name.

Looking up, her heart skipped a beat. Her body, numbed by Gary's endless rambling, came gloriously, fully awake and alive. “Damien.” She tried to sound casual. “What are you doing here?”

“Hoping to run into you,” he answered, making her blush. “And here you are.” He sounded so pleased, she had to smile. “Do you want to join me for a drink and a snack? Just to talk.”

Talk about tempting. She had a brilliant idea. “I can't
join you, because I'm here with someone.” Quickly she told him about her mother's scheme and Gary Jackson. “I want out of this, but I can't get him to shut up long enough to tell him so. Please, join us for dinner. Maybe then he'll get the hint.”

Expression serious, he studied her face. “This is the second time I've helped you out, you know. After this, you'll owe me a date, just the two of us.”

“Done.” She'd have agreed to almost anything to end the torture of Gary, but a date with Damien seemed more like a reward than a payment of a debt. “So that means you'll help me out? I hate to ask, but…”

His smile took her breath away. “Sure, I will. But first, come here.”

Pulse kicking back up, she didn't move. “No.”

“Chicken.”

“Maybe,” she acknowledged. “But I need to know what you mean.”

“A simple kiss. That's all I want.”

“Here?”

He glanced around. “Sure, why not? We're in a dark hallway and unless someone comes down this way, no one will see.”

Temptation. She realized suddenly that there was nothing she wanted more than to kiss him. But not the kind of kiss she could do here, standing in a hallway in the Corner Bar.

“My kiss,” he reminded her. “Yes or no? Your call.”

Moving closer, but standing far enough back that no part of their bodies touched, she leaned in, intent on making this a quick, touch-her-lips-to-his, peck-type kiss.

Instead, he yanked her up to him. “Real kiss,” he growled. “I haven't been able to stop thinking about our last one. Now lay it on me.”

At first she couldn't move. Paralyzed by indecision and the knowledge that the blind date from hell waited in the other room, she let panic immobilize her. For maybe all of three seconds.

Then she reached up and pulled him down to her. Slanting her mouth over his, she kissed him like they were alone in her bedroom, kissed him like she'd secretly been longing to do ever since she'd seen him, kissed him openmouthed and insistent and full of pent-up longing and desire.

When she finally raised her head, they were both breathing hard.

“There,” she said, trying for a light teasing tone. “Now will you join me for dinner?”

Eyes dark and glittering, he nodded.

“Come on then.” She took his arm. “Let me introduce you two. My date thinks he's an expert on the Mark Walsh investigation, though for the life of me I don't know what he has to do with it.”

From the sudden tension in Damien's body, she judged she'd said the wrong thing. But there was no time to fix it since they'd almost reached the table.

Gary stood, appearing comically surprised that she'd already returned. Or, she surmised, watching his eyes widen as he saw Damien, shocked that she'd brought back an escort, especially one as big and muscular and male as Damien.

Speaking briskly, she made the introductions. “Gary Jackson, Damien Colton. Damien, Gary.”

The two men shook hands. Then Damien pulled out a chair and, instead of taking a seat, turned it around and straddled it. “Let me buy you both a drink. What are you drinking, Gary?”

“Scotch on the rocks, neat,” Gary responded. Since Eve
knew he'd been drinking a beer, she shot him a look, which he promptly ignored.

Trying not to watch Damien, trying not to think about that kiss and what else she wanted to do with him, she watched Gary instead. For once, eying Damien, her formerly talkative date appeared at a loss for words.

Signaling the waitress, Damien ordered. “Scotch for him, Coors Light for me, and a Shirley Temple for the lady.”

“How'd you know that's what she was drinking?” Gary asked.

Damien shrugged. “Eve and I go way back. She was telling me you're involved in the Mark Walsh murder investigation? How so?”

“Part of my job dictates that I occasionally have to do pro bono work as a public defender. When—and if—the police find any suspects, I'm on call in case they can't afford an attorney.” He spread his hands. “They won't even realize how lucky they are. I was the best criminal attorney in Fargo before I moved here and switched to private practice.”

Eve glared at him. “So you're actually not working on the case then. You're just prepared to help if they need you?”

Before he could answer, Damien stood, waving. “Maisie. Over here.”

Wearing a full-length fake fur and stiletto-heeled boots, Maisie Colton looked like a glamorous movie star. She breezed up to their table, giving Damien a quick hug before turning to face Eve and Gary.

“Hi, Eve,” she said dismissively, turning to Gary, eyeing his clean-cut features and business attire. “Who are you? I don't believe we've met.”

“Maisie Colton, meet Gary Jackson. Gary, this is Maisie, Damien's sister.”

To Eve's amazement, Gary's face turned beet-red as he took Maisie's perfectly manicured hand. “My pleasure,” he murmured, kissing her hand.

It took every bit of Eve's self-restraint to keep from rolling her eyes. She didn't dare glance at Damien to see his reaction.

For her part, Maisie appeared to be eating it up. Fluttering her long lashes, she took a seat, perching on the end of the bench. “I can't believe I haven't met you. Have you been in town long?”

Gary had to lean across the table to hear her breathy question, jabbing Eve with his elbow in the process.

“You know what?” Eve said, pushing to her feet. “I think I'm going to have to call it a night. It was nice to meet you, Gary.”

“Likewise,” he said, never tearing his gaze away from Maisie's perfect features. “Have a nice night.”

“Excuse me.” Damien nudged Maisie to get up so he could get out. “I need to be going, too.”

Maisie slid out without protest, taking her seat back immediately after Damien stood. As Eve turned to go she saw Maisie reach across the table and capture Gary's hand.

“They deserve each other,” Damien said, helping Eve on with her coat. “Let me walk you to your truck.”

“This will be all over town by morning.” Glancing around, Eve saw half of the place watching her and Damien and the other half staring at Gary and Maisie.

“Gossip. Don't worry about it.”

“Easy for you to say. You forget, I run a beauty shop, aka gossip central. I will hear about this on Tuesday, both from my customers and from my mother.” She brightened.
“Though at least I can blame Maisie for the failed date. That way I don't have to tell my mother that I thought Gary was a jerk.”

One hand on the door handle, Damien stopped and studied Eve's face. “You seem to spend a lot of time pretending to be something you're not. That's not the Eve Kelley I remember.”

Stunned, she could only retort with the first thing that came to her. “Maybe your memory's faulty.”

Brushing past him, she slipped out the door.

She should have known he wouldn't give up that easily.

“Eve, wait.”

“Oh, won't this give them something to talk about,” she groused.

“Why are you so worried about what people think?”

“I'm not.” With a sigh, she acknowledged her lie. “Okay, maybe I am. A little. But you have to understand what will happen when I open the salon tomorrow. Every one of my customers, whether or not they have an appointment, will be stopping by to ask about this.”

“Are you sure you're not exaggerating?”

Tilting her head, she thought for a second. “I'm sure.”

“What about him?” He jerked his head toward the bar. “Is he all right to leave with Maisie?”

“Oh, sure.” Unable to suppress a grin, she shook her head. “Who knows? Maybe they're perfect for each other.”

“Maybe. Eve, I—”

Suddenly skittish, Eve took a step back. “Damien, I've got to go.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in an amused smile. “Have a nice night. I'll see you tomorrow then.”

This stopped her short. “Tomorrow? For what?”

“Our date. Remember?”