Colton's Christmas Baby (8 page)

Snow flurries drifted in her headlights as she drove home. Aware her car heater wouldn't even kick on until she was nearly home, Eve shivered as she tried to stay warm.

Hitting the automatic garage-door opener, she pulled into her garage and parked, wondering yet again if she wasn't making a horrible mistake.

Yet, thinking of how she'd felt dancing close to Damien brought a rush of warmth, and she reminded herself she didn't care.

Damien Colton was addicting. Something about him…She'd given in to that craving sixteen years ago and now that he'd returned, she was beginning to think she hadn't ever gotten him out of her system.

Damien parked in the driveway behind her, his extended-cab pickup too large to fit in her garage. Heart in her throat, she watched him stride toward her. When he reached her, he didn't speak, but instead gathered her close and kissed her. Right there in her garage, both of them still bundled in parkas, his mouth covered hers with a hungry intensity that told her she wasn't alone in the fierceness of her need.

The feel of him, so big and male, made her shiver. As his lips blazed over hers, desire, raw and hot and heavy, banished all rational thought.

She wanted this man. Now.

Raising his mouth from hers, he gazed deeply into her eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked.

For one confused moment, she wondered if she'd spoken her thoughts out loud. Then she looked up at him and her heart lurched. Despite his apparent confidence, she sensed his vulnerability.

Instead of answering his question with words, she wound her arms inside his jacket and raised up to touch her mouth to his, giving him her answer with her body instead.

It was like kindling erupting into flame. Her body tingled, burned as she wrapped herself around him, yearning to be closer still.

Somehow, still kissing, they stumbled toward the door.
Though they were still wound around each other, she had the presence of mind to hit the close button for the garage door. As she did, she muttered a quick prayer that her mother wouldn't see Damien's truck parked in her driveway. Not that Bonnie Gene would mind, but a full-out interrogation would be sure to follow.

Then, as his mouth grazed her ear and burned a path down her cheek and neck, she forgot about everything else but the magnificent man in her arms.

They made it inside, though she didn't know how. She came up for air long enough to realize they were in her bedroom.

Shedding her coat, she let it fall at her feet, watching as he did the same.

“Come here.”

Throat tight, she moved closer to him, aching for him to caress her.

Instead, he began to remove her sweater, helping her tug her arms free. He undressed her slowly, gazing at her with a burning intensity, as if memorizing her with his eyes.

Finally naked while he stood still fully clothed, she squirmed against him, seeking to taunt him into losing control. From the harsh intake of his breath, she'd succeeded, but still he didn't move.

“Easy now,” he told her, his voice sounding like smoke and gravel, a contrast with the cool brush of his hands against her skin. “Patience.”

She tried to hold back, trembling with both cold and need, but with her desire mounting, she simply could not. With a curse of frustration she tore at his clothes, impatient to see him, to rake her nails against his rock-hard abs and explore his muscular body with her fingers.

Lifting his hands, he let her undress him, the heat in his gaze promising all sort of pleasure when she'd finished. As
she fumbled with his belt buckle, he helped her, and when she unbuttoned his jeans, and freed him, he made a sound of pleasure low in his throat.

Holding back her wildness, she caressed the hard length of him, marveling at the thickness and size of his erection, wickedly amused as he froze, as if afraid to move.

Then, grabbing her hands to stop her, he pulled her hard up against him, flesh to flesh, man to woman.

“I don't have a condom,” he rasped. “I had a complete physical when I got out, and I'm still clean, but… Sorry, but I wasn't expecting…”

“It's okay.” Her chest hurt from wanting him so badly. “I'm already pregnant. And they tested me for everything when I had the pregnancy confirmed, so we ought to be all right.”

Fire in his gaze, he slanted his mouth over hers, both demanding and giving. Fire and ice, summer and winter, trembling with passion, they fell onto the bed. She sighed as she found herself underneath him, his aroused sex hard and heavy against her thigh.

Arching her back, she gasped as his mouth closed over her nipple, shuddering as he touched her, skimming the curve of her waist, stroking her moistness.

She cried out as he entered her, filling her.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his lips curving as he began to slowly move.

As he did, the ache sparked by his kiss exploded into flame. Her body throbbed as he entered her completely and then withdrew, leaving her aching for him. Waves of passionate ecstasy filled her as they moved together, body-to-body, so close she couldn't tell where she ended and he began.

Her passion became mindless. She cried out, and he answered her with a deep thrust.

Just like that, she shattered into a thousand pieces.

As she clenched around him, he groaned, sending waves of ecstasy into her core with each long, deep stroke. A moment later, he found his own release, crying out and collapsing against her.

They held each other, their bodies damp from lovemaking, sated. She liked that she felt so comfortable with him, liked that she didn't feel the need to fill the space with vague conversation.

When he rose to clean up, she watched him walk to her bathroom and admired the view from behind. He turned and caught her watching and grinned before closing the door behind him.

This just might work out,
she congratulated herself as she lay back in her bed, hands behind her head. All her life she'd gone into relationships with high expectations. Now, having learned her lesson, she had no expectations at all. Why ask for more when she'd never gotten more? Less heartache, more pleasure. Good all the way around.

Now, if only she could make herself believe it.

And if her heart gave a twinge whenever she thought of Damien moving away, she put it down to the newness of things, nothing more.

She'd been a fool back in Italy. She wouldn't make that mistake again.

W
orking at the salon was becoming more and more difficult, the further along Eve got in her pregnancy. Her back was killing her. If she felt this bad at only four months, she wondered what she'd be like at eight.

She watched Mrs. Grant, her eight-thirty shampoo and set, walk to her car. Luckily her next customer wasn't due for another fifteen minutes, so Eve could take a quick apple-juice break and rest her feet.

The changes that had begun to take place in her body both amazed and thrilled her. Not only had she began to ‘ripen' as she thought of it, with fuller breasts and a softly rounded stomach, but her ankles now swelled when she stood on her feet all day. And the exhaustion! It seemed she barely had time to finish her breakfast and begin her workday and she craved a nap.

Like now. Stifling a yawn, she grabbed her juice from the fridge and dropped into her desk chair, unwrapping her midmorning granola bar.

The sleigh bells on the front door jingled merrily. Lacy Nguyen, her part-time stylist, waved at her as she came in. “Good morning,” she sang out. “Sure smells like snow out there.”

Eve laughed. “When does it not? It's December in Montana. If it didn't smell like snow, I'd be more surprised.”

“Still, I'd love some Christmas snow. Maybe we could build a magical snowman!” Lacy grinned as she hung up her parka. “I've got a full day booked today.”

“Good.” Barely stifling a yawn, Eve took another bite of her granola bar. “I do, too.”

Lacy studied her. “You look… Hey, are you seeing someone?”

Eve almost choked on her granola. “What? No. Why do you ask?”

“Because you're glowing.” Lacy shrugged. “You know, like you're in love or something?”

Relieved, Eve laughed. If Lacy only knew. “Nope. The latest on the dating front is that I went on another disastrous blind date my mom set up. This time it was with that new attorney, Gary Jackson.”

“Ewww.” Lacy made a face. “He hit on me once. Didn't seem to mind when I said I was engaged.”

The doorbells jingled again. Both women looked up, and froze. Maisie Colton stood in the doorway, wearing a bright-orange full-length down coat and fuchsia-and-orange striped scarf and gloves. Even with her windblown hair, she looked as though she'd just finished posing for a glossy magazine advertisement on winter.

“Eve?” She stepped inside, her high heels clicking on the linoleum. “Do you have a minute to talk?” Her gaze cut to Lacy. “Privately?” she added.

Immediately, Lacy snatched up a load of freshly washed
towels. “I'll be in the back, folding these,” she said, darting a meaningful look at Eve. “If you need me, just yell.”

“What can I do for you, Maisie?” Eve asked carefully.

“I wanted to talk to you about Gary Jackson. I know you were out with him the other night—”

Now Eve understood. Maisie was interested and wanted to make sure she wasn't encroaching on Eve's territory. What was up with that? Since when had Maisie cared?

“Gary and I were on a blind date set up by our mothers. I have absolutely no interest in him and I have no doubt he feels exactly the same way.”

“Really?” Maisie's heart-shaped face lit up, making Eve realize exactly how beautiful Damien's sister was. “I wanted to make sure. He asked me out for next weekend.”

Curious, Eve decided to be blunt. “Why do you care what I think?”

The question didn't seem to faze Maisie.

“I know it might seem weird. In the past, if I wanted something, I took it.” Her perfectly painted lips curved. “I guess I just realized I had to grow up sometime. I'm trying to repair the damage I've done to people in this town.”

“That's why you joined my mother's quilting group?”

“Yes. And I haven't actually joined yet. I'm still trying to get up the nerve to go to a meeting.”

Really? Maisie Colton, frightened of something? “What are you afraid of?”

Taking a deep breath, Maisie met Eve's gaze, unsmiling. “Those other women don't like me much.”

Eve didn't know what to say. Maisie had spoken the truth and to try and dilute that with platitudes or reassurance would only undermine it. Still, she had to say
something.

“Do you know how to quilt?”

“No.” Maisie brightened. “But your mother promised
to teach me. I want to make a quilt for my son, sort of an heirloom thing.”

Touched, despite herself, Eve nodded. “And you came here because you want me to help you figure out how to get along with all those women?”

“No.” Maisie Colton shook her head, sending her wayward hair flying. “I came here because I want you to cut my hair.”

Then, while Eve was still reeling from this shocking news, Maisie made a scissoring motion with her fingers, right below her chin. “I want it cut short. Very short.”

Still staring, Eve swallowed. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” Stalking over to Eve's chair, Maisie sat. “Let's get busy. You've got to get me finished before your next client comes in.”

True. Shaking out the vinyl cape, Eve draped it around Maisie's shoulders. “Let's get you shampooed.”

Maisie's hair was thick and lustrous, much like her brother's. Eve shampooed and rinsed and wrapped her in a towel, before leading her back to the chair and combing her out. “Now tell me what kind of a haircut you want.”

Maisie grinned. “I'll do better. I'll show you.” She grabbed her purse, rummaging inside and finally pulling out a folded square that had obviously been taken from a magazine. “Here you go. It's Rihanna. A pixie crop with a sweeping fringe.”

“So it is.” Eve glanced from the picture to Maisie. “You do realize this will involve me cutting off at least six inches?”

“Sure.”

Relentlessly determined, Eve continued. “And you'll have to use styling products and a flat iron after you blow-dry?”

“I already do. Let's go for it.”

“Fine.” Eve grabbed her scissors and began. She couldn't help but wince as the long locks fell to the floor. “Does your brother know you're doing this?”

“Which brother?”

“Any of them,” Eve said, refining her cut around the back. “Wes, Finn, Brand, Perry, Duke or Damien.”

“No. But then I'm not in the habit of consulting my brothers before I get a new haircut.” Taking a deep breath, Maisie closed her eyes. “He was with you last night, wasn't he?”

Eve was so busy snipping away that Maisie's words barely registered. “Who?”

“My brother. Damien.”

Eve nearly cut off a huge swath of Maisie's silky hair. Accidentally, of course. “Ummm, maybe,” she said hesitantly. “Why?”

Maisie opened her eyes. “I just want to know what your intentions are toward him.”

Dumbfounded, Eve met the other woman's gaze in the mirror. “My intentions?”

“Yes. Damien's fragile. He doesn't really know how to react to the regular world. He's only been out a few months.”

“Fragile. Huh.” Resuming cutting, Eve couldn't seem to get past repeating parts of Maisie's words. “I think you should ask him.”

“I tried.” Pouting, Maisie sounded disgruntled. “He told me what he did in his spare time was none of my business.”

Relieved, Eve began to shape the hair at the side of Maisie's face. “He's right, you know.”

“Maybe. But someone has to look out for him. No one else will, so it might as well be me.”

This struck Eve as both touching and funny, for some
reason. The image of Damien hiding behind his slender and glamorous sister made her want to laugh. Her mouth twitched, but she succeeded in holding it in.

Almost.

“Don't laugh,” Maisie complained. “I'm serious.”

“I understand.” Brandishing her scissors high, Eve smiled. “Did it ever occur to you not to shock the woman who's cutting your hair?”

Maisie's perfectly made-up eyes widened. “You wouldn't,” she breathed.

“No, of course not. I was just trying to get you to lighten up.” She shook her head. “I'm a professional. Plus, I'd like you to come back. I know if I do a good job, you might.”

Finally, Maisie's shoulders relaxed. “I
was
tense, wasn't I? I'm sorry. I try so hard, but I've never really gotten along with other women.”

That was the understatement of the year.

The jingle bells signaled the arrival of Lacy's client. Emerging from the back room, Lacy did a double take to see Eve cutting Maisie Colton's hair. Eve shot her a warning look and the other stylist went to collect her customer, who also stared hard at Maisie. The news that Maisie Colton had gotten her hair cut at Eve's Salon Allegra would be all over town before the end of the day.

Finishing the cut, Eve sprayed Maisie's hair with a root booster and began blow-drying, showing the other woman how to style with a roller brush, then using a flat iron.

When she'd finished, she stepped back to survey the results before turning Maisie around to face the mirror.

“This might just be the perfect haircut for you,” she said, letting Maisie see.

“Wow!” Maisie breathed, turning her head this way and that. “It looks really good.” She shook her head,
experimenting. “My head feels really light. I never realized how heavy all that hair was.”

Removing the cape, Eve smiled. “I'm glad you like it.”

After Maisie had paid and left, Eve checked her watch. Mrs. Peterson, her next customer, was late. As she was walking to check her appointment desk, the phone rang. It was Mrs. Peterson, canceling. Which meant Eve had an entire hour before Damien was due to arrive for his haircut. She went in the back to put her feet up and, she hoped, take a catnap.

She'd actually dozed off when the sound of the bells woke her. Peeking out front, she saw that Lacy's client had left. And the second she did, Lacy hurried back and plopped down into the chair next to Eve. “Tell me, tell me everything.”

Covering her mouth while she yawned, Eve found herself feeling oddly defensive on Maisie's behalf. “Tell you what? There's nothing to tell. She wanted a haircut. I gave her one. That's what I'm in business for, right?”

Lacy looked unconvinced. “Well, yeah. But Maisie Colton never stoops to having her hair cut here. You know as well as I do that she always goes to Billings. We're not sophisticated enough for her.”

“Maisie Colton is trying to change.”

Lacy opened her mouth to argue when the bells jingled again.

Glancing at the clock, Eve stood. “My next client.” She wondered if she should warn Lacy, then decided not to. It would be fun to see her face.

“Mine should be here any minute, too.” Lacy would surely get her second shock of the day.

 

Usually having sex put Damien in a good mood, freed his pent-up tension and relaxed him. Not this time. The entire weekend, he'd been tense and restless, unable to stop thinking about Friday night and making love with Eve. Already he'd wanted her again; he'd reached for her first thing when he woke on Saturday morning. He'd never done that before and it worried him.

The rest of the weekend hadn't been any better. He'd wanted her at odd moments during the day. In fact, he'd had to force himself not to go to the Corner Bar on Saturday night, not wanting Eve to think he needed more than she was willing to give.

Evidently he hadn't gotten her out of his system yet.

Sunday and Monday had both been much of the same. He'd kept himself busy, rising at the crack of dawn and saddling up to ride out in the early-morning chill. He and his gelding had slogged through snow, keeping an eye out for any straggling cattle, and watching the sun come up over the mountains.

Days like these made him wonder how he could ever leave Montana or this ranch. The land was in his blood, as vital to him as fresh air. Sometimes he thought if he had the land, a horse and a few hundred head of cattle, he wouldn't need anything else.

Except sex, he amended. Again, he thought of Eve and shifted in the saddle. She could easily become an addiction. He craved her, craved the feel and scent of her, the satiny smoothness of her skin.

Again, he was struck by a sharp sense of need. Eve. No, he told himself. It didn't have to be her. Any woman would fit the bill. He wanted more sex. Lots of it, plain and simple. Not Eve.

But he knew he was only lying to himself.

Damn it to hell. She'd done something to him. Usually, the physical release after sex lasted him at least a week, sometimes longer if he kept busy.

But not this time. After making love with Eve, all he could think about was being with her again. He felt as if he'd been literally starving and she'd been a feast. A feast he couldn't get enough of.

He had to stay away, prove he could tough this out.

Still, he was glad he'd made the hair appointment with her for today. He needed a haircut and that would be a perfect time to prove he was immune to her lure.

After performing his morning chores, he'd plowed through lunch. All day he'd had an eagerness lurking low in his gut.

When it had come time to drive to town, he'd felt unaccountably nervous and edgy. He, who had faced down a three-hundred-and-sixty-pound enraged, territorial prison inmate, dreaded facing slender Eve Kelley. As if she could simply take one look at him and know he'd spent the last fifty-six hours thinking about her.

The walk from his truck to her salon door seemed far too long. Boots crunching in the frozen snow, he reached the door, wondering for the eightieth time why he hadn't just gone to the Old Time Barber Shop like he, and all the other Colton men, always did.

But he knew the answer to that. He wanted to see Eve.

Little bells jingled as he yanked open the door to Salon Allegra. Approaching the front counter, he saw the shop was empty and breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he needed was to have a bunch of women with foil or curlers in their hair staring at him.