Colton's Christmas Baby (9 page)

Then Eve emerged from the back, her smile so warm, so welcoming, he felt he could face down an entire army of gossiping women. He barely noticed a second woman
following Eve, then stopping in her tracks and staring at him, openmouthed.

“You made it!” Eve sounded glad—and surprised.

Nodding, he smiled, managing to keep the smile plastered on his face while she introduced the other woman, Lacy Nguyen.

Eve whisked a cloak around him. “Follow me. We'll get you shampooed, then you can tell me how you'd like me to cut your hair.” She took him to the back, waited until he had taken a seat, then ran the water.

Spraying his head with warm water, she began to massage his scalp with shampoo. Her deft fingers felt so good, he nearly moaned. Instead, he closed his eyes.

Apparently as nervous as he, Eve kept up a constant monologue as she worked. “Poor Lacy doesn't know what to think. First your sister, then you—”

He snapped open his eyes. “My sister? Maisie came here?”

“Yes. She had me cut her hair really short. The cut she wanted wouldn't work on just anyone, but on her it's fabulous. Wait until you see her.”

“I'm more interested in what she had to say.”

Eve colored, a dead giveaway. Rinsing his hair off, she wrapped his head in a white towel, then began to do a quick towel-dry. For a moment, he thought she wouldn't answer. Then, she lifted one shoulder in a quick shrug.

“She asked me what my intentions were toward you.”

He laughed. “What did you say?”

Glancing around to make sure Lacy couldn't hear, Eve leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “I told her they were purely sinful.”

Shocked by both her words and the quick flick of her tongue on his ear, he froze.

Her laugh was more musical than the bells on her door.

“Really?” he managed. “I can just imagine Maisie's reaction.”

“Just kidding,” Eve continued merrily, as if oblivious to her effect on him. “In a roundabout way, I told her it was none of her business.”

“Did she take that well?”

“Well, she didn't throw a temper tantrum or anything, so I guess so.” She ran her fingers through his hair, testing texture and length. “Now tell me how you want this cut.”

Fifteen short minutes later, eyeing himself in the mirror, Damien admitted she'd done a good job. She'd trimmed his unruly hair into a much neater do, managing to make his longish style look both hip and clean. “I won't be spraying any of that stuff on it after I shower,” he warned her. “I usually just towel-dry and go.”

Her blue eyes widened. “You go out into the subzero temperature with wet hair?”

“It dries long before I head out.” He got out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

She waved him away. “Nothing. It's on the house.”

An awful suspicion worried him. “Did you cut my sister's hair on the house also?”

Eve grinned. “Nope. I charged her thirty-five bucks.”

“For a haircut?”

Her grin widened. “No need to sound so shocked. She pays twice that at the place she normally goes.” She licked her lips, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I'm worth it.”

“Yes,” he agreed, even as his body stirred. “You are.” He got out two twenties and placed them on the counter. “Here you go.”

“Men's cuts are only twenty.” She slid one of the bills back toward him.

He slid it back. “Then this is your tip.”

Coloring, she nodded. “Okay, then. Thanks.”

Conscious of the other woman watching, he leaned closer. “Are you busy later on? I was thinking we could hang out tonight, if you want.”

Again she flashed him a smile as her lashes swept down to cover her eyes. But only for a second, then she lifted her chin and her clear blue gaze met his.

“I'd like that,” she said softly. “Where and when?”

“I'll pick you up at your place. Say, seven? We'll go grab a bite to eat.”

“Why don't you bring food over instead?” she murmured, apparently also conscious of Lacy's inquisitive stare. “I don't think I'm going to feel much like going out.”

Zing. Just like that, she had the capacity to stop his heart. “Okay,” he managed. “What time?”

“Six is good. The earlier the better.” Then, while he was still reeling from the possibilities in her smile, she walked away, waving goodbye at him over her shoulder.

He left the salon in a daze.

 

“Do you have a date?” Lacy followed Eve into the back room.

“No, of course not.” Eve knew her denial came too quickly. Another dead giveaway would be the rush of color staining her cheeks.

“I swear I heard Damien Colton ask you out,” Lacy persisted. “And I'm pretty sure you answered yes.”

“First off, we're not going out.” Truth, since they were staying in. “And secondly, Damien and I are just friends.”

“Since when?”

“Since high school,” Eve shot back, shooting her employee a look that plainly told her to back off. “Nothing to gossip about. Just two old friends catching up.”

“Okay, have it your way.” Clearly skeptical, Lacy shook her head. “But let me point out that if the two of you are such good friends, Damien's been home for months and this is the first time he's been in the shop.”

Since Eve didn't have an answer for that one, she let it go. Time to change the subject and try to put things back on a normal footing.

“Speaking of the Coltons, today's turning out to be a Colton Monday,” Eve said, finger on her appointment book. “First Maisie, then Damien and next Sharon, though she's the only one who actually had an appointment in advance.”

Sharon Colton, Darius Colton's wife, was due in for her usual highlights and cut. She had a standing appointment once a month and was meticulous about keeping her frosted blond hair looking exactly the same. Though some found her standoffish, Eve liked the older woman, who had a lot to cope with in marrying into the Colton family as she had, especially since she was Darius's third or fourth wife. She rarely left the ranch, and when she came to town, it was either to get her hair or nails done, or to eat at Eve's family's famous barbecue restaurant.

Even the Coltons were unable to resist the perfection of the Kelley's slow-cooked brisket or smoked ribs. The restaurant was especially busy this time of the year with its smoked holiday turkeys.

“Better you than me,” Lacy said, yawning and apparently giving up. “This has been a long day. I'm ready to call it a day.”

“Me, too. I just have this one more customer, then I can lock the place up and head home.”

The bells over the front door tinkled, telling them Sharon had arrived. Hurrying out into the salon area, Eve stopped short at her first glimpse of her client. Usually,
Sharon Colton looked like a less dramatic version of Maisie—perfectly put together, remote and fashionable. Not today.

Though she wore one of the many full-length fur coats her rich cattleman husband had given her, her heart-shaped face looked drawn and pale. The huge circles under her blue eyes made her look tired, and every tiny line stood out in stark relief. Many of the townspeople believed she went to Bozeman on a regular basis and got Botox treatments, but looking at her this morning, Eve doubted it.

“Are you all right?” she asked softly.

Sharon looked up, swaying slightly. “I think so. Or I will be, once I finish getting pampered.” Her tight smile didn't reach her eyes. As usual she spoke with a hint of a Southern accent, the kind that blurred her words and softened consonants.

If she didn't want to elaborate, Eve wouldn't make her. “Well, come on then.” Eve patted her chair. “Have a seat and let me mix up your color. I won't be a minute.”

Sharon complied, sitting quiet and stiff while Eve draped a cloak around her. Eve left her there, going into the back room to prepare the color, returning with the mixture and her box of precut foils. They'd do the highlights first, as usual, then shampoo, color and style.

Sometimes Sharon chattered away, sometimes not. Today appeared to be one of the latter times, since Sharon closed her eyes while Eve began painting on the highlights, then wrapping them in foil. Because of her pregnancy, Eve wore two layers of rubber gloves and a mask to protect her, not wanting to take a chance. To her shock and amazement, Sharon fell asleep, dozing while Eve completed the highlights.

When she'd finished, she gently touched Sharon's slender
shoulder, waking her. “All right, it's time to go under the dryer.”

“Give me a minute.” The older woman blinked, speaking as though she were drugged.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“Yes. No. Something's wrong at home,” Sharon confessed abruptly, the anguish in her eyes wrenching Eve's heart. “Darius has been worse since Damien came home. I don't know what to do.”

She actually sounded afraid. Even terrified. Then, before Eve could comment, she continued.

“I think my own husband is trying to kill me.”

“T
rying to kill you?” Eve repeated, shooting Sharon a shocked look. “Why do you say that?”

As if she regretted saying anything, Sharon's expression shut down. Carefully blank, she shook her head. “Forget I said anything, all right?”

As if. Still, what else could Eve do?

Carefully considering her words, Eve slowly nodded. “If you need help, or just someone to talk to, call me. I'll write my cell phone number on the back of my card, all right?”

Instead of answering, Sharon looked away, her remote expression indicating the conversation was over. Eve led her to the dryer and left her, setting the timer for fifteen minutes.

In the back of the salon, Lacy had just finished removing the last load of towels from the dryer and folding them.
She looked up as Eve approached, then hurried over to take Eve's arm.

“Are you all right? You look awfully pale.”

“I'm…” Eve had to think for a moment. “I'm fine. Just tired. I've got Sharon Colton under the dryer. After I finish with her, I'm going home.”

Lacy studied her. “I was going to leave, but I'm thinking I'd better hang around in case you faint or something. Maybe you should sit down.” She pulled out a chair.

Without even arguing, Eve sat. “Ah,” she breathed. “That's better.”

“Maybe you've been working too hard.” Still concerned, Lacy fluttered around her like a mother hen. “You should consider taking a day off.”

Eve waved her off. “I haven't been working too hard and I'll have plenty of time off for the Christmas holiday. Today's just been a rough one.”

“I guess, with all the Coltons coming in and all.” Finally, Lacy moved away. “Then if you really are all right…”

“You can go home. I've still got to rinse Sharon Colton, then cut and style her hair. I should be thirty more minutes tops.”

Lacy eyed her slyly. “And then you can get ready for your big date with Damien Colton.”

“It's not a date,” Eve began automatically, stopping as Lacy burst into laughter.

“Call it whatever you want. Just have a nice night.” Still giggling, Lacy waved as she headed toward the door. “See you tomorrow.”

As she finished up with Sharon, Eve remained quiet, hoping to give the older woman a chance to talk if she wanted to. But Sharon said nothing else, her closed-off expression indicating she wasn't open to questions.

When Eve finished styling her hair, Sharon laid a crisp, one-hundred-dollar bill on the counter as she always did.

“Merry Christmas,” she said, her attempt to appear carefree falling short. Swirling her fur coat around her shoulders, she sailed off.

Locking the door behind her, Eve wondered about Sharon's earlier remark. Surely she hadn't been serious, though her fear had seemed real enough.

Still, her own husband? Darius had been married three or four times, but all the marriages except the first one, the one who'd been the mother of most of the Colton children, had ended in divorce. Had Darius threatened Sharon? Was he abusive?

The answer to that, Eve didn't know. No one except his own family and maybe his business associates truly knew Darius Colton. Reclusive and secretive, the man seldom left the ranch. She'd heard gossip, but she didn't know what to believe about him, negative or otherwise. Maybe she should ask Damien.

Or, she told herself, shaking her head, maybe she should keep her nose out of other people's business.

Still, the fear in Sharon's eyes haunted her as she drove home.

 

Though he had a few more end-of-the-day chores to finish before he could clean up and head over to Eve's place, Damien couldn't concentrate on any of them. He felt like a teenager about to go on a date with the most popular girl in school.

Despite an outdoor temperature in the low twenties, he took a cold shower, trying to control his unruly body.

Then he had to decide on food. Honey Creek wasn't big enough to have a huge selection of fast-food places. Besides Kelley's Cookhouse and the Corner Bar and Grill,
there was a pizza parlor, a hamburger joint and the newest place, a Mexican cantina. Guadalupe Torres and his wife, Angelina, had moved to Montana from Laredo, Texas, and wanted to introduce Mexican food to Honey Creek. Damien hadn't tried it yet and he was willing to bet neither had Eve.

Perfect. He phoned in an order for beef and chicken fajitas. He'd pick them up on the way to Eve's.

The drive from the ranch back into town went quickly, though it seemed agonizingly slow to him. But the food was ready and before he knew it, he was on his way.

The spicy aroma filled his car, making him realize he was hungry. This, oddly enough, relaxed him. Grinning as he pulled into Eve's driveway and parked, he grabbed the box of food and went to her front door.

He'd barely pressed the doorbell when she opened the door, wearing a red silky bathrobe. As she stepped back to let him enter, she closed the door behind her and took the food out of his hands, carrying it to the kitchen.

Not sure what to do, Damien waited in the living room, taking in her Christmas decorations. A fire roared in the stone fireplace and a slender Christmas tree stood in one corner, decorated in red, gold and green. He liked the simple, uncluttered look of the room, so different from his own family's all-out Christmas attack.

Behind him, Eve made a sound. When he turned, she strolled over to him, expression determined, and then, gaze locked with his, she stepped out of the robe.

 

Slipping her sleeves from her robe felt like one of the most daring things Eve had ever done. Heart pounding in her throat, she trembled as she lifted her chin and met Damien's glorious brown eyes. Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped out of her clothing, feeling way out of her
comfort zone baring herself to him. She felt naked in more than her body—she felt naked in spirit, too.

She needn't have worried. Damien inhaled, a harsh sound, then his gaze darkened and he pulled her into his arms.

This time when they made love, she couldn't believe the way they immediately found an exquisite rhythm, a mutual harmony that made each kiss, every caress magic.

Now that the first rush of heady desire had become a steady, pulsing thrum, they were able to take their time exploring each other's bodies. She let herself luxuriate in the feel of him, gliding her hand over his muscular abdomen, caressing his broad shoulders and perfect abs. She delighted in teasing him, bending over him to take his nipples in her mouth, trailing kisses down the hard length of him until he shuddered and told her no more.

“My turn,” he rasped, and nearly turned the tables. His lips traced a sensual path down her throat, to her breasts, and she let out a soft moan as he took her in his mouth.

Now she couldn't go slowly any longer. With fierce cries she urged him on. He shook his head and continued his teasing torture, until she'd finally had enough.

Pushing him over on his back, she straddled him. Poising herself over the hard length of his body, she lowered herself onto him, taking him deep within her and riding him until he bucked like a rodeo bronco.

Seconds later she found her release and as she did, he cried out and did the same.

Later, she microwaved the now-cold food and they feasted on fajitas. Covered by only a blanket, they sat on the rug near her fireplace and cuddled.

“How's Sharon doing?” she asked without thinking.

“I don't know. We hardly ever see her. She and Darius
have an entire wing to themselves and she keeps mostly to herself. Why?”

She knew he felt her tense. “No reason,” she lied. “I cut her hair this afternoon and she wasn't feeling too well.”

“Hmmm.” He nuzzled her neck. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

Though she knew she should let it go, she couldn't. “Sharon was worried about Darius. She thought he might…be angry at her.”

Now he drew back. “There's more that you're not telling me, isn't there?”

Miserable, she nodded, then blurted out the whole story.

Damien listened, his expression thoughtful. “Please don't tell anyone else what you've told me.”

“I won't,” she hastened to reassure him. “But poor Sharon seemed so terrified, so I thought I'd better let you know so you could keep an eye on things.”

“I will, believe me.” Once again Damien pulled her close, holding her. The way he held her made her feel as though she was the most precious thing in the world. For half a second, before she took herself to task.

She was done wearing rose-colored glasses and she no longer believed in fairy tales or happy endings. It was time to call a spade and spade and be grateful for what she did have.

“About our arrangement…” Nervously, she pushed out of his arms and cleared her throat. “I think we should have some ground rules.”

One corner of his mouth quirked in the beginning of a smile. “Okay. Shoot.”

“First off, this is for fun. The minute it stops being fun for either of us, we can call it off, no hard feelings.”

He nodded.

“Two, no emotional entanglements. Three, once I start showing, you can't make fat jokes. That is, assuming you still want to continue seeing me once I'm showing.”

Now he did laugh. “Come here.”

More afraid than she'd realized, she allowed him to pull her close once more. As he nuzzled her neck again, she found thinking difficult.

“You worry too much. One day at a time, Eve Kelley. One day at a time.”

Then he covered her mouth with his and she gave up trying to think.

 

Back at the ranch after spending a few wonderful hours with Eve, Damien enjoyed a perfect night's sleep for the first time in ages. He awoke on Tuesday morning sated and refreshed and craving coffee.

Later, as he sipped his coffee and had to stop himself from whistling out loud, he realized that the world couldn't have gone completely crazy. If he tried really hard, he could just about convince himself that the two episodes with Darius were the result of his father being out of sorts due to having had a bad day and/or drinking too much.

Darius had long been the patriarch of the Colton clan, and was a well-respected rancher. He'd try talking to his father again. Surely, this time Darius would be more reasonable.

Even if he wasn't, Damien had no choice but to confront him. He had to find out where his money had gone. Darius owed him that much. If he couldn't replace the inheritance, he needed at least to provide a reasonable explanation for its disappearance.

He knew he could catch Darius in his office at this time of morning, attending to ranch business. Prudently, he gave the older man time to ingest a few cups of coffee, not sure
if morning crankiness might be another of his sire's recent bad traits.

At least this time he'd be sober.

Tapping on the heavy oak door, Damien waited until Darius looked up from his paperwork. “Do you have a minute?”

Darius frowned, but he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “What do you want?”

The rude question made Damien feel like a panhandler, let in from the cold and begging for a handout, but he forced himself to let the feeling slide away.

“I wanted to talk to you about my inheritance.”

Immediately, Darius's expression twisted with anger. “That again. I've already told you, the money is gone. Live with it and quit bothering me.”

“Last time we spoke, you'd had a few drinks.” Damien kept his tone level, even soothing. “I understand the money is gone. What I'd like to know is where it went.”

With a snarl, Darius removed his glasses and threw them onto the desk. “That is none of your business.”

Damien felt as if the bell had just rung for round two. Why did all dealings with his father have to disintegrate into arguments and fights?

Taking a deep breath, Damien tried to tamp back his instinctive reaction to his father's behavior—his own anger. Maybe if he refused to let the old man goad him, they could eventually have a civil conversation.

Maybe.

“This
is
my business,” he insisted. “It was my money and I'd like to know what you've done with it.”

To his surprise, Darius actually nodded.

“Fair enough.” Darius's expression smoothed over and his tone became pleasant. “As conservator, I invested it for
you, hoping to make more money. As you know, the stock market tanked. I lost it. Every single penny.”

Finally. A reasonable explanation.

“I'd like to see the transaction records.”

Darius's expression hardened and his mouth thinned in displeasure, though his tone remained civil. “When I have time, I'll locate those and get them to you.”

And now Damien had a choice. He could agree, aware Darius was putting him off and had no real intention of finding anything, or he could insist on seeing the records now. While the latter would be the most productive, it also was the most likely to provoke Darius into a rage.

Still, Damien hadn't come this far to back down now. Maybe if he kept everything calm and rational, Darius would follow his lead.

“Actually, I'd like to see them now.”

“Actually,” Darius mocked him. “That's not possible. I don't know where they are.”

Now came the tricky part. “This is your office. I'm sure you must have a file for your stock transactions. If you'll let me review the file, I can make copies of anything pertaining to my money.”

A flicker of horror flashed across the older man's face. “No. I'm too busy to deal with this right now. Plus, no one makes copies of my personal financial records. No one. Understand? Now go away.”

Damien didn't move. “I'm not going anywhere. I'm well within my rights to ask to see records of my own money.”

“You have no rights,” Darius spat, his gaze full of contempt. “Now get out.”

“Don't start this—”