by Rose, Carol
"I’ll find out," Colt offered, leaving her to stand by the elevator.
A different memory flashed through Hayley, the velvet feel of Colt's naked skin against hers, the electricity crackling between them. She closed her eyes, absorbing the sensations.
With him, she felt alive. Challenged, annoyed, breathless, but very much alive.
"He's in 207." Colt pushed the elevator button and up they whooshed.
Hayley stepped out onto the second f1oor. She'd walked three paces before she realized he was no longer beside her. Swinging around, she found him standing still by the elevator.
"I'll wait here for you," he said, his dark eyes filled with compassion.
She hesitated, both tempted and disturbed. Leaving him standing here seemed like a violation of the very emotions she was guarding.
For so long he'd seemed like the enemy, like an echo of everything she'd been fighting. But here in this cold place, he looked like heaven on earth. Colt interfered with her work and tried to change her mind about things, but he fought with her, engaged with her as a worthy opponent.
And he made love to her as if she were the only woman in his world.
"I-I'd like you to come with me."
The expression in his eyes deepened. He smiled reassuringly as he joined her.
Hayley turned and walked to her father's room, Colt's arm strong around her shoulders.
The heavy door to the private room stood open. Ensconced in white pillows lay her father looking somewhat small in the extra-width hospital bed.
"Princess!" Henry Haslett's face lit up as he raised a heavy hand.
"Hi, daddy. How are you?" She crossed to the bed, returning her father's hug.
"Oh, I'm fine." The older man turned, his shrewd eyes lighting on Colt. "Well, Granger. Nice to see you again."
Hayley turned, feeling stunned as Colt shook hands with her father. They knew each other? Colt knew her father?
"I hope you're doing better, Mr. Haslett," he offered.
"Sure, sure. Well," her father said with a wink at Colt, "I guess you two are seeing a lot of each other, huh?"
She barely heard Colt's noncommittal reply.
Why hadn't he ever mentioned that he knew her father?
Watching the two of them chat as if they were on the golf course, Hayley felt the stirring of her temper and a deep, foreboding fear.
Never once in all the time they'd worked together had Colt even hinted that he knew Henry. A familiar suspicion sprouted like an evil seed. Was Colt capable of courting her for her connection with Henry? Had he kept quiet about his acquaintance with her father because he knew she was determined to break free?
It didn't seem possible. How could Colt have known about the estrangement between them? Hayley tried to shake off her confusing thoughts. Regardless of this development, she was here to see her father.
"Dad, Thomas said you had a heart attack," Hayley interrupted, an unaccustomed boldness mingling with her concern.
Normally, she would have followed her father's lead, but darn it, she'd rushed to his bedside and she had a right to know what was going on.
"Oh, I'm fine." Henry dismissed a major health problem with the wave of his hand. ''I'm just glad to see you, honey."
"A heart attack shouldn't be dismissed, Dad."
Henry laughed, the sound weaker than his usual hearty boom. "Oh, honey, they'll slap in a couple of bypasses and it'll be business as usual in a few weeks."
Hayley moved to smooth his covers. "A coronary bypass is serious business. You'll need to take better care of yourself. Slow down a little."
"Nonsense." An irritated frown puckered Henry's face. ''I'm at my peak. I can't waste time coddling myself."
"You'll kill yourself," she protested.
Henry laughed again, his satisfaction at her concern obvious. ''I'm fine. Listen, princess, when are you going to stop being so stubborn about the apartment? I've got a brand new complex in Redlands that would be perfect for you. It's the very best- Jacuzzi, personal security service, everything."
"No, thanks, Dad. I'm fine where I am.” Hayley felt herself recoiling. Her father couldn't even take her concern for him seriously.
A familiar expression settled over his face, a mingling of irritation and anger at her resistance. "Hayley, when are you going to give up this decorating nonsense and come home?"
Tears prickled behind her eyes and clogged in her throat. ''I'm sorry, Dad. I just can't."
"Well, at least you can let me set you up decently, introduce you to some important people. It's embarrassing to have my daughter grubbing around in filthy clothes cleaning other people's houses."
Hayley drew in her breath as if girding herself for battle. ''I'm renovating, Dad, not cleaning. It's a dirty business."
"All the more reason for you not to do it," he declared. "If you came back home and ran the thing right, we'd have a construction crew to do the actual work. You could direct them. Wouldn't even have to get your hands dirty."
"I don't mean to disappoint you, Dad." Hayley bit her lip. "But I like doing actual work. I need to be on my own."
*
Hayley stared through the Suburban's windshield at the dark night, forcing her body to relax against the seat as they drove out of San Diego. The chasm between her and her father had never seemed bigger. All he had wanted to talk about was getting her to "come back home."
"It must have been difficult growing up as Henry Haslett's daughter." Colt didn't take his eyes off the road as he broke the silence. "He always has to be the boss."
"At least I never went hungry," she responded with perverse defensiveness, unable to talk about feelings that seemed especially raw. Seeing her father always left her churned up inside, but this situation topped anything she'd faced with him.
"His cardiologist seemed optimistic."
"'Yes, I just hope Dad listens to him more than he does to me." Hayley's hands clenched in her lap.
"Your father cares for you, Hayley." Colt sat behind the wheel, his body relaxed as he drove.
"Is that what it's called?" She leaned her head back against the seat. "Seems like being loved should give me some say in the relationship, too."
"I said he cared," Colt said sardonically. "I didn't say he was very good at showing it."
''I'm supposed to just know, huh? And accept his dictatorship so he feels loved in return?" Her throat tightened as another wave of realization hit her. Her father more than likely felt as unloved by her as she did by him.
"He'd probably be less protective if you had brothers and sisters, but you're all he's got." Colt glanced her way.
"You know what?" Hayley leaned forward in her seat suddenly. "I hate that. I'm all he's got, and yet I end up feeling like I don't have anything. Certainly not the life I want."
"He's a pain," Colt agreed. "Controlling, overbearing, and insensitive. But he's the only father you have."
The truth of that welled up in her. Damn it, why couldn't it be simple? Why couldn't she love her father without feeling she had to always play by his rules?
"My father was strict," mentioned Colt. "I had to work with him summers and weekends when I was a kid. Even when I had other things I wanted to do. But I'd give anything to have him back."
"Colt, why didn't you ever tell me that you knew my father?" She'd held the question back as long as possible. Now that they were away from prying ears, she had to know.
His face was expressionless. "I don't actually know him. My company subcontracted on a project for him, that's all."
"But you've met him before," she persisted. "And you never mentioned it."
"Yes. Once. In a meeting with ten other people." Colt glanced her way. "Does it make a difference that I met him?"
"It just seemed strange that you never told me." Hayley struggled to put their connection in perspective. In her old life, she'd gotten used to being courted for her connection to Henry. Her heart told her there was none of that in Colt's feelings for her, but her head
reminded her of all her initial reservations. Had she grown so accustomed to being directed by others that she was now attracted to a man who saw nothing wrong in leaving her in the dark about things?
As far as that went, she wasn't even exactly sure what Colt felt for her.
*
Hayley climbed down the scaffolding, her neck and arms aching from the painstaking work of painting the small details. She subsided on the dry grass of the lawn in the shade of a tall oak. Leaning back to stretch, she closed her eyes and let the heat of the day soak into her.
Working on the house felt like coming home again. It settled her jumpy nerves, helped her deal with the daily progress reports on her father that Thomas phoned in. With her father improving, she gratefully immersed herself in the life she'd made here.
Only the coolness between Colt and herself felt like a hollowness inside.
The shadows over her face darkened and a fat drop of water fell on her bare leg. Hayley's eyes flew open.
"Care for a drink, lady?" Colt knelt over her, holding out a can of soda, condensation dripping down its sides. His eyes were impossibly dark above her.
Hayley propped herself on her elbows, studying his face. It had been two days since he'd driven her back from San Diego and dropped her off at her apartment. Apparently sensing her turmoil, he'd avoided her at work since then. She hated to admit it, but she'd missed him horribly.
He bent, running the chilly drink can along the outside of her leg. Hayley drew in her breath in a lingering hiss. As she grasped his hand and pulled it away, her gaze locked with his.
"Did you come over here just to disturb my well-earned rest?" She popped the tab on the soft drink and took a swallow.
Colt squatted beside her. "I actually came here to tempt you into playing hooky."
Hayley considered him suspiciously as she took another drink. "What did you have in mind?" She shouldn't even ask, she knew. Such questions always led a woman astray.
He reached out, trailing one finger down her bare arm. "I thought we'd go take a look at the Wright-Moore House at the end of the block. It doesn't appear to need much work. I thought we might want to consider it for our next house in the project, partner."
Partner. The word reverberated in the air between them. His steady gaze seemed to say that nothing had changed between them. He wanted her in his business and in his bed.
"The Wright-Moore House? That's the one with the onion dome and the elfin-eared dormers?"
"Yeah." His smile tugged at her. "I understand it's still fully furnished. The last occupant was a widow lady who moved out a few months ago." Colt held up a set of keys. "I made friends with the caretaker. Shall we go explore another era?"
The devil must have used that tone with Eve. "I, uh, well ... why not?" she said, aware that she hadn't put up much of a fight, but unable to care.
They walked down the block, passing by the dilapidated relics of a hundred years before. Together, they would bring the whole block back to life, Hayley suddenly knew. Despite her fears, the caution she'd adopted to protect herself, she knew something felt very right between them. She had to take the leap.
They went through the gate in the iron fence, the hinges creaking as it swung shut. Hayley paused on the wide walkway, taking in the decaying but handsome ornamentation. Ahead of her, Colt mounted the steps to the deeply shadowed veranda. He unlocked the wide front door and held it open as she passed through.
Time travel must feel like this, she thought.
The interior of the house looked as if it had been untouched for a century. A still, silent air pervaded the rooms. It looked almost as if it had been frozen in time. The entry hall with its eggshell-pale walls and the crowded parlor stuffed with knickknacks, tables, and pillows-it all seemed like something out of a Victorian dream. The vibrancy of pattern on pattern was muted by the deep colors of green, gold, and wine.
Hayley walked in to the room further, her senses springing to life. Colt seemed to feel it, too, although he only waited by the door, his gaze on her as she moved from one thing to another.
A faint mustiness was proof that no one lived here anymore. The rooms looked as clean and dust-free as a museum, no small feat in a place crammed full of bibelots and bric-a-brac.
"They must have a jewel of a caretaker," she murmured in a hushed voice.
"He is," Colt agreed absently. "The old guy has been the handyman here for forty years. He hasn't left us much to do."
"Will he be here today? I'd like to meet him." She swung around to face Colt.
He shook his head. "I asked, but apparently he goes to visit his mother in San Diego every Wednesday without fail."
"I'll stop by and meet him some other time," Hayley said, distracted suddenly by a glimpse of the dining room.
Together, they wandered through the house, Hayley exclaiming at the tripartite walls, ornate parquet flooring, and trompe l'oeil wallpaper. Here and there, Colt pointed out things that needed work, a toll taken by the natural deterioration of time.
She paused on the main staircase, running her fingers lightly over the newel-post lamp, aware of Colt standing behind her. "This place is magic."
"Wait till you see the upstairs," he promised.
They reached the top landing and Colt steered her to the left. A massive bedroom faced the front of the house, its walls a dark, rich wine color. Tall Gothic windows were swathed in a sheer fabric that caught and filtered the light. A huge, raised bed filled a special offset, its dark wood lovingly carved.
Across the room sat a burgundy fainting couch, its brocade upholstery trimmed with fringed pillows. A chill skittered over Hayley's skin, a ripple of sensation that had nothing to do with the room's comfortable temperature.
The place felt, well, erotic with its opulent fabrics and colors that both charged and lulled the senses.
She wandered into the bower, overwhelmed and suddenly very aware of the man behind her. It had been days since he'd held her, long hours filled with remembering the crush of his skin against hers.
A table sat nearby, cluttered with figurines and china. Hayley brushed her hands over a tiny Buddha, its cool surface a contrast to the warmth of her body.
“Hayley.”
As she glanced at him over her shoulder, the somber note in his voice caught her attention.
"I need to apologize." He leaned back against the wall near her. "Initially, it didn't seem to matter that I had worked with your father."
She turned to face him then, surprised that he would bring up the subject.
"When I got to know you better and realized that my connection to your father would matter to you," he hesitated, "well, by then you were becoming important to me. I didn't want to risk your walking away. And there's something else."
His straightforward admission stunned and disarmed her. She clutched at the last vestiges of her own doubt, so used to resisting her own pull toward him.
"I really want this partnership with you. But I have to be truthful. I'm not that great at managing my business and my finances are a mess. I don't have a lot of stability to offer." A faint smile crept into his eyes. "So now you know. I wouldn't blame you if you decided to back out of the partnership completely. You have a real shot at this contract. You don't need me or Granger Construction to handle this. "
A riot of emotion surged in her, a sensation of power, a crazy urge to comfort him. Hayley reached out, drawing him away from the wall. She didn't need him to help her with the project, but a deeper craving ran through her like a sweet lure.
It didn't matter that the partnership could end up being more a liability than an asset. Good grief, after two years of robbing Peter to pay Paul, she was used to liabilities.
What mattered most was the look in his eyes, the hunger, the trust. He wasn't making a play for her sympathy. He just wanted her. In that moment, she couldn't doubt it any more than she could doubt the coming of night.
Colt wanted her with a desire that had nothing to do with her father's money
, had nothing to do with anything but the fire that leapt between them, the connection that couldn't be denied.
His arms closed around her as she lifted her mouth for his kiss. Every part of her body longed for him and cried out. He was refuge, safety, and life. Colt held her fiercely, their kiss a raging of souls.
He lifted her in his arms and strode across to the fainting couch. Lowering her onto the burgundy cushions, he paused only to rip off his shirt before joining her there. Hayley rose up to him, sliding her hands into his hair as he kissed her deeply.
Her shirt and shorts ended up on the peacock-patterned rug, followed by his jeans. He surged over her, his bare shoulders gleaming golden in the dusky light. Hayley drew him down, rejoicing in their joining, her heart singing with each ripple of pleasure, each brush of his hands on her skin.
He tasted of longing, a silky sensation that lingered on her tongue. The stroke of his skin, bare against hers, sent a singing buzz to her ears. She gasped as he bent to kiss her breast, his mouth wet and welcome.
Writhing beneath him, Hayley felt the slick fabric of the fainting couch against her back, felt the heaven of his weight, the glory of his body over her own. He thrust into her and she heard her cry of pleasure as if from far away.
Nothing equaled it, the surge of his entry, the tantalizing tug and draw of his body in hers. She lay beneath him, her body soft and open, taut and hungry, welcoming him with her murmurs and the quivering of her flesh.
The room around them seemed to spin. Hayley gasped in the mellow old air, drew Colt's breath into her lungs, merged with him at every level. He held himself above her, muttering sweet words of pleasure against her skin, each a promise and a fulfillment until she felt him tighten and willed him to come with her....
Later, she lay on the narrow couch, cradling his sated, slumped body in her arms as a chill shivered through her.
He was wrong about her not needing him.
She did need him. Somehow, it had happened despite her vigilance. She'd fallen in love, fallen so hard that nothing else mattered more than him. Not the business. Not even her independence.
She loved him and all she could do was hang on for the ride.