Colton's Christmas Baby

by Karen Whiddon

  For a moment he simply stared at her, his expression dark and unreadable. Abruptly, he stood, pulling his hand away as if her touch burned him. “It was. That’s why as soon as I can, I’m leaving town. Excuse me,” he growled. “I’ll be right back.”

  Leaving town? She watched him cross the room, his masculine stride forceful and, if she admitted the truth to herself, sexy as hell. But then, even back in high school, she’d always had a thing for Damien Colton. Even her mom had been able to see that.

  She smiled to herself at the memory. She’d been one of the popular kids, a cheerleader and a senior when she’d turned a corner with an armload of books and crashed into him. The attraction had been instant and hot and it hadn’t seemed to matter a bit that Damien was a lowly freshman. She’d had a secret crush on him. Apparently, Damien hadn’t felt the same. Of course, at the time, she’d been dating Mike Straum, the ex-quarterback of the football team. Kind of intimidating to anyone, even a Colton. Not to mention that Damien had started seeing Lucy Walsh.

  Except one night at a field party, she’d had too much to drink and somehow, gloriously, she and Damien had ended up in the backseat of his truck.

  When Damien had been arrested for Mark Walsh’s murder, she’d been stunned and had protested loudly and often. Finally, Bonnie Gene took her aside and explained she wasn’t helping Damien by complaining. If she truly believed him innocent, then she needed to try and figure out a way she could actually help him.

  But someone else wanted Damien Colton convicted quickly. The trial had steamrolled on and he’d been railroaded right into prison. Then, the only thing Eve had been able to do was write him a letter, asking him if she could come visit.

  Damien had never responded. Eve had decided to go visit him anyway, but Bonnie Gene persuaded her not to.

  She’d always regretted that.

  Still, moving away? She guessed the ever-present censure of their small town had proven too much for him.

  Damien returned, sliding into the booth across from her and pinning her with his gaze. “Where were we?”

  “We were talking about the murders.”

  “Yes. You asked why Mark Walsh would fake his own death. I think when they find that out, a lot of the other pieces will fall into place. But right now, no one seems to know. Not even my own brother, and he’s the sheriff.”

  “Look on the bright side. At least you’re lucky enough to have a brother who is the sheriff. That way, you’ll find out as soon as they learn anything.”

  “Pollyanna,” he mocked softly. “Are you always so upbeat?”

  “So I’ve been told. I tend to wear rose-colored glasses. That’s one of my biggest faults.”

  His gaze locked with hers. After a moment, he laughed. “You don’t even sound too upset about that. So tell me, Ms. Glass-half-full-kind-of-person. What brings you out to the Corner Bar on yet another cold, snowy night?”

  “I’m a barfly,” she said flippantly, trying to get her stomach to quit doing somersaults inside her. “I hang out in bars because that’s what I do.”

  “No, you’re not. If you were a real barfly, you’d be constantly on the prowl for men.”

  “Maybe that’s what I’m doing with you,” she teased back.

  Staring at her, his eyes darkened. Immediately after tossing off the words, she wished she could call them back. She used to be so good at flirting. Apparently, she’d completely lost her touch. And why did she want to flirt with Damien Colton anyway?

  “Dangerous territory.” His low, deep growl confirming her thought should have made her want to back off, but instead, it thrilled her in some deep, visceral way.

  As she searched her mind for a response, a loud guitar riff sounded and the bartender stepped up to the microphone.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together and welcome home our friends the Rollaboys!”

  The room erupted in cheers.

  The music made talking at less than a shout impossible, so, as the dance floor filled, Eve sat back and enjoyed the music. She took care to stay in the shadows, ensuring that Ian couldn’t see her and making sure not to make eye contact with him.

  The first two songs were rollicking, boot-stomping numbers. After Ian addressed the crowd, the band segued into a slow, romantic ballad, making Eve sigh. “One Heart Too Heavy” had always been one of her favorites.

  “Eve?”

  Suddenly, she realized that Damien had gotten to his feet and now stood beside her.

  Leaning in close, he spoke directly into her ear, his warm breath tickling her and making her shiver.

  “Care to dance?” He held out his hand.

  She eyed the mass of bodies swaying to the steel guitar. Suddenly, she didn’t care if Ian saw her, if anyone saw her. She wanted Damien. Wanted to be held in Damien’s muscular arms, to feel his broad chest against her cheek. The town would talk, Ian would most likely notice her, but she realized she actually didn’t care.

  For an answer, she slipped her hand into his and let him pull her out onto the dance floor.

  Intensely aware of his unruly body, Damien briefly cursed himself for his foolishness. He should have known better. Then Eve looked up at him, her bright-blue eyes luminous with happiness, and he didn’t care. She felt good in his arms—warm and curvy and…right. If holding her close meant he had to work to keep from becoming too aroused, then so be it.

  The music went sweet, then sad, full of melancholy. For Damien, the music barely registered, other than a beat to which to move his feet. Eve Kelley, melting in his arms, was as close to heaven as he’d ever been.

  The song finished and rather than launching into another, Ian, the lead singer, announced they were taking a ten-minute break.

  Heart pounding, Damien led Eve off the dance floor and back to their booth. He couldn’t believe how strongly she affected him. Obviously, he didn’t have the same effect on her.

  “That was nice,” she smiled up at him. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. “

  “Take your hands off her,” a male voice shouted.

  They both turned. Ian Murphy. Fists clenched, complexion mottled, the other man looked ready to fight.

  Still pressed close into Damien’s side, Eve groaned. “Cut it out, Ian.”

  Instead, Ian moved closer, his mouth twisted with disapproval. “What are you doing with him? For Chrissake, Eve. He’s an ex-con! I’ve only been back in town a few days, but even I’ve heard about him.”

  At the other man’s words, Damien took a step forward. Eve’s gentle squeeze on his arm stopped him.

  “He was wrongfully convicted, Ian.” To Damien’s disbelief, she moved even closer to him, as if she wanted to meld into his side. “And who I date is absolutely none of your business.”

  Ian’s fair complexion turned a violent shade of red, but instead of arguing or, worse, picking a fight he’d surely lose, he spun around and stormed off.

  Damien would have welcomed the fight, though it wouldn’t have helped his status around Honey Creek.

  Next to him, he felt Eve relax. “I think I’d better leave.”

  “Old flame?” he asked, keeping his tone light.

  “Really old. We dated before he went off to Nashville and made it big. That was eighteen months ago.”

  Back at their table, she gathered her purse and coat. “I’m sorry, Damien. I’d really better go.”

  Unable to help himself, he caught her arm. “Let me go with you.”

  As she peered up at him, her pupils dilated, and he caught his breath. Finally, she gave the slightest of nods. “Come on then.”

  He didn’t wait to be asked twice.

  On the way to the door, Eve had second thoughts. And again as she climbed in her truck. What on earth was she thinking? Half of the Corner Bar would have noted her and Damien leaving together. Worse, since he was following her home in his vehicle, if anyone drove past her house…

  Stop it. Stop it right now. She was lonely, he was lonely. They wanted each othe
r and were both adults. What would be the harm?

  As long as Damien understood this could only be physical. No strings. Why borrow trouble when she already had enough of her own?

  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.

  Chapter 8

  Working 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 y
awn, 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.”