FLOWERS and CAGES (14 page)

"He did that," Dalton nodded with a sigh. "I thought I was prepared for prison. Ryder hired a coach."

"A coach?" Colleen's eyebrows shot up. "That's a thing?"

"It is. And, for me, it was a waste of money. Without Silas, I would have survived. But it would have been a much bumpier ride. He's the reason I was out in just under a year. Good behavior." Dalton laughed at the thought. That was the first time anyone used those words in association with him—and the last.

"He would be proud of you, Dalton."

"I hope so."

Dalton squeezed Colleen's hand, the one she had placed on his arm while he spoke. Turning to face her, his eyes level with hers, Dalton wondered at the people in his life. Ones who stood beside him and kept him close through the bad times as well as the good. What had he done to deserve Ryder, Ashe, and Zoe? Getting Silas as a cellmate had been sheer luck—the good kind.

Now Colleen? What if his car hadn't broken down? Or it was her day off. Life was filled with small moments that changed things forever. Change one, and he might be a different person. The idea made Dalton shudder. He liked who he was.
Where
he was. Personally and professionally. If he hadn't met Colleen, would he have cared? Of course not. However, they
had
met—thank God. In a short time, she had become important. Perhaps vital. He would have to think about that.

"About tonight and the aborted dinner party. I've suspected for some time that there is something in the water." Colleen moved closer until the sides of their arms brushed. "The residents of Midas are strange. Not just the rich ones."

"You aren't strange."

"Put in context, that might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Picking up a lock of Colleen's long, red hair, Dalton wound the end around his finger. It felt like silk. Breathing deeply, he smiled. And smelled like a field of wildflowers. If he didn't know better, he would never guess that she spent her days elbow deep in motor oil.

"Dangling revenge as a reward, Tolliver and his cronies believed I would jump through their carefully placed hoops. They believe they're better than Judge Langley."

"It's relative." Colleen stared at the star-filled sky. "Pick your poison. They'll both kill you, but one is a little less painful."

"Which one?" Dalton speculated.

"Luckily, you won't have to find out. What are you going to do about Collier?"

Dalton wished he knew. "I could throw my support and money behind his opponent. But who's to say he—or she—would be any better?"

"Whatever you decide, it doesn't have to be tonight."

"There's always Tolliver's solution."

"No," Colleen said calmly—matter of factly. "Times have changed. It takes a lot to ruin a politician. I have no doubt your fans would believe you, but the court records tell a different story. You were convicted. Good luck getting the witnesses to admit they lied. Unfortunately, I'm afraid Judge Langley's money—and influence—bought a lifetime of silence."

"It
is
my word against theirs." Turning on his side, Dalton leaned over Colleen, their faces inches apart. He needed to look into her expressive green eyes. "Why do
you
believe me?"

Colleen touched his cheek, her expression serene. Yet something fierce and intense lay in the green depths of her gaze.

"Sometimes you just know, Dalton. My trust isn't blind. But until you show me I'm wrong, it
is
absolute."

Colleen's words acted like a spark touched to a pile of kindling. Dalton couldn't wait a second longer. Pulling her close, he pressed his mouth to hers. This was not a tentative kiss. There was no easing in or gentle exploration. He had wanted Colleen from the moment he saw her. Less than forty-eight hours. It felt like forever.

"I came prepared." Tasting the patch of skin just below Colleen's ear, Dalton ran his tongue along her neck.
Mm. Like the sweetest candy
.

"So did I." The sound Colleen made was half laugh, half moan. "There is a box of condoms in my purse."

"Too far away." From his pocket, Dalton produced a strip of foil packets. "Between us, we should have enough." His lips curved against hers. "At least for tonight."

Smiling, Colleen tugged playfully at his hair. "Stop bragging and get to work, drummer boy."

"No work involved. This is pure pleasure."

Clothing first. Dalton craved the touch of Colleen's soft skin. There was something about the easy slide of a zipper on a woman's dress. He felt as though he was opening a present. In this case, the wrapping covered a warm, willing, sexy gift. A practically naked Colleen.

Peeling the material away, he followed with his mouth. Following the slope of Colleen's shoulder, he used his teeth to slide her bra strap down her arm. When his fingers found the front clasp, he didn't know whose sigh was louder, his or Colleen's. Lord, she was lovely. Her breasts were perfect, as though they were made to fit in his hand.

"You've done this before," Colleen said as he tossed her bra away. Her teasing laugh became a low moan the second his mouth closed over the hard, straining tip.

"Once or twice," Dalton admitted, biting lightly.

While Dalton made a feast of Colleen's breasts, he slid the dress down her hips, pushing it all the way off. Straddling her hips, Dalton made quick work of his shirt, all the while taking in the view. Colleen stretched her arms over her head, a knowing smile on her lips.

"My, you're pretty," she purred, her gaze taking in Dalton's bare chest and flat stomach.

"Glad you like what you see." In a few efficient moves, the rest of Dalton's clothes joined the growing pile at the bottom of the blanket.

"Like doesn't cover it."

Colleen reached for him, her fingers closing over his erection. Dalton breathed deeply, using all his willpower. A few strokes of her talented hand and this might end before they got to the good part. Reluctantly, he peeled her fingers away. He wasn't moved by her murmur of displeasure.

"You want to play?" Dalton asked as he rolled on a condom.

"I want to taste."

"Jesus, Colleen." Her words, plus the way she licked her lips, made his heated flesh jump in his hand. He grabbed her panties, ripping the scrap of lace in two. "I can't wait another second."

"Good." Colleen twined her legs around his, her hands sliding up his chest. "Neither can I."

With a sigh of relief, Dalton sank into Colleen. Slow. Steady. He wanted her to feel every inch of him. He wanted to savor her tight, slick heat. Colleen's green eyes glowed emerald. It was a heady moment. Her body opened for him—welcomed him. When he could seemingly edge no further, Dalton surged forward, taking one more inch. Colleen gasped with pleasure, her fingers digging into his back.

"Sweet spot?" Dalton asked. Before Colleen could answer, he hit it again. This time, she didn't gasp. She purred.

"Where has that been all my life?" Colleen panted, licking her bottom lip.

"Hold on. The ride has just begun."

Unable to resist, Dalton took Colleen's mouth with his, sucking on her bottom lip, savoring her taste. When had kissing become so vital? For him, it had always been nice. A pathway to warming up his partner. A kiss, or ten, led to sex—always his endgame. But it was different with Colleen. He wanted—needed—all of her. The touch of her skin. The brush of her lips. Her tongue against his. Her breasts pressing into his chest. Her legs wrapped around his and the tantalizing massage of her foot as it moved up and down his calf. Dalton was aware of everything. His senses heightened.

For the first time in Dalton's life, sex wasn't about rushing toward the conclusion. He opened his mind—and his body—to all the little moments. Suddenly, being with a woman—with Colleen—became more than it had ever been.

"Dalton," Colleen breathed, her teeth sinking into his shoulder. "Please. I need—"

"I know what you need," Dalton kissed her again. Hard. Desperate. "I'm with you, Colleen. All the way."

Dalton always set the rhythm. It was his job, and nobody did it better. However, the best drummers fed those around him. It was Colleen who showed him when to slow things down. He set the beat, but she set the tone. It was a gradual blending of styles until they hit that moment. The peak. A perfect blending of bodies. They reached the pinnacle and toppled over into oblivion—together.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE you packed all this food." Dalton took a bite of chicken leg, sighing with contentment.

"About six months ago, a deli opened on the main drag. I wouldn't say that civilization has come to Midas. But
The Hungry Traveler
improved the takeout options by leaps and bounds."

"I approve wholeheartedly."

"I dated one of the Midas elite," Colleen continued. Seeing Dalton's raised eyebrows, she shrugged. "Briefly. In my defense, it was one long, cold winter. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Something to break the monotony."

"It didn't work out?" Setting aside the chicken, Dalton dug into a pile of creamy potato salad.

"Next to Hector Plank, monotony seemed exciting."

"Ouch. Poor Hector."

Colleen chuckled, taking a sip from her bottle of water. Dalton nursed his second beer. "I won't lie. The disappointment went both ways. I thought he would add some fun to my life. He thought some wrong-side-of-the-tracks sex would give him bragging rights with his friends."

"And?" Dalton asked, fascinated to know the answer.

"Again. Poor Hector. One limp-lipped kiss and I knew it wouldn't work."

"I can't feel a whole lot of sympathy for Hector." Dalton passed Colleen a napkin. "What does any of that have to do with our current feast?"

"For our third—and last date—Hector took me to dinner at his parents' house. His too, since he lived at home. Still does."

"Naturally," Dalton sneered.

"It's fairly common in Hector's world. Collier and Bonnie are firmly ensconced with Judge Langley. But I digress." Colleen popped an olive into her mouth. "Dinner consisted of tiny portions swimming in oddly seasoned sauces. That was bad enough for my digestion. Add an icy glare from Hector's mother and his father's ill-concealed leers. I dumped my date at my front door then chowed down on peanut butter and saltines. The chances of that happening again were slim. However…"

"Mm. Forearmed, so to speak." Dalton smiled as he raised his bottle. An hour ago, he couldn't imagine finding humor in the Tolliver situation, but here he was. Sexually satiated—for the time being. A full stomach. The world looked infinitely brighter.

"Exactly. If we hadn't needed the food, I would have put it in my refrigerator and feasted for the next few days."

Dalton sat on his side of the picnic table, watching Colleen clean her plate with unapologetic ease. He had dated women who picked at a salad while managing to take a bite or two—maybe. Then there were the ones, like Colleen, who enjoyed their food. They didn't agonize over every calorie. Dalton—and every man he knew—preferred the latter. He understood the pressure society put on women. The unrealistic body images projected on the cover of over-photoshopped fashion magazines. It wasn't fair. But it was the reality.

"I hope you left room for dessert," Colleen said, pushing away her empty plate. "Because waiting in that cooler is the most decadently delicious batch of brownies ever created."

Dalton wanted dessert. But not the kind baked in an oven. Leaning across the table, he slipped a hand behind Colleen's neck. His fingers tightened around the strands of her soft, moonlight-caressed hair. Once, twice, three times he brushed his lips across hers.

"The brownies sound good. But my sweet tooth is craving something sweeter. Can you guess what I want?"

"Me?" Colleen sighed, coyly batting her eyelashes.

Vaulting over the table, he lifted Colleen into his arms. In two strides, he had her laid out on the blanket. His eyes locked with hers, he slid his hand slowly up her smooth leg.

Dalton covered Colleen's body with his and whispered, "You got it right in one."

ANOTHER MORNING, ANOTHER run through the deserted streets of Midas. There were differences. This time, Dalton paid attention to more than the feel of the ground beneath his feet and the sad, dusty buildings that populated this part of town. Keeping his eyes peeled, he watched for someone who might be following him. Hardly an expert on surveillance, Dalton wasn't sure what he was looking for. It seemed unlikely that he would spot a man in a trench coat pointing a huge pair of binoculars his way.

However, as Dalton stepped out of his motel room, he went to one knee. Ostensibly, he was there to check the lace on his right shoe. Instead, his eyes searched the parking lot, the scraggly patch of trees to his right, and for good measure, the panes of dirty glass that separated him from the other rooms. If somebody really wanted to keep an eye on Dalton's activities, what better way than to park his butt on a crappy chair behind the crappier curtains.

By the end of his first mile, he had to laugh at himself. Apparently, Tolliver Cline and his machinations had freaked Dalton out more than he realized. He knew what it was like to be the center of attention. Paparazzi went out of their way to track him down in the oddest places. If he couldn't handle a little small-town craziness, he might as well pack up his drumsticks and retire. Still, for his own peace of mind, Dalton took a different route than yesterday. If he unexpectedly ran into one of Tolliver's cronies, he would know the game was afoot.

Dalton snorted. One had to love Sherlock Holmes.

The sun was clear of the eastern horizon when Dalton let himself back into his room. The bed was empty, but he could hear the distinct sound of water running. Pulling his sweat-drenched t-shirt over his head, Dalton toed off his shoes. Next came his shorts until the only thing he wore was an anticipatory smile.

Steam rose to the bathroom ceiling. To Dalton's surprise, behind the plastic shower curtain, Colleen belted out a polished rendition of
I Will Survive
. One that would have done Gloria Gaynor proud.