FLOWERS and CAGES (9 page)

"I understand that a woman has needs, Colleen."

Oh, God
, Colleen tried to keep from wincing. If the earth opened up and sucked her in, she would be eternally grateful.

"Leave my needs out of it, Mom. Please."

"I simply want you to know that I understand. Dalton Shaw is a good-looking man. He's rich. Famous."

"Before you go any further."
Please don't go any further
. "Dalton won't be in town for long. A few days at the most. What could happen?"

The answer was not one that her mother would want to hear. Sex could happen. If Colleen had her way, it
would
happen. But for her mother's sake, she kept that fact to herself.

"A few days? That's all?"

"Less than a week. By Monday, probably sooner, Dalton Shaw will be back in Los Angeles where he belongs."

"That's for the best, Colleen. A man like that can only bring you heartache."

The subject closed to her satisfaction, Sherry launched into a detailed account of her last book club meeting. They were always more about gossip than literature. Tuning her mother out, Colleen took a package of sliced turkey from the refrigerator and began to assemble her lunch.
Heartache
? Not likely. She wanted a little fun and excitement. Dalton was the perfect man to break the tedium of her daily life. He had nothing else to offer, and she wasn't looking for more.

Lifting the sandwich to her mouth, Colleen smiled as she took a bite. Dalton Shaw and Colleen McNamara. The perfect temporary match.

WAITING WAS NOT Dalton's strong suit. Patience—as his cellmate tried to teach him all those years ago—was called a virtue for a reason. Some of Silas Freed's lessons stuck. That one hadn't. Silas, bless his philosophical heart, hadn't let it bother him. He was a lifer. At sixty-five, prison was all he knew. More time in than out, he did his best to get Dalton to the finish line without any permanent damage.

The outside world waited for his protégé. Silas considered it his job to make certain Dalton didn't stumble along the way.

Dalton recalled a conversation he and Silas had one night after lockdown. It was a week after his arrival.

"Prison," Silas had told him, "doesn't rehabilitate. It hardens the soul."

"Your soul seems just fine."

"I struggled for a long time. Anger led to bitterness then back to anger. I got in fights. Spent a lot of time in solitary. A life devoid of hope is a useless thing. Eventually, I came to the realization that the world outside these walls was moving on without me."

Dalton's stomach had clenched at the thought. "That sounds damn hopeless to me."

"You're young. When you leave, if I've done my job, you will carry my hope with you."

"Shit, Silas. That's sounds like a lot of responsibility."

"It is." The older man's voice drifted toward sleep. "How you live your life—it's a choice. The books I've given you to read will fill your head with ideas. What you do with them is up to you."

There were times when it seemed like yesterday. Dalton visited Silas once, letting him know what he was doing—how he was living his life. The look of approval had meant the world. Silas died two months later. Heart attack. It was quick—the way he would have wanted to go.

Dalton gave back whenever possible. Tried to be kind. Didn't suffer fools easily. But most of all, he lived each day knowing it was a gift. He hoped the old man would be proud.

With a sigh, Dalton checked his phone for the tenth time, then debated his next move.

It became clear that Norris had no intention of ending this farce in a timely manner. One fucking phone call. That was all Dalton asked. They could set up a meeting and hash out what he hoped—but seriously doubted—was nothing more than a misunderstanding. It was difficult to
accidentally
give an interview. And if, as Maggie led him to believe, there were more stories to come, Norris knew exactly what he was doing. The bridge wasn't about to burn. His brother-in-law had set the explosives. One more move and boom! Obliteration.

Giving Maggie another call, Dalton growled when it went straight to voicemail.

"Fuck it."

Dalton shoved Silas' call for patience out of his head. His sister and her husband were playing a game without sharing the rules. Not only wasn't it fair, but it was also stupid. Poke the bear at your own risk. Dalton wasn't as volatile as in his youth. It took a good amount of prodding to set him off. It gave the foolish a false sense of security. Eventually, Dalton lowered the boom. And when it happened, it happened fast.

"Tell Norris he had his chance, Maggie. When he aligned himself with that gossip rag, he signed away his soul. I hope the amount was worth it. You are now officially cut off."

Tossing his phone onto the passenger seat, Dalton waited for the first wave of guilt. And waited. And waited.
Well, what do you know
? Starting the car, he adjusted the vent until a blast of cold air rushed over his face. Was it that easy to give up a habit that had plagued him most of his life? Protecting his little sister from her self-inflicted mistakes. Wasn't that what brothers did?

The problem was, Dalton had a daily reminder that was hard for anyone to live up to. Ryder and Zoe Hart. That was how the brother and sister thing should be done. Not perfect by any means. But honest. Loving. Supportive.

Dalton knew it wasn't over with Maggie. It never would be. But he was finished paying for regrets. He wished he could like his sister. He knew he was supposed to love her. He felt neither. Obligation—and that hung by a string. Whether or not the tenuous bond broke for good was up to her.

Unbidden, an old Eagles song ran through his head.
Take it Easy
. When he wrote,
don't let
the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy
, the late, great Glen Frey knew what he was talking about. Too much thinking in circles got you nowhere.

There were better, and much more pleasant, ways to spend his time. With a smile of anticipation, Dalton picked up his phone. A swipe of his thumb and two quick clicks. He felt better already.

"What are you doing for dinner?"

"I think I saw this movie.
Groundhog Day
, right? Are we repeating the same conversation over and over again?"

"I'll reword that—for your benefit. It's two o'clock on a hot as hell Thursday afternoon in—excuse my French—Bumfuck, Arizona. Let's find someplace to cool off. Talk. And if you're free, we've been invited to dinner."

"We? There's a we?"

Dalton laughed. "Small town, big mouths. Our night out was observed."

"Mm. I found out the same thing. I'll tell you about it later."

Later? Dalton wanted to see Colleen soon. Now. "Can you get off work early?"

When Colleen didn't answer, Dalton resigned himself to spending the afternoon alone. But her response, when it came, was worth the wait.

"Feel like a swim?"

WHO WOULD HAVE guessed that heaven existed fifteen minutes down the road from hell? Dalton's face must have reflected his astonishment.

"Surprised?" Colleen asked as she pulled the T-Bird to a stop by a small cabin.

"A lake surrounded by shade trees? Out here? Surprised doesn't begin to cover it."

"You said you wanted to cool off. Come on."

Colleen hopped out. She had left her coveralls at work, much to Dalton's delight. The woman who met him outside the garage was another side of Colleen. Gone was the grease monkey. There was no sign of the mature, put-together woman of the night before. Standing in the glare of the summer sun, her blazing hair hanging loose, was a full-fledged teenage dream. Colleen looked about sixteen in her tight denim shorts and cropped t-shirt, her hand resting on her cocked hip. Dalton might have felt like a leering pervert. Except in that moment, he felt ten years younger.

"Nice bubble," he commented as he tossed her the keys.

Colleen leaned close before sucking her gum into her mouth with an impressive popping sound. "
Tutti fruiti
. Want a piece?"

Dalton
wanted
a taste—of Colleen. He almost gave into the impulse before he realized that eyes were everywhere. He
would
kiss her. But their first was not going to be for the entertainment of the Midas grapevine.

Taking the proffered bubble gum, Dalton slid into the passenger seat. He liked watching Colleen drive. Sure and relaxed, there was joy to her every movement. She loved being behind the wheel, and it showed. Today, he had the added bonus of the long expanse of bare legs.

Without a word about where they were headed, Colleen had cranked up the radio—classic rock—and headed east.

"Coming?" Colleen asked before closing her door.

Pulled from his thoughts, Dalton was out of the car a second later.

"What is this place?"

"Isn't it amazing?" Taking his hand, Colleen hurried to the water's edge. A wooden dock gently bobbed up and down. "My stepfather's family built it when he was in high school. As you can imagine, this time of year there is always somebody using it."

"It would be a crime not to. Yet nobody is here. How did we luck out?"

"The siblings alternate weeks—except for holidays which they spend together. This is Rick's week. He and Mom can't make it today. He was fine with us borrowing it for a few hours. I asked him not to tell my mother."

"She wouldn't approve?"

"No." Colleen tied her hair back at the base of her neck. "Mom has it in her head that you are a desperate criminal out to corrupt my virgin body."

The desperate criminal reference sailed over Dalton's head. He didn't think of himself that way. Neither did anyone he knew. Colleen's mother was the least of his worries. It was the other part that gave him pause. The way Colleen said it, Dalton was certain she was kidding. However—just to be safe—he had to ask.

"Virgin?"

Laughing, Colleen patted his arm. "Relax. I was a bit of a wild child. Not exactly indiscriminate. But I didn't wait around for a guy to put a ring on it."

Relieved, Dalton took a deep breath while he looked out at the lake. He had seen larger, grander, and more luxurious. But at this moment, he didn't think any of them could rival here and now. "What's the source?"

"I have no idea. I never asked because I don't care. I like to think of it as an Arizona miracle."

Colleen tossed her shirt onto the grass. The bra—and how she looked in it—almost made Dalton swallow his gum. Wisely, he spit it into his hand before she removed her shorts.

"There is a garbage can by the picnic table." With a flirty smile, Colleen pointed over his shoulder. "And thank you. It's been awhile since a man choked on his bubble gum because of me."

"It's been awhile for me, too." With perfect aim, Dalton tossed the gum into the barrel. "Maybe never. Do the bottoms match the top?"

"Is that akin to asking if the carpet matches the drapes?"

"No." Grinning, Dalton shook his head. "And they say men have dirty minds."

"
They
would be right." Unbuttoning her shorts, Colleen kept her eyes on his as she slowly lowered the zipper. "The bra is yellow, the panties are white, with red polka dots. As to my carpet and the drapes?"

"I already know the answer to that, Colleen."

She shimmied the shorts over her hips until they lay at her feet. In one motion, she kicked them to the side along with flip-flops.

"Do you now?"

"Yes. You're a redhead head to toe. Skin like that doesn't lie."

Playing catch up, Dalton pulled his shirt over his head. It did his ego good to see Colleen's eyes widen with appreciation. When she licked her lower lip, Dalton let out a groan. Damn. When he called Colleen, the plan hadn't been for things to go this way. He had promised her the truth, and Dalton thought it best if she had all the information before they had dinner with the Cline family. A swim had sounded like a great way to cool off.

Now, Dalton's mind traveled to thoughts of more than a quick dip and straightforward conversation.

"Last one in is a rotten egg."

"Really?" Dalton hadn't heard that one since he was a kid.

Sticking out her tongue, Colleen raced down the dock. At the last second, she turned.

"What are you waiting for, drummer boy?"

Not a damn thing. Removing his shoes and socks, Dalton tossed his jeans on the pile of clothing. In nothing but a pair of dark blue fitted boxers, he chased after Colleen.

"It isn't every day a woman is lucky enough to have a scantily clad rock star chase her down a dock."

Two feet away, Dalton asked, "Am I going to catch you?"

"Depends. How fast can you swim?"

Colleen dove into the water, Dalton right on her heels. He stayed underwater, marveling in the touch of the cool water sluicing over every inch of his body. As he broke the surface, pulling air into his lungs, he found Colleen just a few feet away.

"I need one of these," Dalton sighed, relaxing until he floated on his back—boneless.

Colleen mimicked him, her hand innocently brushing his. "A man-made lake outside of Midas?"

"A lake, period, smartass. I'm going to call my realtor and get her to start sorting out properties."

Hearing Colleen's less than delicate snort, Dalton frowned. "What?"

"I love how you casually talk about your realtor and sorting properties. We are from different worlds, Mr. Shaw."

Different. Dalton supposed it was true, yet he never thought of his life that way. It wasn't that he took the money and all it gave him for granted. More like it wasn't on his mind every day of every year the way it once was. When one was hungry, the feeling was different than when one was not. Did one appreciate the food any less? He didn't think so. It was simply a different kind of appreciation.

"Don't get me wrong," Colleen assured him. "I don't consider money a dirty word. One day I plan on having a nice chunk of it myself."