FLOWERS and CAGES Read online

  Nope, she chided herself. She wouldn't go down that dead end road. She would take a snapshot in her head, pulling it out now and then when her spirits needed a boost.

  "Look at you. Better than an expensive bedspread any day."

  Colleen sat next to Dalton. Because she could, she traced his upper lip with her index finger, marveling at how soft it felt in contrast to the bristly texture of his close-cropped mustache. Playfully, he nipped at her finger, taking it between his teeth, his tongue lapping at the tip. His gaze moved from Colleen's face to the towel wrapped around her body.

  "Was that necessary?" Straight-faced, but blue eyes twinkling, Dalton tugged at the cloth. "I've seen you without clothing. A sight to behold, by the way. Walk around naked. I won't complain."

  "I'm all wet, Dalton." Hearing how that sounded—combined with Dalton's waggling eyebrows—Colleen burst out laughing. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

  "Ladies first."

  "Fair enough," Colleen nodded, slapping Dalton's hand away before it slid from her outer to inner thigh.

  "What is this?"

  In an instant, Dalton's expression morphed from playful to concerned, his gaze centering on her chest. Looking down, Colleen sighed with relief.

  "It's called a rash, Dalton. The way you were staring I expected something serious."

  Dalton carefully touched the reddened skin, his frown deepening. "I don't remember seeing it there last night."

  Unconcerned, Colleen shrugged. "It's the curse of having this pale, Irish complexion."

  "What caused it?"

  "You did. Or rather your beard."

  Dalton's hand flew to his face. "Well, shit."

  "Relax. I put some cream on it after my shower. In an hour or so, you won't know it was there."

  Hiding her smile, Colleen couldn't resist kissing Dalton's earnest frown away. It didn't take long. Soon her towel was on the floor, followed by his shirt and jeans. As he nuzzled her breast, his tongue caressing the hard tip, Colleen decided that an itty bitty rash was a small price to pay for this much toe-curling pleasure.

  "I'm going to be sorry later," Dalton told her as his lips trailed over her creamy skin.

  "No, you won't," Colleen assured him, her fingers digging into his scalp, holding him close. "No regrets—for either of us."

  IN DALTON'S EXPERIENCE, few things lived up to their hype. Claiming to be the biggest. The best. The greatest. More often than not it led to disappointment all around. However, he had to give it to Colleen. She promised that her mother's birthday party would be an over-the-top extravaganza. If anything, Dalton would say for once, reality exceeded expectations. And he enjoyed every second. By the whooping and hollering around him, it seemed the crowd of party goers felt the same.

  As he watched Colleen weave her way toward him, a drink in each hand, Dalton had to wonder. Would he feel the same if he were related to the woman dancing on top of the picnic table to the strains of Do You Think I'm Sexy? The one dressed head to toe in a bright orange leopard-print bodysuit?

  "My role model." Colleen handed Dalton a glass of iced tea. "It would be perfect if my dream had been to become a stripper."

  "Your mom has moves. And a damn fine tush."

  "Words every woman wants to hear from her date."

  There was no heat behind Colleen's words. Looking closer, Dalton found a definite twinkle that made her emerald eyes shine with an inviting warmth. It was good, he thought. Better than good. Colleen told him she loved her mother. But those were only words. For a man who grew up without a solid maternal presence in his life, it was encouraging to witness affection first hand.

  The party was already in full swing by the time Dalton and Colleen arrived at the lake. They were a bit later than planned, thanks to what Colleen laughingly called a romp. She used the word as she pulled her hair out of the way, allowing Dalton to zip up her dress. Fire-engine red with a splash of white flowers decorating the skirt, it flattered her red hair and pale skin perfectly. He wondered if she realized how beautiful she was. He doubted it. Colleen didn't fuss with her hair or makeup. She didn't spend hours worrying about what she wore. He noticed when she opened her closet that it was less than half full.

  Dalton knew women who worked endlessly, their goal a look of casual, effortless elegance. With little thought, Colleen achieved what they couldn't by simply being herself. A flick of the comb through her thick, glossy red hair. A touch of color applied to her full lips and she was ready to go.

  "You're staring." Colleen frowned, raising her hand to her chin. Do you see some motor oil? That stuff can be brutal to remove. Every now and then I miss a bit."

  Shaking his head, Dalton took Colleen's hand. "Your face is perfect. Gorgeous."

  "You think so?" Colleen sounded pleased—and a little surprised. "I was about to say the same to you."

  "I prefer devastatingly handsome. Irresistibly sexy. Irrefutably talented. Undeniably—"

  "Full of shit?" Colleen finished for him, batting her big, green, mockingly innocent eyes at him.

  "Indubitably," he said with a wink.

  If Dalton hadn't learned to laugh at himself—never taking the highs or the lows too seriously—he would have washed out of the music industry years ago. He and his bandmates kept each other grounded. After everything they had been through, they knew which soft spots to jab and which were off limits. Or at the very least, needed to be handled with kid gloves. Colleen could take as good as she gave. In Dalton's book, that quality wasn't just admirable. It was essential.

  As the song ended, Colleen's mother swiveled her hips one last time before waving her arms in the air. The whoop she let out set off an echoing response throughout the crowd.

  "Where's my man?" Sherry demanded as someone handed her a bottle of beer. Tipping her head back, she took several long pulls.

  "Here I am, baby," a deep voice called out.

  Without warning—her laugh carefree—Sherry jumped. With ease, her husband caught her. Grabbing his ears, Sherry pulled him in for a long, lusty kiss, bringing a cheer from the crowd.

  Rick Higgins was a big man. At least six five and closer to three hundred pounds than two. When Colleen introduced them, he sized Dalton up with a firm handshake and a keen eye. Though he appeared easy going, Dalton wondered how far that jovial manner would go if someone messed with him or his family. In only a few seemingly innocuous words, Rick made it clear that Colleen might not be blood, but in every way that counted, she was his daughter. Only a fool would miss the less than subtle warning.

  "They look happy." Dalton watched as Rick set Sherry down as though she were a porcelain doll.

  "Mom hit pay dirt with Rick."

  "And vice versa?"

  "He thinks so." Colleen shook her head, as though puzzled. Then she shrugged. "I guess that's all that matters."

  "You love your mother. So does Rick." As the music changed to a slower, hold your woman close, ballad, Dalton took Colleen into his arms. "You don't understand how she works. It seems he does."

  "You're right." Colleen relaxed, letting her head rest on Dalton's shoulder. "What makes you so wise?"

  "Wisdom is easy from a distance. When it comes to my sister, I haven't a clue."

  "I don't agree. You know exactly who Maggie is."

  "Mm." Colleen's body gently brushed against his, mimicking the song's subtle backbeat. "She's our mother all over again. Absolutely self-absorbed. Manipulative. I haven't seen signs of alcohol or drug abuse, but I wouldn't be surprised. As for the men?" Dalton shrugged. "Her husband seems devoted."

  "Do you think—?"

  "Go on. I'm curious to get your input."

  "You told me that your sister's husband was behind the tabloid's story. That he was the one who wanted money to keep quiet. He kept Maggie from not visiting you more often. What if…"

  "You think Maggie controls Norris, not the other way around?"

  Colleen met his gaze. "You've always known,
haven't you?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm sorry."

  It wasn't just her words. Dalton felt Colleen's concern—her empathy. She wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer. A healing touch? That might have been overstating it just a bit. However, Dalton felt better having Colleen near. A thought flitted through his mind. Impractical. Unrealistic. Something he could never say aloud. But there it was. In that instant, as his lips brushed Colleen's temple and he breathed in the heady fragrance that was uniquely her, Dalton wished he never had to let her go.

  They didn't speak, their movements minimal. More of a sway than a dance. It was easy to block out everyone else, imagining the two of them were alone under the stars. Then, the mellow notes faded. The next selection? Dalton wasn't surprised to hear a guitar blast from none other than Jimi Hendrix. Dalton had to applaud the eclectic selection.

  "Mom loves this music," Colleen explained "Hungry?"

  "Starving. The smell of barbecue is driving me crazy."

  Taking Dalton's hand, Colleen led him toward the layout of food.

  "Janis Joplin. The Doors. Mom considers herself an honorary child of the sixties. Without the free love and drugs."

  "I don't think your mother gets the point of the sixties."

  "My mother lives in blissful ignorance of many things."

  Colleen handed him a paper plate, filling her own from the endless choices crowded onto the table. Citronella candles burned bright, placed strategically in an attempt to keep bugs at bay. From what Dalton could see, they were doing a fine job. Not a mosquito in sight.

  "You like to face things head on." Dalton felt confident in his assessment. "Maybe you were switched at birth."

  As they were meant to, Dalton's words made Colleen laugh. "You've guessed my guilty secret. I used to wish that were true. I used to fantasize that my real parents were fabulously wealthy.

  "And?"

  "And that was it." Colleen held a cherry tomato to Dalton's mouth. Obligingly, he opened, letting her pop it in. "I was extremely shallow. Instead of appreciating what I had. A loving mother. Plenty to eat. A warm, clean bed to sleep in. I dreamed of endless pocket money to spend however I desired."

  "You were a kid."

  "I had that dream last week."

  Mouth still filled with tomato, it was all Dalton could do not to spew the juice onto the array of casseroles and salads. At the last second, he covered his mouth with a napkin, diverting disaster.

  "Jesus, Colleen. Never make a person laugh when their mouth is full."

  "I was serious," Colleen said with a straight face. Her eyes, on the other hand, brimmed with mirth. "Sort of."

  "I know." Dalton tapped her chin. "Sort of is why it's funny."

  "A man who gets my sense of humor? I never thought I would see the day."

  "Never say never, Colleen. The world is filled with endless wonders."

  This time, it was Colleen's turn to laugh. Such a lovely sound, Dalton thought, scooping up a serving of potato salad. Natural and wonderfully contagious. An intriguing idea formed in his brain. It needed some tinkering. Putting it aside for now, he followed Colleen to the edge of the lake and a couple of empty folding chairs.

  "What can I get you to drink?" Dalton asked, setting his plate on the nearby folding table.

  "Something soft. I think there's lemonade." Colleen gave him a grateful smile. Frowning, her attention shifted to a point over his shoulder. "I don't believe what I'm seeing. That ballsy bitch."

  "What?" Dalton looked but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  "Bonnie Langley at twelve o'clock."

  Certain there must be some kind of mistake, Dalton shifted his gaze. Well, damn. Colleen was right. Standing near the steps of the cabin was none other than the woman who literally changed his life. Not exactly a blast from the past. But close enough—if that blast included nothing but bad memories.

  "What do you think she wants?"

  "We both know the answer to that," Colleen scoffed. "Look at the way she's dressed. Short shorts. A barely there halter top. Hooker heels. She might as well be sporting an open for business sign. Of course, you're the only customer she's targeting."

  "Does she think I'm an idiot?" Amazed at the woman's gall, Dalton snickered. When Colleen didn't join in, he checked her face. He didn't like what he saw. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

  "I think you should talk to her. In regards to your idiocy? Doubtful. But she turned your head before. And I'll say one thing about Bonnie. She has a spectacular set of tatas."

  "Colleen—"

  Finally, Colleen laughed, though it wasn't as carefree as before. "You want to put a period on the past, Dalton. Whatever her motives, Bonnie has presented you with a chance to close another door for good."

  Dalton knew Colleen was right. It made sense. Yet, he hesitated. "She's crashing the party. Your stepfather could throw her out."

  "Half these people weren't invited. That's the way it goes at these get-togethers, Dalton. Go," Colleen urged when he didn't move. "I'll be here when you've finished."

  "Promise?"

  "Where would I go?"

  Up until now, Dalton had drawn little attention beyond mild curiosity. His celebrity caused some buzz, but nothing more than a few whispers and couple of shout outs from a fan or two. Understandably, as he approached Bonnie, that changed. With each step he took. As more and more partygoers became aware of him, Bonnie, and their history, the interest shifted his way. Dalton was used to having thousands of eyes on him. Sometimes hundreds of thousands. However, this was different. On stage, he knew his part. He could improvise a drum riff in his sleep. What he felt didn't qualify as nerves. Or anger. It was closer to staring into the unknown, certain nothing good was on the other side. There was nothing wrong with a little trepidation, Dalton decided. It would keep him on his toes.

  Out of nowhere, a nonsensical thought hit Dalton. He had been inside this woman. In more than one orifice. Yet he knew almost nothing about her besides her name, that she wasn't a natural blonde, and her duplicitous nature. Come to think of it, that was all he needed—or wanted to know.

  "Bonnie." Dalton didn't add a hello, a how have you been, or a kiss my ass. He simply looked her straight in the eyes and waited.

  If Dalton felt hesitant over this meeting, Bonnie seemed to have no such reservations. Placing a hand on her curvy hip, she cocked it in Dalton's direction. She was a little rounder than he remembered. But he had to admit, the extra pounds looked good on her. Seeing what she interpreted as male interest, Bonnie's smile widened as though she greeted an old lover instead of the man who she helped send to prison.

  It must be nice to have a short memory. And a convenient one. Dalton had neither. Memories—good and bad—were etched in painfully potent acid. Then there was his tendency to hold a grudge. Dalton had never been one to turn the other cheek.

  "I don't have to ask how you are." Bonnie giggled. That was bad enough, but when she batted her eyes, he rolled his. "Mr. Famous Rock Star. My friends don't believe when I tell them I knew you when. In the biblical sense."

  Bonnie leaned close, placing a hand in the middle of Dalton's chest. To those watching, it probably seemed like an intimate gesture. Dalton stepped back, breaking contact. The woman had to be out of her mind.

  "Did you mention to your friends that you perjured yourself in court? Lied about me and what happened the night I was arrested?"

  Suddenly, Bonnie seemed uncomfortable as the center of attention. Lowering her voice, she tried the big, sad eyes routine. "You have to understand. I didn't have a choice. Collier forced me."

  "I understand."

  Brightening, Bonnie regained some of her female confidence. "I knew you would."

  "I understand that I don't give a damn."

  "Excuse me?" Not what she expected, Dalton's response put a confused frown between Bonnie's eyebrows.

  "I used to lie in my cell at night imagining what you would say if we w
ere to meet again. I fantasized about your remorse. Your tears. Your apologies. I wanted you to beg so that I could throw it back in your face."

  "Of course, I want to apologize."

  To Dalton's amazement, he swore he saw a drop of moisture in the corner of Bonnie's eyes. She had missed her calling as an actress. The problem was, acting took drive and ambition. Blowjobs and free fucks would have gotten her only so far—outside of the porn industry.

  "Save your breath. I've realized I don't want or need anything from you."

  "Are you sure about that?" Bonnie purred.

  Though the thought of touching her made his skin crawl, Dalton had to give the woman points for perseverance.

  "I don't know if your husband sent you or if it was your idea. Either way, I want you to think about this, Bonnie. This time, when I leave Midas, it will be for good. On the other hand, you are stuck in this town—with Collier—for life."

  "You're wrong. Collier is going to be a United States senator."

  Dalton would have laughed, but several people in the crowd beat him to it.

  "In your dreams, Bonnie," a woman called out.

  "Senator Collier Langley? Hell, no," added someone else.

  "There's your answer, Bonnie," Dalton said.

  The look of panic in Bonnie's eyes. The dawning horrified realization that the dream of getting out of Midas might be just that—a dream—was all the revenge Dalton needed.

  Not sparing Bonnie another glance, Dalton turned, seeking out Colleen. As promised, she was right there. Waiting.

  "Your food is waiting. And, Mom is almost ready to cut her birthday cake."

  "What kind?" Dalton asked.

  Colleen searched his eyes. With a satisfied nod at what she saw, she looped her arm through his. Casually, as though Bonnie wasn't staring daggers at their backs, she strolled with him, the crowd parting.

  "We are talking about my mother, Dalton. Ten layers, ten flavors."

  "Can't go wrong with that." Dalton brought Colleen's hand to his lips for a lingering kiss. "I can't wait to see if she likes the gift I got for her."