Justine Davis - Colton Family Rescue

He hated feeling this way about his own family. But he hated even more thinking about his brother’s noisy sex, because it made him think of Jolie, who had always been rather quiet about it. But her heated whispers, the expression on her face, the amazement in her beautiful eyes as they made love, had been all he’d needed.

“Stop it, damn it,” he muttered under his breath as heat and need shot through him, making his entire body clench. Only Jolie had ever done that to him, only she had had the power to send him into overdrive with a mere thought. He stared at the delivery truck ahead of him as if it held all the answers.

By the time he reached the Colton building, he’d managed to force his unruly mind to stay on the things he needed to deal with today. Once at his desk, he went quickly through the plan Hannah prepped for him every morning. The format she suggested had seemed odd to him at first, but now he didn’t think he could function without it. Her method of prioritizing, and noting in advance which items could be time-shifted and which could not, had increased his productivity markedly, and he rarely disagreed with how she had weighted things.

Well, except when she slid in something like suggesting he attend a dinner function, an evening at the symphony or some other formal affair. He’d rather spend a day doing the dirtiest of work in one of their oil fields than tux up for one of those things. He’d leave that to Fowler, who could con the feathers off a peacock and leave them glad he’d done it. At least, until reality set in.

He was midway through his email inbox when Hannah appeared in his doorway.

“Mr. Colton?”

Something in her voice, an undertone of...what, he wasn’t quite sure, made him look up quickly.

“What is it?” He stood up quickly. “Something about my father?”

She looked immediately apologetic. “No, I’m sorry, nothing about that. But there’s someone here asking to see you.”

He opened his mouth to say he didn’t have time for unscheduled appointments today, then shut it again. Hannah knew this perfectly well, since she’d drawn up his agenda for the day. He also knew she would normally smoothly redirect anyone who wanted to disrupt that schedule without what she deemed a good enough reason. And he’d rarely disagreed with her on that, either. So something had made her think this was worth making an exception for.

“All right,” he said, not even asking who it was.

He saw a glint in her eyes that told him she knew exactly what thought process he’d just gone through. “Thank you,” she said, and he knew it was for trusting her.

“You’ve never made me sorry.”

She smiled. “I’ll bring them in.”

Them? he wondered as she turned to go. He reached down and closed out his email program, because he’d had a confidential communication open. He looked up when he heard footsteps in the doorway. Didn’t even hear Hannah quietly close the door. Could look at nothing else but the woman with the little girl in her arms.

Jolie.

He only realized how long it had been, and that he’d forgotten to breathe, when he at last had to suck in a long, audible gulp of air. Crazily he could hear Fowler’s voice in his head, chanting as he always did, “Never let ’em see you sweat.”

In this case a cold sweat, rising not out of exertion but pure, emotional reaction. Fowler had forewarned him, and yet he was still stunned.

Jolie.

And Emma? Could that girl with the tousled blond hair and the finger caught between white, even teeth as she stared at him really be her? Could this be the baby he’d held, made laugh, thought would be his daughter?

Of course it was. Look at her eyes—they were Jolie’s eyes, wide and thickly lashed and that gray shade that could go from silver to stormy in the space of a moment. She was wearing jeans embroidered with a cartoon character he didn’t recognize—not his forte at all—and a T-shirt that matched the bright green thread in the design. She had a small Band-Aid on her neck, and he nearly smiled when he saw it had the same cartoon character on it.

“I’m sorry,” Jolie whispered.

His gaze snapped back to the woman. God, her voice. That same husky, low voice that always sent a shiver down his spine and had once had the power to stir him no matter how distracted or tired he was.

Judging by his body’s instant response, it still did.

“What?” Oh, brilliant, Colton.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated quietly. “We didn’t have any place else to go.”

His brow furrowed. She’d managed to stay completely gone for four years, but now she showed up saying she —and Emma—had nowhere else to go? This made no sense.

“I would never have dared to come to you, but it’s for Emma.”

His gaze shifted to the child, who was staring at him with what appeared to be fascination. He knew she couldn’t possibly remember him. She’d been barely six months old when Jolie vanished out of his life, but she was looking at him now much as she had done then, although with more awareness.

“What?” he said again, almost blankly, aware no one who’d ever dealt with him in the business world would ever believe this was really T. C. Colton, the man with the reputation for quick, incisive thinking.

He saw her glance at Emma, then back at him, without speaking. It took him a moment, but then he realized she didn’t want to talk in front of the girl. He felt an odd reluctance to do anything about that, but finally he reached for the office intercom. “Hannah? Do you feel up to a little babysitting?”

“That cutie? I’ll be right in.”

Jolie hesitated, looked doubtful. He guessed she was reluctant to let the child out of her sight with a stranger. He said the only thing he could think of to reassure her of Hannah’s utter reliability. “She has three grandsons. I think time with a girl would delight her.”

Somehow they were the right words. Jolie nodded. Hannah came in, and Emma went to her willingly enough, after an encouraging nod from her mother.

“We’ll be right outside, not a step beyond my desk,” his assistant assured Jolie. “And in that desk,” she said to Emma, “there are some very interesting things. Would you like to see?”

When the door closed after them, T.C. looked at Jolie again. “Afraid you’ll have a sugar high to deal with. Hannah has quite the candy stash.”

“She deserves a treat. It’s been a horrible couple of days.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but she didn’t go on. For a moment, he was torn between wanting to know why she was here now and why she’d left then. He scoffed inwardly at himself, still a fool, wishing there was a valid reason beyond a check with a lot of zeros on it.

He waited, letting the silence pressure her. And finally, without the diversion of the little girl, he was able to look at her more carefully.

She looked exhausted. Her eyes were reddened, whether from a sleepless night or tears or both, he couldn’t know. She looked thinner than she had, the sweet curves he’d so lusted for slightly lessened, and he felt a sudden urge to feed her to get them back.

“I thought about going to the ranch,” she finally said, “but I know your mother would try to throw me out under the best of circumstances, and this is hardly that. I’m sorry about your father.”

As a Colton, he was used to everything about the family being general knowledge, and something like the disappearance of the family patriarch was still headline news, even after three months.

“Try to?” He gave himself an inward shake; why, of all things, had he fastened on that?

Jolie’s mouth—that wonderful, soft mouth—curved up at one end in a soft, almost pleased smile. “She might not find it quite so easy to bully me and send me packing this time.”