he Monster Mash” blared from five-foot speakers in the back of Mayor Tanasee’s Dodge pickup. Fake spiderwebs wrapped the truck in a gossamer tangle and two gravestones stood in the bed. The Dodge crawled up Main Street with witches and vampires, clowns and princesses, trailing behind. The excited chatter of ghosts and goblins mixed with the music and kicked off the annual Halloween parade.

Delaney stood in the sparse crowd in front of her salon. She shivered and snuggled deep into her green wool coat with the big glittery buttons. She was freezing, unlike Lisa who stood next to her in a B.U.M sweatshirt and a pair of cotton gloves. The newspaper predicted unseasonable warmth for the last day in October. The temperature was supposed to shoot up to a whopping forty degrees.

As a child, Delaney had loved the Halloween parade. She’d loved dressing up and marching through town to the high school gymnasium where the costume contest would begin. She’d never won, but loved it any way. It had given her a chance to play dress-up and cake on the cosmetics. She wondered if they still served cider and glazed doughnuts and if the new mayor handed out little bags of candy like Henry had done.

“Remember when we were in the sixth grade and shaved our eyebrows and dressed as psychotic killers and had blood squirting out of our necks?” Lisa asked from beside Delaney. “And your mother lost it big time?”

She remembered all right. Her mother had made her a stupid bride costume that year. Delaney had pretended to love the dress, only to turn up at the parade as a blood-soaked killer with no eyebrows. Thinking back, she didn’t know how she’d gathered the nerve to do something she’d known would anger her mother.

The next year Delaney had been forced to dress as a Smurf.

“Look at that kid and his dog,” Delaney said, pointing to a boy dressed as a box of McDonald’s french fries and his little dachshund decked out as a package of ketchup. It had been a long time since Delaney had driven through McDonald’s. “I’m craving a Quarter Pounder with cheese right now.” She sighed, visions of a greasy beef patty making her mouth water.

“Maybe one will walk down the street next.”

Delaney looked at her friend out of the corner of her eye. “I’ll fight you for it.”

“You’re no match for me, city girl. Look at you shivering to death in your big ol‘ coat.”

“I just need to acclimate,” Delaney grumbled, watching a woman and her baby dinosaur step from the sidewalk and join the parade. A door opened and closed somewhere behind her, and she turned, but no one had entered her salon.

“Where’s Louie?”

“He’s in the parade with Sophie.”

“As what?”

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

Delaney smiled. She had a surprise of her own coming up. She’d had to get up real early this morning, but if everything went according to her plan, her business would take off.

A second truck slowly moved past with a big smoking cauldron and cackling witch on its flatbed. Despite the crazy black hair and green face, the crone looked slightly familiar.

“Who’s that witch?” Delaney asked.

“Hmm. Oh it’s Neva. You remember Neva Miller, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Neva had been wild and outrageous. She’d regaled Delaney with stories of stealing booze, smoking pot, and having sex with the football team. And Delaney had hung on every word. She leaned toward Lisa and whispered, “Remember when she told us about blowing Roger Bonner while he pulled his little brother water skiing? And you didn’t know what a blow job was so she told us in graphic detail?”

“Yeah, and you started to gag.” Lisa pointed to the man driving the truck. “That’s her husband, Pastor Jim.”

“Pastor? Holy hell!”

“Yep, she got saved or born again or whatever. Pastor Jim preaches over at that little church on Seventh Street.”

“It’s Pastor Tim,” corrected a painfully familiar voice directly behind Delaney.

Delaney did a mental groan. It was so typical of Nick to sneak up on her when she least expected him.

“How do you know it’s Tim?” Lisa wanted to know.

“We built his house a few years ago.” Nick’s voice was low, like he hadn’t used it much that morning.

“Oh, I thought maybe he prays for your soul.”

“No. My mother prays for my soul.”

Delaney cast a quick glance over her shoulder. “Maybe she should make a pilgrimage to Lourdes, or to that tortilla shrine in New Mexico.”

An easy smile curved Nick’s mouth. He’d pulled a thick hooded sweatshirt over his head; the white strings hung down his chest. His hair was pulled back from his face. “Maybe,” was all he said.

Delaney turned to the parade again. She raised her shoulders and buried her cold nose in the collar of her coat. There was only one thing worse than being baited by Nick, and that was wondering why he wasn’t baiting her at all. She’d seen very little of him since the day she’d knocked on the back door of his business. By tacit agreement, they were avoiding each other.

“Where did you come from?” Lisa asked him.

“I was making a few calls from the office. Has Sophie come by yet?”

“Not yet.”

Four boys dressed as bloody hockey players wheeled past on Roller Blades and were followed closely by Tommy Markham pulling his wife in a rickshaw. Helen was dressed as Lady Godiva, and on the back of the rickshaw hung a sign that read Helen’s Hair Hut. Quality cuts for ten dollars. Helen waved and threw kisses to the crowd, and on her head sat a rhinestone crown Delaney recognized all too well.

Delaney dropped her shoulders and uncovered the lower half of her face. “That’s pathetic! She’s still wearing her homecoming crown.”

“She wears it every year like she’s the queen of England or something.”

“Remember how she campaigned for homecoming queen, and I didn’t because campaigning was against the rules? Then after she won the school wouldn’t disqualify her? That crown should have been mine.”

“Are you still mad about that?”

Delaney folded her arms over her chest. “No.” But she was. She was annoyed with herself for giving Helen the power to irritate her after so many years. Delaney was cold, possibly neurotic, and very aware of the man standing behind her. Too aware. She didn’t have too see him to know how close he stood. She could feel him like a big human wall.

Except for the time Nick had ridden his bike in the parade like some crazed stunt rider and ended up with stitches in the top of his head, he’d always been a pirate—always. And every year she’d taken one look at his eye patch and fake sword, and her hands would get all clammy. A weird reaction considering that he usually told her she looked stupid.

She turned her head and glanced up at him again with his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and small gold hoop in his ear. He still looked like a pirate, and she was getting a warm little tingle in her stomach.

“I didn’t see your car in back,” he said, his eyes staring into hers.

“Um, no. Steve has it.”

A frown creased his brow. “Steve?”

“Steve Ames. He works for you.”

“Real young guy with dyed blond hair?”

“He’s not that young.”

“Uh-huh.” Nick shifted his weight to one foot and tilted his head slightly to the side. “Sure he’s not.”

“Well, he’s nice.”

“He’s a nancy boy.”

Delaney turned and scowled at her friend. “Do you think Steve’s a nancy boy?”

Lisa looked from Nick to Delaney. “You know I love you, but geez, the guy plays air guitar.”

Delaney shoved her hands into her pockets and turned to watch Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, and a Hershey’s Kiss walk by. It was true. She’d gone out with him twice and the guy played air guitar to everything. Nirvana. Metal Head. Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Steve played it all, and it was so embarrassing. But he was the closest thing she had to a boyfriend, although she wouldn’t even call him that. He was the only available man who’d paid attention to her since she’d arrived in Truly.

Except Nick. But he wasn’t available. Not to her anyway. Delaney leaned forward to look down the street and saw her Miata turn the corner. Steve steered the sports car with one hand, his hair dyed and cut short in a spiky crewcut. Two teenage girls sat like beauty queens directly behind him while one more girl waved from the passenger seat. Their hair was cut and styled to make them look as if they’d just stepped out of a teen magazine. Smooth and free-flowing and trendy. Delaney had scoured the high school, purposely searching for girls who weren’t cheerleaders or pep club officers. She’d wanted average girls she could make over to look fantastic.

She’d found them last week. After receiving their mothers’ approval, she’d gone to work on each of them earlier that morning. All three looked wonderful and were living, breathing advertisements for her salon. And if the girls weren’t enough, Delaney had taped a sign on the sides of her car that read: The Cutting Edge fixes ten-dollar haircuts.

“That’s going to drive Helen nuts,” Lisa muttered.

“I hope so.”

A collection of grim reapers, werewolves, and corpses passed, then a fifty-seven Chevy turned the corner with Louie at the wheel. Delaney took one look at his dark hair greased into a jelly roll and burst out laughing. He wore a tight white T-shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve. In the seat next to him sat Sophie with her hair in a high pony tail, bright red lipstick, and cat’s-eye sunglasses. She smacked bubble gum and snuggled inside Nick’s big leather jacket.

“Uncle Nick,” she called out and threw him a kiss.

Delaney heard his deep chuckle just before Louie revved the big engine for the crowd. The antique car shook and rumbled, then for a grand finale, backfired.

Startled, Delaney jumped back and collided with the immovable wall of Nick’s chest. His big hands grabbed her upper arms, and when she looked up at him, her hair brushed his throat. “Sorry,” she muttered.

His grasp on her tightened, and through her coat she felt his long fingers curl into the wool sleeve. His gaze swept across her cheeks, then lowered to her mouth. “Don’t be,” he said, and she felt the brush of his thumbs on the backs of her arms.

His gaze lifted to hers once again, and there was something hot and intense in the way he looked at her. Like he wanted to give her one of those kisses that devoured her resistance. Like they were lovers and the most natural thing in the world would be for her to put one hand on the back of his head and lower his face to hers. But they weren’t lovers. They weren’t even friends. And in the end he stepped back and dropped his hands to his sides.

She turned around and sucked air deep into her lungs. She could feel his gaze on the back of her head, feel the air between them charged with tension. The pull was so strong she was sure everyone around them could feel it, too. But when she glanced at Lisa, her friend was waving like a mad woman to Louie. Lisa hadn’t noticed.

Nick said something to Lisa and Delaney felt rather than heard him leave. She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She glanced over her shoulder one last time and watched him disappear into the building behind them.

“Isn’t he cute?”

Delaney looked at her friend and shook her head. By no stretch of the imagination was Nick Allegrezza cute. He was hot. One hundred percent, testosterone-pumping, drool-inspiring hot.

“I helped him do his hair this morning.”

“Nick?”

“Louie.”

The light dawned. “Oh.”

“Why would I do Nick’s hair?”

“Forget it. Are you going to party at the Grange tonight?”

“Probably.”

Delaney checked her watch. She only had a few minutes before her one o’clock appointment. She bid Lisa good-bye and spent the rest of the afternoon on a three-color weave and two walk-ins.

When she was finished for the day, she quickly swept up hair from the last girl, then grabbed her coat and climbed up the back stairs to her apartment. She had plans to meet Steve at the costume party being held out in the old Grange hall. Steve had found a police uniform somewhere, and since he planned to impersonate a law enforcement officer, it seemed a given that she should impersonate a hooker. She already had the skirt and fishnet stockings, and she’d found a fluffy pink boa with matching handcuffs in the gag gift aisle at Howdy’s Trading Post.

Delaney stuck her key into the lock and noticed a white envelope on the step next to the toe of her black boot. She had a bad feeling she knew what it was even before she bent to pick it up. She opened it and pulled out a white piece of paper with four typewritten words: GET OUT OF TOWN, it said this time. She crushed the paper in her fist and glanced over her shoulder. The parking lot was empty of course. Whoever had left the envelope had done it while Delaney had been busy cutting hair. It would have been so easy.

Delaney retraced her steps to the parking lot and knocked on the back door of Allegrezza Construction. Nick’s Jeep wasn’t in the back lot.

The door swung open and Nick’s secretary, Ann Marie, appeared.

“Hi,” Delaney began. “I was wondering if you might have seen anyone back here today.”

“The garbage men emptied the Dumpster this afternoon.”

Delaney doubted she’d pissed off the garbage men. “How about Helen Markham?”

Ann Marie shook her head. “I didn’t see her today.”

Which didn’t mean Helen hadn’t left the note. After Delaney’s entry into the parade, Helen was probably livid. “Okay, thanks. If you see anyone hanging around that shouldn’t be here, will you let me know?”

“Sure. Did something happen?”

Delaney shoved the note into her coat pocket. “No, not really.”

The old Grange hall had been decorated with bales of hay, orange and black crepe paper, and cauldrons filled with dried ice. A bartender from Mort’s poured beer or cola at one end, and a country and western band played at the other. The ages of those gathered at the Halloween party ranged from teens who were too old to trick-or-treat to Wannetta Van Damme, who was tying one on with the two remaining World War vets.

By the time Delaney arrived, the band was well into its first set. She’d dressed in a black satin skirt, matching bustier, and black lace garters. The matching satin blazer she left at home. Her black stilettos had five-inch heels, and she’d spent twenty minutes making sure the lines on her stockings ran straight up the backs of her legs. Her boa was draped around her neck and the handcuffs were tucked in the waistband of her skirt. Except for her teased hair and thick mascara, most of her efforts were concealed by her wool coat.

She wanted nothing more than to go back home and fall head first into a coma. She’d thought of not coming at all. She was sure the note had come from Helen and was bugged by it more than she liked to admit. Sure, she’d stalked Helen a little bit. She’d hidden in her Dumpster and scoured her garbage, but that was different. She hadn’t left psychotic notes. If Delaney hadn’t told Steve she’d meet him, she’d be curled up right now in her favorite flannel nightgown, after a warm bath filled with fragrant bubbles.

Delaney reached for the buttons on her coat as her gaze scanned the crowd dressed in a wide variety of interesting costumes. She spied Steve dancing with a hippie chick who looked to be about twenty. They looked good together. She knew Steve saw women besides her and wasn’t bothered by it. He was a nice diversion sometimes when she needed to get out of her apartment. He was a nice guy, too.

She decided to keep her coat on as she made her way into the crowd. She squeezed by two cone-heads and a mermaid and almost ran smack into a Star Trek character covered in makeup with a slight yellow tinge.

“Hey, Delaney,” he said above the sound of county music. “I heard you moved back.”

The voice sounded vaguely familiar and he obviously knew her. She hadn’t a clue. His hair was slicked back with black spray-in color, and he wore a red and black uniform with a symbol that looked like an A on his chest. She’d never watched Star Trek and frankly didn’t understand the attraction. “Uh, yeah. I moved back in June.”

“Wes said that was you when you walked in.”

Delaney stared into eyes so light they hardly were blue at all. “Oh, my God,” she gasped. “Scooter!” There was only one thing scarier than a Finley. A Finley dressed up as a Trekkie.

“Yeah, it’s me. Long time no see.” Scooter’s makeup was cracking on his forehead, and his choice in face color picked up the yellow in his teeth. “You’re lookin‘ good,” he continued, his head nodding like one of those wooden Chinese dolls with the spring necks.

Delaney glanced around the area for someone to rescue her. “Yeah, you too Scooter,” she lied. She didn’t see anyone she recognized and her gaze rested on him once again. “What have you been up to?” she asked, making simple conversation until she could make her escape.

“Me and Wes own a fish farm over in Garden. We bought it from Wes’s old girlfriend after she ran off with a long-haul trucker. We’re going to make a fortune selling catfish.”

Delaney could only stare. “You have a fish farm?”

“Heck yeah. Where do you think all that fresh catfish comes from?”

What fresh catfish? Delaney didn’t recall seeing a lot of catfish at any meat counter in town. “Is there a big demand for that around here?”

“Not yet, but Wes and me figure that with E. coli and that chicken flu, people will start eating butt-loads of fish.” He raised a red Solo cup and took a long pull. “Are you married?”

Usually she hated that question, but she couldn’t get over the obvious fact that Scooter was an even bigger moron than she remembered. “Ah, no. Are you?”

“Divorced twice.”

“Go figure,” she said as she shook her head and shrugged. “See ya around, Scooter.” She moved past him but he followed.

“Wanna beer?”

“No, I’m meeting someone here.”

“Bring her along.”

“It’s not a her.”

“Oh.” He hung back and called after her. “See ya around, Delaney. Maybe I’ll call you sometime.”

His threat might have scared her if she’d been listed in the telephone book. She wove her way through a group dressed as punkers, to the edge of the dance floor. Abraham Lincoln asked her to dance, but she declined. Her head was beginning to pound and she wanted to go home, but she figured she owed it to Steve to tell him she was leaving. She spied him with Cleopatra this time, playing air guitar to Wynonna Judd’s “No One Else on Earth.”

Her eyes scrunched and she glanced away from Steve. He could be so extremely embarrassing sometimes. Her gaze stopped on a familiar couple dressed as a fifties tough and his girlfriend in a poodle skirt. From the perimeter of dancing couples, Delaney watched Louie swing Lisa behind his back then around front again. He pulled her against his chest and dipped her so low her ponytail brushed the ground. Delaney smiled and her gaze moved to the couple closest to Lisa and Louie. There was no mistaking the tall man spinning his niece like a top. As far as Delaney could tell, Nick’s only concession to the holiday was his txapel, his Basque beret. He wore jeans and a tan chambray shirt. Even without a costume, he managed to look like a two-stepping pirate, with that black beret pulled partway down his forehead.

For the first time since she’d moved away, Delaney seriously longed to be a part of a family again. Not a superficial controlling family like hers, but a real family. A family that laughed and danced and loved one another without conditions.

Delaney turned away and ran into Elvis. “Excuse me,” she said and looked up into Tommy Markham’s face complete with fake sideburns.

Tommy glanced from her to the woman at his side. Helen was still dressed as Lady Godiva, still had the crown on her head.

“Hello, Delaney,” she greeted her, a smug smile on her face as if she were superior. It was the same “kiss my ass” smile she’d been giving Delaney since the first grade.

Delaney was too tired to pretend a civility she didn’t feel. Her head pounded, fueled by Helen’s stupid smile. “How did you like my parade entry?”

Helen’s smile fell. “Pathetic, but predictable.”

“Not as pathetic as your mangy wig and cheap crown.” The music stopped as she stepped forward and shoved her face in Helen’s. “And if you ever leave me another threatening note, I’ll shove it up your nose.”

Helen’s brows lowered and she blinked. “You’re mental. I never left you any note.”

“Notes.” Delaney didn’t believe her for one second. “There were two.”

“I don’t think Helen would—”

“Shut up, Tommy,” Delaney interrupted without taking her gaze from her old enemy. “Your stupid notes don’t scare me, Helen. I’m more annoyed than anything else.” She gave one last warning before she walked away, “Stay away from me and anything that belongs to me.” Then she turned and pressed her way through the crowd, dodging and weaving, her head pounding. What if it wasn’t Helen? Impossible. Helen hated her.

She made it as far as the door before Steve caught up with her.

“Where are you going?” he asked, matching his stride to hers.

“Home. I have a headache.”

“Can’t you stay for just a little while?”

“No.”

They walked into the parking lot and stopped by Delaney’s car. “We haven’t danced yet.”

At the moment the mere thought of dancing with a man who played the front of his pants was just too disturbing for her to handle. “I don’t want to dance. I’ve had a long day and I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Want some company?”

Delaney looked into his cute surfer-boy face and chuckled silently. “Nice try.” He leaned forward to kiss her, but her hand on his chest stopped him.

“Okay.” He laughed. “Maybe next time.”

“Good night, Steve,” she said and got into her car. On the way home, Delaney stopped at the Value Rite and bought a king-sized Reese’s, a bottle of Coke, and some vanilla-scented bubble bath. Even after a hot soak, she could be in bed by ten.

I never left you any note. Helen had to be lying. Of course she wouldn’t admit to writing the notes. Not in front of Tommy.

What if she wasn’t lying? For the first time, real fear settled like a bubble in her chest, but she tried to ignore it. Delaney didn’t want to think that the author of the note could be anyone other than her old enemy. Someone she didn’t know.

When she pulled into the parking lot behind her salon, Nick’s Jeep was parked behind his business. His dark silhouette leaned against the back fender, his familiar posture relaxed. The headlights of her Miata cut across his leather jacket as he pushed himself away from the four-wheel drive.

Delaney cut the car’s engine and reached for the plastic grocery bag. “Are you following me?” she asked as she got out of the car and shut the door.

“Of course.”

“Why?” The heels of her stilettoes stirred the gravel as she started toward the stairs.

“Tell me about the notes.” He reached out and grabbed the grocery bag from her hand as she passed.

“Hey, I can carry that,” she protested even as she realized it had been a long time since a man had offered to carry anything for her. Not that Nick had offered, of course.

“Tell me about the notes.”

“How did you know about those?” He followed so close behind her up the steps, she felt his heavier tread beneath the soles of her shoes. “Did Ann Marie tell you?”

“No. I heard your conversation with Helen tonight.”

Delaney wondered how many others had heard it as well. Her breath hung in front of her face as she quickly unlocked her door. Since it would have been a total waste of breath, she didn’t bother to tell Nick he couldn’t come in. “Helen has written me a couple of little notes.” She walked into the kitchen and flipped on the light.

Nick followed, unzipping his jacket and filling the small space with his size and presence. He set her groceries on the counter. “What do they say?”

“Read for yourself.” She dug into her coat pocket and handed him the envelope she’d shoved in there earlier. “The other one said something like, ‘I’m watching you.’ ” She brushed past him and moved into the short hall leading to the bedroom.

“Have you called the sheriff?”

“No.” She hung her coat in the closet, then retraced her steps. “I can’t prove Helen is the one leaving them, although I’m certain it’s her. And besides, the notes aren’t really threatening, just annoying.” From the doorway, she watched him study the note in his hand. His txapel made him look like an exotic Basque freedom fighter.

“Where did you find this?”

“By my front door.”

“Do you still have the oth—.” He looked up and stopped in mid-sentence. His eyes widened a fraction, then his gaze swept her from hair to stilettoes. For the first time in her life, she’d rendered Nick speechless. It had taken a hooker outfit to do it.

“What’s the matter?”

“Not a thing.”

“Don’t you have a least one smart or smarmy comment?” She tried to stand perfectly still, as if she couldn’t feel his gaze touching her everywhere. But in the end she blew it and moved the boa to cover her cleavage pressed against the satin bustier.

“At least one.”

“I’m not surprised.”

He pointed to her waist. “What do you do with the cuffs?”

“You’d know better than me.”

“Wild thing,” he said, a salacious smile tilting the corners of his mouth, “I don’t need extra hardware to get the job done.”

She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Spare me the details of your sex life.”

“Are you sure? You might learn something good.”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “I doubt you know anything I’d want to learn.” Then she quickly added, “That wasn’t a challenge.”

His soft laughter filled the short distance between them. “It was a challenge, Delaney.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He took a step toward her, and she held up her hand like a traffic cop. “I don’t want to go there with you, Nick. I thought you came up here to look at the note Helen left me.”

“I did.” He stopped when her palm hit his chest. Cool leather pressed into her hand. “But you make it a real hard to think about anything but your zippers.”

“You're a big boy. Try to concentrate.” Delaney dropped her hand and moved past him to the refrigerator. “Wanna beer?”

“Sure.”

She twisted off the tops, then handed him a pumpkin beer she’d bought at the microbrewery. He looked at the designer brew as if he didn’t quite know what to do with it. “It’s really good,” she assured him and took a big swallow.

Nick raised the beer to his lips, and his gray eyes watched her over the top of the bottle as he took a drink. He immediately lowered the beer and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary that’s foul.”

“I like it.” She smiled and took an extra long swig.

“Do you have any real beer?” He set both the bottle and the note on the counter.

“I have a raspberry ale.”

He looked at her as if she were suggesting he chop off his testicles. “Got a Bud?”

“Nope. But I have a Coke in that bag.” She waved her bottle toward the plastic sack then moved past Nick to the living room.

“Where did you find the first note?” he called after her.

“In the salon.” She switched on a light above the stereo, then moved to a table lamp next to the couch. “Actually, you pointed it out to me.”

“When?”

“The day you changed my locks.” She looked over her shoulder as she pulled the lamp’s chain. Nick stood in the middle of the room chugging the Coke she’d bought at the Value Rite. “Remember?”

He lowered the bottle and sucked a brown drop from his bottom lip. “Perfectly.”

Unbidden, the memory of his lips pressed to hers and the texture of his warm skin beneath her hands flooded her senses. “I was talking about the note.”

“So was I.”

No he wasn’t. “Why do you think Helen is responsible?”

Delaney sat on the couch, carefully making sure her satin skirt didn’t slide to her crotch and make her a porno star. “Who else could it be?”

He set the Coke on the coffee table and shrugged out of his jacket. “Who else would want you gone?”

Delaney couldn’t think of anyone besides Nick and his entire family. “You.”

He tossed his jacket on the arm of the sofa and looked at her from beneath lowered brows. “Do you really believe that?”

Not really. “I don’t know.”

“If you think I sneak around threatening women, why did you let me in your apartment?”

“Could I have stopped you?”

“Maybe, but I didn’t leave those notes and you know it.” He sat next to Delaney and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He’d rolled the sleeves of his chambray shirt up his forearms, and he wore a wristwatch with a worn black band. “Someone’s real upset with you. Have you given a bad haircut lately?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she set her pumpkin beer on the coffee table with a heavy thump. “First of all, Nick, I never give bad haircuts. And second, what do you think, that some infuriated psycho is running around leaving me notes because I trimmed her bangs too short or over processed a perm?”

Nick looked across his shoulder at her and laughed. It started low in his chest and grew louder, feeding Delaney’s temper. “Why are you so pissed off?”

“You insulted me.”

He placed an innocent hand on the front of his shirt, pushing the soft fabric to the side and exposing a slice of tan chest. “I did not.”

Delaney lifted her gaze to his amused eyes. “You absolutely did.”

“Sorry.” Then he ruined the apology by adding insult to injury, “Wild thing.”

She punched his arm. “Jerk.”

Nick grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him. “Has anyone told you that you’re a great-looking hooker?”

The scent of sandalwood soap and warm skin filled her senses. His strong fingers sent tingling pinpricks up the inside of her arm, and she tried to pull away. He let her go only to grab her boa in both his hands and tug her closer. Her nose bumped his, and she felt herself sucked into his smoky gaze. She opened her mouth meaning to say something stinging and sarcastic, but her brain and voice betrayed her and what came out instead was a breathy, “Gee, thanks, Nick. I bet you say that to all your women of the night.”

“Are you my woman for the night?” he asked just above her mouth, holding her with nothing more than a string of fluffy pink feathers and his smooth voice.

She didn’t think she’d said that, or meant that, or something... “No. You know we can never be together.”

“You should never say never.” The feathers brushed across her cheek and neck as he slid one hand to the top edge of her bustier. “Your heart is pounding.”

“I have pretty high blood pressure.” Her eyelids were heavy and she felt the tip of his tongue touch her bottom lip.

“You were always a really bad liar.” Then before Delaney knew quite how it happened, she was in Nick’s lap and his mouth was all over hers, in a kiss that started sweet but quickly shattered Delaney’s pitiful resistance. He had a hand on the back of her head, the other on the outside of her thigh, caressing her through black hose. His slick tongue stroked hers, urging a hotter, more passionate response, and she gave him a kiss that sent a shudder of raw lust through them. She slid her hands up the sides of his neck and worked the rubber band from his ponytail. The beret fell from his head as she combed her fingers through his cool, fine hair. She felt his fingers drift up her garter to the edge of her skirt, drawing a line of fire that heated the insides of her thighs and flamed the hunger deep in her abdomen. Then his fingers dipped beneath the black lace and elastic and he grasped her bare flesh. She shoved one hand inside the open collar of his shirt and touched his shoulder where he was warm, his muscles hard, but it wasn’t enough and she tugged at the buttons until his shirt lay open. He was hard and smooth, his skin hot and slightly damp. Beneath her bottom, his thick erection pressed into her and she squirmed deeper into his lap. His fingers bit into her thigh, and she felt his deep groan beneath her palm.

He moved one hand to her waist, and his strong fingers squeezed her through the thin satin. A moan stuck in the top of her chest as his palm slipped upward, over her breast, to her throat. His knuckles brushed her collarbone and across the edge of her bustier. Then he slid his sensual mouth to her throat and his hand inside the tight satin top. He cupped her bare breast, and Delaney arched, pressing her hard nipple into his hot, hot palm. Her hands moved to his shoulder, and she grasped the soft fabric of his shirt in tight fists.

She ached all over and, with her last shred of sanity whispered, “Nick, we have to stop this.”

“We will,” he murmured as he pushed the bustier practically to her waist and lowered his head. He brushed his lips across the pink tip of her breast, then sucked it into his mouth, his tongue hot and wet and relentless. His big warm hand slipped between her thighs and he pressed his palm into her sensitive flesh. Through her damp cotton panties, his fingers felt her, and she squeezed her legs together, locking his hand in her crotch. Delaney eyes closed and his name escaped her lips, part moan, part sigh. It was the sound of need and desire. She wanted him to make love to her. She wanted to feel his naked body pressed to her. She had nothing to lose but self-respect. What was a little self-respect compared to a quality orgasm?

Then his mouth was gone and cool air swept across her breast. She forced her eyes open and followed his fiery gaze to her glistening nipple. He slid his hand from her thighs and picked up one end of her boa, slowly brushing it across her sensitive flesh. “Tell me you want me.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Say it anyway.” He looked up, his eyes heavy with lust and determination. “Say it.” The feathers made another downy pass across her breasts.

Delaney sucked in her breath. “I want you.”

His gaze skimmed her face, then settled on her mouth. He placed a soft kiss on her lips and pulled her bustier back in place, covering her breasts once again.

He wasn’t going to make love to her. Of course he wasn’t. He had a lot more to lose than she did. “Why do we keep doing this?” she asked when he lifted his mouth. “I never mean for this to happen with us, but it always does.”

“Don’t you know?”

“I wish I did.”

“Unfinished business.”

She took a deep breath and leaned against him.

“What are you talking about? Unfinished business.”

“That night at Angel Beach. We never got to finish what we started before you ran off.”

“Ran off?” She felt her brows lower then rise up her forehead. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“You had a choice and you made it. You left with Henry.”

With as much dignity as possible under the circumstances, Delaney removed herself from his lap. Her left shoe was missing and her boa was stuck inside her bustier. “I left because you were using me.”

“Exactly when was that?” He stood and towered over her. “When you begged me to touch you all over?”

Delaney tugged her skirt down. “Shut up.”

“Or when my head was between your legs?”

“Shut up, Nick.” She yanked the boa free. “You were only out to humiliate me.”

“Bullshit.”

“You used me to get back at Henry.”

He rocked back on his heels and his gaze narrowed. “I never used you. I told you not to worry and that I’d take care of you, but you looked at me like I was some kind of rapist and left with Henry.”

She didn’t believe him. “I never looked at you like you were a rapist, and I would have remembered if you’d said one nice word. But you didn’t.”

“Yes I did, only you chose to leave with the old man. And the way I see it, you owe me.”

She picked up his jacket from the back of the couch and threw it at him. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“You better not be around here on June fourth, otherwise I’m going take what you’ve owed me for ten years.” He shoved his arms into his jacket and walked to the door. “And paybacks are a real bitch, wild thing.”

Delaney stared at the closed door long after she heard his Jeep tear out of the alley. Her body still burned from his touch, and the thought of some sort of sexual payback didn’t sound all that unappealing. She turned back toward the room and picked up Nick’s txapel from the floor. She raised the beret to her nose. It smelled of leather and wool and Nick.