elaney stared at the closed door for several heartbeats. No way was she going to open it again. She’d vowed to stay away from Nick. He was nothing but trouble, and she was pretty sure she had a bad case of bed head. But she did want new locks. “I’ll leave the keys in your office later,” she yelled.

“I’m busy later. It’s now or next week, wild thing.”

She yanked the door open again and glared at the disgustingly handsome man standing there with his hair pulled back and hands in the pockets of his biker’s jacket. “I told you not to call me that!”

“That’s right, you did,” he said, walking past her into the apartment as if he owned the place, bringing the smell of autumn and leather.

Cold air swirled about Delaney’s shins and up her nightshirt, reminding her that she wasn’t dressed for company, but she wasn’t exactly showing anything, either. She shivered and shut the door. “Hey, I didn’t invite you in.”

“But you wanted to,” he said as he unzipped the big silver teeth of his jacket.

Her brows drew together and she shook her head. “No, I didn’t.” Suddenly her apartment seemed so small. He filled it with his size, the scent of his skin, and his massive machismo.

“And now you want to make coffee, too.” He wore a gray and blue plaid flannel. Flannel shirts were obviously a big staple in his wardrobe. And Levi’s. Soft Levi’s, worn at interesting places.

“Are you always this cranky in the morning?” he asked, his gaze scanning the apartment, taking in everything. Her boots lying on the worn beige carpet. The old appliances in the kitchen. The two boxes of tampons on the counter.

“No,” she snapped. “I’m usually very pleasant.”

His gaze returned to her, and he cocked his head to one side. “Bad hair day?”

Delaney put a hand to the side of her head and stifled a groan. “I’ll get the key,” she said as she walked into the kitchen and grabbed her purse. She pulled out her “Names to Take, Butts to Kick” key ring. When she turned around, Nick was so close she jumped back and her behind hit the cabinets. She stared at his hand, thrust toward her. His long blunt fingers, the lines and calluses in his palm. A silver zipper closed his black leather sleeve from elbow to wrist. The aluminum tab lay across the heel his hand.

“Where are the closest outlets to your doors?”

“What?”

“The electrical outlets in your salon.”

She dropped the keys into his palm then squeezed past him. “By the cash register in front, and behind the microwave in the storeroom.” And because he looked liked a breathing fantasy, and she was sure she looked horrible, she snapped, “Don’t touch anything.”

“What do you think I’m going to do?” he called out to her as she practically ran down the hall. “Give myself a perm?”

“I never know what you’re going to do,” she said and shut the bedroom door behind her. She looked in the mirror above her dresser and raised a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she cried. She had bed head all right. The back was flat; the front fuzzy. She had a pillowcase crease on her right cheek, and a black smudge beneath her eye. She’d answered the door looking like one of those blurry eyed people who’d survived a natural disaster. Worse, she’d answered the door looking like crap with Nick standing on the other side.

As soon as Delaney heard her front door close, she ran into the bathroom and took a quick shower. The hot water helped clear her head, and by the time she got out, she was fully awake. She could hear the whine of Nick’s drill coming from the front of her salon, and she went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Whatever his reason, he was actually doing her a favor. He was being nice. She didn’t know why, or how long it would last, but she was grateful and meant to take full advantage.

She dressed in a black ribbed sweater that zipped up the front and had a zebra print collar and cuffs and a matching skirt. She wore calf boots and black tights, fingered mousse in her hair, and dried it with a diffuser. She quickly put on her makeup, then wrapped herself up in her big wool coat, scarf, and gloves. Forty-five minutes after she’d been awakened by Nick’s pounding, she walked down the stairs from her apartment with a thermos under one arm and two steaming mugs of coffee.

The back door to the salon was wide open, and Nick stood with his back to her, his feet wide apart, a tool belt slung low across his hips. He’d pulled on a pair of leather work gloves, and the drill lay silent just inside the salon. A circular hole had been cut in the door, and he was in the process of removing the old handle. He looked up as she approached, his gray eyes touching her everywhere.

“I brought you coffee,” she said and held a mug toward him.

He bit the middle finger of the glove and pulled his hand out. He shoved the glove in the pocket of his jacket and reached for the coffee. “Thanks.” He blew into the mug and looked at her over the steam. “It’s only October, what are you going to do in December when the snow’s up around your little butt?” he asked, then took a drink.

“Freeze to death.” She set the thermos by the door. “But I suppose that’s good news for you.”

“How’s that?”

“Then you inherit my share of Henry’s estate.” She straightened and wrapped her hands around her mug. “Unless of course I’m buried here in Truly without ever leaving town. Then things might get a little dicey. But if you want, you can throw my body outside the city limits.” She thought for a moment, then added a stipulation, “Just don’t let any animals chew on my face. I’d really hate that.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “I don’t want your share.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. How could any sane person not want part of an estate worth serious cash? “You were pretty ticked off the day Henry’s will was read.”

“So were you.”

“Only because he was manipulating me.”

“You haven’t a clue.”

She sipped her coffee. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind.” He set his mug next to the thermos and shoved his hand back inside his glove. “Let’s just say I got exactly what I wanted out of Henry. I got property any builder would cough up a gonad to own, and I got it free and clear.” He fished around in the pouch of his tool belt for a screwdriver.

Not quite free and clear, she thought. Not yet anyway. He had to wait a year just like she did. “So you weren’t angry that you only got two pieces of property, and I got his businesses and money?”

“No.” He removed a screw and tossed it in the box to his right. “You and your mother are welcome to the headache.”

She didn’t know if she believed him. “What does your mother think of Henry’s will?”

His gaze cut to hers then returned to the door handle. “My mother? Why do you care what my mother thinks?” he asked as he removed both knobs and threw them in the box.

“I don’t really, but she looks at me like I mutilated her cat. Sort of furious and disdainful at the same time.”

“She doesn’t have a cat.”

“You know what I mean.”

He used the screwdriver to pry out the latch bolt. “I guess I know what you mean.” He reached for the new part and removed it from its packaging. “What do you expect her to think? I’m her son, and you’re the neska izugarri.”

“What does neska iz—izu, whatever mean?”

He laughed silently. “Don’t take it personal, but it means you’re a horrible girl.”

“Oh.” She took a drink of coffee and looked at her feet. She guessed being called a “horrible girl” wasn’t too bad. “I’ve been called worse, of course usually in English.” She glanced back at Nick and watched him screw the shiny new knobs in place. “I always wanted to be bilingual so I could swear and my mother wouldn’t know it. You’re lucky.”

“I’m not bilingual.”

A chilly breeze picked up the ends of Delaney’s hair and she burrowed deeper inside her coat. “You speak Basque.”

“No I don’t. I understand a few words. That’s about it.”

“Well, Louie does.”

“He knows as much as I do.” Nick bent down and picked up a dead bolt. “We understand a little because my mother speaks Basque with her relatives. She tried to teach us Euskara and Spanish, but we really weren’t interested. Mostly Louie and I know swear words and body parts because we looked them up in her dictionary.” He glanced at Delaney, then shoved the dead bolt through the hole he’d drilled in the door. “The really important stuff,” he added.

“Louie calls Lisa his sweetheart in Basque.”

Nick shrugged. “Then maybe he knows more than I thought he did.”

“He calls her something like alu gozo.”

Nick chuckled deep in his chest and shook his head. “Then he’s not calling her ‘sweetheart.’ ”

Delaney leaned forward and asked, “So, what is he really calling her then?”

“No way am I telling you.” He dug in the pouch of his tool belt for screws then clamped two between his lips.

She fought an urge to punch him. “Come on. You can’t leave me hanging.”

“You’d tell Lisa,” he muttered around the screws, “and get me in trouble with Louie.”

“I won’t tell—pleeaase,” she wheedled.

A chirping from the vicinity of Nick’s chest stopped her pleas. He spit out the screws and bit the middle finger of his glove again. Then he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a slim cell phone. “Yeah, it’s Nick,” he answered and shoved his glove into his pocket. He listened for a minute, then rolled his eyes skyward. “So when can he get out there?” He wedged the phone between his shoulder and ear and continued securing the dead bolt. “That’s too damn late. If he doesn’t want to sub with us, he needs to say so, otherwise he better get his ass, and his PVC, on the job no later than Thursday. We’ve been lucky so far with the weather, and I don’t want to push it.” He talked of square feet and board feet and Delaney didn’t understand any of it. He fastened the strike plate to the door frame then shoved the screwdriver into his tool belt one last time. “Call Ann Marie, and she’ll give you the numbers on that. It was either eighty or eighty-five thousand, I’m not sure.” He pressed the off button on the cell phone, then slipped it back beneath his jacket. He dug around in the front pocket of his jeans, then handed her a set of keys. “Try it,” he ordered as he stepped into the salon and slid the latch bolts into place.

When she did as he requested, both locks opened easily. She retrieved Nick’s coffee mug and the thermos from the ground and entered the back of the shop. With her hands full, she kicked the door shut and walked into the storage room. Nick’s tool belt and jacket sat on the counter next to the microwave. His drill lay on the floor still plugged into the socket, but he was nowhere to be seen.

From behind the closed bathroom door, she heard the toilet flush as she shucked out of her coat and gloves. She hung them on the coat rack by the door, then grabbed a fresh cup of coffee for herself and hurried to the front of the salon. For some weird reason, standing across the hall while Nick used her bathroom made her feel like a voyeur, like the time she’d hidden behind a display of sunglasses at the Value Rite and watched him buy a box of a dozen—large, ribbed for her pleasure— condoms. He’d been about seventeen.

Delaney opened her appointment book and stared at the blank page. She’d had her share of boyfriends, and they’d certainly used her bathroom. But for a reason she couldn’t explain to herself, it was different with Nick. More personal... almost intimate. As if he were her lover instead of the guy who’d provoked her most of her life, then used her to get back at Henry.

She heard the door to the bathroom open, and she took a long sip of coffee.

“Did you try the front door?” he asked, the heels of his boots thudding on her linoleum as he walked toward her.

“Not yet.” She glanced over her shoulder at him and watched his approach. “Thanks for the new locks. How much do I owe you?”

“It works. I already checked it for you,” he said instead of answering her question. He stopped beside her, then leaned his hip into the counter next to her right elbow. “That was on the floor when I changed the front lock,” he said and pointed to an envelope lying on the top of the cash register. “Someone must have slipped it beneath your door.”

Her name was the only thing typed on the white paper, and she figured it was probably some kind of notice for a downtown business association meeting or something equally exciting.

“Your cheeks are red.”

“It’s a little cold in here,” she said, but wasn’t sure temperature had anything to do with it.

“You’re not going to last the winter.” He wrapped his hands around her coffee mug for a few seconds, then cupped her cheeks in his palms. “Any other parts you need warmed up?”

Uh-oh. “No.”

“Sure?” The tips of his fingers brushed her hair behind her ears. “I’ll warm you up real good.” His thumb slipped over her chin, then fanned her lower lip. “Wild thing.”

She made a fist and punched him in the stomach.

Instead of becoming angry, he laughed and dropped his hands to his sides. “You used to be more fun.”

“When was that?”

“When you used to get all wide-eyed and mad and look like you wanted to hit me but were such a little goody-goody you never would. Your jaw would get all clenched and your lips puckered. In grade school, all I had to do was look at you, and you’d run away.”

“That’s because you practically knocked me unconscious with a snowball.”

A frown creased his brow and he straightened. “That snowball thing was an accident.”

“Really, which part? When you accidentally packed snow into a hard ball, or when you accidentally threw it at me?”

“I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”

“Why did you hit me at all?”

He thought a moment then said, “You were there.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s brilliant, Nick.”

“It’s the truth.”

“I’ll have to remember that next time I see you in a crosswalk and my foot gets a little itch to mow you down.”

His smile showed his straight white teeth. “You’ve become a regular smart ass since you’ve been away.”

“I’ve become my own person.”

“I think I like it.”

“Gee, I guess I can die happy.”

“Kind of makes me wonder what else is different.” He reached out and flipped up the tab of her zipper. The cool metal hit her collarbone and rested against her skin.

Delaney took a shallow breath but refused to look away. He raised his gaze from her throat, and she looked up into his eyes. Within the space of a second, he’d gone from being a somewhat regular guy to the ornery boy she’d grown up with. She’d seen that silvery glint too many times not to know he was about to stomp his foot and yell boo and make her run like crazy. Make her think he was going to throw a worm on her, or something equally hideous. She refused to let him intimidate her. She’d always let him win, and she stood her ground now for all those times she’d lost. “I’m not the same girl you used to antagonize all the time. I’m not afraid of you.”

He lifted one black brow up his tan forehead. “No?”

“No.”

His gaze locked with hers as he reached for the metal tab of her zipper again. He slowly eased it half an inch down its silent track. “Are you afraid now?”

Her hands clenched at her sides. He was testing her. He was trying to make her flinch first. She shook her head.

The tab moved down another few teeth then stopped. “Now?”

“No. You’ll never scare me. I know what you are.”

“Uh-huh.” The zipper slid another inch, and the heavy zebra collar fell open. “Tell me what you think you know.”

“You’re full of bull. You’re not going to hurt me. Right now you want me to think you’re going to strip me naked while people walk by my big window. I’m supposed to get all uptight, and then you can go away and have a really big laugh. But guess what?”

He pulled the tab to the gold satin rose that closed the front of her bra. “What?”

She took a big breath and called his bluff. “You won’t do it.”

Zzziiiiip.

Delaney’s mouth fell open, and she looked down at the front of her sweater. The black ribbed cotton lay undone, the edges gaping an inch apart, revealing her leopard print bra and the inside swells of her breasts. Then before Delaney knew how it happened, she found herself picked up and plopped back down on top her appointment book. The soft fabric of his jeans brushed her knees, and the green Formica top felt cool beneath her thighs. “What do you think you’re doing?” she gasped as she clutched the front of her sweater.

“Shh...” He touched his finger to her lips. His gaze was pinned to the big window ten feet behind Delaney. “The owner of the bookstore is walking by. You don’t want him to hear you and press his nose against the glass, do you?”

Delaney glanced over her shoulder, but the sidewalk was empty. “Let me down,” she demanded.

“Are you afraid now?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe you. You look like you’re about ready to jump out of your skin.”

“I’m not afraid. I’m just too smart to play your games.”

“We haven’t started to play yet.”

But they had, and he was one man she didn’t want to play with. He was far too dangerous and she found him far too alluring. “Do you get some sort of warped thrill out of this?”

A slow sensual smile curved his lips. “Absolutely. That leopard bra you’ve got on is pretty wild.”

Delaney let go of the front of the sweater long enough to zip it up again. Once it was closed she relaxed a little. “Well, don’t get excited. I know I’m not.”

His deep quiet laughter surrounded her. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

His gaze drifted to her mouth. “I guess I’ll have to see what I can do about that.”

“It wasn’t a challenge.”

“It was a challenge, Delaney.” He brushed his knuckles across her cheek, and her breathing became a little shallow. “A man knows when he’s being challenged by a woman.”

“I take it back.” She wrapped her hand around his wrist.

He shook his head. “You can’t. You already put it out there.”

“Oh, no.” Delaney lowered her gaze to his strong stubborn chin. Someplace safe, away from his hypnotic eyes. “No. I never put out anything.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re so uptight. You need to get laid.”

Her gaze snapped to his and she forced his hand from her cheek. “I don’t need to get laid. I get laid all the time,” she lied.

He slanted her a doubtful look.

“I do!”

He lowered his face to hers. “Then maybe you need someone who knows what he’s doing.”

“Are you offering your services?”

His mouth lightly brushed hers as he shook his head. “No.”

Delaney’s breath got stuck in her throat. “Then why are you doing this to me?”

“It feels good,” he said barely above a whisper and placed soft kisses at the corner of her lips. “Tastes good, too. You always tasted good, Delaney.” He brushed his lips against hers. “All over,” he said and opened his mouth wide over hers. His head tilted to one side and in an instant everything changed. The kiss turned hot and wet like he was sucking the juice from a peach. He ate at her mouth and demanded she feed him in turn. He sucked her tongue into his mouth. The inside of his mouth was warm and slick, and she felt her bones melt. She was helpless to stop him now. She let herself go and kissed him, matching his hunger. He was so good. So good at making her feel like this. Making her more than happy to do things she had no intention of doing. Making her breathless. Making her skin itchy and tight.

His hands moved to her knees and he pushed them apart. She felt the brush of his Levi’s as he stepped between her thighs, felt his grasp on her wrists as he lifted her hands to his shoulders. One of his hands cupped her breast and she moaned deep in her throat. Her stomach clinched and her nipple tightened. Through her sweater and satin bra, she felt the heat of his palm. She arched toward him, wanting more. Her hands slid across his wide shoulders to the sides of his head. Her thumbs brushed his jaw, and she slipped her palms down the sides of his neck. She felt the heavy thumping of his pulse and uneven pull of air into his lungs, and pure female satisfaction poured through her. Her fingers moved to the front of his shirt and went to work on the buttons. Ten years ago he’d seen almost every inch of her naked body, and she hadn’t gotten even a glimpse of his chest. She opened the flannel to satisfy an old curiosity. Then she pulled back from the kiss for a good look at him and wasn’t disappointed. He had the kind of chest that inspired women to shove money down his pants. Dark brown nipples and corrugated muscles, taut skin and black hair that trailed down his flat stomach, circled his navel, then disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. Her eyes lowered to the front of his pants and the thick bulge beneath his button fly. She raised her gaze to his face. He looked back at her from beneath lowered lids, his mouth still wet from their kiss. Her hands slipped across his chest, and her fingers made furrows in his soft hair. Beneath her touch, his muscles bunched.

“Be still a minute,” he said, his voice all husky, like he’d just gotten out of bed. “Unless you want the blue-haired lady at the door to know what we’re doing.”

She froze. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. It looks like my first grade teacher, Mrs. Vaughn.”

“Laverne!” she whispered loudly and looked over her shoulder. “What’s she want?”

“Maybe a haircut,” he said and brushed his thumbs across her nipples.

“Stop that.” She turned back and slapped his hands aside. “I can’t believe I let this happen to me again. Is she still there?”

“Yep.”

“Can she see us, do you think?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What’s she doing?”

“Staring at me.”

“I can’t believe this. Just last night my mother bitched me out for my scandalous behavior with you at Hennesey’s.” She shook her head. “Now this. Laverne will tell everyone.”

“Probably.”

She looked up at him, still standing between her thighs. “Don’t you care?”

“Exactly what am I supposed to care about? That we were just getting to the fun stuff? That my hand was on your breasts, and your hands were all over my chest, and both of us were having a good time? Damn right I care about that. I wasn’t finished. But don’t expect me to care that a little old lady looked in the window and watched. Why should I care what people are going to say about that? People have talked about me since the day I was born. I stopped caring a long time ago.”

Delaney pushed at his shoulders until he took a step backward. With desire still pulsating along her nerves, she jumped down from the counter and turned around in time to see Mrs. Vaughn totter away in a pink housecoat and support hose. “People in this town already think we’re sleeping together. And you should care since you stand to lose the property Henry left you.”

“How’s that? The last time I checked, at some point during sex, someone gets off. Otherwise it’s nothing more than a grope.”

Delaney groaned and put her head in her hands. “I don’t belong here. I hate this town. I hate everything about it. I can’t wait to leave. I want my life back.”

“Look on the bright side,” he said, and she heard the thud of his boot as he made his way toward the back. “When you leave, you’ll leave a wealthy woman. You sold out for Henry’s money, but I’m sure you’ll think it’s worth it in the end.”

She looked up at him. “You’re a hypocrite. You agreed to your part of the will, too.”

He walked into her storage room and popped back out a few seconds later. “True, but there’s a difference.” With his shirt still unbuttoned, he shrugged into his leather jacket. “That particular stipulation is no hardship for me.”

“Then why were you trying to take off my sweater?”

He bent down and picked up his drill. “Because you let me. Don’t take it personally, but you could have been anyone.”

His words hit her like a punch in the stomach. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying or screaming or both. “I hate you,” she said barely above a whisper, but he heard her.

“Sure you do, wild thing,” he said as he wrapped the cord around the drill.

“You should grow up and became an adult, Nick. Grown-up men don’t have to grope women just to see if they can. Real men don’t look at women as sexual playthings anymore.”

He stared at her across the distance that separated them. “If you believe that, then you’re the same silly naive girl you always were.” He yanked the back door open. “Maybe you should take your own advice,” he said, then closed the door behind him.

“Grow up, Nick!” she yelled after him. “And... and... get a haircut.” She didn’t know why she added the last part. Perhaps because she wanted to hurt him, which was ridiculous. The man had no feelings. She turned around and stared at her blank appointment book. Her life was going from crap to downright shitty. Two hours, she thought. She’d give the gossip two hours to reach her mother, and then only because it would take Laverne an hour to get to her car.

Angry tears blurred Delaney’s vision and her gaze fell to the envelope on top of the cash register. She tore it open. A page fell out with three bold words typed in the center. I’M WATCHING YOU, it said. Delaney crumpled the paper and threw it across the salon. Great! That was all she needed. Helen the psycho woman watching her and slipping notes under her door.