he holiday parade kicked off the Truly Winter Festival and started a scandal that would last for decades when the man chosen to play Santa, Marty Wheeler, got so wasted he took a header out of the sleigh and knocked himself unconscious. Marty was short, as stocky as a pug dog, and as hairy as a primate. He overhauled engines at the Chevron on Sixth and was an instructor at the kung fu dojo—a real man’s man. The fact that Marty got tanked before and during the parade shocked no one. His choice of underwear, however, left the crowd speechless. When the paramedics opened his Santa suit and revealed his bright pink merry widow, everyone was stunned. Everyone but Wannetta Van Damme, who’d always figured the forty-three-year-old bachelor was “a mite queer.”

Delaney was almost sorry she’d missed seeing Marty in his underwear, but she’d been busy at the Grange hall decorating for the fashion show. She helped decorate the stage with silver stars and tinsel and the runway with pine boughs and Christmas lights. Backstage, she set up lighted mirrors and chairs. She brought gel and mousse, big cans of hair spray and little sprigs of holly. She figured the people of Truly weren’t ready for anything as extreme as style show hair. No rose bushes or bird’s nests for these ladies. She brought pictures of braids and twists and ponytails she could arrange in ten to fifteen minutes per head.

The show was set to start at seven, and by six-thirty, Delaney was deep into her work. She braided hair into ropes and knots, turned them inside out and upside down. She twisted and tucked and rolled and listened to the latest dish, secretly relieved Marty had taken her place on the menu.

“One of the nurses at the hospital told Patsy Thomason who told me that Marty had on one of those lace thongs, too,” the mayor’s wife, Lillie Tanasee, informed Delaney as she braided a coronet in the woman’s auburn hair. Lillie had decked herself and her young daughter out in matching red and green taffeta. “Patsy said the merry widow and panties were from Victoria’s Secret. Can you imagine anything so tawdry?”

Delaney had worked with many gay hairdressers over the years, but she’d never met a cross dresser—not that she knew, anyway. “At least he isn’t cheap. I don’t mind tawdry as much as I mind cheap.”

“My husband bought me one of those nylon crotchless numbers,” confessed a woman waiting her turn in the chair. She covered the ears of the little girl dressed as an elf standing next to her. “It was three sizes too small and so cheap I felt like a low-rent prostitute.”

Delaney shook her head as she wove a few holly berries into Lillie’s hair. “Nothing like cheap lingerie to make a woman feel like a hooker.” She grabbed a tall can and sprayed down Lillie’s head. The mayor’s daughter Misty jumped into the chair next, and Delaney styled her hair to replicate her mother’s. Several women who’d done their own hair stood away from the others; Benita Allegrezza was one of them. Out of the corner of her eye, Delaney watched Nick’s mother speak with a group of her friends. She figured Benita was in her mid-fifties, but looked a good ten years older. She wondered if it was genes or bitterness that had etched the lines in her forehead and around her mouth. She glanced around for her mother and wasn’t surprised when she spied her in the middle of the action, her hair already perfect. Helen was nowhere to be seen, but Delaney wasn’t surprised by her absence.

Those who chose to sit in Delaney’s chair ranged in age and style of dress. Some wore elegant velvets, others elaborate costumes. Delaney’s favorite was a young mother dressed as Mrs. Winter and her toddler in a snowflake costume. She got her biggest surprise when Lisa arrived impersonating a sugarplum and wanting her hair braided in a French rope. Delaney had talked to her friend several times since she’d returned from her honeymoon a few weeks past. They’d had lunch a couple of times, but Lisa hadn’t mentioned she planned to participate. “When did you decide to be in the show?”

“Last weekend. I thought it might be nice for me and Sophie to do something together.”

Delaney looked around. “Where is Sophie?” For a brief moment she wondered if Lisa knew about the notes Sophie had been leaving, but she supposed Lisa would have mentioned it by now.

“Changing. She was helping Louie and Nick work on their ice sculpture. When I picked her up from Larkspur Park, she wasn’t wearing a hat and her coat was unzipped. It’ll be a miracle if she isn’t sick tomorrow.”

“What is she changing into?”

“A nightgown we made. We were inspired by ‘The Night Before Christmas.’ ”

“How do you get along with Sophie now that you live with her?” Delaney asked as she gathered a handful of Lisa’s hair and divided it into three sections at the crown of her head.

“It’s a pretty big adjustment for both of us. I like her to eat at the kitchen table, and she’s been allowed to graze like a free-range chicken all of her life. Just little stuff like that. If she weren’t thirteen it might be easier.” Lisa looked in the mirror and adjusted the felt leaves around her neck. “Louie and I want a baby, but we think we should wait until Sophie gets used to having me around before we bring another child into the family.”

A baby. She used all her fingers as she braided and twisted Lisa’s hair down the back. Lisa and Louie were planning a family. Delaney didn’t even have a boyfriend, and when she thought of a man in her life, there was only one who entered her head—Nick. She thought about him a lot lately. Even while she slept. She’d had another bad dream the other night, only this time the days progressed and her car hadn’t disappeared. She’d been free to leave Truly, but the thought of never seeing Nick again tore at her heart. She didn’t know which was worse, living in the same town and ignoring him, or not living in the same town and not forcing herself to ignore him. She was confused and pathetic and thought maybe she should just give into the inevitable and buy a cat. “I suppose you heard about Marty Wheeler,” she said in an effort to divert her thoughts.

“Of course. I wonder what makes a man want to slip on a merry widow under his Santa suit. You know, those things are really uncomfortable.”

“Did you hear about the lace thong?” Delaney grabbed an elastic band and secured the end of the French rope. Then she tucked it under with a bobby pin.

Lisa stood and straightened her costume. “Go figure. Can you imagine the wedgie?”

“It hurts just to think about it.” She caught sight of Sophie standing a few feet away, trying not to look embarrassed and guilty in her long nightgown and the kerchief on her head. “Do you want me to braid your hair?” she asked the thirteen-year-old.

Sophie shook her head and looked away. “It’s almost our turn, Lisa.”

After Lisa left to take her stroll down the catwalk, Delaney rolled Neva Miller’s hair in an inverted pony tail, then gave her four daughters upside-down braids. Neva talked nonstop about her church, her husband Pastor Tim, and the Lord. Her mouth took on that born again, Jesus-loves-me-more-than-you smile, tempting Delaney to ask Neva if she remembered blowing the football team during halftime.

“You should come to our church tomorrow,” Neva said as she herded her girls toward the stage. “We meet from nine till noon.”

Delaney would rather burn in hell for eternity. She packed up her remaining supplies and went in search of her mother. She wouldn’t see Gwen until after the new year, and she wanted to say goodbye and wish her a nice trip. For years she’d spent the holidays with friends who took pity on her and invited her over for Christmas dinner. This year she’d be completely alone, and she realized as she hugged her mother and promised to look after Duke and Dolores that she really did want to spend Christmas at home like she used to. Especially now that Max was in the picture. The lawyer seemed to be able to distract her mother from criticizing everything in Delaney’s life.

Snow fell on her head as she loaded everything into Henry’s Cadillac. She didn’t have her gloves and her hands froze as she scraped windows. She was exhausted and her shoulders ached, and she hooked the corner behind her salon a little too fast. The Caddie slid sideways into the parking lot and finally stopped with the rear fender blocking the door to Allegrezza Construction. Delaney figured the brothers wouldn’t be working the next day, and she was too tired to care anyway. She changed into a nightshirt and crawled into bed. It seemed to her as if she hadn’t slept long before someone pounded on her door. She squinted at the clock on her bedside table as the pounding continued. It was nine-thirty Sunday morning, and she didn’t have to actually see Nick to know who stood on her porch beating down the door. She grabbed her red silk robe but didn’t bother to wash her face or brush her hair. She figured he deserved to be scared for waking her up so early on her day off.

“What in the hell is wrong with you?” were the first words out of his mouth as he stormed into her apartment looking like the wrath of God.

“Me? I’m not the one pounding down your door like a lunatic.”

He folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head to the side. “Do you plan to slide your way through town all winter, or just until you kill yourself?”

“Don’t tell me you’re worried.” She tied the silk belt securely around her waist, then walked past him toward the kitchen. “That might mean you actually care about me.”

He wrapped his hand around her upper arm and stopped her. “There are certain parts of your body I care about.”

She looked into his face, at his lips compressed into a straight line, the slash of his brow, and the desire raging in his eyes. He was angrier than she’d ever seen him, but he couldn’t hide wanting her. “If you want me, you know my terms. No other women.”

“Yeah, and we both know it would take me about two minutes to get you to change your mind.”

She’d learned months ago that if she argued he’d take it as a challenge just to prove her wrong. She wanted to believe she could resist temptation, but deep down she feared he’d have a minute and thirty seconds to spare. She twisted from his grasp and walked into the kitchen.

“Give me the keys to Henry’s car,” he called after her.

“Why?” She pulled the reservoir from her coffee maker and filled it with water. “What are you going to do, steal it?”

The slam of the front door answered her. She set the reservoir on the counter and walked into the living room. Her purse was dumped out on the coffee table and she had a feeling her keys were missing. She ran out onto her porch, and her feet sunk in snow at the edge of the first step. “Hey,” she called down to the top of his head, “what do you think you’re doing? Give me my keys back, you jerk!”

His laughter drifted up to her. “Come on down here and take ‘em.”

There were several good reasons she could think of to walk barefoot in the snow. A burning building, rat infestation, a slice of chocolate cheese cake, but Henry’s Cadillac wasn’t one of them.

Nick jumped into the silver car and fired it up. He scraped a portion of the windshield, and then he was gone. By the time he got back an hour later, Delaney was fully dressed and waiting for him at her front door.

“You’re lucky I didn’t call the sheriff,” she told him as he walked up the stairs toward her.

He took her hand and dropped the keys in her palm. His eyes were on the same level as hers, and his mouth inches from her lips. “Slow down.”

Slow down? Her heart raced and her breath caught in her throat as she waited for him to kiss her. He was so close, if she leaned forward just a little...

“Slow down before you kill yourself,” he said, then turned and headed back down the stairs.

Disappointment slowed her racing heart to a distressing thud. Over the side of the rail, she watched him walk into his office, then she moved to the Cadillac parked below. She peered through the windows at the cans of hair spray and gel she’d thrown in the back the night before. No dents. No dings. The car looked the same as it always had— except it now had four studded snow tires, so new they shone.

Monday morning started slowly enough that Delaney could hang Christmas lights on the little tree she’d bought for the reception area. It was only three feet tall, but it filled the salon with the scent of pine. By noon business had picked up and remained steady until she closed at five thirty. The judging for the ice sculptures would begin in Larkspur Park at six, and she hurried and changed into jeans, her beige cotton sweater with the American flag on the front, and her Doc Marten’s. She wasn’t so much interested in the ice sculptures as she was in finding a certain Basque man who’d changed the tires on Henry’s car yesterday.

By the time she arrived at Larkspur, the parking lot was nearly filled and the judging was under way. The sun had set and the park lights shone on the wonderland of towering crystal shapes. Delaney walked past a ten-foot Beauty and the Beast, a burly mountain man with his pack mule, and Puff the Magic Dragon. Exquisite detail had been given to each sculpture, bringing them to life in the black night and bright lights. She moved through the crowd past Dorothy and Toto, a huge duck, and a cow the size of a mini-van. The crisp air chilled her ears, and she shoved her bare hands into the pockets of her wool coat. She found the Allegrezza Construction entry at the far west end, surrounded by people and judges. Nick and Louie had sculpted a gingerbread house complete with ice gumdrops and candy canes. The house was big enough to walk through, but was roped off until after the judges made their decision. Delaney looked around for Nick and saw him standing to one side with his brother. He wore a black North Face parka with a white lining, jeans, and work boots. Gail Oliver stood next to him, her arm threaded through his. A hot lump of jealousy churned in Delaney’s stomach, and she might have lost her nerve and walked past if he hadn’t glanced up, locking his gaze on her.

She forced herself to move toward him but spoke to Louie because it was easier. “Is Lisa around here somewhere?”

“She and Sophie went to the bathroom,” Louie answered, his brown eyes moving from Delaney to Nick, then back again. “Stick around though, she’ll be right back.”

“Actually I wanted to talk to Nick.” She turned and looked up at the man responsible for the chaotic feelings colliding in her heart. She stared into his face, and she knew she’d somehow fallen madly in love with the boy who used to fascinate and torment her at the same time. They were both adults now, but nothing had changed. He’d just found new and better ways of torturing her. “If you have a minute, I need to talk to you.”

Without a word he disengaged himself from Gail and moved toward her. “What’s up, wild thing?”

She glanced at the people around them, then looked into his face. His cheeks were red and she could see his breath against the darkness. “I wanted to thank you for the snow tires. I watched for you today, but you didn’t go to your office. So I thought I might find you here.” She rocked back on her heel and looked down at the toes of her boots. “Why did you do it?”

“What?”

“Put snow tires on Henry’s car. No man has ever given me tires.” Nervous laughter escaped her lips. “It was a really nice thing to do.”

“I’m a really nice guy.”

One corner of her mouth lifted. “No, you’re not.” She shook her head and lifted her gaze to his. “You’re rude and overbearing most of the time.”

His smile showed his white teeth and creased the corners of his eyes. “What am I when I’m not rude and overbearing?”

She made a fist and blew her breath into her cold hand. “Conceited.”

“And?” He reached out and sandwiched her fingers between his warm palms.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Gail moving toward them. “And I can see that I’ve come at a bad time.” She pulled her hand free and shoved it into her pocket. “I’ll talk to you some other time when you’re not busy.”

“I’m not busy right now,” he said just as Gail came to stand next to him.

“Hi, Delaney.”

“Gail.”

“I couldn’t make it to the fashion show Saturday night.” Gail glanced up at Nick and smiled. “I had something else going on, but I heard you did a real good job with the hair this year.”

“I think everyone had a nice time.” Delaney took a step backward. Jealousy twisted like a hot knife in her gut, and she needed to get away from Nick and Gail and the sight of them together. “See ya around.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I have to check in on Duke and Dolores,” she answered, sounding pitiful to her own ears. “Then I’m meeting some friends,” she added the lie to salvage her pride and lifted her hand in an abbreviated wave, then turned to leave.

In three long strides Nick caught up to her. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“You don’t have to.” She looked up at him, then over her shoulder at Gail, who stared after them as they moved toward the parking lot. “You’ll make your date mad.”

“Gail isn’t my date, and you don’t need to worry about her.” He took Delaney’s hand in his and slid it into his coat pocket. “Why do you have to check on Henry’s dogs?”

They walked by an ice genie sitting on his lamp. She didn’t know if she believed him about Gail, but decided to let the subject drop for now. “My mother left town with Max Harrison.” He wove his fingers through hers and hot tingles spread to her wrist. “They’re going to celebrate their Christmas on one of those love boats.”

Nick slowed as they moved around a crowd gathered in front of the genie. “What about your Christmas?”

The tingles swept to her elbow and further up her arm. “We’ll celebrate when she gets back. No big deal. I’m used to being alone during the holidays. I haven’t had a real Christmas since I left town anyway.”

He didn’t say anything for a few moments as they walked from beneath a park light and through a patch of night. “Sounds lonely.”

“Not really. I usually found someone who took pity on me. And besides, it was always my choice to stay away. I could have come back and apologized for being such a disappointment and pretended to be the daughter my parents wanted, but a few presents and a yule log weren’t worth my pride or my freedom.” She shrugged and purposely changed the subject. “You never did answer my question.”

“What was that?”

“The tires. Why did you do it?”

“No one was safe with you driving that big boat of Henry’s. It was only a matter of time before you took out a couple of kids.”

She looked up at him, at his dark profile. “Liar.”

“Believe what you want,” he said, refusing to admit he might care for her.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Consider them a Christmas present.”

They stepped off the curb into the parking lot and walked between a Bronco and a van. “I don’t have anything to give you.”

“Yes, you do.” He stopped and raised her hand to this mouth. He brushed his lips across her knuckles. “When I’m not rude and overbearing and conceited... what am I?”

She couldn’t see his features clearly through the darkness, but she didn’t need to see his eyes to know he stared at her over the back of her hand. She could feel his gaze just as surely as she could feel his touch. “You’re...” She could feel herself melt, right there in the parking lot with her toes frozen and the temperature below zero. She wanted to be with him. “You’re the man I think about all the time.” She pulled her hand free and raised onto the balls of her feet. “I think about your handsome face, wide shoulders, and your lips.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed into him. He ran his hand up and down her back, holding her close. Her heart pounded in her ears and she buried her cold nose just below his ear. “Then I think about licking you.”

His hands stilled.

“All over.” She touched the tip of her tongue to the side of his throat.

“Jesus, Joseph, and Mary,” he groaned. “When do you have to meet your friends?”

“What friends?”

“You said you were meeting friends tonight.”

“Oh, yeah.” She’d forgotten about her lie. “It’s not important. They won’t miss me if I don’t show up.”

He pulled back to look at her. “What about the dogs?”

“I really do have to let them out for a while. What about Gail?”

“I told you not to worry about her.”

“Are you seeing her?”

“I see her.”

“Are you having sex with her?”

She could see the dark corners of his mouth pull into a frown. “No.”

Delaney’s heart swelled, and she planted her mouth on his, devouring him with a hot kiss that left them both breathless. “Come with me.”

“To Henry’s?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, and she couldn’t tell what he might be thinking. “I’ll meet you there,” he finally said. “I need to talk to Louie, then swing by the drugstore.”

She didn’t have to ask why. He pressed his lips to hers, then he was gone. She watched him walk away, his long, confident strides carrying him back into the park.

On the drive to her mother’s, she tried to tell herself that Nick was hers for tonight, and nothing else mattered. She felt the slight vibration of the metal studs digging into snow and striking pavement and told herself that tonight was enough, and she tried to believe it.

When she opened the front door of her mother’s house, Duke and Dolores greeted her with wagging tails and wet tongues. She let them out and stood on the sidewalk as they jumped into snow up to their bellies, two brown dogs in a thick blanket of white. She’d remembered her gloves this time and packed a few snowballs for Duke to catch in his mouth.

Maybe she could convince Nick she was enough for him. She wanted to believe he wasn’t involved with anyone else. She wanted to believe him when he’d said he wasn’t having sex with Gail, but she couldn’t trust him completely. She tossed a snowball to Dolores. It hit the dog’s side and the Weimaraner looked around without a clue. Delaney knew there was more between them than sex, and Nick had to know it, too. She could see it in his eyes when he looked at her. It was hot and intense, and after tonight, maybe he would want only her.

I can’t be faithful to one woman, and you haven’t said anything to make me want to try.

He wanted her. She wanted him. He didn’t love her. She loved him so much she ached. Her feelings hadn’t happened like a slow blissful glide through the tunnel of love. As with everything else involving Nick, loving him had blindsided her, smacked her for a loop and left her stunned. And so confused she felt like laughing and crying and maybe lying down and not getting back up until she had it all worked out in her head.

As she made another snowball, she heard the Jeep’s engine before she saw the headlights pulling into the drive. The four-wheel drive stopped beneath a pool of light in front of the garage, and Duke and Dolores bounded across the yard to the driver’s side, barking like mad. The door swung open and Nick stepped out. “Hey, dogs.” He bent to scratch them behind their ears before he looked up. “Hey, wild thing.”

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

He glanced back down at Duke and Dolores. “No.”

Delaney threw the snowball and nailed the top of his head. The light snow disintegrated on impact and powdered his dark hair and the shoulders of his black parka. Slowly he straightened, then shook his head, showering the night with white flakes. “I would think you’d know better than to get into a snowball fight with me.”

“What are you going to do, give me a black eye?”

“Nope.” He moved toward her up the sidewalk, the heels of his boots sounding ominous in the still air.

She reached for more snow and packed it lightly in her gloved hands. “If you try anything funny, you’ll be really sorry.”

“You got me scared, wild thing.”

She threw the snowball and it exploded across his chest. “I owed you that.” She took a step backward into the yard and sank in white powder up to her knees.

“You owe me a lot.” He grabbed her upper arms and lifted her until the toes of her Doc Marten’s hardly touched the ground. “By the time I’m finished collecting from you, you’re not going to able to walk for a week.”

“You got me scared,” she drawled. He looked at her through lowered lids, and she thought he would pull her against the length of his body and kiss her. He didn’t. He tossed her backward. A startled squeal escaped her lips as she flew a few feet and fell spread-eagle in the snow. It was like landing on a down pillow, and she lay there stunned, staring up at the black sky crammed full of gleaming stars. Duke and Dolores barked, jumped on top of her, and licked her face. Over the heavy panting of excited dogs, she heard the sound of deep rich laughter. She pushed the dogs away and sat up. “Jerk.” She dug snow out of the back of her collar and the top of her gloves. “Help me up.” She held up a hand and waited until he’d pulled her to her feet before she used all her weight and dragged him with her to the ground. He landed on top of her with an oomph. Bemusement creased his brow as if he couldn’t quite believe what had happened.

She tried to draw a deep breath and couldn’t. “You’re kind of heavy.”

He rolled to his back, taking her with him, which was exactly where she wanted to be. Her legs rested beside his, and she grabbed his collar in both her fists. “Say uncle and I won’t have to hurt you.”

He looked up at her as if she were crazy. “To a girl? Not in this life.”

The dogs jumped over them as if they were hurdles, and she picked up a handful of snow and dropped it on his face. “Come and look at this, Duke. It’s Frosty the Basque Snowman.”

With his bare hand, he brushed the white flakes from his tan skin and licked them from his lips. “I’m going to have a real good time making you pay for this.”

She lowered her face and slipped the tip of her tongue across his bottom lip. “Let me do that for you.” She felt his response in the catch in his breath and the tight grasp on her arms. She kissed his hot mouth and sucked his tongue. When she was finished, she sat up across his hips, her wool coat fanned out around them. Through her jeans she felt his full arousal pushing into her, long and hard and blatant. “Is that an icicle in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?”

“Icicle?” He slid his hands beneath her coat and up her thighs. “Icicles are cold. You’re sitting on twelve hot inches.”

She lifted her eyes to the night sky. “Twelve inches.” He was big, but he wasn’t that big.

“It’s a known fact.”

Delaney laughed and rolled off him. He might be right about that hot part, though. He certainly knew how to set her on fire.

“My ass is frozen.” He sat up and Duke and Dolores jumped on him. “Hey, now,” he said as he pushed them away and helped Delaney to her feet. She brushed the snow off his parka; he brushed it out of her hair. On the porch they stomped their feet, then went inside. Delaney took his coat and hung it on the rack by the front door. As he looked around, she took the opportunity to study him. He wore a flannel shirt, of course. Solid red flannel tucked inside his faded Levi’s.

“Have you ever been in here before?”

“Once.” He returned his gaze to hers. “The day Henry’s will was read.”

“Oh, yeah.” She glanced about, trying to see the foyer through new eyes, as if she’d never stood there before. It was a typical Victorian. White paint and wallpaper, dark wood and wainscoting, thick handwoven rugs from Persia, antique grandfather clock. Everything was rich and somewhat oppressive, and they were both aware that if Henry had been interested in being a father, Nick would have grown up in the huge house. She wondered if he considered himself lucky.

They took off their wet, frozen boots by the door, and she suggested he build a fire in the parlor while she moved to the kitchen and made Irish coffee. When she returned ten minutes later, she found him standing before the traditional hearth, staring at the portrait of Henry’s mother hanging above the mantel. There was only a slight resemblance between Alva Morgan Shaw and her only grandson. Nick looked out of place among his ancestral trappings. His own home suited him much better, exposed beams and river rock and soft flannel sheets.

“What do you think?” she asked as she set a glass tray on the sideboard.

“About what?”

She pointed to the picture of Henry’s mother, who’d relocated to the capital city long before Delaney’s arrival in Truly. Henry had taken Gwen and Delaney to visit the old woman several times a year until she’d died in 1980, and as far as Delaney could remember, the portrait was quite flattering. Alva had been a tall skinny woman with bony features like a stork, and Delaney recalled her smelling of stale tobacco and Aqua-Net. “Your grandmother.”

Nick cocked his head to one side. “I think I’m glad I favor my mother’s side, and you’re lucky you were adopted.”

“Don’t hold back.” Delaney laughed. “Tell me what you really think.”

Nick turned to look at her and wondered what she would do if he told her. He ran his gaze over her blond hair and big brown eyes, the arch of her brow and her pink lips. He’d been thinking about a lot of things lately, things that would never happen, things it was best not to think about. Things like waking up with Delaney every morning for the rest of his life and watching her hair turn gray. “I’m thinking the old man is pretty happy with himself just about now.”

She handed him a mug, then raised her own and blew into it. “How do you figure that?”

He took a mouthful of the coffee and felt the whiskey burn clear to his stomach. He liked the feeling. It reminded him of her.

“Henry didn’t want us to be together.”

He wondered if he should tell her the truth, and decided why the hell not. “You’re wrong. He wanted us to end up together. That’s why you’re stuck here in Truly. Not to keep your mother company.” The creases in her forehead told him she didn’t believe him for a minute. “Trust me on this.”

“Okay, why?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“All right. A few months before he died, he offered me everything. He said he’d have to leave a little something to Gwen, but he’d leave everything else to me if I gave him a grandchild. He would have cut you out completely.” He paused before he added, “I told him to go to hell.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I guess he figured a bastard son was better than no son, and if I don’t have children, then all that superior Shaw blood dies with me.”

She frowned and shook her head. “Okay, but that doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“Sure it does.” He reached for her free hand and pulled her closer. “It’s crazy, but he thought, because of what happened out at Angel Beach, I was in love with you.” He rubbed the back of her knuckles with his thumb.

Her gaze searched his face then she looked away. “You’re right. It’s crazy.”

He dropped her hand. “If you don’t believe me, ask Max. He knows all about it. He drafted the will.”

“It still doesn’t make a lot of sense. It’s so risky, and Henry was too controlling to leave this to chance. I mean, what if I’d married before he died? He could have lived for years, and in the meantime, I could have become a nun or something.”

“Henry killed himself.”

“No way.” She shook her head again. “He loved himself too much to do something like that. He loved being a big fish in a small pond.”

“He was dying of prostate cancer and only had a few months to live anyway.”

Her mouth fell open a little, and she blinked several times. “No one told me.” Her brows scrunched together, and she rubbed the side of her neck. “Does my mother know any of this?”

“She knows about his cancer and the suicide.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her.”

“This sounds so bizarre and controlling that the more I think about it, the more it sound just like something Henry would do.”

“The ends always justified the means with him, and everything had a price.” He turned back to the fire and took a drink. “The will was his way of controlling everyone even after he was gone.”

“You mean he used me to control you.”

“Yes.”

“And you hate him for it.”

“Yes. He was a son of a bitch.”

“Then I don’t understand.” She came to stand beside him and he could hear the confusion in her voice. “Why are you here tonight? Why haven’t you avoided me?”

“I tried.” He set his mug on the mantel and stared into the flames. “But it’s not that easy. Henry was right about one thing, he knew I wanted you. He knew I would want you despite the risk.”

Several long moments of silence stretched between them, then she asked, “Why are you here now—tonight? We’ve been together.”

“It’s not over. Not yet.”

“Why risk it again?”

Why was she pushing him? If she wanted the answer, he’d give it to her, but he doubted she’d like it much. “Because I’ve thought about you naked and willing since you were about thirteen or fourteen.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Since the time Louie and I were out at the public beach with a few friends, and you were there, too, with some other girls. I don’t remember them, just you. You had on a shiny swimming suit the color of green apples. It was one piece and by no stretch of the imagination skimpy, but it had a zipper up the front that drove me crazy. I remember watching you talking with your friends and listening to music, and I couldn’t take my eyes off that zipper. That was the first time I noticed your breasts. They were small and pointed and all I could think about was pulling down that zipper so I could see them, so I could look at the changes in your body. I got so hard, I hurt, and I had to lie on my stomach so no one would see I had a Ponderosa-sized woody.

“That night when I went home, I fantasized about crawling in your bedroom window. I fantasized that I watched you sleep with your blond hair all fanned out across your pillow. Then I imagined you waking up and telling me you’d been waiting for me, holding out your arms and welcoming me into your bed. I pictured myself slipping between the sheets, pushing up your shirt, and pulling down your panties. You let me touch your little breasts all I wanted. You let me touch you between your legs, too. I fantasized about that for hours.

“I was sixteen and knew more than I should have about sex. You were young and naive and didn’t know anything. You were the princess of Truly, and I was the mayor’s illegitimate son. I wasn’t good enough to kiss your feet, but that didn’t stop me from wanting you so much my guts ached. I could have called one of a number of girls I knew, but I didn’t. I wanted to fantasize about you.” He took another deep breath. “You probably think I’m a pervert.”

“Yes,” she softly laughed. “A Ponderosa-sized pervert.”

He looked across his shoulder at the amusement in her big brown eyes. “You aren’t mad?”

She shook her head.

“You don’t think I’m sick as hell?” He’d often wondered about that himself.

“Actually, I’m flattered. I guess every woman likes to imagine that at some time in her life there’s been at least one man out there fantasizing about her.”

She didn’t know the half of it. “Yeah, well, I thought about you from time to time.”

She turned to him and reached for the button on the front of his shirt. “I’ve thought about you, too.”

Beneath his lids, he watched her white hands against red flannel, her thin fingers moving toward his waist. “When?”

“Since I’ve been back.” She pulled the ends of his shirt from his jeans. “Last week I thought about this.” She leaned forward and brushed her tongue across his flat nipple. It hardened like leather, and he plowed his fingers through the sides of her hair.

“What else?”

“This.” She unbuttoned his fly and shoved one hand beneath his briefs. When she wrapped her soft palm around his hard shaft and squeezed, he felt it in his gut. She stroked him from base to head, up and down, and he stood there and took it all in. The texture of her soft hair through his fingers, the feel of her wet mouth on his chest and throat. He could smell some sort of light powdery perfume on her skin, and when she kissed him, she tasted of whiskey and coffee and lust. He loved having her tongue in his mouth and her hand down his pants. He loved looking into her face as she touched him.

He took off her sweater and unhooked her beige bra and thought of the hundreds of fantasies he’d had about this one woman. Combined, none of them could hold a candle to the real thing. He cupped her round white breasts in his hands, and caressed her perfect pink nipples.

“I told you I wanted to lick you all over,” she whispered as she shoved his pants and briefs down his thighs. “I’ve been thinking about that, too.” She knelt before him in her jeans and socks and took him into her hot wet mouth. His breath left his lungs and he spread his feet shoulder width apart for balance. She kissed the head of his penis and gently caressed his testicles. He shuddered and held Delaney’s fine hair away from her face as he looked down at her long eyelashes and soft cheeks.

Nick usually preferred oral sex to anything else. He didn’t always wear a condom during, leaving the choice up to the woman. But he didn’t want to get off in Delaney’s mouth. He wanted to look in her eyes as he buried himself deep inside her. He wanted to know she felt him there. He wanted to feel her grip him deep within her body and feel her wild pulsations. He wanted to forget about using protection and leave something of himself deep inside her long after he was gone. He’d never felt that way with any other woman. He wanted more. He wanted those things he never dared think were possible. He wanted to make her his for more than just a night. For the first time in his life, he wanted more from a woman than she wanted from him.

In the end, he pulled her to her feet and retrieved a condom from the pocket of his jeans. He placed it in her palm. “Suit me up, wild thing,” he said.