Truly Madly Yours

dance floor and kissed her until she felt it clear to the soles of her feet. With very little effort, he’d made her heart race and her body tingle. She didn’t know why Nick of all men could turn her inside out with just a kiss, but she obviously wasn’t alone. There were Gail and Lonna Howell, and those were just two that she knew about.

She turned to an article in her magazine on pheromones and the powerful effect they had on the opposite sex. If what she read was true, Nick had more than his share. He was the pied piper of pheromones, and Delaney was just another susceptible rat.

She stayed in the tub until the water turned cold before she got out and dressed for bed in a flannel nightshirt and thick socks that reached her knees. She set her alarm for eight-thirty, then slid beneath her new thick duvet. She tried to clear her head of Nick and Tommy, Gwen and Helen, but after three hours of watching the digital clock tick off the minutes, she went to her medicine cabinet and looked for anything to help her sleep. All she had was a bottle of Nyquil she’d moved with her from Phoenix. She took a couple of slugs and finally drifted to sleep.

But she found no rest in her sleep. She dreamed of being stuck in Truly for life. Time stood still. The days refused to progress. The calendar was forever stuck on May thirty-first. There was no way out.

When Delaney woke, it was to a pounding in her head and the buzzing of her alarm clock. She felt relieved to be wakened from her nightmare. She hit the off button on her clock and closed her eyes. The pounding continued and she realized that it wasn’t in her head, but on her front door. Groggy from lack of sleep and the big slugs of Nyquil, she stumbled into the living room. With her socks around her ankles, she yanked open the door. Immediately she threw her arm up like a vampire, protecting her eyes from the morning sun burning her corneas. Through her squint and the haze clogging her vision, she watched a slow grin tilt Nick Allegrezza’s mouth. Cold air hit her face and nearly took her breath away. “What do you want?” she wheezed.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

He did that laughing at her thing again and she slammed the door. Nick was the very last person she wanted to see right now.

His laughter continued as he hollered out, “I need the key to the back door of your salon.”

“Why?”

“I thought you wanted the locks changed.”

Chapter Nine

Delaney 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