Truly Madly Yours

and swollen from his kiss.

I want you, she’d said, or rather he’d coerced her into saying it like he was some lovesick loser begging her to want him. Never in his life had he demanded a woman tell him she wanted him. He didn’t have to. It had never mattered if those words were whispered from a woman’s soft pink lips. Apparently it did now.

No maybes about it anymore. Henry knew what he was doing when he drew up that will. He’d reminded Nick of just what it felt like to want something he could never have, to ache for something held just beyond his grasp. Something he might touch but never really possess.

A few light snowflakes drifted in front of Nick’s face, and he walked back into his office and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair. Some men made the mistake of confusing lust for love. Not Nick. He didn’t love Delaney. What he felt for her was worse than love. It was gut-twisting lust, and it was turning him inside out. He was walking around and behaving like a complete asshole with a monster-sized hard-on for a woman who hated him most of the time.

Delaney pushed the tomatoes to one side of her plate, then speared a piece of endive and chicken.

“How’s business?” Gwen asked, immediately arousing Delaney’s suspicion. Gwen never asked about the salon.

“Pretty good.” She looked across the table and stuck the lettuce into her mouth. Her mother was up to something. She never should have agreed to meet for lunch in a restaurant where she couldn’t yell without causing a scene. “Why?” she asked.

“Helen always does the hair for the Christmas fashion show, but this year I spoke with the other members of the board, and I’ve convinced them to let you do the hair.” Gwen poked around at her fettuccini, then set her fork aside. “I thought you could use the publicity.”

More than likely it was a way for her mother to rope her into serving on some sort of dumb committee. “Just the hair? That’s it?”

Gwen reached for her hot tea with lemon. “Well, I thought you could be in the show, too.”

There it was. The real reason. Styling hair for the show was a bone. What Gwen really wanted was to parade around in matching mother-daughter lamй like they were twins. There were two rules of the fashion show, the dress or costumes had to be made by hand and had to reflect the season. “You and me together?”

“Of course I’d be there.”

“Dressed alike?”

“Similar.”

Not a chance. Delaney clearly remembered the year she’d been forced to dress as Rudolph. She might not have minded if she hadn’t been sixteen. “I couldn’t possibly be in the show and do the hair.”

“Helen does.”

“I’m not Helen.” She reached for a breadstick. “I’ll do the hair, but I want the name of my salon printed in the program and announced at both the start and finish of the show.”

Gwen looked a little less than pleased. “I’ll have someone on the board get hold of you.”

“Great. When is the show?”

“During the Winter Festival. It’s always the third Saturday, a few days before the ice sculpture contest.” She set her cup back on the saucer and sighed. “Remember when Henry was mayor and we used walk beside him and help with the judging?”

Of course she remembered. Each December businesses in Truly made huge snow sculptures in Larkspur Park, drawing tourists for hundreds of miles. Delaney remembered her frozen cheeks and nose, and her big fluffy coat and furry hat as she walked beside Henry and her mother. She remembered the crisp smell of ice and winter and the feel of hot chocolate warming her hands.

“Remember the year he let you choose the winner?”

She’d probably been twelve, and she’d chosen Quality Meats and Poultry’s fifteen-foot Lamb Chop. Delaney took another stab at her salad. She’d forgotten about Lamb Chop.

“I need to talk to you about Christmas,” Gwen said.

Delaney assumed she would spend it at her mother’s, complete with a real tree, shiny presents, eggnog, chestnuts roasting on an open fire. The whole bit.

“Max and I are leaving on a Caribbean cruise on the twentieth, the day after the Winter Festival starts.”

“What?” She carefully set her fork back on her plate. “I didn’t know the two of you were that serious.”

“Max and I are getting close, and he suggested a warm vacation to find out just how strongly we feel for each other.”

Gwen had been a widow for all of six months and already had a serious boyfriend. Delaney couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a serious date. Suddenly she felt real pathetic, like an old spinster cat lady.

“I thought you and I could celebrate Christmas when I get back.”

“Okay.” She hadn’t realized how much she might have enjoyed a Christmas at home until she no longer had the option. Well, spending the holidays alone was nothing she hadn’t done before.

“And now that it has begun to snow, you should park your little car in my garage and drive Henry’s Cadillac.”

Delaney waited to hear the conditions, like she’d have to spend the night on weekends, attend a council meeting of some sort, or wear practical pumps. When Gwen didn’t elaborate, and reached for her fork instead, Delaney asked, “What’s the catch?”

“Why are you so suspicious all the time? I just want you to be safe this winter.”

“Oh.” It had been years since she’d driven in the snow, and she found it wasn’t like riding a bike. She’d forgotten how. She’d much rather slide through stop signs in Henry’s big silver car rather than her Miata. “Thanks, I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

After lunch, she took the rest of the day off and drove to Lisa’s to drop off some books on braids and pick up her bridesmaid dress. The red stretch velvet dress was the color of wine in one light but changed to a deep burgundy in another. It was beautiful, and if it hadn’t been for Delaney’s hair, it would have looked great on her, but so many different shades of red all on one person made her look like a Picasso. She ran a hand over her stomach, smoothing the cool material beneath her palm.

“I didn’t think about your hair,” Lisa admitted as she stood back and viewed Delaney in her bedroom mirror. “Maybe you could wear one of those big straw hats.”

“Not a chance.” She tilted her head to the side and studied her reflection. “I could always go back to my natural color.”

“What is your natural color?”

“I’m not really sure anymore. When I retouch my roots, it’s sort of a warm blond.”

“Can you change it back without having your hair fall out?”

Delaney put her hands on her hips and turned to face her friend. “What is wrong with you people in this town? Of course I can remove the tint without my hair falling out. I know what I’m doing. I’ve been doing this for years.” As she spoke, the volume of her voice rose. “I’m not Helen. I don’t give bad cuts!”

“Geez, I just asked.”

“Yeah, you and everyone else.” She unzipped the back of the dress and stepped out of it.

“Who else?”

The image of Nick sitting on her couch popped into her head. His hot mouth on hers. His fingers pressed into her thigh. She wished she could hate him for making her want him, for making her tell him that she wanted him, then leaving her alone to dream about him all night. But she couldn’t hate him, and she was so confused about what happened that she didn’t want to talk about it with anyone until she figured it out. Not even with Lisa. She laid the dress on the plaid quilt covering Lisa’s bed then stepped into a pair of jeans. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

“What? Is your mother still bugging you about being a stylist?”

“No, in fact she asked me to style hair for the Christmas fashion show.” Delaney looked up from the button on her pants. “She thought she could trick me and get me to do that mother-daughter thing I had to do when I was growing up.”