“Louie’s working late, so I can meet you for a while.”

“Why don’t we meet at Hennesey’s? A blues band is playing there later tonight.”

“Okay, but I’ll probably leave before they start.”

Delaney was a little disappointed, but she was used to being alone. After she hung up the telephone, she took a shower then dressed in a green belly sweater and a pair of jeans. She fluffed her hair, applied her makeup, and put on her Doc Marten’s and leather jacket to walk the three blocks to Hennesey’s. By the time she arrived, it was six-thirty and the bar was filled with the after-work crowd.

Hennesey’s was a fair-sized bar, with the top level looking down on the lower. The tables on both levels were crowded together, and a portable stage had been set up on the large dance floor. For now, the lights inside the bar blazed and the dance floor was empty. Later, that would all change.

Delaney took a table near the end of the bar and was on her first beer when Lisa arrived. She took one look at her friend and raised a finger from her glass and pointed at Lisa’s ponytail. “You should let me cut your hair.”

“No way.” Lisa ordered a Miller Lite, then turned her attention back to Delaney. “Remember what you did to Brigit?”

“Brigit who?”

“The doll my Great-grandmother Stolfus gave me. You cut off her long gold ringlets and made her look like Cyndi Lauper. I’ve been traumatized ever since.”

“I promise you won’t look like Cyndi Lauper. I’ll even do it for free.”

“I’ll think about it.” Lisa’s beer arrived and she paid the waitress. “I ordered the bridesmaid dresses today. When they get here you’ll have to come to my house for a final fitting.”

“Am I going to look like a tour guide on a Southern plantation?”

“No. The dresses are a wine-colored stretch velvet. Just a real simple A line so you don’t draw attention away from the bride.”

Delaney took a sip of beer and smiled. “I couldn’t do that anyway, but you really should think about letting me do your hair for the big day. It’ll be fun.”

“Maybe I’ll let you do a braid or something.” Lisa took a drink. “I booked the caterer for the wedding dinner.”

When the subject of Lisa’s wedding was exhausted, conversation turned to Delaney’s business.

“How is your salon doing these days?”

“Crappy. I had one customer, Mrs. Stokesberry. She dropped off her wig, and I shampooed it like it was a roadkill poodle.”

“Cool job.”

“Tell me about it.”

Lisa took a drink then said, “I don’t want to make you feel worse, but I drove by Helen’s Hair Hut today. She looked fairly busy.”

Delaney frowned into her beer. “I’ve got to do something to steal her business.”

“Do a giveaway. People love to get something for nothing.”

She’d tried that already with the fingernail polish. “I need to advertise,” she said, silently contemplating her options.

“Maybe you should do a little show or something at Sophie’s school. Cut some hair, get some of those girls looking good. Then all the other girls will want you to cut their hair, too.”

“And their mothers will have to keep bringing them back.” Delaney sipped her beer, and thought about the possibilities.

“Don’t look now, but Wes and Scooter Finley just walked in.” Lisa raised her hand to the side of her face as a shield. “Don’t make eye contact or they’ll come over.”

Delaney shielded her face also, but looked through her fingers. “They’re just as ugly as I remember.”

“Just as stupid, too.”

Delaney had graduated with the Finley brothers. They weren’t twins, just repeat offenders. Wes and Scooter were two shades darker than albino with spooky pale eyes. “Do they still think they’re chick magnets?”

Lisa nodded. “Go figure.” When the Finley threat had passed, Lisa lowered her hand and pointed toward two men standing at the bar. “What do you think, boxers or briefs?”

Delaney took one look at their shirts with the big red Chevron logo, their Achy Breaky hair, and said, “Briefs. White. Fruit of the Loom.”

“What about the guy third from the end?”

The man was tall, rail thin, with perfectly layered hair. The yellow sweater tied around his neck told Delaney he was either new in town or a man of great courage. Only a very brave man would walk the streets of Truly with a sweater of any color, let alone yellow, tied around his neck. “Thong, I think. He’s very daring.” Delaney took a drink of her beer and turned her attention to the door.

“Cotton or silk?”

“Silk. Now it’s your turn.”

The two women turned and stared at the door, waiting for their next victim to walk through. He entered less than a minute later, looking as good as Delaney remembered. Tommy Markham’s brown hair still curled about his ears and neck. He was still lean rather than beefy, and when his gaze landed on Delaney, his smile was still as charming as a wayward boy’s. The kind of smile that could make a woman forgive him almost anything.

“You’re driving my wife crazy. You know that don’t you?” he said as he approached their table.

Delaney looked up into Tommy’s blue eyes and placed an innocent hand on her chest. “Me?” There had been a time when the sight of his long lashes had made her heart flutter. She couldn’t help the smile curving her mouth, but her heart was just fine. “What have I done?”

“You moved back.”

Good, she thought. Helen had spent their whole childhood needling Delaney, driving her crazy.

Turnabout was certainly fair play. “So, where is the old ball and chain anyway?”

He laughed and sat in the chair next to her. “She and the kids went to a wedding in Challis. They’ll be back tomorrow sometime.”

“Why didn’t you go?” Lisa asked him.

“I have to work in the morning.”

Delaney looked across the table at her friend, who was doing the “he’s married” signal with her eyes. Delaney grinned. Lisa had nothing to worry about. She didn’t sleep with married men-ever. But Helen wouldn’t know that. Let her worry.


Nick hung up the telephone and rolled his chair backward. The fluorescent lighting hummed overhead, and a smiled played across his lips as he looked out the plate glass window. The sun had set and his own reflection stared back at him. Everything was coming together. He had three contractors jumping to invest venture capital with him, and he was in the process of talking to several lenders.

He tossed his pencil onto the desk in front of him, then ran his fingers through the side of his hair. Half the town of Truly was going to shit bricks when they learned of his plans for Silver Creek. The other half was going to love it.

When he and Louie had decided to move the company to Truly, they’d known the older residents of the town would resist development and growth of any kind. But like Henry, those people were dying off and being replaced by a whole influx of yuppies. Depending on whom you listened to, the Allegrezza boys were either businessmen or land rapers. They were loved or hated. But then, they always had been.

He stood and stretched his arms over his head. The specifications for a nine-hole golf course and the blueprints for fifty-four two-thousand-square-foot condominiums lay before him. Even with a conservative projected budget, Allegrezza Construction stood to make a fortune. And that was just the first stage of development. The second stage was bound to make even more money, with million-dollar houses built within spitting distance of the green. Now all Nick needed was clear deed to the forty acres Henry had bequeathed him. In June he’d have it.

Nick smiled into the empty office. He’d made his first million building everything from starter houses to lavish homes in Boise, but a guy could always use spare cash.

He grabbed his bomber’s jacket off the coat tree and headed out the back. After he finished with his plans for Silver Creek, he would think about what he wanted to build at Angel Beach. Or maybe he wouldn’t build on it at all. He paused long enough to switch off the lights before locking the door behind him. His Harley Fat Boy sat in the space next to Delaney’s Miata. He glanced up at her apartment, and the green door illuminated by a weak light. What a hole.

He could understand why she’d want to move from her mother’s house. He couldn’t be around Gwen for three seconds without wanting to choke her. But what he didn’t understand was why Delaney had chosen to move into such a dump. He knew Henry’s will provided her with a monthly income, and he knew she could afford a better place. It wouldn’t take much for a man to kick the damn door off the hinges.

When he got the time, he still planned to replace the locks on her shop. But Delaney herself wasn’t his problem. Where she lived or what she chose to wear didn’t concern him. If she wanted to live in a little hole and wear a strip of vinyl that barely covered her ass, that was her problem. He didn’t give a damn. He was sure he wouldn’t give her more than a passing thought if she weren’t living practically on top of him.

Swinging one leg over the Harley, he righted the bike. If he’d seen any other woman in that skimpy vinyl crap, he would have appreciated the hell out of it, but not Delaney. Seeing her shrink-wrapped tighter than a deli snack had made him itch to peel back the plastic and take a bite. He’d gone from zero to hard in about three seconds.

He kicked the stand up with the heel of his boot and pressed the ignition button. The v-twin engine roared to life, shattered the still night air, and vibrated his thighs. Getting hard for a woman he wasn’t planning on taking to bed didn’t bother him. Getting hard over that particular woman did.

He gunned the bike and shot down the alley, barely slowing as he turned onto First. He felt restless and was home only long enough to take a shower. The silence set him on edge, and he didn’t know why. He needed a diversion, a distraction, and he ended up at Hennesey’s with a beer in his hand and Lonna Howell in his lap.