by Stacy Finz
VISITING HER NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR
Holding the pants up, she liked what she saw. They were even better than the shorts she had made. A nice silhouette. Slim through the hips and tight enough through the seat to showcase a fabulous backside. Excited, she grabbed the pants, went downstairs, dashed outside, and crossed over to Colt’s house.
It took a while but he finally opened the door in his boxer shorts and a heavy dose of sleep in his voice. That’s when it hit her that all his lights had been out.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
No shirt, just his Gerard Butler chest staring her in the face. And his hair sticking up on end should’ve been the opposite of hot. But somehow it worked for him and the temperature rose twenty degrees.
She took one look at his sexy, sleepy self, then at her watch, and flushed with embarrassment. Here she was on his doorstep at two a.m. in the same dress she wore to dinner. This could only look like one thing.
“Sorry,” she stammered, and started to go.
“Delaney.”
She turned around to face him and that’s when he kissed her. Soft and slow at first, then exploring her mouth. Delaney leaned in, reveling in the taste and feel of him—so good—realizing that if she let this go any further, they’d wind up doing a whole lot more than kissing. But as he took the kiss further, tangling his hands in her hair and holding her head so he could go deeper, she let him. . . .
Books by Stacy Finz
The Nugget Series
GOING HOME
FINDING HOPE
SECOND CHANCES
STARTING OVER
GETTING LUCKY
BORROWING TROUBLE
HEATING UP
RIDING HIGH
FALLING HARD
The Garner Brothers
NEED YOU
Collections
THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME
(with Fern Michaels, Shirlee McCoy, and Sarah Title)
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
Need You
STACY FINZ
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
VISITING HER NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2017 by Stacy Finz
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-4190-0
ISBN-10: 1-4201-4190-2
eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4191-7
eISBN-10: 1-4201-4191-0
To my wonderful family
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It takes a village to write a book and I am truly blessed to have an amazing one. A huge thanks to Kristi Yanta, the Picky Editor, for your mad skills and impeccable editorial guidance. I am so thankful to have you in my life. A special shout out to Carolyne Zinko and Tony Bravo for advising me on all things fashion. Any mistakes, technical, or otherwise, are mine. And Tricia Linden thanks for saving my behind. You are a wonderful friend and supporter and I’m thrilled to have you onboard.
To my editor, John Scognamiglio: wow! Eleven books and two novellas together and we’re still going strong. You are the best and I love working with you. Thanks for everything you do. An enormous thank you to my agent, Melissa Jeglinski of the Knight Agency, who’s my biggest cheerleader and my greatest asset. Boy did I hit the agent lottery. And to all the folks at Kensington Publishing, including Alexandra Nicolajsen, Michelle Forde, Lauren Jernigan, Kimberly Richardson, and Jane Nutter: You guys rock!
Chapter One
Colt Garner wacked his hand over the clock radio, searching for the button to make Lisa Laredo’s voice stop. At first, in his foggy state, he’d thought they were back on stage, doing a duet. But the infernal song had actually awakened him from a deep sleep.
He turned on his side, took one look at the time, and muttered, “Shit.” In his slightly inebriated state, he must’ve set the alarm wrong the night before and was now running late for a meeting with the mayor, who more than likely wanted to fire him.
Warm sunlight streamed through his window, making him shield his eyes with the back of his hand. Another hot August day in Glory Junction, California. Which meant record numbers of people would flood the town over the weekend to raft on the Glory River, waterski on Lake Paiute, and hike the Sierra mountains. In the winter, the tourists came for the snow. The town boasted five ski resorts, and from Main Street you could see chairlifts and gondolas going up and down the mountainsides. St. Moritz of the West is what some people called it, but the town hadn’t always been this affluent. When Colt’s parents had settled here it had been home to ranchers and ski bums and a haven for back-to-the-land hippies.
But it hadn’t taken long for the rest of the world to discover the hamlet, only three and a half hours northeast of San Francisco and seven hours from Los Angeles. Professional athletes came for the world-class skiing, rock climbing, and river rapids. Tech moguls and celebrities for the cachet and property values of a picturesque ski town in the Mother Lode. It even had a private airport so part-timers could fly in for quick stays at their lake houses or ski-in condos.
The growth was great for his family, who owned and operated Garner Adventure, an extreme-sport and tour company. But as chief of the Glory Junction Police Department, not so much. Most days he was understaffed for the barrage of tourists and weekenders. Still, he wouldn’t trade the job for anything.
Colt finally found the radio knob and shut the music off. Every time he heard the song it reopened old wounds. Wounds he wanted permanently scabbed over. The phone rang, further reminding him that he needed to get out of bed, pronto. He checked the caller ID and answered.
“I’m running late,” he said by way of greeting. “What’s up?”
“Good show last night.” His usually workaholic brother, TJ, along with the rest of his family, had sat through three sets. It meant a lot to Colt, especially TJ, who had his hands full running Garner Adventure.
“Not bad, considering how rusty I am.” It was the first time he’d had a gig in months. Between getting called out on police e
mergencies and being asked to pick up the slack at his family’s company, Colt was lucky if he got a full night’s sleep, let alone have the time to play music.
“You didn’t sound rusty to me,” TJ said. “What are you doing Sunday?”
It was Colt’s only day off. “Sleeping.”
“We had a last minute guide cancellation and I was wondering if you had a couple of hours to lead a river-rafting tour. Before you say no, it’s a bachelorette party. Bikinis.”
Colt didn’t care if the women were naked, he wanted his day off. “I thought you were hiring more guides.”
TJ let out a breath. “We did. We’re still having trouble keeping up with the amount of business we’re getting.”
“Try harder.”
“Working on it. So, can you do it? Come on, I went to your show. That’s three hours I’ll never get back.”
Colt swung his feet off the bed and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Yeah, all right.” He’d fit it in somehow. “I hope you can afford the three hours for my funeral when I die of sleep deprivation. Maybe do a eulogy, if it’s not too much trouble for you. I’ve got a meeting with Pond, so gotta go.” Colt hung up before his younger brother could rope him into something else.
In the kitchen, he started a pot of coffee and headed for a quick shower. His uniform, the only clean one left in the closet, could’ve used a good pressing, but he put it on anyway, along with his gun belt and badge. Colt filled a mug with caffeine. If he could’ve mainlined it, he would’ve.
His cell vibrated in his pocket, making him jump, and he sloshed the coffee over the rim of his cup and all over his shirt.
“Shit!” Hot.
He grabbed a dish towel and futilely tried to clean himself. Giving up, he stuck his chest over the sink and turned on the sprayer. As he dripped onto the kitchen floor, he checked the missed call. Win, the youngest of his three brothers. He thought about changing his shirt, caught sight of the clock, and grabbed another towel from the drawer to blot himself dry the best he could. A fresh shirt and Win would have to wait. As it was, he was cutting it too close for comfort.
On the way out the door, Colt snagged his keys, put on his aviators, and jogged down his back porch stairs. If he avoided Main Street, he might be able to get to city hall on time.
“Dammit.” His neighbor’s car blocked his cruiser. Again.
The two of them shared an easement road that forked off onto their respective driveways and garages. Like most of the homes in Glory Junction, his was on a hillside with a driveway so steep it should’ve been illegal. And because his house was on a small lot, there was no place to turn around. Street parking didn’t exist on account of there being no curbs, just an occasional dirt shoulder barely wide enough for a Smart car. So Colt liked to park on the shoulder of the easement for quick access to his vehicle. There wasn’t room for two cars, yet she continually parked there anyway.
He crossed over to her ostentatious mini mansion, climbed the front porch, and knocked on the door. Colt knew she was home. Yet it took her so long to answer, he considered going inside, justifying it as a welfare check.
She finally came out in exercise clothes that looked too nice to work out in. The top was some kind of wraparound thing that dipped low, giving him a nice view of her cleavage. He tried really hard not to look, but failed miserably. He chalked it up to being a degenerate and not to the fact that she had a spectacular rack. She was doing some leering of her own, her eyes roving over his chest.
“What happened to your shirt?” she asked.
He glanced down to see what she was talking about. Oh yeah, the coffee.
Colt cocked his head at her Tesla. “I thought we talked about the parking situation . . . how a lot of times I need to get out of here in a hurry.”
“And I thought I explained to you that I need to be close to the outlet to plug in my car.”
“Don’t you have one in your garage or near your garage?” The house had a security system that rivaled most banks’. Colt figured the builder hadn’t skimped on electrical outlets.
“I told you this already. Clearly you weren’t listening. It’s the only two-hundred-forty-volt outlet. It was installed on a fifty-amp circuit breaker. They’re not like your run-of-the-mill house outlets.”
Thanks for the lesson on electrical capacity, he wanted to say, but didn’t have time to argue with her. “Delaney, work with me here, okay? I’ve got to be somewhere.”
“What, are they having a special on donuts at Tart Me Up?”
He rolled his eyes. “Clever. Because I never heard that one before.”
She glanced at her watch and sighed. “Fine. But you do realize that you only have the easement because I allow it. It’s my land.”
“The easement has been on the books longer than either of us has lived here.” Before she and her husband bought the property and tore down the perfectly fine house that occupied it to build the Palace of Versailles.
“I can change that.” She squinted her blue eyes at him, then turned and went inside, giving him a good look at her spandex ass.
This time, he forced himself not to stare, raising his gaze to take in her black hair, which made him think of the song “Galway Girl” and laugh to himself. He was in no danger of losing his heart to Delaney Scott, not like the guy in the song. She might be beautiful but she was a royal pain in the butt. Besides, the last time he’d fallen for one of Glory Junction’s resident celebrities . . . Well, let’s just say he wouldn’t be doing it again. Ever. Not if he wanted to survive. Because while some men drank their blues away, he binged on BASE jumping, parachute skiing, cave diving, and other death-defying sports.
A few minutes later, she returned with keys. He followed Delaney and waited while she unplugged her car. At this rate, Colt was in danger of missing his meeting altogether. The mayor would assume that he was being insubordinate. Ordinarily, he couldn’t care less what the mayor thought. Colt’s job had always been nonpolitical. He’d served under two different mayors and had been largely left alone to run the department as he’d seen fit. But the Honorable Carter Pond had a thing for micromanaging—and promptness.
Maybe Colt was being paranoid—his brothers certainly thought so—but Pond seemed to be gunning for him. So strolling in twenty minutes after their scheduled meeting wasn’t going to help his cause. Not one bit.
“I’m probably missing a conference call right now,” she said, her voice clipped.
“I’m sorry.” He probably should’ve left it at that, but couldn’t help adding, “You wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t blocked me in.”
“You shouldn’t have parked so close to my house and outlet.”
“You have a driveway. Just use it.”
“So do you.”
They sounded like two little kids bickering in the sandbox. Most days, Colt was an easygoing guy. Sometimes, downright congenial. But the day had gotten off to a bad beginning—starting with the damned song—and he figured it was only going downhill from here. “We need to figure this out,” he said, not wanting to fight with her anymore. “But I don’t have time to do it now.”
Colt got in his cruiser and watched through his rearview mirror as she pulled the Tesla up her drive. Difficult woman. Why she’d moved to the mountains full time was beyond him. She was a big-deal fashion designer from LA. His sister-in-law, Hannah, carried some of her stuff at Glorious Gifts on Main Street. Delaney’s husband, according to town gossip, was no longer in the picture. Which was too bad because when he was, they rarely, if ever, came up, just letting that big house of theirs sit empty. And quiet.
Colt pulled out and drove to city hall. By the time he parked he was fifteen minutes late. By the time he made it to the mayor’s office, Pond was good and pissed off.
“Glad you could show up, Chief,” he said with derision.
“Sorry I’m late ... small emergency.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.
“With your family’s business?” Pond motioned for Colt to take a seat. “Yo
u seem to spend a lot of time there.”
Colt did, but never on the city’s dime. “It had nothing to do with Garner Adventure.”
Pond got up and came around his desk. He was tan and fit and Hannah said he had hair plugs. Colt wouldn’t know, but could tell the mayor put a lot of time into his appearance. Unlike the past two mayors, who wore khakis or jeans and boots, Pond opted for Italian suits and loafers. They probably went better with his Porsche. He turned a lot of heads in town, that was for sure.
To Colt, the mayor reeked of midlife crisis.
“You want a drink?” Pond reached into a mini fridge against the wall where old photographs of the town hung.
Colt was surprised he hadn’t taken them down. Carter Pond was a relative newcomer. He’d moved to Glory Junction from Silicon Valley seven years ago. Word on the street was he’d made a mint selling his start-up before the dot-com bust. He certainly lived like a fat cat with his sprawling estate and a membership at Glory Junction’s only country club. Though Colt was always suspicious of people who flashed their money a little too loudly. In any event, the mayor tended to ignore anything in Glory Junction that was BC—Before Carter.
“No thanks,” Colt said, and pointedly gazed at his watch, wanting the mayor to get to the point of this meeting. Colt had things to do.
Pond pulled out a bottle of designer water. That’s what Colt called it. Fancy bottle, hefty price tag, same damn water as the tap. He hoped the city wasn’t footing the bill for it. The mayor sat back down—Colt suspected he wanted the big, mahogany desk between them—and took a drag of the water.
“What happened to your uniform?”
Colt’s shirt had dried, but the coffee had left a noticeable stain. “I collided with a cup of coffee.”
The mayor laughed. “Was that the emergency?”
