Special Delivery Read online

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  SPECIAL DELIVERY

  by

  DEIRDRE O'DARE

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

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  Special Delivery

  An Amber Quill Press Book

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

  http://www.amberheat.com

  http://www.amber-allure.com

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  Copyright © 2009 by Deirdre O'Dare

  ISBN 978-1-60272-476-1

  Cover Art © 2009 Trace Edward Zaber

  Layout and Formatting

  Provided by: Elemental Alchemy

  Published in the United States of America

  Also by Deirdre O'Dare

  Armed And Amorous

  The Canine Cupid Series

  The Chap In Chaps

  The Chess Master's Queen

  Colette's Savage Stallion

  Cowboy First Aid

  Cowgirl Up

  Daring Delights

  Daring Departures

  Daring Dreams

  Dude Ranch Nights

  Fire On Ice

  Jesse's Girl

  Journal Of A Timid Temptress

  Karola's Hunt

  Muscle Car Man

  Nellie's Rogue Stallion

  Pickup Man

  Portrait Of A Cowboy

  Randi's Hellacious Adventure

  Revolution!

  The Taming Of Jaelle'n

  Dedication

  To new beginnings and sometimes people and situations

  that are not exactly what they seem. This weaves

  the golden threads into life's ever-changing fabric and feeds

  the writer's incessant question: what if?

  Thanks as always to the wonderful folks at Amber Quill who

  are unfailingly patient and supportive, even when

  authors get behind the power curve and struggle.

  From the bottom of my heart, my most sincere gratitude.

  You guys rock!

  Chapter 1

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  30 November

  Cameron Creek, CA

  Monte Farnsworth stared out the display window of his shop at the bleak wintery-looking street. Business was about as slow and gray as the cold November day. At this rate, he'd be broke before the end of the year, a mere nine months after realizing his long-time dream of opening his own sporting goods store the previous spring.

  Just then, a black delivery truck pulled up to the curb, midway between Monte's store and the barber and beauty shop next door.

  I don't think I have any deliveries coming in today. Must be for the Hair Apparent.

  When the driver stepped out, Monte's breath hitched in his chest. Oh, my gods, that's a beautiful hunk of male. Whew, he could raise my temperature, whatever the weather.

  The man must have been an inch or two over six feet tall. In spite of the chill, a pair of brown shorts revealed sleek, muscular legs from mid-thigh down to a pair of dark athletic shoes edged by strips of white ankle-high socks. An open brown windbreaker displayed a broad chest straining the fabric of the tan uniform shirt. The brisk wind ruffled hair that matched the uniform, except it was shiny and vitally alive. Everything about the man seemed vitally alive.

  The stranger paused on the sidewalk and glanced up and down the street as if looking for a name or number. Maybe he's new and not familiar with Cameron Creek yet. Drawn by a magnetic pull he could not resist, Monte opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. "Can I help you find a place?"

  The deliveryman spun to face him, eyes the color of dark chocolate meeting Monte's gaze in a manner that sent a jolt of erotic heat slashing through his veins.

  The other man smiled. "Yeah, maybe you can. I'm not seeing three-fourteen or a place called Icy Heat. This is Hammond Street, isn't it?"

  Clearing his throat, Monte found his voice after a gulp. "Yep, this is Hammond. Never heard of such an establishment, but my place is three-fourteen. The number isn't very clear, I'm afraid."

  The other man nodded. "I'm guessing you haven't been here long and maybe there used to be another business in your space called Icy Heat? Can't imagine what that would be, except maybe a tea room and ice cream parlor." He laughed.

  "I'm not sure what was here before I opened up on April Fools' Day. The place had been vacant for a while, I was told."

  "April Fool's Day, huh? That's quite the day to get started." The delivery man smiled at him.

  "Yeah, well, I'm afraid the opening date's been symbolic of my success so far," Monte admitted. "Sportsman's Stop is--well, let's just say I wasn't expecting any deliveries. I'm not sure how I'd pay for them if some came or where I'd put any new inventory. Nothing much is moving."

  "That's a bummer. I guess everything is slow now, and what business there is goes to the new mall down the freeway at Junction City."

  "I suppose so."

  "You know...I'm a few minutes ahead on my route and I see there's a coffee shop at the corner. I was thinking about getting a cup. Would you like to join me?"

  Monte hesitated. He couldn't quite figure why, but the surprising invitation, though flattering, troubled him. Why would a total stranger--a gorgeous stranger at that--want his company, even for a few minutes?

  "Sorry, guess I should introduce myself. I'm Jeff Hardesty. I just took over this route last week, so I'm still learning the town and the area out here. It helps to get to know some folks as well."

  Monte took the other man's extended hand. Jeff's grip was firm but not punishing. The contact sent a warm current sparkling along Monte's nerves. "I'm Monte Farnsworth, still pretty new here myself, obviously. Sure, let's go get a cup of coffee. As my uncle use to say, this is a five-cup day--one for each hand and foot and one to drink. That wind must come straight from the North Pole."

  "Yep, only one fence post between us and there and it blew down. I'm from southern California, so this climate is a shocker."

  Monte flipped the open sign to read "Back Soon" and locked the door. Then the two men set off to the opposite end of the block and the welcoming warmth of Dip 'n' Sip Coffee Shop. They did have good coffee, Monte knew, and served sinfully delicious homemade pastries.

  He had to stretch to keep up with Jeff's long strides, but that was okay. Since coming to Cameron Creek, his social life had dwindled to near zilch. It felt good to be with someone as congenial and appealing as Jeff, even if only for a few minutes of casual company. He'd never considered a deliveryman would be his type. He normally gravitated to other high tech guys like he'd known in his prior life in Silicon Valley, or some of the fellow sports enthusiasts who'd inspired him to open his own place.

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  Jeff glanced across the small table at Monte. Hard to believe this guy may be the contraband dealer we're looking for, but the timing is about right. Still, I won't quit looking hard at every business in town just yet. Mac Corcoran and the rest of the agency won't accept slipshod investigations. This cover as a deliveryman gives me a good entrée anyway.

  He tuned back in to Monte's conversation before he missed something important.

  "I grew up in central California and wound up in Silicon Valley after
graduation. Even though I never was a jock, that doesn't mean sports haven't been a lifelong interest. I ski, trap shoot, do a little climbing and play some tennis and golf. I figured a sporting goods shop out here would be a surefire thing. Clay Air Force Base is growing and the town with it, while local shopping venues haven't kept up with the population. I hadn't counted on the economy tanking like it has, though."

  "Yeah, that caught everybody with their pants down. Even Deliveries R Us is laying off some people due to less business. Actually, I got hired just before they imposed a freeze, so guess I was lucky."

  Monte's keen gray eyes hardly left Jeff's face as they talked. The other man's regard was flattering, but also made Jeff a bit uncomfortable.

  How do you investigate a guy who seems to be getting a crush on you? I haven't run into anything like this before. Tread lightly, bud. Things could get sticky.

  "What did you do before you came out here and got this job?"

  Jeff managed a careless shrug. "Oh, a little of this and a bit of that. I wasn't quite the typical beach bum, but I guess my folks almost gave up on me ever amounting to anything. Not that driving a delivery truck is a hot job, but it beats flipping burgers or doing yard work."

  The teasing grin Monte offered sent a flare of heat south. Jeff shifted in his chair as his cock strained against the firm fabric of his shorts.

  "I thought all surfer boys were blond, but I guess it's equal opportunity these days. I didn't have either the body or the desire for that lifestyle, but then I grew up on a farm outside of Stockton. A pretty conservative place, so I didn't dream of coming out of the closet until I got down around the Bay Area. I hope that isn't part of my problem here, come to think of it. Military towns can be...well, a bit straitlaced, you might say."

  Jeff shrugged, eyeing his companion with appreciation and a degree of understanding. "I have no idea, Monte, but I doubt it'd make a big difference. You aren't with anyone on a permanent basis now, are you?"

  Monte shook his head, a shadow of regret crossing his face. "I wish. No, I go see some friends down in my old stomping grounds once in a while, but they all deride my flight to the boondocks. None of them would consider moving out here on the wrong side of the mountains in the cultureless hinterlands. Some of them might like it if they gave it a chance, but few ever will."

  "Their loss," Jeff said. "I happen to prefer a little less rush and crowding than you see on the coast these days. And if you like sports and an active lifestyle, this is a great place. You've got desert and mountains back to back and all that both can offer in things to do. How can you beat that?"

  "Just with finding someone to share the fun with." A wistful expression slid across Monte's expressive countenance, shadowing his eyes for a moment. Then he pasted a pleasant smile back in place, obviously his game face.

  Jeff gave himself a mental headshake. Can it, buster. You can't let this guy get to you, although it would be easy for that to happen. There's a charming little boy quality about him, but it could be nothing more than a well-crafted façade. Criminals can be great actors.

  Still, he watched and appreciated as Monte lifted his cup and drained the last swallow of the excellent coffee. Jeff made a mental note to stop by here again. The coffee was well worth it, even if someone he wanted to keep an eye on for both business and personal reasons was not right on the same block.

  Monte wasn't spectacular looking, but his clean cut appearance was definitely attractive. He wore his sandy hair cut short and neat, while his pressed jeans and the blue-gray Oxford shirt that matched his eyes were casual, but far from sloppy or unprofessional. If he really was edging toward a financial meltdown, he managed not to let it show. Which might mean the shop's only a cover or--oh, hell, I'll just have to keep my eyes open.

  Jeff drained his own coffee, popped the last bite of the delicious apple turnover into his mouth and scooped up the two checks the perky waitress had left. "My treat this time." Seeing Monte start to protest, he added, "You can get it next time. I'll probably be by every day or two, and the java here is well worth a stop."

  Monte smiled then. "That'd be great. I'm glad I decided to see if I could help you find an address."

  Jeff returned the smile. "So'm I."

  They exited the shop together. Jeff noticed Monte didn't go back into the Sportsman's Stop until he pulled away from the curb.

  * * * *

  Two days later, when the delivery van again pulled up on Hammond, Monte saw it at once. As much as he wanted to greet the driver, he had a customer and that novelty was not something he could afford to ignore. The customer was just a young man in his teens looking at skate boards. Privately, Monte was unsure he could afford one, but he would not treat customers in a shoddy manner, regardless.

  The boy actually bought a board, and when he opened his wallet and took out a debit card, Monte also saw the military dependant ID card. He recognized the last name. It was the same as the wing commander's out on the air base.

  Whew, good thing I didn't blow him off! Okay, the kid might look scruffy but that's just the style.

  Jeff had wheeled in a couple of good-sized boxes on a hand truck. He waited patiently until Monte finished with business. "You need to sign for these according to the paper work. Looks like business is picking up."

  "Kind of, since one sale is a hundred percent better than none, which is happening too many days lately. That was the wing commander's son from out at the air base. Maybe he'll encourage some of his friends to come by, or even his dad.

  Jeff cocked an eyebrow, grinning, and whistled softly. "The wing commander. That would be a great connection to have."

  "It would really help. What have you got for me? I can't remember ordering anything recently."

  Jeff peered at the labels. "Looks like snow boards. I heard on the news last night the big ski area up on Ramshorn Peak is opening this weekend after that storm blew through, so they're right on time."

  "Snow boards? Oh, yeah, I'd forgotten all about them. They were on backorder for some reason. I expected them a month ago, but the shipment was delayed. Well, I'll find some place to put them and cover the bill with my business credit card for now."

  When Monte reached for the tracking computer to add his signature, his hand brushed Jeff's. A startling flare of energy danced up his arm before the fleeting touch ended. Jeff didn't react so he had no way of knowing if the other man felt the same thing or not.

  He signed the screen with an unsteady hand and returned the device. Then to regain a little composure he stooped to shove the two boxes out of the main aisle.

  Straightening, he glanced at Jeff. "Got time for coffee today? I feel like celebrating--I actually made a sale!"

  With a careless shrug, Jeff nodded. "Sure, why not? I'm not on a rigid schedule, just so long as I get the load off the truck before quitting time."

  They walked up the street in step. Maybe Jeff had noticed he tended to walk away from Monte with his longer legs and decided to slow down. This time they chose a corner booth, ordered and relaxed, enjoying the tempting aromas of fresh coffee and baked treats.

  Jeff grinned. "My nose wants to twitch like a rabbit's. Those smells sure are inviting. It's a good thing I'm not as close as you are every day. I'd probably move in here."

  "I come in almost every day, usually just to carry out some coffee, though. No fun sitting here by myself. My dad's diabetic, so I try to go light on the sweets just to be safe. They really are tempting, though."

  Monte recognized the burly man in the plaid mackinaw who shouldered through the door a few minutes later. He'd been in when Sportsman's Stop first opened and stormed out muttering dire things as soon as he found out Monte did not carry firearms and had no plans to do so.

  Later on he'd learned Drake Dawson ran a guide service out of a run-down little ranch just west of town in the foothills of the Sierras. Dawson had a reputation for being surly, short-tempered and a bad man to cross. Monte was just as glad he'd decided not to handle guns if Dawson was
a typical customer for them. The big man made him very uncomfortable.

  Dawson trundled across the room and settled his bulk on a stool at the counter. He growled something at Millie, the owner of the coffee shop. She made a face he couldn't see as she filled a big mug for him and set it on the counter without the pleasantries she usually exchanged with her customers.

  "I see the fuckin' delivery truck's out there. He'd better have my order today or there'll be hell to pay. It's late. I need that stuff before deer season starts next weekend. Lazy bum's prob'ly scared to drive up my road just 'cause it's got a few rocks. I oughta go look and see if my stuff is in there. Nobody near the truck when I drove up."

  Whether Dawson recognized that the driver he discussed was only a few feet behind him, Monte did not know, but he sensed Jeff's tension at the rude remarks. What would Jeff do? Monte sensed he was not one to back down from a conflict, although he didn't seem to be the type to provoke one.

  Jeff rose, moving with smooth economy. In two long strides, he was right behind Dawson's broad back. "Excuse me, but you're using language that isn't appropriate in front of ladies, and there happen to be two of them right here. If your name's Dawson, I do have a package for you. I could be out to your place in about an hour, but if you want to take it when you go, that's fine with me."

  Dawson wheeled around, the stool squeaking in protest as he turned. "Huh? What the fuck?"

  He looked up from his seat at Jeff's fit and muscular height and gulped before he drew his bluster and bravado up in a protective mantle. "Nobody tells me how to talk, buster, and certainly not some dolled up delivery boy. Yeah, I'll take that package. Go get it."

  "Who was your servant last year, fellow? I'll get it when I get ready to go. Finish your coffee, and I'll finish mine."