He turned to the real-estate section first-who’s buying, what’s selling. Business foremost in his thoughts, Maizie Hood would fade away into the dark recesses of his mind where he wanted her. He scanned the listings.

Cinnamon. The other scents were there, or not, but he’d smelled cinnamon on her for sure. And chocolate. Ester always had a peanut butter sandwich waiting for him, his favorite, or rather his compulsion. But then she’d offer some sort of delicious pastry or cookie for dessert.

He’d noticed Maizie had one of those quaint wicker baskets with the double handle and red-and-white-checkered lining. Was she Ester’s pastry supplier? Ester had never mentioned Maizie’s visits, what she’d brought.

Why would she? Ester knew how he felt. He’d made it perfectly clear all those years ago and Ester was a true, understanding friend.

What he’d sampled of the sugary confections, though, was heavenly. Better than most professional chefs he knew. Did Maizie bake for fun or profit? He wanted to know.

Sweet peat moss, what’s taking Annette so long?

The wall of trees along the country road broke for a wide open field and drew his gaze. He stared, only half noticing the huddle of cows, the barn and corn silos in the distance. His mind wandered too quickly to red hair and long silken legs.

Maizie looked good enough to eat. He’d known her hair was red. He’d remembered that much. But the luminousness, the thickness. Jeezus, he’d had no idea. The color reminded him of autumn leaves, the ones that made the forest seem ablaze with cool fire. And with those thick locks tumbling all the way down to the top curve of her ass, it seemed more a cloak than hair.

Gray tried to blink the vision from his mind and focused again on the paper. He found the name he’d been scanning for in seconds.

“Anthony Cadwick, you old prick.” The man certainly was busy. Harassing Ester in the morning and closing a major real-estate deal in the afternoon. Strong-arming homeowners and manipulating eminent domain laws was his specialty.