Seduced by a Shifter

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Chapter One “Great job, everyone.” Willow Yancy clapped her wet hands, smiling with approval at her second class of the day over water droplets that flung in every direction. A group of senior citizens peered back, varying degrees of relief and self-satisfaction spreading over their faces. Extending praise to several of the less confident, she deftly maneuvered them to the shallow end where her partner, Tim, watched eagle-eyed as they traversed up the built-in ramp or utilized the steps, assisting as needed. Only when every member of her class was safely on dry land—or concrete, in this case—and heading out the door did Willow follow, quickly snatching her oversized beach towel from one of the wall hangers and wrapping her body up like a mummy. “You worked them a bit harder then usual, Mary.” Tim said, his brown eyes sweeping her towel-entombed body. The name startled her, as it did all too often. Something she needed to work on. Three months ago she was given the name Mary Elizabeth Netts. Willow Irene Yancy was listed as missing, presumed dead. Temporarily, she told herself. One day she would be able to reclaim her name. She missed her name. And her long hair. A pang of longing swept over her as she ran a hand through the short, strawberry locks. The cut was choppy, with soft bangs whispering over her forehead. The style made her look younger than her twenty-four years. Add in the new temporary name and she came across as innocent as a child. Or a nun. Which she’d felt like most of her life. Focusing on a career in dance meant strict adherence to diet, exercise, and exhausting rehearsals. Between the grueling schedules and her mother’s ever-watchful eye, Willow had little time for fun, much less fun with the opposite sex. A former dancer herself, Heather Yancy gave it up after finding herself pregnant and alone when the baby’s father abandoned her for another dancer not growing round and awkward with a child.

Years and countless bottles of scotch later, Heather met Willow’s father, Ian, married and had Willow. When it became apparent that Heather’s eldest daughter Maggie didn’t have a graceful bone in her body, their mother had turned to Willow, shoving a little girl into a role she hadn’t wanted. Willow once loved to dance, enjoying her body’s reaction to music, the joy and heat throbbing in her veins as muscles flexed and arched with sensual grace. But the love died—as had her mother, thanks to those bottles of scotch or rum or whatever the woman had on hand—under the near-tortuous requirements necessary for a professional dancer. By then Willow was stuck. She hadn’t gone to college, had no skills other than her finely tuned body. What else was a woman to do? “Uh, Mary? You all right?” Tim asked, his hang-dog face creasing with concern. With a blink, Willow forced herself to the present. She was a dancer no more, which was both a blessing and a curse: a blessing because she no longer had to please anybody but herself, and a curse because of how it all happened. Managing a wry smile, Willow responded. “Sorry. Wool gathering. I’m fine, just ready to get dry.” And pop a Tylenol or two. Her knee was aching something fierce. “Hmmm.” Tim’s eyes dropped in a pointed stare to an area halfway up her covered legs. “Your knee is bothering you.” It wasn’t a question and his comment made her realize she was leaning to her left, easing some of her weight off her right knee, which put pressure on her left hip, another injured site. Both injuries were severe enough that she would never dance professionally again. It was during her rehabilitation at a secluded hospital that Willow found another passion. A water aerobics instructor might not seem a lofty profession to some, but to Willow it was a turning point in her life, an opportunity to reclaim her love of dance and marry it in a way that aided others, whether to serve a need for gentle joint exercise, or, like her, physical therapy to restore the use of torn or broken tissue. Unfortunately the dress requirement caused questions she had

no intention of answering, thus the reason she generally only left the pool after her class departed. Few people knew the cause of her injuries and Tim wasn’t one of them. Willow could appreciate his concern, but his coaxing insistence at knowing the origins of her wounds was becoming increasingly irritating. Cautiously, she eased her weight evenly. “A bit. Nothing that an aspirin won’t cure.” Tim frowned with disappointment. “You ever going to tell me the whole story? The truth, I mean?” Uh, no. “How it happened isn’t important.” “But it is, Mary.” She tried not to jolt at the wrong name, or get irritated by his unwanted persistence. “It all has psychological repercussions. While the shattered knee is bad enough, the few glimpses I’ve seen of your hip makes me think something sharp took a deep swipe at you.” More like a bullet that took a chunk of bone with it. Willow swallowed back bile at the unbidden memory of agonizing pain, hoping nothing of those feelings showed when she said in a low, soft tone, “The past is over, Tim. It’s not something I want to talk about or dwell on. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to go dry off and change clothes before meeting with Jade.” Jade Lambert was the community center’s aquatic director, and their boss. She was a pleasant woman in her mid-fifties, calm in a crisis, and certified in first aid, CPR, and AED. She was a rock and Willow trusted the other woman with her life, because Jade—real name unknown—was in the same boat as Willow. Yet while Jade’s new life was permanent, Willow still had hopes her own was not. Tim opened his mouth, paused, then said, “Yeah, okay, then. Just make sure you have food in your stomach before you take those aspirin.” Her tummy rumbled at the reference to food. “My stomach is already ahead of you.” Willow grinned, doing her best to ignore Tim’s heated gaze. His unwanted and unwavering interest had begun to rattle nerves already stretched too thin between her forced exile and sleepless nights. “See you later.” “Yeah. See you Friday,” Tim said as she quickly headed toward

the woman’s locker room and out of his sight. Willow waved a hand in confirmation before stepping into the solitude of the room and padded over to her assigned locker. Everything would be better after speaking with Jade, especially when combined with the burger and fries—long denied by her rigid diet—that awaited her at Chili’s down the street. She worked the combination lock automatically, thinking ahead to a quick shower to rid her skin of the salt from the pool, followed by a nice, juicy hamburger. Focused as she was on the future, she had to blink several times at the sight inside her locker before it registered. There, hanging from the top hook by their ribbons, was a brand-new pair of light pink pointe shoes, the type of shoe Willow hadn’t seen, much less worn, in over six months. Her first reaction was the curling of her toes in horror at the remembrance of standing en pointe, or on her toes, for extended periods of time. Her next reaction was a visceral what the hell? A slip of yellow paper was attached to the ribbons with a scrawled message. Miss these? I know I missed you. She backed up a step, landing with little grace on one of the hard, white plastic benches scattered in front of the wall of lockers, her hip protesting at the jarring movement. Heart dancing a frantic jig in her chest, she scanned the small, narrow room. Across from the lockers were four empty toilet stalls and two shower stalls with their mold-resistant plastic curtains pushed open. At the far end of the room was a vanity with two sinks. The second exit, the one that led to an employee break room, was actually behind the wall of sinks, the backside forming a sort of entryway into the room. Someone could easily be hiding around that corner, secretly laughing in demented glee at her reaction to their “present” or waiting to pounce on her as she exited the locker room. Tensing, Willow held her breath, listening for breathing, or shuffling, the movement of fabric. Anything. With all the tile in the room, even the slightest noise echoed. Yet after a minute of hearing nothing but her own racing heart, she gave up. If someone were spying on her and wanted to harm her physi-

cally, wouldn’t they’ve done so by now? If the goal was simply to freak her out, then kudos, because mission definitely accomplished. But if the individual who left the shoes wanted to immobilize her with fear and then attack, she needed to get her feet moving. But she couldn’t get past the tense of the verb in the message. If someone missed watching her dance, wouldn’t they have written I miss you rather than I missed you? It was the missed part combined with the shoes that made her queasy. To her frazzled state, the past tense meant the shoes were from the same person who shot her that horrible day four months ago—the day her life was saved, but when everything she knew and loved had been ripped from her grasp. Based on the evidence in her locker, the Victim Witness Protection Program wasn’t as secure as Rome made it out to be. She needed to get dressed and out of this room before whoever left those shoes decided to come back. At that potential threat, Willow galvanized into action. Not bothering to change, she yanked jeans from the locker and tugged them on over her swim bottoms. The skirt of the bottoms, chosen to help hide the scar on her hip, made zipping impossible so she left it undone and threw on the T-shirt and lightweight cardigan she’d worn in. Grabbing her sneakers and purse, careful not to touch the hanging slippers, she slipped into the shoes sans socks. Not the most comfortable, but nothing of what she currently wore was, what with the dampness of her suit seeping into her outer clothing. Underwear and bra were thrust into her purse and, on impulse, Willow slid out her cell phone and took several quick photos of the inside of her locker. She wasn’t coming back here without an army and didn’t have the patience to wait for a congressional act of approval for deployment. And while anyone who knew her knew she wasn’t given to an overactive imagination or paranoia, she wanted instant and visible proof of why she was about to rush into Jade’s office in disarray, soaking through her clothes. After unearthing her very pointy nail file, she realized she had a choice to make: Go around the blind corner and possibly into

unfriendly arms, or walk back out into the pool area where Tim might still be hanging out. Not that she thought he had anything to do with this. Did she? After all, she’d just been thinking how irritatingly persistent he’d become regarding her injuries. Willow frowned, looking from one exit to another. Sure, she could always call for help, but how stupid would she look if she was all alone? And if she wasn’t alone, dallying any longer would only give someone with evil intent even more time to attack. Not to mention what could happen to Jade if she barged in while Willow was slowly being strangled to death, or stabbed, or yanked up by the hair by some mutant super spider intent on sucking out her brains. Okay. So maybe she did have a vivid imagination, but she sure as hell wasn’t imagining those damn shoes. “Jeez, Will! Get a grip!” she hissed under her breath. “Move!” Wielding her nail file like a dagger, heart pounding with adrenaline, she rushed towards the second exit, her knee rebelling when she skidded to a halt just past the corner. No one. Not one damn person was hiding behind the wall ready to slit her throat. And now she did feel like an idiot. Except she knew she wasn’t. The shoes and note were very real. She just overreacted. A scraping sound at the door leading to the pool area had her jerking her head around. Or maybe not. Not waiting another second, Willow bolted from the locker room and into the thankfully empty employee break room and out into the hallway, slowing to a hurried walk when two female coworkers ambled around a corner. Willow shot them a bright smile as they paused mid-step and hurried away before either could comment on her bedraggled appearance or open fly. A minute later she was rushing into Jade’s office, slamming and locking the door behind her. Jade, bless her heart, only arched a single dark brow. “Problem?”

Her jeans uncomfortably wet and tight, Willow waddled over, accessing the gallery section on her phone at the same time. Silent, she handed it to her boss. Lips gradually tightened with anger as Jade looked from one photo to the next. Very carefully she set the phone on her desk and reached up to lift a thin steel chain off her neck. Attached to the chain was a key. That key opened the top drawer of Jade’s desk and from there she withdrew another cell phone. She pushed one button, saying seconds later, “We have a compromise.” Willow’s eyes widened when Jade handed over the phone. Still a bit shaky, she took it from the older woman’s hand, absently watching as Jade rose from her chair, closed the blinds on the little window behind her desk, and strolled over to one of the metal filing cabinets in the office. “Hello?” Willow asked, not having a clue who she was speaking to. “Damn. I was afraid of this. You okay?” a deep, male voice asked. A familiar voice, but one she hadn’t heard in several weeks. “Rome?” “Yeah. Listen, Willow. Stay with Jade until I get there. Do not step one foot from her sight, do you hear me?” Willow glanced over to Jade, eyes widening as her boss pulled out a towel, a change of clothes, and a really big, gleaming gun. She sucked in a breath. “Um, okay.” “I’m heading to you now and should be there in forty-five minutes.” If possible, her blue eyes widened even more. From New York to Arizona in forty-five minutes? “The preliminary hearing was moved up a week.” Rome cursed, his displeasure apparent. “And the fucking judge declared insufficient evidence for a trial. Valen is free, Willow. As soon as I found out, I began making plans to move you.” Willow let out a soft “oh” and sank down onto one of the worn leather chairs in front of Jade’s desk, only to pop back up with a wince as her wet pants squished into her flesh. “So what now?”

A heavy sigh. “I’m taking you were I should have in the first place.” Willow’s brows twitched high as Jade checked the gun and snapped a cartridge back in place, all while listening to Rome. “Since you’re the only living witness,” he said, “Valen is as desperate to find you as we are to protect you.” “But if they found me here, won’t they find me in this new place?” Willow could have sworn Rome said, “I’m counting on it,” in a low growl and, justifiably confused, she shook her head to clear her ears of any wayward salt water, asking, “What?” “We’ll be packing for cold, snowy weather. Ah. Will.” A long pause. “You’re not afraid of wolves, are you?” This time when Willow fell back onto the chair, she didn’t get up. “Wolves?”

Chapter Two Ben Anderson knocked once on the heavy front door of the house before turning the knob and stepping inside. Mindful of the snow clinging to his boots from the short trek to the door, he leaned down to untie the laces before toeing them off. Even if he hadn’t been a conscientious person, the sight of eleven other pairs of boots in similar condition lining the foyer wall would have clued him in. Based on the number of shoes here, he was the last to arrive. Though not uncommon, it made him recall why he was late. He and a buddy of his had planned to take a group of tourists night skiing. A group that had included two hot, single, and very interested females. Yet when Dean Kinigos called an emergency meeting of his leaders of the Woodcliff Pack, Ben couldn’t refuse. Not only was Dean pack alpha, Ben was one of the eight leaders, and pack came before everything, including the potential for sex. Well, almost everything. Pack didn’t come before one’s mate. While it wasn’t a written rule, it most certainly was a “duh” rule, and since Ben didn’t have a mate, he couldn’t opt out of the meeting simply because of other plans. An emergency meeting meant exactly that. It was a rare event and tantalizing enough that Ben didn’t truly mind the lost chance to get naked with a pretty blonde. Or brunette. Either worked for him. Besides, if the meeting didn’t last too long, he might still be able to meet up with Pete and his paying customers. Especially the lovely Linda. Or was it Lisa? With a soft chuckle he shook his head. He wasn’t one to forget names and faces, which was why Dean placed him in the position Ben was in. So the fact he couldn’t remember the names of two females took him a bit by surprise. Then again, all day long he’d felt just a bit off. As if something profound was about to happen and he was getting a front-row seat. Thus his interest rather than irritation at the unexpected meeting. Grinning to himself, he padded down the hall, running a hand

through his dark blond hair in an attempt to straighten the damp curls brought on by the light snowfall. A haircut was in order; otherwise he risked hearing “Goldilocks” bantered around in his presence. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do about it now and, giving up on trying to tame the thick locks, he stepped into the living room. “It’s about time,” Zan Sutton drawled from his slouched position against the far wall. Possessing the keen senses of a shifter, Ben already knew of Zan’s presence. He’d seen the other man’s vehicle out front though he wasn’t sure why the other male was there. Zan wasn’t a leader in the pack, but he was Dean’s brother, a fellow shifter, and a cop, one of three that lazed about the room. The other two cops were Brandon Dermot and Caleb Bennett, the latter the town sheriff. “Holding up another wall, I see.” Ben drawled back, eyes lighting with amusement as he studied Zan. Zan had been with the pack less than a year, having been separated from his brother when the two were just kids, each thinking the other died in a vicious attack that had destroyed their smaller pack. A community fair and a photo by one of Zan’s former military buddies had brought them together once again, which also resulted in Zan finding his mate in Ben’s friend, Jacklyn Chavez, a doctor and female shifter. To Ben, the female shifters got the short end of the stick. They might have some heightened strength and senses, but neither skill was as keen as the males’. The women also couldn’t shift. At all. Most males shifted from human to wolf under the full moon, an instinctive pull that allowed the beast the joy and freedom to run wild. Some of the males, like Ben, not only gained enough control over their animal to suppress the moon shift, but they retained the ability to change forms outside of the full moon. The caveat was that the creature hovered just beneath their skin. These men were a little more dangerous, a tad more assertive, and extremely fierce in their protection of those they cared about. And most of those men were all in this very room. In an overstuffed chair situated at an angle so he could oversee the room sat his alpha, Dean Kinigos. It was in his house that

Ben now stood. On the brown micro-suede sofa perpendicular to a massive stone fireplace where an inviting fire popped merrily away sat the owner of the local hardware store, Jack Hodgins, the silver in his hair starting to outpace the thick brown. Next to him was Josh Renner, his lanky frame and youthful appearance belying his strength, both of body and mind. Josh taught at the local school and during the fall, also coached the school football team. It afforded a strategic position to keep an eye on the rough-and-tumble juvenile shifters. Crazily enough, Josh enjoyed it. Looking slightly uncomfortable in grease-stained overalls was Eddie Toler. No doubt the call for the meeting forced Eddie over to Dean’s place before he could head home to change. It was possible he felt his dingy attire lacked the respect due to being in his alpha’s presence, and in his own home. But to Ben, it meant Eddie was a good, hardworking man who came when his alpha called him. Mack Valenzuela appeared out of the kitchen, a square of white in his massive hands. The firefighter was built like the truck he was named after and as he passed Ben he sent him a short nod in greeting, his dark eyes alight with irritation. With an easy flip of his wrists, Mack lay a heavy sheet on the loveseat, separated from the sofa by a heavy wood coffee table. “Would you sit down, Eddie? You don’t want to hurt Kaylie’s feelings, now, do you?” Eddie shot his brown eyes to the kitchen archway, as if the woman in question was silently glaring out into the room, keeping tabs on everyone. Ever since Dean married Kaylie, thus making Kaylie the Lupa of the Pack, many of the shifters used the threat of hurting her feelings with a sort of gleeful deviance when the situation suited them. In this case, Eddie’s unease was a palpable feeling that radiated out to the other gathered men, so much so that they too were beginning to feel uncomfortable. With an audible sigh of resignation, Eddie sat and Mack eased down next to him. The last of the eight leaders, Vince DeNoza, also came from the kitchen with his hands filled, only he held a large tray of thick sandwiches, the scent of hot roast beef and cheese with the slight spice of green chili making Ben’s mouth water. He snagged one as Vince passed by, knowing how greedy shifters were when it came

to food. “The best we could do on such short notice,” Kaylie said from behind the Italian restaurant owner, her voice softly chiding. But it wasn’t just the sight of Kaylie that caught everyone’s attention—it was the sleeping baby nestled in her arms. At only three weeks of age, little Lukas Kinigos already drew a crowd of admirers, men and women, shifter and human alike. As the only son and firstborn of their alpha, Lukas was akin to a prince in their world. With his thatch of black hair and eyes already turning the deep, startling green as his father’s, the little boy was a precious treasure to the pack. Ben swallowed and took another hearty bite of his sandwich, fascinated by how Dean’s eyes grew tender with love as he watched his wife cradling his son. Just over a year ago, Dean’s control had been fragile at best, his beast too close to the surface for comfort. Until Kaylie. Now, though his face remained hard, his eyes teased as he flicked his thumb at Zan. “Don’t blame me.” “Hey.” Zan blustered, straightening at the accusation. “I’m not the one who had to do five thousand background checks before agreeing to help.” Eyes as green as his brother’s turned to stab Caleb. Unfazed by the blame game, since acting like bickering siblings was part and parcel of a tight-knit pack, Caleb reached for one of the sandwiches Vince set on the coffee table next to another tray with bottles of water and soda. “I’m not about to let my men handle a situation I don’t know every detail about. That includes background checks on those involved.” Caleb’s voice was low and solid, not just in deference to the sleeping child but because that was who Caleb was: strong, solid, and very protective of his pack. He could easily be alpha of his own pack or even challenge Dean for the position to run the Woodcliff Pack, but Ben knew the sheriff had too much respect and liking for Dean to do that. They all did. Plus, no one else wanted that kind of responsibility. Caleb was content to be Dean’s second in command, his job as town sheriff more than satisfying his beast’s dominate and protec-

tive instincts. And next week they would become brothers-in-law when Caleb married Kaylie’s sister, Tess. Ben tried not to think of the wedding and the fact that three of his friends had found and claimed their mates within the last year. It made his own beast antsy, and the man envious. “This is wonderful,” Ben murmured to Kaylie around a mouth full of meat and cheese, not only to break free from the sudden bleakness that threatened to ruin his good mood, but because the food was indeed good. The hint of spicy heat only added to the flavor. “Thank Vince. He made it.” Kaylie walked over and leaned against the armrest of Dean’s chair, his hand immediately reaching out to gently stroke his son’s head. “I was busy feeding Lukas.” Dean blinked and tore his gaze from his child. “You fed him while Vince and Mack were with you?” At the incredulous tone, Kaylie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dean. I plopped out my boobs in front of everyone.” “Kaylie, please.” Vince winced. “You’ll get me killed, or worse, exiled from the pack.” Settling in for a great show, Ben watched the interplay of his pack members as he lowered himself onto the thick carpet next to Jack. He popped the last bit of food in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. These people were his friends, his family. Their dynamic didn’t shift, yet somehow remained heartfelt and lively, reinforcing Ben’s bonds to his pack and their warmth. Roaming, as some of his kind did when seeking a mate, was not in the cards for Ben. He’d miss his pack too much to be happy anywhere else. It wasn’t until Kaylie mentioned his name that he pulled himself from his thoughts. Her words, though, had him sputtering with disbelief. “Except Ben. I’ve seen him naked.” Now the center of attention by curious eyes, all except Dean’s, who appeared ready to slice his throat open, Ben choked. “Christ, woman. I was all of eleven, coming out of a shift. And you shouldn’t have been there anyway.” Jack chuckled, slapping a paternal hand on Ben’s shoulder and

squeezing fondly. “I remember that. Kaylie was spending the night with my Joanie and Ben lived next door to us. When Grace Anderson called me in a panic, I hopped the fence to find the poor boy stuck in mid-shift and his father snoring away on the grass, naked as the day he was born. Once I got Ben settled and calmed down, I turn to see the two girls, eyes wide in shock, mouths open like gaping fish, as they peered through the fencing.” Unrepentant, Kaylie shrugged. “We were curious.” “Curiosity killed the cat,” Dean narrowed his eyes at Kaylie, but the gleam of heat and something more was unmistakable. “And satisfaction brought it back. How many times do we need to have this discussion?” “Until it sinks in.” Dean laid a hand on Kaylie’s thigh and she leaned down to press a lingering kiss on her husband’s forehead. “Now that my work of mayhem is done,” Kaylie said, “I’m going to put our son to bed and let you get on with your meeting.” Amid a chorus of good nights, Kaylie passed Ben and, ignoring his retaliatory gaze, whispered under her breath, “Good luck.” Now, instead of thinking how he could get his hands on some naked baby pictures of Kaylie to plaster around town, Ben instead wondered just what had transpired before his arrival. “As always, I thank you for coming. I do realize this meeting was on short notice and plan to be brief, as you all have other things to do.” Dean looked at each of his leaders as he spoke, shifting the group easily from playtime to business. “This meeting and subsequent result is at Zan’s request, so I will let him explain.” Intrigued, Ben reached for another sandwich and a soda, setting his eyes on the former secret ops shifter. Zan didn’t hesitate. “An acquaintance of mine has requested my help. Our help. Pack help, obviously.” “Acquaintance?” Ben raised a brow. Given Zan’s background, an acquaintance could mean anybody, or anything. And not necessarily of the virtuous kind. Zan zeroed in on Ben. “Suffice it to say we’ve worked with each other in the past to mutual satisfaction.” Ben just raised his second brow. “And you think that’s going to

make me feel all warm and fuzzy?” “Stop.” Dean sliced a hand through the air. “Zan. Quit being so dramatic. And Ben,” he added, freezing Ben’s smug smile in place. “Be quiet and let Zan speak.” After a halfhearted sneer, Zan restarted. “All right. Here it is. Rome Felix is a government agent in the middle of an investigation. His only witness was put into hiding until the trial, only the arms dealer got a judge to dismiss the case based on insufficient evidence and this witness of his has been located. Rome has asked for permission to bring his witness here for protection until the investigative team can reorganize their case.” “And…” Caleb prompted. Zan smiled, and it wasn’t pretty. “Rome wants to use his witness as bait to lure his prey here. It’s a damn good bet this Valen person will never see the inside of a cell unless an irrefutable crime as been committed. Like attempted murder.” “So what are we supposed to do?” Eddie asked, sipping water. “I mean, we’re not the protective services.” “No, but we’re the next best thing.” Zan looked at each shifter in turn. “We’re stronger, faster, and have keener senses then any human. We’re a small-town community and can spot outsiders in the blink of an eye. We have the ability and know-how to protect Rome’s charge, because we know how to protect our own. I’ll be bringing in two from my former crew to handle the assignment, but I’ll need all of you to keep your eyes and ears open for anything unusual or for anyone asking a lot of questions. And maybe some protection duty from a few of you.” “I’m assuming he’s a shifter if he’s seeking pack help. But doesn’t he have his own pack that could look after his witness?” This from Josh. “Ah.” Zan hemmed. “Actually, his pack isn’t in the States.” “Zan,” Dean warned. Zan’s lips pursed as if he were about to impart something unpleasant and Ben’s wolf crouched in wariness. “Rome’s a feline shifter. From Peru.” Amidst the grumbling and snarls he raised his voice. “As you know, feline shifters don’t have packs. They’re usu-

ally loners, but Rome’s family has remained close. In fact, they run a wildlife preserve in the northwest part of Peru. And frankly, all of you should know better than to be biased about a group of people before you ever meet them.” Because human males who could change into a wolf didn’t make them bad people. It just made them different. Jack spoke into the silence. “Regardless of this man’s heritage, it strikes me that someone needs our protection. Period. I do, however, wish to know more about this witness. As in, were they part of the, ah, criminal group?” Rather than Zan, it was Caleb who answered. “Far from it. Willow Yancy is a young lady, a human, who knows nothing about our kind. A ballet dancer just making a name for herself when she became caught in the middle of this. Tess actually saw her dance once a couple of years ago in some small production and remembered her. Said the girl had the most innocent eyes she’d ever seen.” “What happened?” Vince asked. His own daughter had shown an interest in dance several years ago when she was a kid, and as any loving and indulgent father, he’d given her full rein. “She was shot, twice. Blew out her knee and took a chunk of her hip bone. She’ll never dance again.” Zan’s face tightened with anger. “What would you do if your daughter, sister, or one of our pack females not only had her dream taken away so carelessly, but nearly lost her life?” “Kill the fucker,” Mack muttered, low and harsh. Vince and several others echoed his sentiments. To them, women were treasured. Didn’t matter the size, age, race, or ethnicity. A female kept the males grounded, soothed. Without them, they might easily lose control over their beast, and a wild, dangerous animal running amok with a human’s intelligence was a terrifying prospect. Multiply that by thousands, and the result would easily equal mass destruction. “Where are they staying?” Ben wanted to know, already mentally calculating how this was going to play out. While he felt pity for the girl, and would do what was required of him without com-

plaint, he wasn’t looking forward to becoming a damn babysitter, which, taking into account Kaylie’s whisper, meant he’d already been nominated for the role. Round-the-clock protection for an undetermined time period meant his prospects at hooking up with a couple of snow bunnies was going downhill at full speed. “We’re putting them in one of the finished cabins by the lodge,” Dean said, referring to the three newly constructed buildings situated by the ski lodge. “Zan’s cohorts will take one of the other cabins and the third will be kept available to us to use as needed. Ben, I’ll need you to be liaison with this Rome, which also means you’re first up on protection duty. Mack will take the next four-hour shift, followed by Vince, Jack, Eddie, then Josh. Once Scott and Joe get here, we won’t need to be on site, though I do want us all to keep our eyes and ears open at all times. For as long as it takes.” Before Ben could question the reason why Brandon and Caleb weren’t added to the protection roster, Dean added, “Brandon, Zan, and the other cops will have enough on their hands with the influx of tourists for skiing season and the heightened aggression of the shifters prior to the full moon. Caleb will be too crazed with wedding and honeymoon plans.” “I am not crazed,” Caleb groused. “Please. Until that female says ‘I do’ and you’ve got her committed in every way, you’re crazed. I know. I’ve been there. And Tess is Kaylie’s sister, after all. They’re both too damn independent for our comfort.” The last was muttered, as if Dean actually disliked having an independent mate. Ben didn’t get it. When, not if, he found his mate, independence was one trait he prayed she possessed in spades. In his twenty-nine years he’d done a lot of thinking of his perfect mate. She wouldn’t crowd him or question him about his crazy jobs— which changed according to season and what Dean needed him to do—or when he wanted to shoot hoops with his friends. As long as she remained faithful, she could do whatever made her happy, just as long as that happiness didn’t depend on Ben. Ben had grown up with co-dependent, possessive parents. The

bakery in town they once owned had been sold when their warped need to be each other’s sole interest had turned deadly. Ben could still remember the winter he’d turned fourteen, when the cruel accusations his parents hurled at one another escalated to a fever pitch. His father had stormed out of the house in a rage, threatening to kill them all. Two hours later he was dead from a snapped neck. Based on the evidence, he’d been speeding on the icy mountain roads, lost control of his vehicle, and been thrown through the windshield onto the unforgiving hard concrete highway. They also found an empty bottle of whiskey on the passenger floor. While his mother had reverted to a quiet, almost childlike dependency after her husband’s death, Ben had stepped out into the world with his arms wide open. Wolves were social creatures, needing touch from their pack members to reinforce bonds and soothe their beasts. His parents had stifled his animal’s needs, and their own, by their unhealthy dependence on each other. Shaking the memory off, Ben wiped his hands impatiently on a napkin and rested more comfortably against the front of the couch. “And when will they be here?” Because the night was still young and this meeting was about to be adjourned. The sound of slamming vehicle doors made his libido sink, as did his hope at catching up with Pete and the snow bunnies. Babysitting duty was about to begin.

Chapter Three To say Willow felt a little nervous as she followed Rome inside the two-story house nestled deep within the Colorado mountains was an understatement. The sheer number of vehicles parked in the large clearing in front of the home forewarned her that something akin to a party might possibly be taking place. “Are you sure we’re expected?” Willow whispered, struggling to untie the wet laces of her new boots with cold fingers. Since she’d had to start all over in the clothes department once ensconced in the Witness Protection Program, and believing it would only be for a short time, Willow had only purchased the necessities to tide her over. Unfortunately, the winter temperatures in Phoenix, Arizona, was a far cry from that of the Colorado mountains. Stopping at a Walmart for warmer clothes meant most everything she now owned was stuffed in either her single suitcase or jammed in one of the many plastic shopping bags that littered the truck. Her new gloves were packed somewhere in one of those bags, though she did have on her new coat. While Willow had only wanted a jacket sufficient enough for short jaunts from warm car to warm house, Rome had insisted on something heavier, which she was now grateful for. Being outside in the cold wasn’t high on her list of priorities, but being idle wasn’t something she did well. A walk in the woods might be interesting. Maybe she could ask Rome about skiing. She’d never been skiing. Then again, her knee and hip may be opposed to that idea all together. She’d take it one day at a time. “Yes,” Rome sent her a reassuring smile, patient even though he already informed her of why he was bringing Willow to this community. “These men can’t protect you if they haven’t met you, and I’m not taking any chances with your safety.” “And you trust them?” Willow unconsciously slid her stocking feet into ballet third position on the tiled floor of the foyer. Rome cupped her chin in one surprisingly warm hand. “With both our lives.” Searching his dark eyes for a moment, Willow saw nothing but

serious honesty. She trusted this man who had already saved her life once. If Rome trusted these people she was about to encounter, then she would as well. Swallowing her anxiety, she nodded once. “Okay, then.” White teeth flashed, striking against the deep honey color of his face, showcasing the dimples that seemed so at odds with his rugged features. “Okay, then.” Noticing her nerves, he placed a hand on her lower back, another sign of assurance. “Pretend you’re about to go onstage,” he suggested. “Shoulders back, head up.” Rome was right. She might no longer have the graceful, gravity-defying movements of a dancer, but she still had the poise. Not wanting anyone to think of her as a victim, she set her shoulders back, chin up. Open epaulement, arms at rest. Because Willow wasn’t a victim. She was a survivor. As they stepped into a spacious living area, all conversation ceased and she found herself the attention. On stage she could lose herself in the music, forget about the riveting stare of a thousand pairs of anonymous eyes. Here, there was no hiding. All the spit in her mouth dried up when she realized not one female was present. When every male stood at her entrance, filling the room to bursting with testosterone, she took a hasty step back, then forced herself to stand still and not duck behind Rome. You were sick of hiding anyway, she told herself sternly as a man, handsome in a dark and dangerous kind of way, walked across the room. His grin and the welcoming warmth in his eyes released some of her tension. “Good to see you, Rome.” He enveloped the agent in a bear hug. Rome returned the hearty gesture, giving Willow the impression that these two were friends as well as business acquaintances. That put her more at ease than all the reassuring words Rome had spouted throughout the long drive. “Zan, you sneaky bastard. Heard you got married.” They parted with Zan wearing what could only be described as a goofy smile. “To a beautiful doctor, no less. The light of my life.”

“Congratulations. I’m really happy for you.” “Thanks. I’m happy for me as well.” Zan turned memorizing green eyes on Willow and held out a hand, his tone soothing. “Miss Yancy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Though relieved she would no longer need to go by a fake name, she remained guarded as he swallowed her hand in his. “Willow. Please. I’d like to thank you for, um…” He raised a brow, his smile never fading. “Helping you out?” Her lips twitched. “Yes. Helping me out. I hope we didn’t crash a party.” “On the contrary.” Zan stepped back and raised his arm, encompassing everyone in the room. “We were just discussing strategy.” Willow’s eyes widened. “Everyone,” she whispered. “Everyone.” Zan turned back to Willow, a harsh gleam in his eyes. “We don’t take well to women being hurt. It goes against our nature.” At her stunned expression, he reached out and touched her chin with two gentle fingers. “You will be safer with us than anywhere on this planet.” Rome made some strange sound, almost a low growl, and Zan’s eyes twinkled. “Well, depending on one’s perspective.” With that cryptic remark zinging through her head, Zan began introducing all the men in the room, each one coming up to her and shaking her hand. The first man was so strikingly similar to Zan that Willow wasn’t surprised he turned out to be Zan’s brother. She was, however, surprised that this Dean Kinigos was also the town’s mayor. Next came the sheriff, Caleb; a deputy, Brandon; a shy mechanic named Eddie; and a teacher named Josh. On the heels of Josh was an older gentleman by the name of Jack, who in demeanor reminded her so much of her father that Willow felt a momentary longing for her own. That yearning was interrupted when a very large man named Mack came up and raised her hand to his lips. He smiled at her shocked “ow” and might have added to his “Pleased to meet you” if he hadn’t been shoved out of the way with surprising ease by a man possibly in his late fifties.

“Behave yourself.” The older gentleman scowled at Mack before turning to Willow with a mischievous grin. Bemused by everyone, and hoping a test wasn’t in the foreseeable future, she waited for what this newcomer would do. Like all the others, he took her hand, then clasped his other over it. “I am Vince DeNoza. You like Italian food?” As the question came out of left field, it took Willow a second to respond “I do, yes.” “Excellente!” He beamed at her. “I own the magnificent Locanda Italiana. I will provide the best Italian meals you ever ate, as only a true Italian can do.” His accent grew thicker as he spoke, making Willow skeptical of Vince’s authenticity. Before she could decide, a tall, dark blond man wrapped a hand around Vincent’s wrist and squeezed, causing the older man to drop his hold. The action was so smooth, so quick, that Willow jerked her gaze up and into a pair of eyes a stunning color. Not brown. That was simply too tame. Shimmering bronze, she thought as the man spoke to the restaurant owner, though his eyes remained locked on Willow’s. “Quit flirting, Vince, or I’ll tell your wife on you.” Willow wanted to shiver at the low, silky tone. It made her think of hungry whispers in the dark, tangled sheets, and glistening bodies. Which was extremely disconcerting, especially since she’d never encountered any of those things. But Willow wasn’t stupid, either. This man was pure seduction, and every female part of her, ignored for so long, began to stretch awake and purr with approval. His hair curled invitingly over a face just this side of pretty-boy handsome due to a sculpted jaw and weathered lines that fanned from his eyes. The heated gleam in those bronzed depths was far from any innocent boy-next-door charm. “I’m Ben Anderson,” he said, lifting her hand to his lips. Unlike Mack, he didn’t kiss the back of her hand. No, this tempting specimen of masculinity placed his mouth on the palm of her hand. The jolt of electricity from his touch shot straight up her arm, split at her shoulder, and seemed to invade her very bloodstream. In the blink of an eye she felt like she’d downed a dozen No-doz. Her

heart began to race and a warmth that had nothing to do with the weight of her heavy coat inside the toasty home spread over every inch of her body. This Ben suddenly went stock-still, lashes dropping over those amazing eyes, his nose buried in her hand as he practically nuzzled her palm. “That’s enough, pup.” Rome growled the last word as if it was a curse. Ben’s head rose sharply, eyes glued to hers. “I apologize. Your...scent is quite lovely.” Her scent? The only thing good she smelled was a hint of sandalwood, and it wasn’t coming from her. It was coming from Ben. “Thank you.” “I’m sorry I’m late,” a female voice called out from behind Willow, startling her into action. With a slight tug, Willow slipped her hand from Ben’s, somehow knowing the only reason she was free from his touch was because he’d allowed it. Off center, she turned to see a woman about her own age and height, but with brown hair and eyes sparkling with life and happiness. “I didn’t mean to be so long but the baby was fussy and it took a bit longer to get him asleep than I thought.” Willow pasted on a polite smile as the other woman reached out to take Willow’s hand. “Sorry. Welcome to my home. I’m Kaylie Gentry.” A growl from Willow’s right had her swinging her head around to see that Dean had once again risen from his chair. Kaylie let out a huff and Willow looked back in time to see her roll her eyes. “Kinigos. Kaylie Gentry Kinigos. Really, Dean. You’re so possessive.” “That’s because you’re mine,” the black-haired mayor rumbled. Kaylie placed a warm hand on Willow’s arm and led her to the sofa. “He’s so feisty, but I love him anyway.” She glared around the room. “Can’t say much for the others, who allowed our guests to stand in the doorway without offering a drink, food, or even a darn seat.” “Oh, no.” Willow murmured, a mite uneasy, especially when

she heard another low growling sound. She looked around for a dog. A big, unhappy one. Then in a flurry of movement, most of the men began a hurried, albeit cordial, mass exodus, and she sagged back into the cushions in confusion. “Well.” Kaylie, looking almost as bemused as Willow, turned to her husband. “What’d I say?” It was Zan who answered with a low chuckle. “You need to learn more control over your tone, Kaylie. They think you’re unhappy with them.” Willow watched Kaylie bite her lip in anxiety, then looked over at the woman’s husband, who seemed to be amused. In addition to Zan, Caleb, Brandon, and Ben remained behind, as did Rome, of course, who moved over to stretch out in a duplicate of Dean’s chair that was placed in front of a roaring fire. “You’ll learn, baby.” Dean told his wife. Kaylie let out a sigh and turned to focus on Willow. “Would you like anything to drink or eat?” Totally confused, Willow shrugged out of her coat and accepted a Dr. Pepper and popped the top. She didn’t understand what was going on and looked over at Rome to see his reaction. He only shrugged when their eyes connected. No help there. Then she turned her gaze across the coffee table and got caught up in Ben’s, who now lounged on the loveseat directly opposite her. The corners of his lips were curled up and he winked at her. Willow was glad she was sitting down. She could blame the weakness in her knees to the long car ride followed by the cold, standing still so long, need for food, or a million other things. None would be correct. His gaze felt like a physical touch, his bottom lip a temptation for her teeth. Never before had she felt the desire to sink her teeth into human flesh, but Ben’s? Hot and damn came to mind. “Oh, come on, Dean.” Caleb leaned against the sofa arm next to Kaylie. “You’re going to let your wife think that?” Kaylie’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t do anything to make them leave?” Dean let out a soft chuckle. “No. I did.”

Willow frowned, wondering when he told everyone to leave. She didn’t recall hearing it. “So you were playing with me.” Kaylie’s glare shot from her husband to Zan. “Both of you. Why?” A gleam of something flashed in Dean’s eyes. “In retaliation for the mud-wrestling story.” Willow’s brows rose and she shot her eyes to Rome’s seemingly slumbering form and back to Kaylie. What kind of people had Rome brought her to? “Hello? Playing softball, and it was raining. Mud was an obvious result. And I’m not the one who brought it up.” Kaylie pointed a finger at Zan. “It was your wife who did so.” Zan chuckled. “Yeah, but my wife’s not lu—” He paused, slanting a glance from Willow to Dean. “Not married to the mayor.” Willow was getting a headache. There was so much going on below the surface with these people that she felt as if she’d walked in at the middle of a movie. Added to that, both her knee and hip began to make their displeasure at the long drive from Denver known. She reached down with one hand to massage her knee while she used the other to reach for her purse. Which, she realized belatedly, was back in the rented SUV. She let out a soft sigh. “You all right?” Ben leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. His tone was low, almost a whisper, but it caused everyone else in the room to turn their way. They all must have freaking dog ears, Willow thought glumly, once again finding herself the center of attention. “I just forgot my purse in the truck.” Ben looked down at the hand on her knee, then back to her face. She thought she saw a flash of anger in the bronze depths, yet his question was a soothing caress. The man could make millions off the emotions his voice evoked. “What are you taking for the pain?” Willow first looked at Rome, who lazily lifted his chin as if to say “go ahead.” “Just Tylenol.” Except when she went to bed. That’s when the nightmares came.

“Well, I have plenty of that.” Kaylie stood up. “Especially since I married that one.” As the other woman left the room, Willow watched Dean watch his wife. The heat in his eyes was unmistakable, and extremely private. It made her almost uncomfortable to witness. Uncomfortable because she wondered what it would feel like to be so wanted. Unbidden, her gaze went to Ben, only to find him staring at her. Or, should she say, learning her. That was how she felt as his eyes skimmed from her face, down over her throat and breasts, lowering to her legs and feet before traveling back up at a leisurely pace. Not the least bit abashed at having been caught ogling her, Ben flashed a disconcerting smile when their eyes connected once again, a sensual curving of his lips that probably caused women to drop their panties at his feet on a regular basis. Yet Willow didn’t feel ogled. More like appreciated. Desired. And hot. Very, very hot. Except her nipples, which tightened underneath her sweater as if she were freezing. Face flushing, she looked away. How pathetic. I’m getting turned on because a gorgeous man looked at me. I have to get my life back. But what good would that do? Her dancing career was over, her apartment no doubt rented out and her stuff hopefully packed at her father’s. Who didn’t know if she was dead or alive. Her throat closed up at the thought of her father. “It must seem unnerving, meeting so many people at once.” Ben’s voice drew her attention. “But we’re all here to help you, Willow. The men you met will act as the eyes and ears in the community, which is why they needed to meet you. Can’t very well help you if they don’t know you.” Seemed logical, and extremely generous. “Thank you.” “Since it seems as if Rome has gone to sleep”—Dean gave a disgusted shake of his head at Rome, who lounged contentedly, basking in the heat from the fire—“Why don’t you give us a rundown of what brought you here?” “Not asleep, mayor,” Rome muttered before turning sleepy eyes her way. “It’s okay, Willow. Just tell them what you told me.”

Chapter Four “Need me to knock any heads together, Willow?” Willow was exceedingly thrilled Kaylie choose that moment to return, though it only delayed the inevitable. The other woman took a circuitous route back to the sofa, slowing to flick her husband not so gently on the ear. In retaliation, Dean grasped his wife’s hand, allowing her to see his smirk before pressing a kiss on her knuckles. To Willow, their brief interaction appeared as a dance between partners, fluid, trusting. Then Kaylie was at Willow’s side, handing her the pain reliever. “Thank you.” Willow shook out four, swallowed them with more soda, then didn’t know what to do with her hands. She nearly jumped a foot when Kaylie covered her fidgeting fingers with a soft hand. “Think of it as recapping a movie you saw recently.” Willow looked into Kaylie’s hazel eyes and only saw empathy. The feminine contact eased her jittery nerves, the gentle encouragement a valued support that bolstered her resolve. Gazing into the fire, she took a deep breath. “I went to the studio late one night to practice a routine I was having some difficulty with. While it’s not really acceptable, Shana, the company’s accountant, understood the heavy demands and provided me with a key and the code so I could come and go as needed.” Willow tucked one foot behind the other on the floor, flitting her eyes to Kaylie and away again, only to become arrested by Ben’s quiet focus. Her tongue flicked over her lips and when his unique eyes darkened, dropping to her mouth, she almost forgot what she was saying. “The, ah, this particular night I entered the back door and went straight to the practice room as usual. But before I could turn on the lights, Shana popped out of nowhere, telling me to hush because our producer, Marg Valen, was there. When Shana pushed me up against the wall to keep me out of sight, I felt a tug on my gym bag. I was going to ask what she was doing but Marg called her name. Next thing I know, they’re making out and Marg takes Shana out the back door, promising a night she won’t

ever forget. After I was sure they were gone, I just left.” “No practice?” Ben asked quietly. Willow’s forehead wrinkled. “No. I was too shocked. I mean, I didn’t know there was anything romantic going on between Shana and Marg. Didn’t even know Shana or Marg, were, ah, well, you know. And really. Shana is a good-looking woman. But Marg?” She shuddered. “Marg Valen makes Tommy Lee Jones dressed in drag look hot, and that’s if you can get past the sight of her pointy four-inch nails.” Rome stated his opinion quietly. Ben made a face. “Got it. Sorry. Go on, Willow. You’re doing great.” Willow turned back to gaze blindly into the fire. “The next morning the police came by the studio. They told us Shana had been killed in a mugging incident after she’d left the building the night before.” Her voice lowered, tightened with remembrance. “But I knew that to be a lie because I’d peeked out the side window and watched as Marg and Shana got into Marg’s limo. I guess I freaked a little.” “A little?” Willow caught Rome’s teasing smile in her peripheral vision. “She looked like she was about to lose her breakfast, and that was before she raced off as if the hounds of hell were after her.” Willow ducked her pink face, stared at Kaylie’s hand on hers. “So anyway, that’s when I remembered the tugging on my bag when Shana pushed me up against the wall. When I searched inside, I found a thumb drive.” Elbows on the chair arms, Rome interlaced his fingers over his abdomen. “A thumb drive implicating the production company as a front for smuggling guns, but nothing specifically pointing to Valen. Enough for a warrant, but not enough to put her behind bars.” “A ballet company? Seriously?” Kaylie seemed to find the idea hard to believe. “Um.” Caleb pursed his lips. “Maybe ship large quantities of boxes containing slippers, leotards, those tutu thingys, whatever, to the company when in fact it’s guns. Who would know the dif-

ference until the crates were opened and you looked past the false packaging?” “People who know dancers only buy slippers according to their individual feet measurements and so always special order them. Like Shana.” Willow whispered. “All right, then. So how does this Valen know you had the thumb drive?” Ben wanted to know. Willow gave him a deprecating smile. “Did you miss the part where Rome said I freaked and ran to the bathroom?” When his lips twitched Willow continued. “Maybe she knew Shana had given me a key and by my reaction thought I’d been at the studio that night. Anyway, after the cops left, telling us to call if we remembered anything, no matter how slight, I began to panic.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Luckily, Marg canceled practice shortly after, telling us we weren’t being productive and a waste of her time.” “Nice,” Brandon murmured from his position by the entryway. Willow’s lips curved in a wan smile. “Yes, she’s a delight. But she held the purse strings, so we all tried to ignore her lousy attitude the best we could.” Zan grunted. “Not anymore.” Her reply was noncommittal until Kaylie nudged her, arm to arm. “Then what happened?” Several rapid blinks to refocus on the story. “Oh. Well. As soon as I got home I used the card Rome gave us and called him. He showed up, took the thumb drive, told me to pack a bag, and, um…” Willow petered out, unable to say more. No doubt sensing her discomfort, Rome picked up the reins. “The ATF had received an anonymous tip, probably from Shana, and had been keeping an eye on the company for several weeks before Shana’s death. We’d gone to the studio to study everyone’s reaction to the news and Willow’s response raised my hackles. I could practically smell her fear. When she contacted me I wasn’t taking any chances and brought extra protection.” Rome paused, his eyes glinting with fury. “Only I underestimated Valen’s determination. Just as I reached the stairwell, some-

one from the apartment at the far end of the hall across from Willow’s opened fire. The bastard must have been watching us through the peephole. One officer went down and because I was too fucking slow, Willow was hit twice before I could return fire and get us down the stairs.” The thick silence broke when Kaylie softly stated, “I take it the officer didn’t make it.” Willow only shook her head, not really hearing the conversation going on around her as she lost part of herself to the pain, both physical and emotional, Rome’s words had dredged up. Kaylie squeezed Willow’s hand, cutting off the memories. “Is there anything medicinal you need?” At Willow’s questioning gaze, Kaylie smiled. “I’m a vet and Zan’s wife is a doctor. If you need more than Tylenol for the pain, you can tell us. We both know the damage a bullet can do and have no problem easing any discomfort you have.” Willow looked up into those sympathetic eyes and felt her throat thicken. Something about this woman made Willow want to sob in her arms. Blaming it on exhaustion and a real fear of what waited for her in sleep, Willow gave Kaylie the name of the medicine she was almost out of, the one that kept the nightmares at bay. Mostly. “No problem. I can get that for you tomorrow.” “I’ll take it to her,” Ben interjected, clearly eavesdropping. Willow bit her bottom lip, embarrassed that this big, strong, sexy man overheard her weakness. She didn’t want to be thought of as pathetic. Then with a mental shrug she let it go. “Thank you.” Ben rose with fluid grace, skirting the coffee table to crouch in front of her. He took her hand in his. “You need anything at all, Will, you let me know and I’ll get it for you.” His promise, the sincerity that glowed in his eyes, caused Willow to blink in surprise. It also had her looking at his left hand. Ringless. “Jack just sent a text. The cabin’s ready. Heat’s on, Rome,” Caleb made a mocking jab at the agent still ensconced in his cozy chair by the fire like a king on a throne and slid a small black cell into his pocket. “He also stocked the place up with food.”

Willow glanced over at a grandfather clock, shocked to see nearly two hours had passed since she first stepped in the house. “You must be tired,” Ben’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. “Since the cabin’s ready, I’ll take you up there so you can get comfortable.” “Sounds lovely.” Willow allowed Ben to pull her to her feet, his hold sliding so his fingers folded tight over the back of her hand, now resting on his chest, his thumb a light caress on her palm. It seemed too possessive a hold, the whisper of his touch on her soft flesh too intimate for a practical stranger. She was about to tug her hand away when Rome suddenly appeared behind Ben, looking far from sleepy. “Not having this conversation again.” “Then don’t.” Ben dismissed the agent without a glance, then winced as a light breeze tickled Willow’s face and hands. She lifted her eyes up, looking for ductwork, thinking the heater kicked in. “Gentlemen,” Dean said, his tone low and unyielding, arms folded casually across his chest as he approached the tableau. “I believe Miss Yancy is exhausted. Ben will show you the way to the cabin, Rome, and remain the rest of the evening. Outside,” he stressed the last word, wringing a resigned sigh from Ben, “as added precaution while we finish formalizing our plans.” Willow thought Rome muttered something like, “maybe it’ll cool him off,” but she wasn’t sure. To her thinking, no one should be outside in this weather. It was freezing. But since she didn’t really know these people she kept mum, and quickly found herself hugged by Kaylie, bundled back in her coat and boots, then spewed out into the night in a flash. Willow almost chuckled, thinking. Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?

Chapter Five Once back on the main highway, Rome and Willow followed Ben’s black truck, keeping the taillights in sight as they turned onto a road that climbed high and winding up the mountain. After several minutes Rome spoke. “So?” Willow turned in her seat to look at him, the dim interior throwing deep shadows on his face. Not for the first time she sensed there was far more to Rome than what he presented to the world. It was akin to what she felt at the mayor’s home, only several times over. Secrets, she thought. It was like a roomful of secrets. “So. What?” He cleared his throat. “You feel okay with this?” Uh, no. “Not sure, Rome.” “Overwhelmed?” She snorted. “Overwhelmed? I think that’s putting it lightly.” Facing forward she tried to straighten her knee, hoping to alleviate the slow burn. Fearful of becoming dependent on pain medication, like her mom had depended on alcohol, Willow always pushed until it was almost too late. Except at night. Then she willingly took the muscle relaxants and the occasional Demerol. “I think,” she paused, catching herself subconsciously massaging her hip. Maybe a warm bath would help. “Yes?” “I think I’m just tired. And overwhelmed. And just need to get some sleep.” “Well it looks as if we’re here so you’ll soon get your wish.” Willow squinted out the window. With the moon roughly three-quarters full, a light glow shimmered over the land, tinting the white snow-covered ground and trees with a bluish hue that twinkled with cold fire. Beyond the headlights an area much less populated by the dense growth of pines came into view and they turned into the clearing. Rome braked behind Ben as they pulled up to a cabin. Her knee once again protested as she stood, swiveling to take

in the scenery. The slamming of car doors sounded overly loud in the near silence, setting off soft rustling and complaints of the night forest inhabitants. Beyond the cold and spooky quality of the sudden stillness, Willow had to admit her new home was beautiful, until an owl hooted and she let out an abbreviated girly scream. “Just an owl,” Ben chuckled at her side, taking her arm and guiding her up the stairs of a single-story cabin. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just curious about his new neighbors.” “So you say. I don’t believe I’ve ever actually heard an owl before, not in the wild.” Living in a city did have its drawbacks. Ben pushed the wood door and held it open as he stood sideways just outside the doorway, his eyes a steady heat on hers. “Then this trip may very well hold many firsts for you.” Something low in her belly tightened. Anticipation or fear? Then Rome brushed impatiently past them. “Idiot. Did you check the cabin first? No. And you’re letting the heat out.” The exasperated look on Ben’s face caused Willow’s lips to curve. She followed Rome inside, Ben behind her. “Relax, Rome. You know as well as I do that no one is within a mile of this place.” Rome stood in the middle of the living area, glaring over his shoulder at Ben. “And sometimes a distraction can skew one’s perception of their surroundings.” Ben’s eyes tightened a margin. A second later he gave Rome a short nod. “Agreed.” Willow heard their exchange while peering about the interior. Rustic met charming and gave birth to simple and pleasurable welcome. She let out a sigh and scooted farther into the room. “On this site we started on the three smaller cabins first.” Ben said as he took Rome and Willow through the interior, explaining how the town hoped to attract additional tourism by providing private and family-friendly accommodations. “Each has two bedrooms and two baths, while the next four will have three and four bedrooms for larger groups or big families.” Both bedrooms were nicely sized, each containing the same simple and charmingly rustic furnishings as in the living room and kitchen, the beds covered with thick quilts that looked warm and

inviting. Rome left to get the luggage, leaving Willow alone with Ben. She swallowed nervously as she trailed her fingers over the wood dresser. “You said ‘on this site.’ Are you planning more cabins elsewhere?” Ben leaned a shoulder against the door frame of the bedroom, his size easily filling the empty space. “About three miles from here, on the other side of the ski lodge, we’ll do another four cabins. Only those will be one-bedrooms with a Jacuzzi and will be spaced farther apart to ensure privacy.” His lips curled and he gave her a wicked wink. “For those romantic getaways.” Willow nearly swallowed her tongue. “Oh.” She lifted a hand to her throat, feeling that strange warmth again, and suddenly found any sight but Ben fascinating. Until her eyes landed on the bed. Her eyes shot right back to Ben. “Um. I think that’s a wonderful idea for a honeymoon. I bet it’s beautiful here in the daytime.” “The nighttime as well, especially when the full moon shines on virgin snow. It becomes a winter wonderland.” “But really cold. Won’t you freeze out there?” An easy smile. “No worries. Kaylie gave me a care package before we left and a huge thermos of coffee. And I enjoy the night.” “I still think it’s a bit harsh to be stuck outside all night.” Unperturbed at facing a night in what Willow considered the harsh elements, Ben shook his head. “Not all night. We’ll all be in shifts. Mack will relieve me later.” His lips pressed together. “But you’ll be asleep by then.” This said in a low, stern tone. Confused by what seemed like a demand, Willow took a hesitant step back, right into the dresser. “Possibly. Sometimes I don’t sleep well.” Ben edged away from the wood frame, moving toward Willow. Stalked, Willow thought irrationally, each step slow and steady, like a predator hunting down its prey. With the dresser at her back, she could only watch his approach with wide eyes. A foot away, he stopped, tilting his head as if puzzling something out. Willow craned her neck to look in his eyes, her five feet, four inches of height placing her nose at the base of his throat. One

little step and she could drop her weary head on his clearly capable broad shoulders. Daunted by that strange and tempting thought, she tightened the hand on her throat and wrapped her other arm around her middle, as if to hold herself back from doing just that. Ben’s brows, several shades darker than his hair, drew together. “Am I making you nervous?” “N-no,” Willow lied. “Well. A little. Maybe.” His frown intensified. “Don’t be afraid of me, Willow. Ever. I would never do anything to hurt you or cause you harm. I need you to believe that.” Her eyes skitted from his to the doorway. “Yes, well. In the normal scheme of things, trust takes time. However, in my circumstance, I have to rely on the trust someone else I trust has for you, and for all those men I met tonight.” A long pause. “As I would rather have your trust for a different reason, I’ll just have to earn it.” He lifted a hand to her cheek, ignoring the way she jerked back at the unexpected move. “You look tired.” His thumb, soft as a feather, stroked the bruised shadows under her eyes. “And you have pain in your eyes. I don’t like seeing that.” Willow could barely breathe and when she did, she took in a lungful of Ben’s spicy scent. Warm, clean, and undeniably male, with a hint of something wonderfully sinful. She licked her dry lips. “A good night’s sleep will take care of the fatigue and those pills, if Kaylie was being truthful about getting them for me, will help ease the pain.” Ben stepped back, dropping his hand to his side, his smile all genial warmth. “Kaylie’s a good woman. A good friend. She’ll take care of you. We all will.” Rome re-entered the room then, setting Willow’s suitcase and several large bags on the floor. “I’m going to take a shower and try to warm up. You,” he sent a steely-eyed glare at Ben, “are leaving, and you”—his eyes softened with concern as they lit on Willow— “need to get some sleep.” Ben shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “You

need anything, Will,” he said slowly, disregarding Rome’s attempt to hurry him out the door, “I’m just a shout away.” Rome slid in front of Willow, blocking her view of Ben. “And I’m a whisper away. Get lost.” A soft growl, barely discernible, floated in the air. “Don’t try to play the dominate with me, cat. Not even Dean has the ability in this.” Cat? Willow frowned. Was Ben into ’60s lingo? Or was that the ’50s? And what did the mayor have to do with anything? “Tonight you will ease off. And if you don’t move forward cautiously, you will lose.” A thick silence before, “The...situation is difficult.” Ben stated gruffly. “I understand.” Rome gave no quarter. Ben scoffed. “You have no idea.” Finally she had had enough. Moving out from behind Rome she looked over at Ben, only to draw in a quick breath when his intense gaze fixed on her. “What’s going on?” In the nanosecond it took for Ben’s lashes to close over his eyes, his demeanor changed from frustrated anger to charming rogue. His quick smile only made her more suspicious. “Just guy stuff, sweetheart. You know how men are. Sometimes we act like boys and sometimes,” his eyes flashed to Rome. “We act like animals.” “Uh-huh.” Men were, in Willow’s opinion, just weird. Rome remained still, an unmoving statue, his dark brows raised in expectation. “Goodnight, Ben.” Ben’s hand fisted and he looked at Willow one last time. “Good night, Willow. Sleep well. And remember, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call my name.” The idea of having Ben at her beck and call gave her a little thrill. The man was built for hot, sweaty sex and Willow briefly, just briefly, wondered how far she could take his open invitation. Heat flushed her cheeks. “Thank you, Ben.” Ben dropped his chin in a small nod and turned from the room. When he did, it seemed as if something thick and heavy left with

him. Tension, Willow thought. For some reason there was tension between Rome and Ben. She’d unzipped her coat earlier and now took it off, sitting on the bed as she did so. “Want to tell me what that was all about?” she asked, fiddling with the material on her lap. Rome’s forehead creased in irritation. “I don’t know about that boy.” “Boy?” Willow’s eyes widened. “He can’t be much younger than you, Rome.” “Maybe not, but his interest in you might become a distraction we can’t afford.” Willow was stunned. Ben was interested in her? Surely not. There was no way a man like Ben could be single. He might not have a ring on his finger, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a slew of girlfriends. While Willow found him highly attractive— as in melt-her-panties attractive—she had no desire to be one of many. What she wanted, what she’d always wanted, was to be special. Cherished. Treasured. Call her a romantic, but she wasn’t willing to lie down and give her body and soul over to just any man. “I doubt he’s interested in that way, Rome.” Rome eyed her much as she’d seen her father do when she said something he found ridiculous. “Of course he is, Will. You’re a beautiful young lady. What man wouldn’t be?” “But not you.” It was more statement than question. Rome looked horrified. “God, no!” He all but shouted the denial, then followed it up with a wince. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just. You’re like the kid sister I never had. I feel protective of you but not, uh...” Willow held up a hand to forestall his stammering, smiling with amusement at his obvious discomfort. “I got it, Rome and I understand. And the feeling’s mutual. Only, you’re the big brother I never had.” His shoulders eased, lips twisting in a wry smile. “That’s a relief. I’d had to be thought of as a younger sister.” Willow laughed at him and they bid goodnight. As she sat

there, mulling over the evening, she heard the shower kick on. It motivated her to unpack, setting out warm pajamas for the evening; folding underwear, sweats, and jeans into the dresser; hanging a few times on the thick plastic hangers she found in the closet. They could be in Woodcliff anywhere from a week to a month, Willow knew, and while she was desperately homesick for her father and sister, her curiosity had been firmly piqued by the people she met tonight. Most especially Ben. Finished unpacking, Willow scanned the room. She was still too wound up to sleep, no matter how exhausted she felt. With the shower still running—what was Rome doing in there, anyway?— Willow put her coat back on and made her way to the kitchen, and to the back door she’d spied earlier. She opened it and peeked outside, only to discover in delight the large deck, complete with roof, wood table, and four cushioned chairs. One quick look over her shoulder and she squeezed out the small opening she made in the doorway in an attempt to keep the cold out. Walking to a break in the railing, she stood at the top of the steps, crossing her arms over herself and staring out into the night. She couldn’t see the cabins on either side of her from her position, but she knew they were there. It comforted her, the knowledge that Ben was probably in one of them, partaking of Kaylie’s care package. Or maybe he was sitting in his trunk, drinking coffee. An owl hooted, and she jumped again—then grinned at herself. “I come in peace,” she told the owl, her head lifted high, her words no more than a caress on the wind. “I mean you no harm.” A flash of color caught her eye and she jerked her attention to the ground. It was the glow that made her suck in a breath. The glow of amber eyes set in the large, proud face of a wolf, its fur unlike anything she’d seen before. A dark tan, with hints of brown and bronze that shimmered under the bright circle of a winter moon. The animal sat not five feet from the bottom of the stairs, those amazing eyes never straying as it eyed her with the predatory inclination of its kind. Willow knew she should be terrified, and a small part of her was. However, a larger part kept her feet still. The wolf wasn’t

growling and he didn’t appear thin or mangy. In fact, he looked to be a very healthy creature. The way it sat there, watching her every breath, made her wonder just how intelligent it was. Fascinated by it’s seemingly benign interest she thought, no wonder Rome asked if I was afraid of wolves. “Aren’t you a handsome one?” she dared to whisper aloud. The wolf cocked its head, opening its jaw a fraction, almost as if it was grinning at her appraisal. “Bet you drive all the girl wolves crazy.” Though she didn’t know for sure the animal was a male, he simply seemed too imposing, to big to be anything but. Now the wolf shook its head, as if denying her statement. How odd, Willow thought, drawing her brows together. “Can you understand me?” The wolf didn’t move and Willow shook her head at her fanciful thoughts. “Of course you don’t.” The door opened behind her and Rome stepped out. “What are you doing out here?” The wolf hunched down, a growl emanating from its throat. Not daring to turn her back, Willow said out the corner of her mouth, “I don’t think he likes you.” Rome stood at Willow’s side. “Who? Oh.” Not at all surprised, awed, or even wary that a huge wild animal with sharp teeth and claws growled not far from his tender flesh, Rome shrugged a shoulder. “He can dislike me all he wants as long as he knows where his place is. Outside.” The wolf rose swiftly to his paws and Willow stumbled back, startled at the abrupt move. Then it turned, swishing its thick, fluffy tail in the air, and looped off into the forest. If Willow didn’t know better, she would have sworn that tail wave was the equivalent of a middle finger salute. It made her grin, the human-like quality of the action. So entertained, Willow barely acknowledged Rome’s chastising words of leaving the cabin alone as he guided her back inside. What a weird and wonderful place Woodcliff was turning out to be.

Chapter Six Wind ruffled Ben’s hair as he headed towards the far side of the ski lodge. The top part of the massive two-story building held a restaurant/bar and lounge for those who wanted to watch the skiers descending the slopes through the floor-to-ceiling windows in comfort. A large deck extended the whole length of the lodge, with several picnic benches and patio heaters to provide another entertaining option. In the summer months, people escaped the heat of the cities and practically camped out on that deck, eating, drinking, and having a good time until they had to get back to their nine-tofives, grumbling all the way. To Ben’s thinking, a job that required him to be enclosed inside for eight hours a day, five days a week, was hell. It wasn’t just his wolf that wanted the freedom to move and run in the fresh air, because he knew plenty of shifters that handled indoor jobs with no problem. It was his personality. To come and go with relative ease, chat with everyone he came into contact with, and do it all in this beautiful setting? Yeah. It fit his friendly, easygoing manner perfectly. As he stepped inside the crowded ski rental section located in the lower half of the lodge, he stopped to assist a family of five that were having trouble removing their snow- and ice-caked boots. Noticing the eldest daughter, all of maybe fourteen, peeking at him as he freed her feet, he sent her a wink, causing her cheeks to flush with embarrassment. Hearing the infatuated sigh of the young girl as he left the happy family had him grinning. He walked behind the counter, slapping a co-worker on the shoulder in greeting, and passed through the storage area into another section of the lodge. Here they rented snowmobiles in the winter and quads in the summer. Opening one of the tall metal cabinets along one wall, he withdrew two helmets, inspecting them for damage before laying them on the long workbench. He heard James, another co-worker and shifter, enter the garage and head in his direction. Shutting the metal doors, Ben sidled over to reach for a set of keys on the cork-

board above the bench. “I’m taking number five out for a couple of hours.” “Yeah?” James leaned a shoulder against the cabinet. “Don’t suppose you’re taking that chick for a ride.” Ben’s fingers tightened around the pen he held to sign the vehicle out, knowing exactly of whom James referred to. Willow’s presence, and reason for it would have passed through the pack by now. “Don’t suppose I am.” “Heard she was a looker and a dancer to boot,” James stated, his lips curling in a sly, cocky smile. “Bet she’s got some serious flexibility. I’m sure you’ll find out just how far she can spread her legs.” Ben didn’t know how it happened, didn’t realize he’d moved faster than blink. All Ben knew was that he suddenly had James a foot of the ground, pinned to the front of the cabinet, claws out as he fisted the other man’s coat. Raging darkness filled his sight. “Don’t,” he snarled in the kid’s face. James’s brown eyes were shocked saucers. His voice terrorleaden as he stammered. “I-I didn’t mean anything by it. Just joking. You know?” Ben felt the burn in his gums, knew his fangs had dropped, ready to rip flesh apart. Some part of his rational brain kicked in to gear, throwing him into a flashback to when Dean had done the same thing to him when Ben had given Kaylie an overly interested look. That pause was enough for him to regain control of his beast, and ponder his unprecedented action. It had to be Willow. Ben had practically salivated when he’d drawn her scent into his lungs that first night. The second he’d taken her small hand in his he’d felt like he’d jumped into an inferno. Undiluted desire had pumped through his veins, so pure and hot he’d felt scorched. His beast had clawed at his mind, desperate to get its paws on her. For a few blinding seconds he’d forgotten everything: the others in the room, the circumstances, Pete and the snow bunnies, everything except the undiluted want that twisted his gut into so many convoluted knots.

Which wasn’t like him. Ben was always in control. He had to be, when his wolf was as strong as his. As a leader, the ability to hold back the beast was a necessity as well as a sign of strength and stability. Which he was poorly demonstrating at this moment by harassing a pup barely old enough to drink. Ben slowly returned James to his feet, yet he didn’t allow the younger shifter his freedom. “Miss Yancy is a lady. One who has endured hell, and you will fucking speak of her with respect.” James head bobbled in agreement. “Sure, Ben. You’re absolutely right. I let my mouth run away with my imagination.” Ben’s eyes narrowed. “Then you’d better wipe Miss Yancy from your imagination. And make sure your horny little friends know the same. If you see her or come near her, you will be as respectful of her as if you’re speaking to your Lupa. You hear me?” Though the fear began to recede from his eyes, James swallowed hard. “Most definitely.” More head bobbing. Only when wolf and man were both assured the kid would do as instructed did his claws and fangs ebb back into his body. His anger cooled, Ben dusted James’s coat. “Sorry about the holes.” “No problem.” James inched sideways, his voice thready and hesitant. “My fault for making an assumption. I just thought, well. You know.” Lips tightened in irritation. Ben knew what the kid thought. His reputation as a ladies’ man, one he’d never instigated nor refuted, was biting him in the ass. It was all based on rumors and beliefs that made the younger male shifters look at him with admiration. Town gossip could be such a bitch. He hadn’t nailed every female that gave him a come-hither glance. He wasn’t that much of an animal. Noticing how young James cautiously moved away, coupled with his unprecedented anger, had Ben re-evaluating that last thought. It seemed one female in particular was turning him into a beast. One whiff and that was all it took. Until he could sink his fangs into that sweet flesh and stake his claim, he’d probably remain more beast than man. This little episode was bound to run through the famous Wood-

cliff gossip mill, spreading far and wide. By tomorrow, every shifter would know the redheaded dancer was off limits, giving him plenty of time before the full moon to finalize the deal. Satisfied, Ben turned to sign his name on the check-out sheet. “Where you just coming back here to yank my chain?” “Uh, what? Oh. No.” James seemed a bit discombobulated by the quick return of Ben’s friendly tone. “I was, uh, just double checking the time number seven and nine snow runners were rented out.” Ben fingered through the listing. “Two-forty for an hour.” He looked up at the wall clock. “Three-thirty-five now.” “Oh. Okay. They still have time.” “Was there a problem?” James shook his head, stopped. “Well, it’s just I thought I smelled alcohol when I walked past them to get another rental for a couple I was helping, but by the time I got to Gordon, his foursome was gone.” Gordon was human and didn’t have a shifter’s super sniffer, but he knew better than to give anyone keys to a runner if there was any suspicion of alcohol use. It would be his job. And James didn’t say he was sure it was alcohol. If the breeze was blowing just right, a shifter could smell the alcohol from someone’s glass sitting on the upstairs deck. “They protected?” Ben asked. “Yes, sir. All helmeted up and everything. I at least saw that.” Ben grunted, picked up the two helmets he’d picked out and headed for the side door, James in his wake. “If they’re not back in twenty, let Maureen know.” Maureen Kilner was their boss and co-owner of the lodge. Dean was a silent partner, having helped the woman out several years back when the economy began to tank and tourism dropped so much that Maureen had been close to losing the lodge. No one could tell him his alpha wasn’t made of awesome. Standing outside, James shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “Will do. Um, is it all right to say have fun?” Something in the kid’s tone made Ben glance his way as he

hooked the spare helmet on the runner. Realizing the other shifter needed touch, especially after Ben’s outburst, he reached out with his free hand and ruffled James’s short, dark hair before straddling the seat. “What I need from you is to wish me luck. I’m gonna need all I can just to get the lady alone for five minutes.” Appearing relieved that no hard feelings existed, James smiled. “Good luck, then.” The engine roared to life and, after strapping on his helmet, Ben gave James a two-fingered salute. He eased through the lot, mindful of out-of-control skiers and pedestrians. Once clear, he increased his speed and took a right at the fork in the path. A minute later he left the path entirely and zipped through the forest, knowing the land like the back of his hand. As he dodged trees he recalled that first night, and his shockingly powerful reaction to Willow. No one had ever told him what to expect should he encounter his mate, and the force of his desire had blindsided him. But because he rarely took things at face value, especially something as important as his mate, Ben had let his wolf loose when he heard Willow at the back of the cabin. His senses might be extraordinary in human form, but as wolf? They were as keen as his wild brethren. He’d stripped in one of the empty cabins, leaving the door slightly ajar, and bounded into the night. He’d been pleased she hadn’t run screaming when her beautiful blue eyes landed on his furry form. Then he’d been amused by her attempt at conversation. But it had nearly killed him when he’d forced himself to leave. The wolf had wanted to rip something bloody while Ben itched to plant a fist in the agent’s smirking face. Doing neither, Ben had made his way back to where he’d left his clothes, shifted and dressed, all the while his wolf seethed with helpless fury. Its mate was locked up all nice and cozy with another male, and it wanted blood. As Ben lay alone in his bed later that night he tried to be logical. Mack and Josh had also touched her, so theoretically any one of them could have initiated the mating heat from that skin-to-skin contact. But neither Mack nor Josh had returned to the cabin for a

deeper whiff. The second evening only confirmed what Ben’s beast already knew. He’d stuck around after delivering Willow her medicine, playing cards, chatting, touching her every chance he could until Rome kicked him to the curb. Once again, Willow sneaked out while Rome was in the shower and Ben, finding how easily she accepted his beast’s unwavering stare, shifted. And stared. Devouring her with his eyes. Until Rome dragged Willow back inside. Her scent was making both man and beast crazy. Ben wanted to shove his face in her neck and breathe deep. His wolf wanted to roll around in it until her lush sweetness coated its fur. But most of all, Ben wanted to bury his throbbing cock in her slick flesh, hear her screams of pleasure as he pounded out the pulsing ache inside her silken sheath. With a groan he forced the image of Willow, naked, back arched in ecstasy as he thrust into her from behind. His mouth closing over her neck to sink his fangs in her flesh. Because that was doing nothing to cool his ardor and he didn’t want to show up at the cabin with a cock-stand. Instead he recalled learning from Willow and Rome that she was, in effect, bait. A way to lure Valen to Woodcliff and make another attempt on Willow’s life. Nothing less would put Valen behind bars permanently. But both Ben and his wolf had other ideas. If Valen did come to town, they would do whatever it took to keep Willow safe. Which meant killing that which meant to destroy his life. Nothing less would satisfy. Ben also found out Willow had never been skiing. He’d opened his mouth to offer to take her out for lessons when she rose and went to the sink. And she’d limped. The sight had caused a raw fury to haze over his vision. It had been Rome and his hard kick under the kitchen table that pulled Ben from the edge. This morning he’d thought about the snowmobiles. It only held two so Catman would have to sit at the cabin while Ben whisked Willow away for some much desired alone time. Snickering at the idea of besting Willow’s overbearing agent, Ben gunned the engine when he hit the clearing, snow spraying

in long, graceful arches behind the runner as he angled toward the center cabin.

Chapter Seven Curious at the sound of a revving engine, Willow left the kitchen table where she’d been playing solitaire for what felt like years and opened the front door of the cabin. She didn’t need to see who was behind the tinted face mask of a helmet to know it was Ben. Her heart skipped a beat before jumping into a happy dance. Thinking herself an idiot, she pressed her lips together and waited as he eased to a stop in front of her, killed the engine, and lifted off his headgear. The cold,crisp air felt good on her face, though she did tuck her arms around herself for warmth. Rome liked his heat and kept the cabin almost too toasty for Willow. Today she’d felt overly warm, sneaking peeks at the thermostat to see if he’d raised the temperature, but he hadn’t. She hoped she wasn’t coming down with a cold. “Something wrong with your truck?” “Nah.” He ran a gloved hand over his bare head. “I know you’re not up to skiing just yet, but I thought you might like to take a ride with me.” Willow flicked her gaze from Ben to the machine and back again, nibbling the corner of her mouth to keep from screaming, hell, yeah! “On that?” Ben’s eyes locked on the small movement. “Come on. You need a break from your jailer.” A saucy wink. “You know you want to.” Boy howdy, did she want to. She wanted out of the cabin. Having to plaster her body all over Ben’s backside was icing on the cake. It was a win-win scenario to Willow. Before she could answer a male voice spoke behind her, giving her a jolt. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Anderson.” Rome grumbled. “It’ll be dark soon.” Ben shrugged. “‘Bout an hour and if you think about it, it’s a great idea. Give you both a break.” Willow turned slightly to keep both men in her sight, though she did give Rome puppy eyes. His nostrils flared slightly and he

edged back. The action made Willow frown and she barely refrained from sniffing herself. She showered that morning and since she hadn’t done anything more strenuous than sit on her butt, she knew she didn’t stink. “I won’t let anything happen to her, Felix, you know that.” Ben responded, his tone a fierce promise. Willow was no longer tricked by Rome’s sleepy, slitted-eye gaze. He might seem content, on the verge of napping half the time, but she’d seen it too much over the last several days, cooped up in the cabin together as they were, to know differently. She’d come to understand the look meant several different things, mainly to hide what he was thinking. Possibly now he was analyzing Ben’s ability and willingness to protect her while out of his sight. With a reluctant nod he said, “Half hour, no more.” The taut set of Ben’s jaw evaporated as he rolled his eyes in a mock display of exasperation. “Yes, Dad. I promise to have her back before curfew.” He pinned Willow with a captivating grin, skimming her figure from head to toe. When his eyes flicked back to hers, something in that piercing gaze caused a small thrill to tremble low in her belly. “I have a helmet for you, Will, but you need to get a coat and gloves.” Excited, Willow dashed inside, snatching what she needed from the hall closet before Rome could change his mind. Or herself, for that matter, since the idea of being alone with Ben was both nerve-wracking and highly appealing. She shrugged into the coat and gloves as she stepped back outside. Under the agent’s watchful gaze, Ben secured Willow’s helmet before repeating the action for himself, hen swung a long leg over the seat. “Now you. Put your feet here.” He positioned her when she sat behind him by placing his hands on her calves. Even through the thick material of her jeans she felt the strength in those hands and wondered what they would feel like on her bare skin. She shivered, feeling girly and gooey. And ridiculous. Like a teenybopper receiving attention from the boy on whom she had a secret crush. Only Ben was a long way off from being a boy, and Willow’s waking libido was all needy

woman. “Hold on to me.” Hyperaware of their intimate position, her legs pressed around the muscled length of his, her chest close to his back, she struggled to breathe properly. She placed her gloved hands on his waist, fisting his jacket as he started the engine. “Ready?” he called back to her. “Ready.” The word ended on a breathless squeal as Ben shot forward, the momentum sending Willow’s butt backwards on the smooth seat. Ben stopped immediately and curved one arm around, pressing her lightly on her back. “Like glue, Will.” Inching forward, Willow did what she’d wanted to do since seeing him. She snuggled up to his back, re-aligning her legs behind his and wrapping her arms around his waist so they crossed over his abdomen. She swallowed her sigh of satisfaction. “Don’t let go.” Never she thought. Then they were off again. This time Willow clung to Ben like second skin, glorying in the feel of him in her arms, her breasts crushed against his back, the wind rushing by as they sped through trees as Ben took them deep into the forest. Several minutes later, curiosity got the better of Willow and she eased her death grip on Ben to peer around. Unused to wearing a helmet, she clunked hers on Ben’s when he went over a small bump. “Sorry,” she shouted, feeling like a moron. “Are you doing okay?” Hecalled back, sounding more concerned than irritated. “Just can’t see very well.” His chest rumbled under her hands in a low chuckle and he slowed. “Sorry. I was too anxious to get you alone. You can sit up if you want, but keep a tight grip on me.” He covered her hands with one of his, as if she needed the reminder, and gave them a squeeze. Willow knew she was all leg, and because of the size and breadth of Ben’s torso, she couldn’t see over his shoulder. Now she straightened and was able to turn her head. Ben guided the snow-

mobile through a clearing, the dimming sun reflecting sharp and bright on the pristine snow. She might have felt bad about marring the smooth surface, but she was having too much fun. Several more minutes and a zillion more trees passed before they came to a stop some distance from a dropoff. Ben shut off the powerful machine and they sat in companionable silence, gazing out over the valley that lay in snowy hibernation before them. Willow scooted back when Ben raised his helmet. “I wanted to show you this. How beautiful winter can be up here in the mountains.” She lifted off her own headgear and rose on shaky legs. “Oh.” Ben steadied her, caught her close, one arm around her shoulders, the other at her waist. “Sorry. I should have warned you.” His face filled her vision. “N-no problem.” He brushed her hair off her face. Conscious that she no doubt had helmet hair, she raised her own hand to run it through for some lift. “It’s probably all flat.” Evidently Ben didn’t agree. He bit off his glove and threaded the silky strands through his bare fingers. “It’s beautiful. Like a warm, welcoming fire. So many glowing colors.” Willow’s cheeks flushed. She loved her hair and always thought it her best feature. Now, looking into Ben’s appreciative gaze, she wished she hadn’t cut it so short. “It used to be longer, but then I usually had it in a bun or braid.” Good, Willow. Because that sounds so sexy. “It suits you.” His fingers whispered over her hair, drifted light as a feather down over her cheek, her jaw. Her lips. “As do these.” Her breath hitched. “Yeah?” “Oh, yeah.” He closed the distance until their breath mingled. “I’m going to kiss you now, Will.” He hesitated, his lips less than an inch away, as if giving her time to tell him no. Only she didn’t. Ben lowered his head that final fraction and pressed his lips to hers, her face still cradled in his hand. He sipped her, slowly, softly. The unexpected gentleness floored her, and warmed her. She let out a soft sigh and dropped the helmet to lay both hands on his chest. He opened his lips slightly, caressing them over hers before

closing them again, drawing her bottom lip in for a gentle suckle. Widening again, he tickled the seam of her mouth with his tongue. Another throaty sound escaped, giving her a nanosecond of embarrassment at the neediness of it. Ben raised his head slightly, his tongue a moist caress along her lips. “Open up, Will,” he murmured. “Let me in.” Her lips slowly opened and with a growl of approval, Ben’s tongue slid in, dancing over the slick inner lining of her lips, slipped further into her mouth. His taste burst in her throat, her head. Better, richer than the double cream Oreo cookie ice cream Jade had introduced her to. More addictive than she could have ever imagined. Then he angled his head, sealed his lips tighter against hers, and, with another growl, this one fierce and demanding, proceeded to devour her. Willow slid her arms up his chest and twined them around his neck, all but crawling into his skin. She lifted her tongue and met his in a lusty duel. Somewhere along the way Ben lost his other glove because she felt a warm bare hand slip under the hem of her sweater to spread wide across her back, the one on her cheek sliding to clasp the nape of her neck. She wrenched her own gloves off so she could dive in and fist his hair, rising on tiptoes to meet him, kiss for kiss, heat for heat, need for need. She let out a moan of protest that turned to a sigh of delight when his mouth left hers to trail sweet, open-mouthed kisses along the long column of her neck. “I love your scent, Will.” Ben breathed deeply, tendrils of desire rooting deep with each press of his lips, each erotic flick of his tongue. “It makes me crazed for a taste of you.” A careful little nip of his teeth followed, right at the base of her neck, sending a shiver of pleasure down her spine. “Yes,” she whispered, lost to the sensations bombarding her. His groan coincided with the flexing of his fingers on her back. “You shouldn’t do that.” “Do what?” “Entice me.” He lifted his head, eyes blazing, a strange ring of

amber barely discernible against the natural color that so enthralled her. Her lids lowered, not in shyness but in sheer hunger. “But I want you to.” A hungry growl left his lips, then he was kissing her again, this time his male dominance in full effect. He plundered and took, thrusting his tongue deep. Willow tried to keep up, tried to match him stroke for stroke, but she was starting to weaken, her knees shaking from the onslaught of his touch, his passionate kisses. Suddenly he jerked away, a harsh curse filling the air. Dizzy from desire, she blindly followed his retreat, knowing only she wanted more of his lips, more of his hard body pressed to hers. “I gotta take this, sweetheart.” Ben murmured, lips brushing her forehead. “It’s the emergency number.” Belatedly she heard the ringing of a phone and he removed the hand at her back to answer it. The one on her nape remained, coaxing her to lay her head in the crook of his neck. “Anderson,” he said into the phone, his fingers gently kneading her scalp, easing her down from the shaking want that had all but consumed her. While she silently mourned the loss of his intense focus, she used the few minutes to gather her wits. Because, seriously. What was wrong with her? Making out with a man she barely knew. Given the racing of her heart, the heat pumping through her body, she’d been minutes away from tearing at his clothes to find bare skin. Maybe for Ben this wasn’t an oddity—hell, he was sexy enough that this might even be a daily event—but for Willow, it was completely foreign. Yeah, she’d been kissed a few times, but never like this. Not to where her breasts ached to be touched, her nipples hard little pebbles pushing against her clothes. And she hurt. Her belly felt tight, and between her thighs-. —sShe shuddered, not even wanting to think about how wet she felt. Had she really told him she wanted him to taste her? She pressed her lips together, feeling how swollen they were from Ben’s kisses and wanted to moan. Instead she hid her face in Ben’s neck, alternately savoring his scent and wanting to die from embar-

rassment. Ben ended his call and ran his now free hand over her hair, followed by a kiss at the crown of her head. “I’m sorry, Willow. I need to get back. Four people are missing and we need to start searching for them before we lose the light.” Willow knew Ben worked at the lodge and was part of the search-and-rescue team from their conversation last night. They’d played cards when he’d shown up for protection duty, only to be kicked out by Rome a few hours later. Willow had been concerned again about the cold. Rome only huffed out a breath, reminding her that Ben had full use of one of the other cabins if he needed to warm up and that he wouldn’t be alone for long, what with a second guard coming in less than two hours. The thought of being cold and alone filled her with enough sympathy for the idiots whose misadventure had ruined her time with Ben that she was able to step back. “They’re probably freaking out.” “Willow?” “Hmm?” Rather than look at him, she bent down to pick up her abandoned helmet and gloves. Intent on brushing the snow clear, she didn’t see his lips press into a mulish line. “If not. they will be when I’m done with them.” Now she blinked up at him, unsure she just heard what she heard. “Pardon?” Ben reached out and caught her chin between his thumb and fingers. “I’m only sorry for the interruption, not for kissing you. I want to do that again. We will do it again.” A thick pause, the desire in his eyes echoed by the throbbing arousal between her thighs. He drew in a harsh breath, every facet of his features taut with hunger. “And so much more.” Willow nearly choked on her saliva. If this aching, almost painful need was caused by Ben’s mere kiss, she didn’t know if she could handle his idea of more. But she really wanted to find out.

Chapter Eight Much too soon, they returned to the clearing in front of the cabins. Understanding that Ben had obligations, and that lives were quite possibly on the line, did little to ease the disappointment of their brief outing. She didn’t want to peel her body from the masculine warmth of his, didn’t want to watch him leave, didn’t want his attention on anyone or anything but her. She stiffened at the unprecedented greed, brows furrowed in confusion. Where in the world did that come from? The contemplation of her selfishness ended when she caught sight of a second SUV parked adjacent to one of the unused cabins. The front door of her cabin opened, and because she expected to see Rome, she was thrown when two large and unfamiliar men exited. The strangers quickly shut the door behind them, yet didn’t move forward, effectively barring the entrance with their bodies. Willow unconsciously clung tighter to Ben as he braked near the bottom of the porch stairs. Feeling her arms tighten around his waist, Ben ran one hand soothingly along her forearm. “It’s okay, Will. Joe and Scott might look like wannabe hit men.” The change in the two men as they turned to one another in feigned shock had Willow re-evaluating. As they play-fought, ducking and throwing mock punches, it took her a moment to realize the men couldn’t possibly have heard Ben. Though they were only a short distance away, Ben hadn’t raised his voice to compensate for his helmet, or the still-running motor. Even at idle, the snowmobile was loud enough that Willow, closer to him than skin at the moment, barely heard the words. Ben cut the engine, his words easing one concern even as another took hold. “But they’re here to protect you. As I’ve known them for some time now, I can vouch for their keen ability.” At their smug smiles, Ben added with wry amusement, “just not their intelligence.” At his gentle coaxing, Willow swung off the machine and waited patiently as Ben undid her helmet and then his own, her

eyes flitting from his to the faces staring intently at them from atop the porch. Rome was still nowhere to be seen, which worried her. Ben wound an arm around her, his palm wide open and firm as he rested it on her hip. “Willow, this is Joe Feider.” The lighter-haired man gave her a friendly grin, though he didn’t stray from his position. “And Scott Boeing,” Ben said as Scott bounded down the wooden stairs, his grin a little more interested. “Nice,” Scott murmured, taking her gloved hand in his bare one. Willow tensed at the blatant come-on, and felt Ben’s grip on her tighten. “Mine.” Dumbfounded by the husky word, she blinked up at Ben, then dropped her jaw when Scott dropped her hand and asked, “How fast she go?” For several thick seconds the only sound heard was the ticking of the snowmobile’s cooling engine before Ben relaxed and let out a soft chuckle. “She can hit sixty, depending on the snow condition, of course.” Ben stroked Willow’s back, a caress she felt all the way through her clothes. She would have arched into his touch but he was gone, having moved off several paces with Scott to admire the snowmobile. Willow shook her head. Of course that was what Ben meant when he said “mine.” The machine, not the girl. Just because he’d kissed her didn’t mean he thought of her as his. People kissed all the time without making a big production out of it. So maybe she’d felt a bit greedy earlier, wanting Ben all to herself. She dismissed it as a natural reaction to the man’s sensual appeal. He was hot, sexy, funny, charming, and most definitely knew how to use his mouth to make a woman swoon with pleasure. She would have to be dead not to want more of his special attention, especially the lips and tongue part. Thinking of where else she’d like to have his lips and tongue had her crossing one booted foot over the other. “Scott’s a geek gearhead,” Joe informed her as he alighted the stairs, making her blink away the erotic thought. He lounged

against the bottom rail, seemingly to keep his distance from Willow without looking like he was keeping a distance. “If it lights, rings, or moves, he’s all over it.” “Uh, okay.” She paused, polite manners demanding she ask something of him. “And you?” Joe laughed. “I make sure he stays out of trouble.” Willow’s frown was back. “That happen often?” Possibly clueing in on Willow’s unease, Joe’s tone turned serious. “Not while he’s working, and until you’re no longer in danger, consider us working, no matter what happens.” Despite her new bodyguard’s words, Willow wasn’t comforted. At all. Her gaze went past Joe to the closed door, wondering again where Rome was and hoping the appearance of the newcomers didn’t mean the agent had to leave. She felt safe with Rome. Bored stupid, but safe. Strangely enough, she also felt safe with Ben. She peeked over at where Ben and Scott chatted amicably, feeling that warmth steel over her whenever she saw him. She might not feel bored with Ben but at times she could cop to feeling stupid. He was totally out of her league, and not only due to his hotness factor. Based on their kiss, Willow figured he had a lot of experience with women and pleasure of the not-so-innocent kind. Whereas she—well, not so much. Mistaking her sigh and visual perusal as one of concern with Scott, Joe spoke again. “We aren’t new at this, Willow. We wouldn’t be here unless Rome was absolutely certain of our ability.” Willow looked back at Joe. “It’s not that.” Joe’s turn to frown. “Then what?” What, indeed. Even if she’d known Joe her whole life Willow wouldn’t just blurt out that she’d been mooning over Ben. Not when the man in question stood mere feet from her. How humiliating would that be? Her awkwardness only increased when she felt Ben come back to her side, his hand once more gliding along her back in long strokes. “I need to go. I’m hoping this won’t take long so I can

come back, see how everyone is settling. If not, I’ll call you.” Eyes half-closed, she leaned a fraction closer, his breath a hot whisper over the sensitive shell of her ear. “Okay.” Wait. What? She straightened. “Oh. Wait. No. I don’t have a phone.” Rome had insisted she abandon everything in her locker, informing her any item could carry a bug or tracker and had sent it all off, including the clothes she’d worn to Jade’s office, to his agency for testing. “You do now.” Willow looked up into Ben’s smiling face. “I do?” “It’s inside,” Scott told her. “Best of the best, with GPS tracking and all the bells and whistles you could ever want.” Huh. She could only surmise the phone was part of the protection detail—why, she didn’t know, especially since she was never alone. Nonetheless, the thought of having a cell phone again would be a comfort. When had she started thinking of a cell phone as a security blanket? She shook that off, meeting Ben’s eyes with a solemn, “Thank you.” “Welcome.” He brushed a bare hand over her head, a soft caress that had her wanting to nestle in for more. “Take care of her,” he warned Joe and Scott, though his eyes never left Willow’s. “That’s what we do best,” Scott called out. “Remember?” Ben grimaced. “I’m surprised Rome hasn’t already booted them out of the cabin.” “That’s because we haven’t been here long enough to annoy him.” This from Joe. Willow felt her lips twitch, nearly laughed out loud when she spied Rome standing, hands on hips, legs apart, just outside the front door. His head was tilted up, as if seeking reassurance or patience from the heavens, and not getting any. Ben brushed his hand over her shoulder and down her arm as if loath to leave. “I’ll see you later.” Willow nodded, watched as Ben resettled on the snowmobile. “Be careful.” Ben winked. “I have reason to be.” A minute later he was roaring out of the clearing.

As he left, another vehicle entered, this one carrying two women. The two vehicles met in the middle and the driver’s side window of the blue SUV rolled down. Willow recognized the driver as Kaylie Gentry, er, Kinigos, but didn’t know who the passenger was. Mild curiosity turned into sharp jealousy when the blonde laughed and reached over Kaylie to pat the hand Ben lay in the open window. What is wrong with you? She forced her hands to unclench and hugged her waist, very aware she’d never been this moody before, even on the most brutal of PMS days. Ben isn’t yours. You aren’t even dating. Just deep breath in, deep breath out. Willow’s mental mantra was interrupted by Rome’s exasperated, “Now what?” “If you’d wanted privacy, you should have gone to Richmond.” Joe admonished. “I wanted security, not fucking Grand Central,” Rome snarled. Willow yanked her head to Rome, her mouth forming a shocked “oh.” It wasn’t that she hadn’t heard the word before, she just rarely heard Rome lose his calm demeanor. Rome heaved out a sigh. “Sorry, Will. There’s been some...difficulties with another case and I’m not handling it very well.” A shot of uneasiness went through her. “Do you need to leave?” He straightened, every inch of his muscled frame pure determination. “Not unless I absolutely have to and if that happens, know that you are completely safe here. No one will get to you without a fight, and a deadly one at that.” She didn’t need the reminder. “I don’t want anyone else to die, Rome. Not on my account.” “He’s not talking about us, love,” Scott cracked his knuckles. “It’s the bad guys who are gonna fall.” While Willow could appreciate Scott’s confidence, no one was invincible. She turned back at the sound of vehicles, seeing Ben zoom off—without a backward glance—and Kaylie ease to a stop right where the snowmobile had been. The blonde stepped from the SUV with a hearty laugh and Wil-

low gritted her teeth. The woman was absolutely stunning. Tall and slender, her thick silky hair glowed in the dying sunlight, framing a face that was perfectly made up, yet far from overdone. Her attire might be an almost duplicate of Willow’s, and Kaylie’s, for that matter, as the other clomped through the snow, but the newcomer seemed more elegant somehow, and moved through the white fluff with a grace that surpassed that of any dancer Willow had ever come across. And this bimbo flirted with Ben? Just who was she and, more importantly, what was she to Ben? Once again Willow had to pry her fingers free from where they gripped the material of her coat. Not yours, remember? Ben doesn’t belong to you. The blonde smiled and Willow narrowed her eyes, this time in thought, because the Mona Lisa lip twist made the tall woman appear familiar somehow. “Hey, everyone. We’ve come to snatch Willow away for girl time.” Kaylie’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Holy hell. You’re Tess Gentry.” Scott practically drooled with open admiration. The blonde made a face. “Guilty.” The name meant nothing to Willow, other than the gorgeous creature must be related to Kaylie. Still, she racked her brain trying to place the face. It was in the midst of Willow’s hard stare that Tess turned to her and held out a hand. “Hi, Willow. I’m Tess, Kaylie’s sister. I just have to tell you I saw you perform in New York once and was mesmerized by your grace. You moved so effortlessly you seemed to simply float over the ground.” Taken aback, Willow looked down at the offered hand, free from any covering, and automatically responded, yanking her hand back briefly to rip off her glove. “Thank you.” Willow tilted her head in contemplation. “You look familiar.” Tess shrugged indifferently. “Well, if you’ve seen a Victoria’s Secret catalog in the last six years you probably saw me.” “Or an SI swimsuit edition,” Joe happily supplied. “Or scanned the Internet for hot chicks,” Scott announced.

Willow’s tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth. Yeesh. What the hell was Ben doing kissing me when this woman was free to flirt with him? To all this Tess only rolled her eyes. “I do have a brain as well, boys. I’m not just a body.” “And you keep that stupid look on your face, Scott. Caleb will take great delight in knocking it off,” Rome murmured. At Willow’s confusion, Tess held up her left hand. “My fiancé, Caleb Bennett. Which is why Kaylie and I are here. Tonight is my wedding shower and we’ve come to pick you up.” Any relief Willow felt at hearing Tess was engaged to the big guy she’d met her first night here dried up at the idea of joining a bunch of unknown women for a wedding shower. She turned wide eyes to Kaylie, seeking help. “But I. That is. Um. I don’t...” Kaylie waved a hand through the air, dismissing any reason Willow tried frantically to dredge up. “Nothing you could think of will keep us from transporting you to an evening filled with females, fun, food, and games.” “Count me in!” Scott said. Rome reached out and smacked the back of Scott’s head. “Idiot.” Tess looped an arm under Willow’s. “You must have cabin fever by now. Besides, our mom is an amazing cook and if the spread she’s laying out is anything like she did for Kaylie’s, well, let’s just say I’m salivating already.” Willow glanced up at Rome, half-expecting a refusal or a grudging submission as he did with Ben. But she was surprised yet again. “I think it’s a great idea.” Willow gaped. “You do?” “Sure. You’ll be safe with them and you won’t get into any trouble.” Kaylie snickered under her breath. “So he thinks.” Tess patted Willow’s arm when she jerked. “The trouble part, hon, not the safety part. Now let’s get out of the cold. You people are weird, standing here, freezing perfectly good body parts off.” Willow had to admit the tips of her ears were long numb, and

she was starving. Yet before she could agree, Scott bounded up the stairs, hollering at them to wait until he got Willow’s phone. While Scott was gone, Rome eyed the three women. “Two hours, ladies. I’ll be down to pick Willow up in two hours.” “Hah. You don’t even know where we’re going.” Kaylie chortled. “And it’s three hours.” Willow mentally cringed, thinking two hours was plenty of time to feel like an interloper. Rome rattled off an address and the sisters frowned in unison. “How’d you know?” Kaylie complained. “Did Dean call you?” Rome just smirked and held up two fingers. “Two hours.” “Two and a half,” Kaylie negotiated, eyes narrowing in determination. “You have to allow for travel and introduction time.” Rome’s lips twitched. “Fine.” Scott reappeared and bounced down the stairs. “Keep this with you at all times.” He handed Willow a phone, one of those fancy touch-screen ones, and a pair of gloves. “The screen is heat sensitive rather than touch sensitive, so you don’t accidentally start a call or app. The tips of these gloves conduct and amplify the heat in your fingertips which allows you to use the phone while keeping your hands warm.” Both women were visibly impressed by the gloves while Willow felt overwhelmed by everything going on. “I don’t know how to work one of these phones.” “I’ve got one very similar,” Kaylie informed her. “Tess can drive and I’ll show you on the way.”

Chapter Nine Willow quickly lost track of what name belonged to which face at Tess’s wedding shower. The only three she could remember, beyond the sisters, was their mother, Ruth, a pretty brunette named Dr. Jackie Chavez, and an outgoing middle-aged waitress named Penny. Everyone else was a blur. Warm and welcoming, but a blur nonetheless. As Tess predicted, Ruth had laid out an elaborate feast. There was chicken salad that could be mounded into huge croissants, hot wings, coconut shrimp, some type of warm chicken dip, a sevenlayer dip, a vegetable tray, cheesecake, carrot cake, and round fudge balls dipped in a hard white candy coating. Once upon a time Willow would have never allowed herself near the decadent spread, but today she took a plate and, following everyone’s example, piled high. They played silly shower games such as wrapping each other in toilet paper to make a wedding dress, drank wine—although Willow refrained as the few times she’d imbibed she’d come out the loser—and ate. And ate some more. “How’s the food?” Ruth asked as Willow took up a piece of heavenly cheesecake. “Wonderful.” Both Willow’s smile and comment were sincere. “I’m stuffed but just can’t resist trying everything.” Ruth grinned, eyes sparkling with pleasure at the praise. “Excellent. I’ll send some home with you.” “Oh.” Though Willow eyed the remains with a bit of greed, enough still to feed an army, she demurred. “I’m sure the others...” But Ruth waved that away. “Nonsense. There’s plenty. And it wouldn’t hurt you to gain a pound or two. Such a tiny thing you are.” At five feet, four inches, Willow wasn’t exactly short, though she knew her small bones and thin frame, more boyish then curvy, tended to make her look frail. Watching her weight had always been a necessity, barely kept in check by the rigorous dance rou-

tines. Her sweet tooth knew no bounds and savoring the cheesecake after a slice of carrot cake, was an uncommon indulgence. Conscientious of all the foods she’d missed out on over the years, Willow cut a hefty chunk of the cake with her fork. “Not if I keep eating like this.” Ruth laughed, the musical notes so infectious that Willow continued to smile even after she started chewing. At that moment Kaylie sidled up, leaning her forearms on the counter next to where Ruth and Willow stood. “God, Mom. I’m so full. Why didn’t you stop me?” Ruth sent her youngest the kind of maternal, loving look Willow had always longed for and for the life of her, could never remember receiving. Dropping her eyes, she focused on taking another bite, hoping to hide the covetous feeling that tightened in her chest. “Because you’re eating for two,” Ruth responded. Kaylie let out a low groan. “Was eating for two. Now I gotta break that habit or I’ll never lose the baby weight.” Jackie came into the kitchen, moving to the table for a slice of carrot cake. “You will,” she said, having overheard Kaylie’s comment. “Every new mother thinks she’ll carry the extra weight forever, but nature has its reasons.” “Besides,” Tess said, angling behind her sister to rub a hand over her back in sibling affection. “It’s not like Dean is disgusted with your appearance, and really that’s all that matters.” Kaylie’s lips curved in a secretive grin. “No. No, he’s quite interested in how my body has changed.” “That because, despite what’s on TV and in magazines, men like curves.” Tess eyed Willow in a critical, yet not unkind fashion. “I know after leaving the business I gained enough weight to add a cup size. It’s silly, really, all that dieting only to have our bodies molded into a specific form that could be achieved by healthy eating habits.” “And you,” Jackie, in doctor mode, pointed out, her fork aimed at Willow, “easily need to gain another five pounds.” Willow felt her cheeks flush and stared down at her nearly

empty plate. “Working on it,” she muttered. “Lucky,” Kaylie said, her tone making the comment both envious and teasing. One of the women came to the kitchen door and called Ruth away. Once the woman was out of sight, Tess flicked Kaylie on the ear. “Hey.” “I saw that stupid look on your face. I take it sex is back on the menu.” Tess wiggled her perfectly manicured brows. “So tell me. Is it different?” When Willow began to choke, Jackie calmly handed her a bottle of water, her brown eyes gleaming with laughter. “Forgive Tess. She’s usually more subtle than this.” Tess rolled her eyes. “I don’t have to be subtle with family.” Knowing very well she was far from family, Willow glanced at the kitchen door, thinking she should give the women privacy. Yet curiosity struck again, and the fact all three women seemed to take the topic in stride while a near-stranger stood barely a foot away made her feet stick like glue to the spot. “It’s the same, yet different.” Kaylie said after a moment. Her eyes darted from the empty doorway back to Tess with a wicked grin. “He said my scent has changed. It’s more enticing. Man can’t keep his hands off me.” Willow frowned, wondering what Kaylie meant, not realizing she asked that aloud until Jackie said, “Pheromones. While the core remains the same, they can have different notes depending on diet and hormonal changes.” Kaylie nodded. “Everything is attracted or repelled by scents, which is why the perfume industry is so large. Your natural pheromones are the most intense where you’re the warmest. For example, your breath. Dogs,” Kaylie used her vocation to illustrate her point, “are so sensitive that professional trainers will not allow the owners to speak until the trainers have finished putting a dog through it maneuvers.” “Uh, not to seem skeptical about your business, sis, but wouldn’t that be because of their owner’s voice?” Tess turned to

lean her back against the counter and crossed one long leg over the other. “And what about breathing through your nose? Wouldn’t those pheromones be blasting out then?” Kaylie shook her head. “You can speak soft enough or in a certain tone that the animal might not hear and breathing through your nose doesn’t have the same impact as through your mouth. For one, it’s a bigger orifice.” She looked pointedly at Jackie who just shoved a huge chunk of cake past her lips. Undaunted, the doctor made yummy sounds around a full mouth. “And two, it’s a direct and moist link to the inside of your body.” Willow set her empty plate on the counter, wondering how they’d gone from Kaylie’s husband to dogs. “But men aren’t dogs.” Kaylie’s gaze flickered from Jackie and Tess to Willow. “Uh, no. But some men are really sensitive to scent.” “And act like dogs when it comes to another warm, pheromone-acute area of the body.” Jackie snickered. At Willow’s blank stare Tess laughed out loud. “Your groin, honey. What do dogs do in greeting? They stick their noses in your groin. If men could get away with it, you better believe they’d do the same to just about every female they came across.” Willow’s face turned pink in shocked embarrassment and then, when the imagine of Ben nosing her between her thighs popped up into her mind, the flush darkened with carnal interest. Kaylie and Jackie’s laughter abruptly cut off when Ruth reentered the kitchen. “What are you girls giggling about?” The eyes of the self-confident outspoken bride-to-be widened with fake innocence, a blush staining her cheeks, and she mumbled something behind the hand she slapped over her own mouth. Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Ruth turned to her youngest. Kaylie, also red in the face, blurted out, “Dogs.” When that answer didn’t satisfy Ruth, she raised a brow at Jackie, cocking her head just enough to throw out a regal vibe. Jackie resisted the look for about two seconds, before she too reluctantly mumbled, “Pheromones.” Before Ruth could hit Willow with the mom-look, she shoved her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and studied the few

crumbs left on her plate, shoulders hunched against the nearly overwhelming desire to say something. She could feel Ruth’s eyes on her back, pulling the truth from her body. “I see,” Ruth said slowly. Willow dared a glance her way, noticing the older woman was struggling to keep a straight face. “Well, it’s time to open your gifts, Tess. After though, if you wish to resume your conversation about oral sex”—Kaylie let out a choked gasp and Willow squeezed her eyes shut—“I’ll be more than happy to give you some pointers.” Tess remained frozen until Ruth exited, then laughed so hard she doubled over. Kaylie glared at Jackie, who threw her hands up in defeat. “I couldn’t help myself. Your mom has that truth tractor beam look down pat. When you’re caught in it, you can’t lie.” “God, I love that woman,” Tess wiped her eyes with her fingertips, her mirth easing to occasional chuckles. “She didn’t mean it,” Willow asked Kaylie in a hushed tone, “about giving us pointers, did she?” Kaylie smirked. “Oh, yeah. Mom’s totally open when it comes to sex talk. Tess and I knew more about puberty, sex, pregnancy, and childbirth than our sex education teachers in school. Girls in town would come to Mom with questions when they couldn’t talk to their own parents.” She sighed. “I just hope I’m as good as a mom as she is.” Tess flung an arm around her sister. “You have the best instructor around. How could you not? Now, let’s go open my presents.” Willow watched the women leave, telling Jackie she was getting a drink first when the doctor gave her a questioning look. As she refilled her iced tea, Willow wondered what it had been like, growing up with a mother like Ruth. Even as she felt a spurt of guilt at the touch of envy, she knew intellectually it wasn’t all a bed of roses. From earlier conversations, Willow learned Ruth and her husband had divorced when the girls were young, their father moving across country with his new wife. And while not necessarily neglectful, he had been absent, and that was something Willow never had to contend with. Her own father had been a very handson parent, protective and loving. She remembered her mother, on

the subject of sex, only told her to keep her legs closed when it came to boys else they’d destroy her career while her father, endearingly red-faced and fidgety, had sat her down and done his best to mumble through an obviously rehearsed monologue. She missed her dad so much. She missed his rumbling voice, his miss-buttoned shirts, and the way his beard appeared crooked because he always stroked it when in thinking mode. Willow’s hand tightened around the glass. She knew Rome didn’t squirrel her away to Woodcliff in secret. She knew full well she was bait to lure Valen to this little town and attempt a kidnapping or, more likely, into killing Willow. And while she didn’t look forward to either option, she did look forward to an end to her isolation. Once Valen and her people were caught and behind bars, Willow could return to her father and her life back in New York. A life that wouldn’t include dance. Or Ben Anderson. Willow rubbed a hand on her chest, wondering why that thought not only loomed dark and dreary in her mind, but seemed to cause her heart to ache as well. She barely knew the man. She couldn’t deny she was highly attracted, and the kiss they’d shared earlier in the day had just about fried her brain circuits, but their relationship was a far cry from anything serious. Ben could just be playing with her, knowing full well Willow would leave once the situation resolved. Maybe he’d remember her as a fond interlude. A sudden burst of feminine laughter from the living room yanked Willow to the here and now. With a shake of her head, she cleared everything negative from her thoughts. Her time with these women had been more enjoyable than she’d dreamed and she didn’t want anything messing it up. So, tea in hand, she made her way into the living room to see Tess sitting like a queen holding court on a plush cushioned chair, a cheap tiara on her head and a sash across her chest. At her feet lay dozens of wrapped presents and glittering gift bags. Willow eyed the decorated room, once again thinking Tess’s wedding colors of chocolate brown and emerald green an odd choice, but to each his own. The sheer number of women over-

flowed the sofa, loveseat, and mass collection of chairs. Kaylie waved from the floor by the stone fireplace, the hearty fire snapping as Jackie added a chunk of wood and replaced the screen. Thankful, Willow crossed the room and settled on the carpet by Kaylie’s side, Jackie lowering to sit on Kaylie’s right. It bemused her how quickly Kaylie included Willow into her circle. Warmed, welcomed, and stuffed to her ears, Willow watched as Tess opened her multitude of presents. She oohed and aahed with the best of them and was sincerely moved to tears at the expression on Tess’s face when she opened Ruth’s gift; a fine boned china set that originally belonged to Ruth’s grandmother. Then she laughed at Kaylie’s gift. A Nerf rifle, complete with an extra set of soft suction “bullets” for those times when, as Kaylie put it, “you have the overwhelming urge to shoot your husband. Repeatedly.” As Tess opened her last gift, a phone rang. The women looked at each other, some digging in their purses. Kaylie shoulder bumped into Willow’s. “I think it’s you.” Willow blinked. “Oh,” she said, and fumbled in the pocket of her hoodie. She’d forgotten all about it. Pulling the device out, she saw Ben’s name on the screen and her heart leaped. She scrambled to her feet. “Sorry. Excuse me.” She slid her thumb across the screen just as Kaylie showed her on the way over, saying a husky hello as she hastened into the kitchen. “Hey.” Ben’s voice was clear and strong over the line. “Having fun at the shower?” “I am, actually,” Willow responded. “You sound surprised.” “Well.” She crossed one booted foot over the other and leaned back against the counter, her tone low so as not to be overheard. “I’m pretty much a stranger to these people.” Ben’s soft laugh made her toes curl in pleasure. “There are no strangers to Kaylie, just people who have yet to become friends. DocCha’s a bit more reserved, but once she makes up her mind, you’re in for life.” “DocCha?”

“Sorry. Jackie’s nickname. Short for Doctor Chavez.” If Jackie wasn’t already happily married, Willow might have to shoot her. Secure in that knowledge, the feeling of jealous dissipated almost as quickly as it came on. “You’ve known them your whole life?” “Kaylie and Tess, yes. Jackie only moved here some four years ago.” Eyes trained on the archway leading to the foyer and living room, Willow sighed. “And fit in right away?” “Pretty much. That’s the magic of small-town living. Don’t get me wrong, we’re certainly not a Stepford-type community, but for the most part we’re a tolerant and caring bunch. It’s hard not to be.” “Why do you say that?” Willow was genuinely curious. Ben chuckled. “We all pretty much know each other, or at least know of each other. When I was a teenager, I remember how this guy from out of state decided to build a gas station and mechanic shop just off the main road. Less than a month after completion he was running back home, tail firmly between his legs. He’d inflate prices, use cheap parts, do half-ass vehicle inspections, and at times tell an owner that something needed to be fixed or replaced when it didn’t. As soon as those he hired from town figured it out, they quit on the spot. See, it’s hard to screw over your son’s teacher, or put the only doctor in town in a ‘repaired’ vehicle that you wouldn’t let your wife drive.” “So you watch over each other.” “Yeah. Of course, now that we have the ski lodge, that has extended to tourists as well.” Holy crap! Willow had totally forgotten about the lost snowmobile riders. “Speaking of which, I take it you found your lost riders?” “The riders, yes. The vehicles, no.” Willow fidgeted with the top of her sweater. “That doesn’t sound good.” “We found them about a mile off the road, walking in the wrong direction. They’d left the trail and, somewhere in seven hun-

dred thousand acres of forest, managed to hit a fallen tree.” Ben’s irritation with the riders was evident, his tone on the sarcastic side. Willow could understand. A trail was safe, maintained. Known. The rest of the forest, not so much. It all started to look the same once you got in far enough. Willow would have been totally lost without Ben if she’d had to make her way back to the cabin alone. Ben continued. “First two riders were thrown off, both bruised to hell and back, one with a broken wrist. Luckily they were wearing helmets or it could have been worse. The second driver managed to slow down enough to avoid a full on collision, but still did enough damage to make the vehicle undriveable. We’re going back out to locate the runners, but I wanted to call you first, find out how you’re getting along.” Thankfully no one was in the room, otherwise they would have seen the goofy smile on Willow’s face. “I’m good. Really. It’s nice of you to call.” “Nice only goes so far,” Ben’s voice lowered to a husky drawl, making Willow shiver with delight. “I really wanted to make sure no male strippers were there vying for your attention. I want it all on me.” Goofy smile and shiver morphed into an all-out body melt. “Don’t be silly, Ben. There are no strippers.” “And your attention?” Willow wasn’t raised to be easy. If Ben really wanted her, he’d have to work for it. And for some reason she had the urge to tease him. “On the clock. Why are you going out tonight to look for the snowmobiles? Can’t it wait until daylight?” A few second of silence passed while Willow wondered if maybe she shouldn’t have teased Ben, but then he laughed, soft and sinfully wicked. “Playing, Will? That’s good. That’s very good. I like to play, and I have a very inventive imagination.” Willow nearly broke out in a sweat at his suggestive words. Ben’s tone insinuated his type of play involved naked bodies and her own imagination went wild. Dark swirls of heat and lust gathered low in her belly and she instinctively clenched her thighs together to assuage the building ache between them.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Good Lord! She was practically having phone sex! Luckily Ben moved on to answer her question because she didn’t have a darn thing in her mind. “We don’t want to leave the vehicles out overnight because of the animals. And I should be able to track them within a few hours so it’s not that big of a deal.” Willow glanced up when Kaylie walked in the kitchen, a huge bag of trash, aka wrapping paper and other odds and ends, in her hands. “Track them?” When Ben didn’t immediately answer, Willow had the strange feeling he was picking his words carefully. “A tracker is part of the search-and-rescue job. We follow the clues people leave behind—a broken leaf, lost mitten, sometimes even a scentand use those to find the lost. It’s an extremely useful skill up here.” She became sidetracked when Ben mentioned scent. He could follow a scent? Like a dog? Willow’s gaze shot to Kaylie as the other woman began moving the left overs to several thick paper plates, her eyes caught by the gleaming gold tip in the center of the tiered serving tower. It was a wolf, its face raised as it howled in silence. “Or a wolf.” Kaylie’s head popped up just as Ben said, “What?” Feeling pinned between the two, Willow babbled, “I was thinking you should be careful of the wolves. Some seem so tame, like the one I’ve seen the last two nights just behind the back of the cabin.” Kaylie dropped her head to focus on her task, but not before Willow saw her lips twitch. It made her narrow her own eyes, even as muffled voices came over the line. “Looks like we’re gassed up and ready to go, Will. And I wouldn’t go out looking for your wolf tonight. If he’s got any sense he’ll be home with his mate.” Willow’s frown deepened. She’d never told Ben she’d gone outside to see the wolf, only that she saw one. Rome was the only person who knew, unless Ben had seen her while on guard duty. Her face cleared. That must be it. “Be safe.”

off.

“Dream of me,” Ben rumbled in her ear just before he clicked

Honestly, after everything he’d said, how could she not? “They find those riders?” Kaylie asked as she covered plates with plastic wrap. Willow repeated what Ben had told her, stopping and starting several times as women came into and left the kitchen, some with plates, some simply saying goodbye and one grandmotherly woman giving Willow a warm hug before departing. When her phone rang again, it was Rome. He was outside, having come down to pick her up since it was past “curfew.” Willow rushed to get her coat on and found a plate of food thrust into her gloved hands before she knew it. “Thanks for coming to get me,” Willow told Kaylie after she said quick goodbyes to Ruth and Tess. “I had a lot of fun. Though I feel bad I didn’t bring Tess anything.” Kaylie shook her head. “Don’t even let the thought cross your mind, Willow. It certainly wasn’t expected.” Feeling a bit awkward, Willow whispered, “Well, please let your sister know that if she needs any help with wedding stuff, or whatever, I’m free. I might not have any money, but I’ve got plenty of time.” Deep in conversation with two other women, Tess suddenly looked up and zeroed in on Willow, as if she’d heard her offer. Kaylie groaned. “Now you’re in for it.” Willow glanced from the almost hawk-like interest on Tess’s face to Kaylie’s distorted one. “In for what?” “Shopping.”

Chapter Ten Much to Willow’s amazement, Rome was more than willing to see her off on a shopping expedition with Tess the next morning. As long as her bodyguards went. The closest city, Togan, was more than forty-five minutes away and by ten, with a weak sun doing little to melt the new snow that had fallen in the night, they were on the road. Kaylie begged off the trip, too exhausted from having been awake most of the night with an unhappy baby, and Ruth was working at Dolen’s Cafe. Not only was the Gentry mother the morning cook, she was married to Dolen. Willow had yet to meet Ruth’s current husband since he’d made himself scarce last night. As Tess talked about her family, Willow found herself curious about the man who’d slowly worked his way under Ruth’s guard—Tess’s words—and finally convinced the woman he’d loved for years to marry him. Willow ignored the awkwardness she felt as she climbed into Tess’s SUV. She was excited to get out and go shopping with another female, but she’d woken up feeling, well, just weird. First, last night, when Rome took his customary nightly shower, Willow had wandered outside, but as Ben had predicted, saw neither head nor tail of the tan wolf. Second, she had dreamed of Ben, strange yet tantalizingly erotic dreams that had her waking hot and so aroused that two minutes of self manipulation and she’d orgasmed, lips pinched tight to hold back the scream of pleasure that arched her hips into her hand. And now, sitting next to Tess, watching the city come into view, she was alternately hot and cold, and her skin tingled like she had an itch just under the surface that she couldn’t scratch. She might think she was aroused if she hadn’t taken care of that particular need several hours ago, and since then she certainly hadn’t done or seen anything to pique her interest. She didn’t feel like she was getting sick, but people didn’t stay in a state of arousal for days on end, did they? From the passenger mirror, she watched for Scott and Joe, who’d opted to follow along in their vehicle, as they turned onto a mall parking lot.

Tess’s idea of shopping, Willow soon found out, was a mix of methodical contemplation and impulsive buys. In a craft store she found some chocolate brown ribbon and construction paper that was “the exact color of Caleb’s eyes,” providing Willow the reason behind the other woman’s wedding color choices. Willow didn’t know if she wanted to sigh or puke. Later, at a woman’s clothing store, Tess alternately mumbled, groused, and exclaimed with glee as she went through stack after stack of pants, blouses, skirts, and dresses. Though amused at the antics, Willow drifted off, her eye caught by a long-sleeved blue dress hanging on a back wall. When she touched the material it felt like sin, soft and supple. It flowed over her hand, the color glinting as the lights of the store caught the fine silver threads interwoven into the light blue. Dreaming of wearing the luxurious garment, she glanced at the price tag and winced. “Oh, that would look stunning on you.” Willow jumped when Tess gushed her approval a foot away. “The color almost matches your eyes. You must try it on.” “Oh, no. I don’t think so.” Why try something on, gorgeous as it was, if she could never afford it? Talk about cruel and unusual punishment. “I insist.” Tess ignored Willow’s protests and with a firm hand, after finding Willow’s size, marched her to the dressing room. “I want to see it on.” In the small cubicle Willow donned the dress, and instantly wished she hadn’t. It was, indeed, beautiful. The bodice was snug, hugging her curves, the cowl-neck showing off the graceful lines of her collarbone. The floor-length skirt barely skimmed over her hips and twirled in artful waves as she spun sideways to admire herself. With a soft sound of regret, she left the room to show Tess, who grinned madly when Willow appeared. “It’s perfect. Simply perfect,” she said, fawning over Willow. “And I have a pair of darling silver earrings that will look stunning with it.” Willow simply looked at Tess as if the other woman suddenly grew a third eye. “Uh. For what?”

“For my wedding, of course, silly.” Tess mirrored Willow’s look. “Now go take it off so I can buy it. The boys have been hinting at food for the past half-hour and I’m about to strangle them.” “No. Wait. What?” Willow didn’t know what to think, much less say, and her words came out in a stuttering fumble. “You can’t.” Not to mention that she may not even be in Woodcliff next Saturday. Tess arched a haughty brow. “Says who?” Looking into Tess’s face, Willow swallowed. “Me?” It might have been a bit more meek than she’d intended, but damn it, she wasn’t a charity case. But damn it twice, she really wanted the dress! Tess walked over and put her hands on Willow’s shoulders. Willow had to tilt her head back to look up at the taller woman, and was nearly floored by the warm glow in her eyes. “Think of it as a welcome gift, a thank you gift, and most importantly, a you’respecial-and-you-deserve-it gift, all in one.” Well. How could a person say no to that kind of generosity? Her throat too thick to speak, Willow nodded, her watery grin of thanks causing Tess to wrap her in a fierce hug. “Is this a private party or can anyone join in?” Scott said from behind Tess. “‘Cause I’m liking the idea of a Scott sandwich.” Tess released Willow and scowled at Scott. “What you’re going to get is a knuckle sandwich if you take one step closer.” “I don’t care what kind of sandwich he gets as long as I get one with two thick slices of bread a chunk of meat and tons of cheese in the middle of it,” Joe said from his position by the dressing room entrance. He lifted his chin to Willow. “You look very nice in that dress. You should let Tess buy it.” “Willow will buy it,” Tess snapped, the abrupt tone dimming Willow’s glow of pleasure at Joe’s approval. Confused, Willow slid her gaze from Tess’s stink eye to the twin blank faces of her bodyguards. “Well, of course she will. But hurry it up, darling,” Scott said after a moment, rubbing his flat belly. “I’m about to perish from hunger.”

As if the death ray glare of five seconds ago never occurred, Tess flashed the men a blinding grin. “We’ll be ready in a few minutes. Do you know where you want to eat before we head back?” Willow’s tummy rumbled at the mention of food and, leaving the others to discuss what restaurant they wanted to eat at, she dashed back to the dressing room to change. While she might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, it was obvious Joe and Scott overhead Tess’s offer, and it was just as obvious that Tess didn’t want either man to speak of her generosity to anyone. Why, Willow had no clue. While Willow could appreciate how candid and open Tess was, it was the self-confidence that Tess exuded from the top of her streaked blond hair to the tips of her designer boots that Willow secretly admired. She imagined Tess would never demurely bend to another’s directive out of fear of losing their love or attention. No, Tess—and Kaylie and Ruth, for that matter—would all speak their mind. Loudly. It was that take-me-as-I-am-or-get-lost attitude they all possessed, and what Willow wanted. It wasn’t mean; it just was. In becoming what her mother wanted, Willow had lost herself. But no longer. Recalling the words Tess spoke, Willow straightened her shoulders and marched from the small cubicle. She was special, dammit, and she deserved to be appreciated, even loved, for who she was. Even by a certain sexy ski instructor, tracker, and all-around hottie. Realistically she knew her time in Woodcliff would be short. Willow would either be free to go back to New York or she’d be dead. So she’d make the most of the time she had. If Ben was interested in a fling, which his bone-melting kiss suggested, Willow would jump into one with both feet. She’d just have to guard her heart. **** Two hours later they crossed the outskirts of Woodcliff and Willow almost got whiplash trying to take everything in, just as she had on the outside trip. After several glances her way, Tess finally asked, “Have you actually seen the town or has Rome pretty much kept you up at the

cabin?” Lips twisted in wry amusement, Willow answered, “Other than your mom’s house, I haven’t seen anything of the town.” Tess rolled her eyes. “I know you’re under protection, but seriously? He’s making it more like a prison.” Then she let out a chuckle and grinned when Willow looked at her in question. “Let’s take the scenic route back.” The scenic route basically involved taking a tour through the town. Willow recognized Ruth’s house nestled in the middle of a long line of homes in a thick residential area. Taking a right, a quick left, and another right, Tess drove them down another road, this one sparse with homes. They passed the long dirt driveway that led to Kaylie and Dean’s home, the home Tess and Kaylie had grown up in, and where another generation of Gentries slumbered. “But don’t tell Dean I used Gentry instead of Kinigos.” Tess laughed. “He’s such a male, all possessive and protective.” Yeah, Willow had gotten that from her first night. She might have been nervous and exhausted, but one would have to be dead to miss the love and devotion he had for Kaylie and his newborn son. As they passed the impressive house Jackie and Zan owned, Tess’s cell went off. Willow tried not to listen in on the short conversation, but in the close quarters, it was difficult not to. Apparently Caleb was home from work, hungry and missing his bride-to-be. He must have said something naughty because Tess blushed to the roots of her hair, an expression of embarrassed delight on her gorgeous face. “Only if you call and order it. “I need to make a quick stop at Dolen’s,” Tess told her, hanging up her cell phone. “Okay.” “But first we’ll do the government loop before the commercial.” Staring out the windows as Tess drove down a circling road, Willow at once understood her comment. While many businesses lined the main highway, it seemed the hub of activity rested along

one of two long, narrow, oval-shaped roads that bisected the main road. They each made a loop, the narrow center containing open land. Outside of winter it was probably a beautiful, grassy area, complete with a few scattered benches and a quaint white gazebo. The school, police office, town hall, community center, bank, and post office were situated on the government side. At the far back, where Tess made the curve, sat the school, and adjacent to that, across another expanse of land covered with a thick layer of snow so pristine that the reflecting sun nearly blinded Willow, was a large park with several baseball diamonds, swing sets, monkey bars, and slides. Willow sighed. “It must have been nice growing up here.” Tess nodded. “Thinking about it now, yeah, it was nice. But it also had its problems. Still does. But you take the good with the bad.” Willow’s eyes were glued to her window as she practically gawked at a huge white building with impressively thick columns holding up an equally impressive porch. “Like what?” “Gossip.” Willow turned to look at Tess. “Gossip?” Tess braked for the red light and let out an exaggerated groan. “Oh, yeah. Everyone is in everyone else’s business. Giving advice when it’s not wanted, contemplating with each other on who is sleeping with whom, and parents telling on each others’ kids.” At Willow’s open shock, Tess let out a chuckle and crossed the main road on the green light. “Yeah. Small communities aren’t real private, which makes your private time even more special.” “Wow.” “Now this is the commercial loop.” On this side of the street sat several shops, including a bookstore, a women’s clothing boutique, a salon, toy store, and Dolen’s Cafe. Tess pulled into the cafe parking lot. “I had to readjust when I came back, but I have to admit I’ll take the gossip over the harsh demands and anonymity of a big city any day. It wore me out.” Willow raised a brow at the ex-model. “Please. You were never anonymous.”

Tess turned in her seat, giving Willow her full attention. “Not that kind of anonymity, Willow. The kind where no one gives a damn if you’re feeling sad or lonely. The kind where, if you fell over on the street, people might very well just walk over you to get where they need to go. That’s what I mean.” Willow chewed on her lip a moment. “Huh. I never felt that in New York.” Tess rested her arm along steering wheel. “No?” She sounded dubious. Leaning back in her seat, Willow gave the question its due. Maybe she hadn’t felt that way in the city because she’d been one of those people too much in a hurry to get where she needed getting to think about what or whom she was walking over. It made her wince, recalling the few homeless people sitting in abandoned doorways she’d seen as she’d traversed from work to home and back again. At first she’d given a buck or two, some change from her pocket when she had it. But as time wore on and her life seemed to spin out of control, she started to avoid them, then flat-out ignore them. But would she have walked over them? The fact that she just didn’t know nearly brought her to tears. “Hey. Are you okay? Opening eyes she didn’t know she’d closed, Willow gazed out blindly past the crowded parking lot. “I’m fine. Just doing a little introspection and not liking what I see.” Instantly contrite, Tess leaned over to touch Willow’s arm. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry. I never meant...” “No, no. I’m okay. I’m just...” She paused. Not only because she wasn’t sure what she was, but because she suddenly noticed an old man sitting on one of the benches in the open area that divided the looped road. Alone, and to Willow’s thinking, not bundled up enough for the cold. Then again, few of the people she’d met in this town were, no doubt accustomed to the temperature changes. But it was the fact he sat there, so still and alone that caused Willow to make a snap decision to go speak with him. “That man. Who is he?” Her eyes remained fixed on her quarry.

Tess dipped her head to follow Willow’s gaze. “Oh. That’s Henry Harkins. He’s the town recluse. Rarely comes out from his cabin, and when he does, most steer clear.” “Whatever for?” Willow glanced back at Tess. Tess rolled in her lips. “Well, to be blunt, he’s a crab. And a grouch. Barely says a word and when he does, it’s not anything nice.” Willow’s eyes drifted back to the bench. The man hadn’t moved. “Don’t you think he’s lonely?” Tess hesitated. “I think when the solitude gets too much he comes into town where he sits by himself and glowers at anyone who might dare come close. There are only a handful of people he will speak with.” Interest piqued, Willow asked, “Like who?” “Like my sister. And Dean, of course.” “Why ‘Dean, of course’?” “Uh.” The other woman appeared at a loss for words, which caused Willow to tilt her head in suspicious anticipation. “Yes?” “Because,” Tess said hesitantly before a “duh” look displaced the panic in her eyes. “Because Dean’s the mayor, of course.” Even though Tess said it with complete conviction, Willow knew it wasn’t the right answer, but decided to file it away along with all the other weird things she’d seen and heard since stepping foot in this town. Despite the friendliness of its natives, Willow had a feeling the inhabitants of Woodcliff were hiding something, which made Willow’s forced exile quite intriguing. Of course, nothing in this place captured her attention like Ben did. Just the thought of him made her tingle in places she’d tried to cap a lid on for years. Squeezing her thighs together only made the sensation worse. She needed to move, to expel the restless warmth that started to crawl through her veins. The cool air would do perfectly. Willow laid a hand on Tess’s arm before the woman could open her door. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to stay out here for a bit.” Lines marred the smooth finish of Tess’s forehead. “Whatever

for?” Willow shrugged, not willing to tell the truth: that she was so pathetic in her crush that the mere thought of Ben made her hot and bothered. “I feel kinda warm, and while I don’t think I’m getting sick, if I am, I certainly don’t want to spread it around.” In a quick move, Tess lifted one cool hand to Willow’s forehead and placed her other on her own brow. “You do feel warmer than me, but I run cooler than most so that’s not saying much.” Then she did something odd. She took a deep breath through her nose. The eyes on that million-dollar face widened in stunned shock and Tess yanked her hand back as if she’d been burned. Then her lips twitched, as if she was holding back from laughing. Willow frowned at the strange reaction. “What is it?” “Ah, nothing. Just thought of something else I have to do before the wedding, that’s all.” Another wrong answer, but before Willow could comment on it, Joe stepped into her line of sight. “Are we eating again?” He raised his voice through the closed window. Tess opened her door. “I need to pick something up for Caleb for dinner. You might want to check with Rome, see if he wants anything before you head back.” “Might take the edge off his snarl factor.” Scott nodded his approval at Joe’s side, already dialing. “Especially if they have any of those apple pies.”

Chapter Eleven Leaving Tess and Scott to pick up food, Willow donned her coat and made her way across the street, Joe trailing several feet behind, his dark eyes flat as he scanned the area for any danger. She wanted to sigh in exasperation, but considering how high the stakes were, she kept her mouth shut. It could be worse. She could be stuck in the cabin, day and night, slowly going out of her mind with boredom. The old man looked up when she stopped, his eyes clear and steady on hers. He didn’t smile in welcome, nor did he snarl in disgust. He just watched her. Silent. “May I sit?” Willow asked, all polite pleasantry. A bushy white brow shot high and he cocked his head, as if studying a new species of insect pinned to a board. She refused to be intimidated and merely returned his look with an innocent expression. Sometimes the eyes she thought too big for her face came in handy. An eternity later the man grunted. “You may.” The bench might be free from snow, but the wood was hard as a rock and so cold she barely refrained from hopping back up when her butt hit it. She inched to the edge in an attempt to keep the minimum amount of cold from seeping into her jeans. “Tess told me you’re Henry Hawkins. My name is Willow.” “I know who you are.” “Oh.” The gruff tone was far from friendly—she had been warned, after all—but the words were a surprise. Did everyone in town know who she was and why she was here? How wierd. Silence reigned and Willow struggled to think of something to say other than some lame comment on the weather. The overcast skies and dying sun only made it seem much colder than it was and despite the soft breeze that teased the short tendrils of her hair, it was actually nice out. Even so, she shoved her hands between her thighs, more to keep from fidgeting than for warmth. Remaining quiet, she craned her neck to see Joe make his way to the window display of a hardware store. She wondered what had

caught his attention when Henry spoke, his voice rough and broken, as if he didn’t use it much. “I knew a dancer once. Beautiful, so frail looking, yet with a spine of steel. Graceful, every step she took. So easy on the eyes.” Willow’s heart melted. Maybe a love lost, and that was why he was alone? Until his next comment caused her to sputter in protest. “You’re the same, but not graceful. Nope. You’re too stiff.” Her back went ramrod straight. “I am too graceful.” At his unwavering look, her shoulders slumped just a little. “Well, I was once.” Henry gave a sharp nod. “Will again.” Then he cackled, the course sound grating on Willow’s hears. “Willow. Will. Will again.” Okaaay. Maybe it was time to leave. Tess hadn’t said anything about the man’s elevator not reaching the top floor. She was about to get off the bench and run for Joe when footsteps crunched in the snow behind her. From the way the little hairs on her body stood up in awareness and the flash of heat that churned low in her belly, Willow had a pretty good idea to whom those steps belonged. It was unnerving, the way her senses become increasingly acute when Ben was near. A warm hand cupped her nape, the intimate touch sending tongues of fire to lick at her core. Though on the opposite side of the bench, his body, and his other hand which rested prominently on the top rail of the bench, filled her peripheral vision. The possessive act subtly yet firmly placed a barrier between her and Henry. “Hey,” Ben said very softly. She’d gone utterly still, all the better to absorb the feel of his skin on hers, the hold a stamp of ownership. She should rebel, shrug free, claim her independence. Then again, maybe she was overreacting. It was just a simple touch. “Hey, yourself.” Tilting her head up and to the side exposed her throat, and Ben took advantage, stroking the uneven pulse that

picked up speed with every pass of his thumb. Liquid heat pooled in her belly under the caress and her nipples pebbled, as if begging for the same attention. Okay. Maybe it wasn’t just a simple touch. “You have a nice time in Togan?” “I did, yes. How did you know?” Struggling to keep her suddenly heavy eyelids open, she took in his appearance. He had on an untucked button-up blue-on-white flannel that was partially open to reveal a dark blue shirt underneath. The material stretched over his shoulders yet fell loose at his abs. The fit of his jeans was a little loose as well and his hair was tousled, as if he’d repeatedly run a hand through it. She wanted to run her hands through the thick strands and down over the strong cords in his neck. Squeeze those broad shoulders and explore his muscled chest. Then follow it all up with her mouth. And tongue. Mmmmm. And teeth. His eyes glinted with heat, as if knowing the erotic images that danced in her head, and was more than willing to be her play toy. Mentally shaking off the NC-17 display, she focused on his answer. “Went to see you after work. Rome told me where you were.” Though not as pronounced as her mother’s famous tone, Willow nonetheless recognized the censor in his voice, and it made no sense. Could he possibly be upset she’d gone somewhere and not told him? And if so, what on Earth for? It wasn’t as if they were dating or anything. Of course the fact he’d come to see her excited the pants off her. Or would have, if she didn’t currently need them on to keep the icy bench from freezing her butt solid. She did, however, cross her ankles and tuck them under the bench, pressing her legs together to combat against the rush of arousal. “You could do worse.” This from Henry, who, instead of looking at Willow, frowned over at Tess as she came out of the cafe, a large plastic bag swinging in her hand. “‘Bout time.” “Food’s not for you, Henry.” Tess said. The lines on Henry’s forehead only deepened. “Not the food. The getting married.” He shook his head in disapproval. “Not right,

all this living together before.” Free hand on her hip, Tess glowered. “You really going there?” From above Willow’s head, Ben, his amusement apparent, said, “What did you expect, Tess?” “Back in my day,” Henry continued, “you stayed true.” “What?” Tess gawked. “I’ve stayed true.” She turned to Willow in earnest. “I’ve never cheated on Caleb. Ever.” Willow pressed her lips together, holding back a grin as Ben chuckled. “Don’t think that’s what he meant.” His hand at her neck squeezed gently, as if letting her in on the joke. “Well. What did you mean?” Tess narrowed her eyes on Henry. “You waited ‘till marriage.” The plastic bag bumped Tess’s hip as she crossed her arms. “Really? You’ve never been married, have you, Henry? Don’t suppose you’re a virgin.” Willow’s gasp at the blunt comment was drowned out by Ben’s muffled snort. “No? Guess you subscribe to the double-standard lifestyle then, huh?” Henry scowled up at Ben, who was clearly having difficulty holding back his laughter. “Don’t know what you find so funny, boy. Wouldn’t you like your mate to be untouched?” Ben choked at the question and Willow froze, suddenly finding the far horizon the most important thing in her life. She didn’t think her heart was even beating, as it was now in her throat as she waited for his response. “I’d simply be thrilled to find her.” Ben’s soft response mirrored the gentle kneading of her neck. Too chicken to see what might be reflected in his face, she laid a hand on her knee, rubbing at the ache that wasn’t really there, but in her chest. Henry harrumphed, muttering, “And the man always took care of his woman.” “Caleb takes care of me.” “Not you. Always think it’s about you.” Toss closed her eyes and gave a small shake of her head. “I give up.”

“Sore joints need heat.” Henry nodded at Willow’s flexing fingers. A soft curse from Ben. “I was getting there, old man. I was going to ask Will if she wanted to go to the pool.” At that Willow perked up, and looked up. “You have a pool?” Her eyes dropped to Ben’s mouth when he smiled. It was a damn fine mouth. “Not me personally, but there is one at the school. I thought you might like to go tomorrow evening.” “Oh.” Her nose wrinkled. And wade through a bunch of kids? “They close it at six on Mondays and Thursdays for cleaning, but I can ask them to hold off for an hour or so. No one will be around if you don’t want them to be.” She would love to go swimming. For her, it was akin to the joy of dancing she once felt. And her body, not as agile as it used to be, once again found the grace to move with weightless effort. “If it’s not too much trouble,” Willow breathed, unable to keep the wistfulness out of her voice. “I would love it.” Ben’s eyes darkened with intensity and heat slashed through her, quick and sharp. Sheer unadulterated need floored her whenever his eyes lit on hers. It was crazy, it should have been impossible, but it simply was, and this time she couldn’t shake it off. It took Tess’s teasing comment to pull her from the brink and fist the hand she’d lifted to touch Ben’s mouth onto her thigh. “Whew. I think you two melted the snow in a ten-foot radius.” Willow whipped her head around, avoiding Tess’s amused eyes as her cheeks flushed, and missed most of her next words. “—have to get Caleb his dinner and Scott’s busy flirting with Barb.” “I’ll take Willow back. I have to stop at Victory anyway.” Ben said. Willow didn’t respond, too busy fighting another kind of heat. The kind that caused all her female parts to jump with joy. She was going to be alone with Ben, which meant maybe, just maybe, she might get another chance to have his lips on her. Hoping to disguise her shiver of anticipation, Willow turned to Henry. “If I don’t see you again, it was nice meeting you, Henry.”

The old man grunted. “Ain’t going anywhere.” Patience was definitely a requirement when speaking with Henry. “But I am.” “Maybe will, maybe won’t,” he said cryptically before he cackled again. “Willow. Will again, maybe will.” Yep. Some marbles were most certainly missing from his bag. As she stood, Henry unexpectedly, and with incredible speed for such an old, frail-looking man, gripped her hand. Shrewd eyes, all-knowing eyes, bored into her surprised ones. “Your name is Willow for a reason. Don’t succumb to foolish thoughts. Your will is strong, your heart stronger still. Listen to it.” Flummoxed, Willow stuttered. “Ah. Okay.” Only then did Henry drop her hand. “Begone. All of you. Done with the lot.” Ben moved around the bench and put a hand to Willow’s back. His smile didn’t reach his eyes; they were too full of speculation. “Come on.” Tess was shaking her head as they moved back to the cafe parking lot. “See what I mean? He’s a weird one.” And maybe a whole lot smarter than most people believed. But Willow kept her thoughts to herself as she retrieved her purse and followed Ben back across the open area to his truck in the parking lot of the hardware store. Henry had disappeared—fast bugger—as did Joe, who meandered inside the cafe to wait for both Rome’s dinner and for Scott to finish flirting with the town’s pretty postal clerk. Opening the truck door, Ben helped boost Willow inside before rounding the front to slide in behind the wheel. He cranked the engine and the heat. Willow noticed there wasn’t a coat for him in sight, but sitting so close she could feel the heat of his body warming the air. The man was a furnace, and no doubt a delight to snuggle up with on a cold winter night. Don’t go there. Willow wet her dry lips. Do. Not. Go. There. “Thanks for taking me back.” Her voice was a little raspy. From being out in the cold. For sure. He flashed her that grin, the one so charming and sexy it could

melt a woman’s panties at twenty paces. “My pleasure.” Unnerved, she stared out the window as they left the commercial loop and headed out onto the main street. “So where and what’s this place you said you needed to stop at?” Ben pointed a thumb over his shoulder and she looked into the truck bed to see a ladder. “Promised to deliver this to Rose today after work since she doesn’t have a truck.” Her jaw tightened, as did her gut. And just who the hell was Rose? Almost immediately after the inner snarl she grimaced. She really needed to curb the wild jealousy that flared up whenever Ben mentioned another woman’s name. It was unhealthy, not to mention completely inappropriate. So sweet her teeth ached with it, she asked “Rose?” “She heads a section of the Mosaic Group at Victory and needs it for a set.” None of that meant a darn thing to Willow. “And that means?” His phone rang, but instead of answering it, he ignored it, in favor of answering Willow’s question. “Sorry. Victory is a church and the Mosaic Group is the name of the creative arts ministry.” Those eyes sparkled when he turned them on her for a brief moment. “I think you’ll like her. She’s a dancer, not by profession, but by love.” “A dancer? Creative arts ministry?” Ben nodded. “I know it sounds strange, but there you go.” At the next light he turned right, and then left, down a short road adjacent to a large building. There was nothing overly spectacular about it, except for the lack of windows. “This is the church?” Ben chuckled. “It’s nondenominational and that particular building is the sanctuary.” At her quizzical look he explained. “The sanctuary is where they hold the service and worship. What you’re seeing is the back and side of the main building. The front actually faces the courtyard.” He moved through a large parking lot and stopped near twin

sets of glass double doors. Even now Willow would never have guessed the building was a church. “Oh.” She was a little disappointed. Another deep chuckle. “I tell Jackie, Zan’s wife whom you met last night at Tess’s shower, that the building needs some pizzaz. But she says it’s not how the outside looks that’s important. It’s what makes up the inside.” Willow made a noncommittal response as she scanned several other smaller buildings. “You go?” “Ah. I have. It’s been a while.” “Me too.” Willow murmured. “I used to until Mom realized I had an interest and some talent in dance. Then my weekends became too crazy. Dad still goes. At least, he used to.” Ben reached out and twined his fingers with hers, resting their hands on her left thigh. “I’m sure he still does. What about your mom?” Her fingers flexed. “She’s dead.” “Ah hell, Will. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She turned her head and studied his face, not finding it a hardship in the least. The man was breathtakingly handsome and those gorgeous eyes of his always seemed to be lit with something, whether humor, curiosity, heat, or like now, sympathy. His masculinity and sex appeal was simply icing on the cake. “Don’t be sorry, Ben. You didn’t know.” She squeezed his hand once, then lifted it purposely to the middle of the bench seat, untangling their fingers. Returning her gaze back to the nondescript building, and, unable to hide the hurt, said, “Besides, my mother was a selfish woman who was never pleased and ended up drinking herself to death.”

Chapter Twelve His soft sigh filled the cab of the truck, his scent a dark and decadent treat. “Methinks you have mommy issues.” She choked out a laugh that sounded more like a sob and went absolutely still. His hands were gentle but inexorable as he pulled her around to face him. “I think”—he trailed one finger down her nose to her mouth, his eyes holding a fierce light when she parted her lips— “it’s time for Willow to be pleased.” Her heart was so loud in her ears at the sensual remark that it might as well be pounding outside her chest. His teeth flashed in his face, a happy grin that confused her. “Perfect timing.” Then he was gone. She’d been unconsciously leaning toward him, and would have fallen face first on the place his butt had been only a nanosecond ago if her seat belt hadn’t caught her. Grumbling at Ben’s strange exit, she barely clicked the clasp free when he opened her door. “The first phase of pleasing Willow. Join me, won’t you?” Startled, she gave him a wide-eyed stare. “Here?” “Definitely. Don’t you hear it?” Now that she was breathing a little easier, she realized it hadn’t been her heart thudding in her ears. It was the music from inside the church. She shot him a suspicious glance. “What’s going on?” “Sounds like music to me.” He reached for the ladder, holding it easily in one hand, and reached for hers with the other. “Hmmm.” But she got out and shut her door, accepting Ben’s wiggling fingers. He led her to one of the glass doors, releasing her hand to open the door for her before she could do so. Who said chivalry was dead? Inside they crossed a brightly lit foyer and into another set of doors where Ben stopped to lay the ladder against an inner wall. Willow shrugged off her coat, which Ben took from her, and peered around the dim interior. It was a large space, lined with

chairs in long, neat rows from the back of the room to within several feet of the stage at the front. A stage where a woman was dancing. Ben tugged her forward. “That’s Rose,” he whispered in her ear. Moments later, two girls stepped out. All three were dressed in long, airy pants and matching tops. The effect was feminine and graceful, their smooth movements only adding to the beauty of the display. Rose’s long white hair floated and spun like a banner as she twirled, her timeless face marked with joy as she lifted her arms high. The younger girls, probably in their early teens, didn’t have quite the grace as the older woman, but Willow saw what was most important. Their love for dancing. It was fun. For all of them. The first song slipped seamlessly into another and Willow, entranced, began to sway, her feet subtly mimicking the dancers’ steps. It wasn’t until the music stopped and she caught Ben grinning at her from the corner of her eye. He was five feet away. One of them had moved. “What?” That blasted grin only grew wider. “You were dancing.” Hard to deny that when her knees and elbows were bent out, her hands together, and her body held at a soft angle. Lips pursed she straightened. “Bite me.” His grin only turned dark and dangerous. “Plan on it.” Jerking her attention back to the stage, Willow saw Rose speak quietly to the younger girls before stepping to the edge of the stage where she sat, swinging her legs over so that Ben could help her to the floor. “You’re such a dear, thank you, Bennie.” She cupped one cheek and pressed her lips to his other one. The nickname surprised Willow, but Ben took it in stride, as he did the easy affection. “Anything for you, Miss Rose.” Moving close, he placed a hand low on Willow’s spine. “Willow, this is Rose Willcox. She was my second-grade and fifthgrade teacher.” Willow’s brows shot up. “You taught two grades?” Rose’s smile was full of gentle patience. “I’m working my way

back down now. This was my first year teaching kindergarten and I have to say, the older kids were much easier. Are you new to town, dear? I don’t recognize you.” The question was filled with keen interest and Willow thought, ah, everyone in town doesn’t know who I am. “No, ma’am. I’m just visiting for a while.” “You are most welcome.” “Thank you.” Rose’s head tilted. “You dance?” Willow’s rapid “no” coincided with Ben’s “yes.” Willow snapped her eyes to his and behind a fake smile gritted out, “Ben.” Ben shot her a cocky and very real smile in retaliation. He seemed to be on the edge of laughing. “Willow.” Rose raised a brow, clearly bemused by the two of them. “I used to,” Willow finally, and softly, admitted. “But I, ah, hurt my knee and don’t anymore.” Rose lifted her hand and touched just the fingertips to the underside of Willow’s chin. “Don’t ever give up what you love. It might seem an impossible task, but if you don’t have what you truly love in your life, well, then, that’s not really living, is it?” “Ah.” The way Rose’s lips curled into a secretive smile made Willow want to squirm. “I guess not.” Another squirmy moment passed before Rose nodded and turned her attention back to Ben. “The boys are looking forward to Tuesday.” “So am I. Just make sure they know to bring warm clothing. Layers are best.” A small nod of her white head. “They know but I’ll remind them. It was a pleasure meeting you, Willow.” “You too, Miss Rose.” Because despite the woman’s wacky words, Willow did enjoy their brief encounter. And loved the music. Curiosity rode her hard, but she kept a lid on it until she hopped in Ben’s truck. “So whatcha doing Tuesday night?” “No big. Just some ice hockey.” Ben started the truck and

drove out of the lot. It had grown full dark, minus the glow of a nearly full moon, and the blue lights from the dashboard played over his features. “Ice hockey? For kindergarteners?” “Never too soon to learn.” “Hmmm.” Not recalling a skating rink on the Tess Tour, she asked, “There’s a skating rink?” “No, but the town’s voting next month on it, so we make do. There’s a decent spot of flat land behind the go-kart place. Spray it with water, wait for it to freeze, and voilà. Instant skating rink.” His gaze briefly left the road to look at her. “You skate?” She wasn’t going to be diverted by the question. She’d seen the way his lips had firmed, the infinitesimal tightening of his hands on the steering wheel. “A couple times when I was a kid. Why does the lack of a rink bother you?” This time he looked surprised when he glanced at her, but he didn’t answer. Not right away. He turned up the winding road to the cabins. “Last year a bunch of kids were skating on a frozen pond. But it wasn’t frozen through. Three fell in. One on top of each other. The first was trapped under the ice until the others were pulled free.” “Oh, God.” Another look. This one suppressed anger. “He made it. They all did. But it was touch-and-go there for a long time, especially when Seth got pneumonia. Now all the ponds are off limits, but I damn well know kids still sneak out on them, so I’m pushing for the rink.” He paused, eyes straight ahead. “And we’ll get it.” “Of course you will.” Willow couldn’t imagine otherwise. “You danced.” Ben stated after several minutes, evidently setting aside the topic of the rink. “Your knee okay? Hip?” “Ah.” She stretched out a leg, easy in the bench seat of the truck as it was set to accommodate Ben’s long legs. “No. I’m good.” “You liked it.” Yeah, she did. As they pulled to a stop in front of her cabin she told him so.

“Now I’m pleased.” “I thought it was about pleasing me.” Willow could have slapped a hand over her mouth as the unbidden comment popped free. He clicked free his seat belt and turned toward her, leaning back against his door. Lounging, waiting, he watched her. “It is. Tell me, Will. What else can I do to please you?” Holy smokes! The temperature in the truck shot up about a thousand degrees. She opened her mouth, closed it. “The pool thing is good.” A small smile played around his lips. “All right. I’ll pick you up at five tomorrow. I’ll take you out to Vince’s place for dinner first. That work?” “Sure.” That wasn’t a squeak, was it? “Anything else?” Nothing that I can say out loud. “I think that’s about it.” And a few hundred kisses? Those hands all over my naked body? One brow winged up. “Really?” He perused her hot face, inching slowly forward. “I have a suggestion, then.” Oh boy. “You do?” Definite squeak this time. “Oh yeah.” Another inch forward, as if he didn’t want to startle her. “It involves a repeat of yesterday.” Butterflies flew in dizzy delight in her stomach, her breathing catching up to the speeding of her heart. “It does?” “Most definitely.” He traced her lips with the pad of one finger, seemingly mesmerized as they parted slightly under his touch. “I love your mouth.” Desire quickened, a sharp need that had her aching for a more intimate touch. “It’s nothing special.” Something fierce and dark glowed in his eyes. “I beg to differ. But let’s try a test.” He pressed his lips to hers, her face cupped in one of his hands. Willow felt the tip of tongue lick lightly against her mouth, teasing her senses. “Heavenly,” he murmured against her lips. “Heavenly,” she agreed, eyes closed to savor the tender moment. Then he kissed her again, more demanding this time, his

tongue plunging deep, licking the sensitive lining of her cheeks and tangling with hers. It was wet and wild, and becoming wilder still. His hands shifted to her shoulders, edging her coat off her shoulders and down over her arms. Once freed, she fisted her hands to the front of his shirt, her head tilted back in surrender. Lust bloomed, a scorching greed so strong she felt her bones melt. Ben, she thought, her soft moan a muted whisper of his name. Whether he’d scooped her up or she’d jumped him, Willow didn’t know. She just suddenly found herself spread over Ben’s thighs, her legs straddling him so that the very core of her was pressed against the bulge in his jeans. With a soft sound of approval he possessed her lips again, one hand wrapped around the back of her head, the other pressing over her butt, holding her too him as if she might wiggle free any moment. Not a chance in hell. He slayed her. Simply slayed her. Her mind and her body. Most especially her body. Her skin felt too tight, her flesh burning her through. He pressed open-mouthed kisses down her jaw to suckle the wildly beating pulse at her throat and sigh escaped. She buried a hand in his thick hair, holding him as used his tongue to drive her senseless. At least in her head. Her body, on the other hand, was a mass of raw nerve endings, her senses on overload. She would have fallen if she hadn’t been sitting, or kneeling, straddling muscled thighs that bunched under hers. Thighs that led to lean hips. which fed into the thick ridge currently pulsing insistently between her own thighs. Feeling the strength and size of him under her hands and under her spread legs made all her female parts weep with desire, her nipples beg not to be left out. She rubbed her torso against his chest, seeking relief from breasts swollen with need. As if understanding, Ben curved a hand over the lush swell of one breast. Willow froze and shivered at the same time, falling into his heated gaze, locked on hers as if seeking her every reaction to his touch. Amber ringed the magnificent bronze once again.

Nipping at her lips, Ben flicked his thumb across one taut peak. “You like that?” His voice was a low rasp in her ear. Then he did something amazing at her neck that had her tilting her head for better access. “Now imagine how much more you’ll feel without the clothes.” Shuddering at the wanton need that speared her body, Willow closed her eyes. “Yes, please.” Ben chuckled softly at the soft demand. He released her breast, only to tunnel his hand under the edge of her sweater to sweep up her ribcage. When he encountered her bra, he only nudged it up so he could lay claim to the silky smooth mound. “Look at you,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive bud. Then his lips came down to lave her bared breast, his tongue liquid heat as he licked her nipple with lazy strokes. His mouth opened, suckling her in, and her eyes nearly rolled right into the back of her head. The muscles in her tummy and legs squeezed against the onslaught of sensations. Each tug of his lips, every lick of his rough tongue seemed to wring an answering surge of wetness and unbelievable ache from between her thighs. “And so damn responsive.” Ben seemed in awe. “Ben.” His name fell from her lips in a husky whisper as he turned to pay homage to her neglected breast, but before the exquisite contact was made he switched gears and yanked her bra and sweater down, lifting and then depositing her neatly in the passenger seat. To say she was confused was an understatement. She blinked owlishly about the cab, wondering what the heck happened. It was then she noticed the thick fog on all the windows, cocooning them in a world of their own, and a temporary one at that, as a loud rap on the driver side window testified. Her “oh, crap,” was drowned out by Ben’s snarled, “Just a minute.” Alarmed, she checked her clothes and jammed a trembling hand through her hair. She looked up when Ben clasped her free hand, his fingers tan-

gling in hers. “You okay?” His eyes, reverted fully back to bronze fire, narrowed in concern. Was she okay? Her face flamed and she turned away. She’d just behaved in an absolutely unorthodox fashion, groping and fondling and, well, practically having sex in a truck! In a place where anyone could see or even come upon them at any second, which, based on that window knock, they had. And if that someone, no doubt Rome, had approached only minutes later— Her cheeks grew hotter at the thought. “Maybe in a year or two.” Eyes solemn, he curved a hand under her chin. “I like you, Will, and I want to be with you. I want to make love with you.” Wow. Guess Ben had no qualms about putting it all right out in the open. Too bad Willow didn’t have quite the nerve. “I like you too.” Looking as if he were biting back a smile he asked, “Yeah?” Who could help not liking him? Certainly not this female. “Yeah.” Approving her response, he laid a hard, closed-mouth kiss on her lips. “Good. I’ll pick you up tomorrow around five and we’ll head over to Vince’s restaurant for dinner. Sound good?” It took Willow a few moments to remember why he was picking her up. The man had a way of scrambling her brains. Swimming. She nodded, Rome banged on the window again and, yanking her coat out from under her, said, “Sounds good. Thanks for driving me back.” “Believe me.” Ben’s Cheshire cat grin was hard to miss. “It was my pleasure.”

Chapter Thirteen With her swimsuit, towel, and a pair of shorts tucked in a small bag on the bed, Willow moved back to the closet, opened it, frowned at the five items dangling from plastic hangers—yep, nothing else had magically shown up in the past twenty seconds— and closed the hinged door and paced to the dresser. She frowned at her reflection. What was she thinking? It wasn’t as if she had a huge wardrobe to choose from. Everything she’d owned she’d brought, and it hadn’t amounted to much. Not to mention most of what she did have was suited to an Arizona climate, not a mountainous Colorado one, and other than a pretty sundress or the beautiful blue dress Tess bought for her, neither an appropriate choice for tonight, she was stuck in what she wore. But it wasn’t like they were going on a date. Ben was simply taking her to Vince DeNoza’s restaurant. She didn’t remember the name of the place, but did recall the flirty older gentleman at Kaylie’s house from the night she and Rome arrived in Woodcliff. Then they were going swimming. At a school. Not the most romantic of dates. “It’s not a date.” The mirror showed a face scrunched up with worry and she stuck a tongue out at it. “Jeans, sweater, boots, move on. No more thinking or wishing about it.” Nevertheless, she did check her lip gloss, foregoing any other makeup because, hello, swimming. Nothing sexy about makeup smearing down one’s face and leaving a gross film all over the pool. Then she fluffed bangs long past needing a trim and yearned for the time it had been long enough to pull back in a knot, or braid, or ponytail. Or anything. The thin strands just hung there, straight as an arrow. At least all the bland, brown temporary color had washed out, leaving her strawberry blond locks free to shimmer in the sun. She let out a breath. “Too bad it’s night.” Shaking her head her nonsensical thoughts, she gasped, hand to her heart, when she heard Ben’s voice in the living room. A startled

glance at the radio clock on the nightstand told her it was indeed five o’clock. She’d been thinking so hard she missed hearing his truck pull up or his knock at the door. She probably would have missed a sonic boom. Now she only had to face Ben, not having a clue what he might think of her after she’d practically attacked him in wild abandon the night before. “Agh.” She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks and willed herself to cool down. With a final grimace at her reflection, she slipped the strap of her purse on her shoulder, picked up the bag, and walked casually out to greet Ben. “Hey.” Ben’s eyes twinkled with pleasure when she stepped in the room. She loved the way his smile started in his eyes, his mouth curving into a slow, soft and—whew! Was it hot in here? Because that look in his eyes, his smile, wasn’t his already devastatingly charming smile. No, this one contained an almost lupine quality to it, like a predator, intent on stalking and plundering its prey until it was beyond sated. Suddenly she was nervous as hell. Then he blinked and it was gone. “Hey, yourself,” she said, trying to quell the fluttering of her heart. Tearing her gaze away, she looked expectantly at Rome, waiting for his fatherly admonishment to return at a specific time. Only he didn’t. Seated at the couch, his laptop on the coffee table in front of him, he gave distracted wave. “Have a good time.” “Ready?” Confused, she looked stupidly at Ben. “Uh. Yeah.” “Great, because I’m starving. You do like Italian food, right?” Willow mumbled something, letting Ben help her on with her coat, and they left. As if sensing her unease, Ben was light and easy on the way to the restaurant, telling her funny stories about the people at the ski lodge. It worked. By the time they reached Vince’s restaurant she no longer felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter. Still giggling over his account about two boys flirting with two girls and the resulting ski lift mishap, she allowed him to help her from his truck. Hand in hand, they walked to the front door, only to

be stopped by an exiting customer, one whose polite smile brightened when he saw Ben. “Ben, my man!” “Hey, Derek.” Derek placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Thanks again for helping out with the bath remodel. My wife loves it and now I’m the recipient of all her gratitude, if you know what I mean.” He winked at Willow and left. Ben caught Willow’s waiting expression. “Ah. Derek Benson. Helped him with a bathroom remodel for the wife.” “So I heard. And it sounds as if he’s more pleased than his wife.” Interestingly enough, Ben blushed, and Willow pressed her lips together to hold in a laugh. “Yeah. Well. There you go.” Clearing his throat, he tugged her inside. Once seated, they had no problem keeping the conversation flowing. Twice his phone rang, and he ignored both calls. They were, however, interrupted several times throughout dinner by people who came to the table to greet Ben, a few copying Derek and giving their thanks for some deed Ben had done for them; most just said hi. At the moment, one particular man was talking about night skiing and while Ben appeared nonplussed, Willow, who found a new and delightful pastime studying his features, noticed his smile wasn’t anywhere close to his eyes, and he seemed uncharacteristically tense. Smiling to herself, she reached into her purse. Ben might have ignored the earlier phone calls, but maybe he wouldn’t ignore this one. Angling her body, she surreptitiously ran a fingertip over the touchscreen. Luckily her hand was over her mouth when Ben’s phone rang, because she nearly snorted when Music Box Dancer began playing. Ben froze for a fraction of an instant before a spark of laughter lit his eyes. “You’ll have to excuse me, Todd. I need to get this, then Willow and I need to go or we’ll be late.” “Oh, oh, sure. You bet.”

After Clueless Todd left, Willow smirked at Ben. “Music Box Dancer?” His shoulders lifted in a shrug, drawing her gaze to the way the brown henley stretched over his muscles. “Thought it fit.” “Hmmm.” He leaned over the table. “I’m sorry about this, Will. I never thought we’d be mobbed.” Willow mused that over as they left and headed to the school. Ben was obviously well liked in the town. He did things for people with no expectations. She thought of Rose, and the schoolkids to whom he was going to teach ice skating. How he was part of the search-and-rescue team, and the reluctant admission that he was a tracker. Ben was a people person, generous and sincere, and everyone loved him. For some strange reason she felt a sense of pride unfurl inside her. A knock on the girl’s changing room made her gasp. “You ready yet or are you waiting on the full thirty minutes? ‘Cause I can tell you that passed ten minutes ago and we’ve only got the pool to ourselves for another hour and a half.” “Just a sec.” Pulling gray shorts on over her swim bottoms, Willow paused, because not only had Ben somehow convinced the pool cleaner to hold off until eight, Ben had the code and keys to get into the school. And the keys weren’t just a borrowed set. They’d been on his key chain, right next to his truck and several other keys. Just what was Ben to the people of Woodcliff? Tucking her towel around her, she opened the door to ask Ben just that, when all the spit dried up in her mouth and she gaped. Hello, chest. Ben’s bare, muscled, delicious chest greeted her on the other side of the door. “You going swimming in the towel?” Dragging her dazed eyes from his chest took all her might, yet the male satisfaction in his eyes at her reaction brought her back to sanity. The conceited oaf knew what the sight of all that hard yummy flesh was doing to her brain and was supremely pleased. “Ah.

Funny.” She walked around him to the shallow end of the pool. “I’m surprised the school didn’t do more with this area.” Keeping her back to him while speaking was much easier. “You know. Liven it up for the kids.” Willow felt the heat of his body seep into hers as he came up behind her, his scent, clean, masculine and pure Ben, drugging her senses and making her belly pitch and tremble. Maybe turning her back on him hadn’t been such a good idea after all. “What do you suggest?” His voice was soft in her ear, his hands gentle yet sure as he reached around to loosen her towel. Rough fingertips brushed the top swell of her breasts. A shiver coursed through her, but she forged on, determined not to turn around and jump his bones at the slightest provocation. She looked at the drab wall. “I’d definitely paint the walls, maybe a couple of murals depicting sea creatures or a scene from The Little Mermaid.” There. That didn’t sound too breathy. Did it? “I like that idea. Why the shorts, Will?” His hands rested lightly on her hips. She shifted, placing on foot on top of the other. “I’m still a bit self-conscience about my scar. Not much I can do about the one on my knee unless I wear sweats in the pool.” His hands tightened for just a moment before he murmured against her neck, “It’s just me.” He slipped his fingers under the waistband and started sliding them down her legs. She let him. It seemed to take him a really long time to divest her of her shorts, his journey back up taking even longer. His hands wrapped around her calves. She felt his warm breath against her skin, then the soft press of his lips at the back of each knee, followed by another kiss at her hip, right over her scar. Stunned, throat thick at the sensual caress, she watched wideeyed as he stepped around her and into the pool. “Phase Two of Pleasing Willow.” He lifted a hand, one brow arched invitingly over smiling eyes that matched the curve of his lips. “Join me,

won’t you?” She didn’t even hesitate. She simply took his hand and stepped in.

Chapter Fourteen Swimming came easily to Willow, and when Ben didn’t press her about her injuries or try to kiss her, she began to relax. Okay. That was a lie. She couldn’t completely relax, not while painfully aware as she was of Ben’s long, muscled arms and thighs flashing in and out of the water as he swam next to her. She was glad to be in the pool, if for no other reason than the water hid the drool that was no doubt falling from her lips whenever she glanced his way. Stupid drool. She swam back toward the shallow end, making her way to the edge where Ben had dropped his towel. She wiped her face with one corner then turned back to watch Ben glide effortlessly through the water. He must have sensed her focus because he stopped mid-stride, treading water. Their eyes met. “Come here.” She resisted the demand. “It’s too deep for me to stand.” He smiled, and she wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam rise from the pool. “Then I’ll come to you.” Muscled arms swept wide, propelling his body through the water until he stood, droplets running in tantalizing rivulets down his sculpted body. By the flare of heat in his eyes, she felt he was stalking her, in slow, steady steps, the water no obstacle to his determined advance. Some female part of her screamed to retreat and she took a step back, her heart beating heavily against her ribs, her blood turning molten. Cool tile hit her back. A very satisfied, very male smile tugged his lips. “You’re not afraid of me, are you, Willow?” She swallowed. “No.” Instinct kept her eyes glued to his. He cocked his head. “I think you should take your top off.” “I—what?” “It’s only fair, seeing as I don’t have one on.”

The statement, of course, drew her gaze to the muscles roping his very fine chest. His nipples were flat, a dark brown that had her hands closing into fists under the water to keep from touching. “That’s because I have breasts.” Well, duh. He growled, eying said breasts and her own nipples that were currently poking a hole through her swim tank. “Beautiful breasts. Soft and smooth like rich cream.” “II—” Her IQ plummeted. One callused hand wrapped around her nape, the other at her back, protecting her from the hard tiled edge of the pool. He moved in, close, closer, still until her breasts were flattened on his hard, bare chest and she had to crane her head up to meet the fierce gleam unmistakable between his heavy lids. Sexy bedroom eyes, Willow thought just before Ben dipped his head to kiss her, and her mind went blank. As before, the kiss started slow and sweet. Lips pressing gently to one side of her mouth, then the other before his tongue ran along her lower lip until it trembled open. Those firm lips tasted hers with a playful gentleness, licking and nipping. The sensations, raw and primal, flooded her, causing her breasts to swell, and melting the place between her thighs. Desperate for an anchor, she clenched his hard shoulders and moaned into his mouth, daring to reach out with her own tongue. The low, deep sound in his throat was her reward and the kiss changed into something harder, hotter. Angling her head to his satisfaction, Ben opened his mouth over her own, thrusting his tongue into the wet cavern, their tongues dancing, dueling, exploring. His hands were also exploring, no longer holding her but moving with firm, sure strokes along her back, edging ever lower until she felt his hand open wide on her bottom, squeezing and kneading, holding her tight against the thick ridge of his erection. The hand at her nape shifted to hold her throat in a possessive grip for a long beat before he let go, his fingers trailing oh-so-slowly over her collarbone, and down to whisper over the exposed upper slope of her breast. Wanting more, remembering how it felt to have his hands, his mouth, on her, she arched into the caress.

As if sensing what she needed, Ben grazed a knuckle over one pebbled nipple. She whimpered in need and he did it again, just a quick swipe of his fingers that were gone much too soon. Blinking her eyes open she looked up at Ben, her eyes narrowing at the mix of desire and mischief that sparkled in his. The bastard was playing with her. With a frustrated growl, Willow nipped his bottom lip. “Hey.” “Stop teasing me,” she grumbled. “Hmm.” He kissed her collarbone, outlining the shape of her breast with one too-gentle finger. “Something hurt, sweetheart?” He was going to hurt in a second. “Just kiss me.” He gave her what she wanted, taking her mouth with hungry petition. Closing a hand over the proud thrust of her breast, he squeezed, catching her cry in his mouth. Breaking the kiss, he made his way down her throat, nipping at the throbbing beat of her pulse, flicking his thumb over the taut bead of her nipple. Her entire body jerked in response. A low groan left his lips. “I want to taste you, Will.” She shivered, thinking he was tasting her with his mouth moving over throat, his tongue a moist caress against the heated skin. “You are,” she whispered, all but lost to the pleasure coursing through her veins. A rough chuckle that caused the warm air of his breath to dance over her wet flesh. A sharp shiver nearly brought her to her knees. The hand on her bottom shifted, edged further down, bringing the tips of his long fingers into alignment with the swollen entrance to her body. His hips moved at the same time, the steel of his erection gliding over her mound. “Here, Will. I want to taste you here.” Her thighs muscles quivered and a soft whimper escaped. God, she was so pathetic. Whimpering and moaning and—“‘K.” Good Lord! Had she really said that? She was such a slut. But the single syllable was still echoing as he disappeared beneath the water. Willow felt his hands at her hips, easing the

bottoms of her swimsuit down her legs. Large hands spread her and she felt the soft kiss of his cheek on her thigh. Excitement and uncertainty swept through her, to be replaced by unmitigated shock as he rose—and she rose!—from the pool. Water streamed from his hair. She knew because she had fistfuls of it in her hands. Dear God! He’d come up right between her legs! She squeezed her thighs in a death grip, mirroring the one she had on his head, his tongue doing wild and wicked things deep in the folds of her sex. He bent down and sat her on the edge of the pool, raising one hand to the middle of her chest to gently push her back. She lay down, only because she didn’t think she had the strength to keep her body upright. And looky there! He’d positioned her right on the towel he’d lain out earlier. Sneaky man! “Oh, yeah.” He licked his lips, his eyes half closed with pleasure. “Fucking ambrosia.” He set her feet on the pool edge, sliding his hands up her calves to her knees, spreading them out with careful intent. “Phase Three of Pleasuring Willow.” She gasped as he bent down to spread her lower lips open with his thumbs, and felt her face turn beet-red when he only stared at what he uncovered. Self-conscious and totally at his mercy, she tried to press her knees back together. He wasn’t having any of that. He dipped his head and conducted a very thorough oral investigation. His tongue stroked her quivering flesh, testing and exploring every succulent fold. She felt the tip of his tongue trace the swollen entrance of her body and tiny muscles trembled at the gentle probing. Her legs dropped back to the sides of her body and he delved his stiffened tongue deep, an erotic invasion that had her hips lifting for more. A fiery inferno began to build as he swirled that clever tongue, licking at suckling her with long, hard pulls. “That’s it,” Ben praised, replacing his tongue with a finger that barely dipped inside the swollen flesh. Her breathing came in hard pants, rough and raspy-sounding in the cavernous room.

She felt his mouth at her thigh, then his teeth, as he not-sogently bit her flesh. “Do you need this, baby?” He teased her more, not quite giving her what she needed. “I’m going to kill you,” she said, rocking her hips against his hand. Another love bite, then he slid his finger through her thick juices, lodging inside her where no man had gone before. “Oh, God.” Her eyes crossed at the sensation, the glorious friction as he pistoned his finger, pushing her harder then she ever thought possible. Then he flicked his tongue over her clit and she swore she saw stars. A second digit joined in the erotic invasion and her hips bucked against his hand. “You’re so hot and wet, Will.” He flattened his tongue and ground it in a slow circle against the hard knot of nerves and mewling sound escaped her lips. Ben groaned, as if he were in severe pain. “I can almost feel you squeezing around my cock like you’re squeezing my fingers. Milking me dry.” Undone, she wrapped her arms over her face, but Ben never let up, plunging his fingers in her pulsing sheath, his tongue so fast it seemed to vibrate on her clit. He was tireless, as if he could happily feast on her forever. Her head twisted under the weight of her arms. She couldn’t handle forever, much less another minute. She was on the edge, on the very edge, and she just might scream from the tension coiling in her belly. “Let go, Will.” Ben’s voice was so rough, it was unrecognizable. “Let go and come for me. You’re so close. I can feel your pussy clamping around my fingers like a vise. So slick and hot.” “Yes.” Her inner muscles spasmed and she heard him growl. Adding a third finger, he twisted his wrist, the friction becoming a dark sinful abyss that she craved. His knuckles rasped against tissue so sensitive she gasped out. She panted, tightening around his fingers, her hips kicking up in complete abandon as she sought release from the ravenous need spiraling deep inside her.

He licked her throbbing clit. “Yes? Yes you can feel my cock inside you, Willow? Taking you with hard thrusts, so fucking deep that neither of us will walk for a week?” Taking the pearled nub into his mouth once again, she felt the rough graze of teeth. Then he gently bit down. Willow exploded. Her body bowed, her muscles locked as pleasure shattered her from within. A strange keening sound echoed from the room, but she ignored it, riding the waves of such ecstasy she’d never known its equal.

Chapter Fifteen His arousal acute, bordering on pain, Ben rested his forehead on the silky smooth flesh of Willow’s inner thigh. She still trembled under him. Male satisfaction was a smug comfort for both man and wolf, attesting to his prowess to give his mate pleasure. To recognize that her needs were far and above more important than his own—though his own throbbed like the devil, hard and angry, as he pressed his erection against the smooth, cool wall of the pool. He wanted to roll around in her scent, her abandoned response an erotic thrill he wanted to savor and then drive her to again and again. But the sound he just heard turned his erotic intentions to one of violent darkness. Now he just wanted to murder someone. Fucking Rome. Currently the bane of Ben’s existence. He got it, really. Rome’s protective streak, especially when it came to Willow. The agent no doubt felt like shit because Willow got hurt on his watch. Added to that was Willow’s sweet nature and innocence. Anyone and everyone who met her loved her. But Willow was his mate, not Rome’s, and the asshole was about a minute away from receiving an ass-kicking. The sounds and the voices grew louder. It appeared Scott and Joe were with Rome, arguing and instigating delaying tactics loud enough to wake the dead. “Shit,” Ben growled, the tips of his fingers burning as his claws tried to escape his control. His gums fared no better, already swollen and aching from fangs descending to bite and claim his mate. “I’ll kill him for sure this time.” Willow sat up. “Ben? I think I hear someone.” It appeared playtime was definitely over. Lingering for just a moment longer, he pressed a kiss to her thigh before edging back to look up into her wide-eyed face. Damn, but she took his breath away. Somebody had better be dead for this interruption. “Yeah. Sounds like your jailer and two bodyguards.” Her mouth dropped. “Oh God. Rome?”

Not appreciating her using the same exclamation as when he’d had his mouth on her for Rome’s impending arrival, he narrowed his eyes. “Relax...” “Relax? Relax!” In a blur of bare flesh, she lifted her legs from his lax grip and swung them around, standing and wrapping herself in the towel she’d just been splayed out on in a graceful move. “How can you say relax? Crap. My bottoms.” She peered down at him. “Give me my bottoms.” If she wasn’t so upset and he wasn’t so irritated, Ben might have grinned at the look on her face. Obliging, he caught the wayward material with his foot, lifting it out to Willow’s stretched hand. “Sweetheart, listen.” “No, you listen here, Ben Anderson. I see that grin in your eyes. You think this is funny.” She wiggled and hopped, maneuvering the lower half of her swimsuit up her legs and over her hips. Reaching under the towel, she adjusted her top, sliding it over her breasts. “Maybe you’re used to getting caught in these kinds of situations, but I’m not.” “What? Getting caught at the pool with a woman who’s not only dressed in her own swimsuit, but has a towel wrapped around her like a shield?” “I...” Willow looked down at herself, then at Ben, who pushed away from the wall to stand in the middle of the pool. “Well. I still don’t think it’s funny.” He grinned, despite his raging erection. How could he not? Willow looked so indignant and if she’d only listened instead of panicking, he would have told her they had a few minutes. Plenty of time to get respectable. “You’ll find the funny when you tell the story.” She put her hands on her hips. “I won’t be telling this to anyone.” He frowned. “Why not?” He knew damn well women talked to each other about sex. Especially great sex. And hadn’t he just given her a mind-blowing orgasm? Or was that his arrogance talking? “You not ashamed to be with me, are you?” ‘Cause he might just lose his mind if she were.

“What?” Astonishment crossed her face, easing the tight knot of trepidation in his gut. A soft blush kissed her cheeks. “No. It’s just. It isn’t anyone’s business.” He swam back towards her, gave her a saucy wink. “I don’t mind if you want to brag to your friends.” Her laugh delighted him. “You idiot. Like you need anybody to inflate your sex ego.” Folding his arms at the edge of the pool, he flashed her a cocky grin. “A man always needs to be...pumped up in that department.” Willow only shook her head and took a step back, out of arm’s reach. Smart girl. “Not you.” “Why not me?” He was a guy, wasn’t he? Her slay-me-dead baby blues lit with jest. “Please. I know you’ve seen yourself in a mirror.” He paused, not liking where this might take them. “Yes. And that means what, exactly?” Her slim shoulders shrugged and she glanced over at the door on the far side of the room as the voices grew louder. “You’re very attractive.” Yeah, he’d been blessed in that area of his life. “And?” She shifted her stance, placing one foot on top of the other but still refusing to meet his gaze. “And sexy.” He barely made out the whispered words and bit back a grin. “Though I’m pleased you think so, I meant ‘and’ as in, what does my outward appearance have to do with anything?” Now she looked at him. “Oh.” She looked away with another shrug of her slim shoulders. “Just figured you had a lot of experience, thus perfecting your, um, abilities.” “I see.” He drummed his fingers on the tile floor. “Willow?” He waited until she turned to look down at him. “You’re extremely attractive. Does that mean I should assume you’re as experienced as I am and thus have perfected your sexual prowess?” Her face blazed almost as red as her beautiful hair and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He’d swear she wasn’t well versed in the joys of sex. Then again, after some initial shyness, her lushly uninhibited responses to his touch kept him guessing. She was

sweet, gorgeous, passionate, and sexy, and there was no way she was untouched. And maybe he was as guilty of assuming as Willow was. Her stammered response was cut short by Rome’s thundering, warning knock on the door. Seconds later he entered the room, followed by Scott and Joe, both wearing apologetic expressions, alternating with relief when they spied Ben and Willow not locked in a passionate embrace. As if Ben hadn’t heard them coming five minutes ago. Then again, if he’d been buried inside Willow’s delectable body like he craved, he may not have. His dick bobbed in agreement. Stupid appendage. Ben might have chuckled at that, not recalling a time he’d ever wanted to curse his manhood, but Rome’s worried features made him uneasy. “Willow, I need you to get dressed and come back to the cabin.” “Why? What’s going on?” Ben demanded. The cat shifter shot Ben an exasperated look. “I need Willow back at the cabin where it’s safe.” “She’s safe with me.” Ben bristled at the implication. “And she’ll be safer yet at the cabin.” Rome waved Ben’s rising anger away. “I may be acting like an overprotective father, but I need to leave and I want Willow tucked in before I do.” “Leave?” Willow’s eyes went wide in confused panic. Rome’s tone gentled. “Unfortunately. It’s that other case I told you about. Well, there’s been a problem and I have to fly out and fix it. I’ll only be gone a few days, four at the most. Joe and Scott will stay with you, and of course, you have Ben at your disposal.” The latter was said with a hint of mockery. Ben made his way to the pool steps with the intent of pounding the cat into dust. Then it hit him: Rome was leaving. For several days. Suddenly those days got a whole lot more interesting, and his evening brighter when Willow looked at Ben, not Rome, in uncertainty, as if seeking his permission. His shoulders straightened and his chest swelled. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll be right here when

you get back.” She fidgeted with the towel, his towel, a moment before she nodded and went into the girl’s room to change. Ben rose from the pool and picked up Willow’s towel to dry off. “Is this really about another case?” Rome sighed, the frustration clear in that loud exhale of air. “It is.” Ben grunted and lifted Willow’s forgotten gray shorts. “And what’s happening with hers?” “There’s been some movement.” At Ben’s raised brow Rome continued. “Valen and three of her lackeys were last seen in a black SUV heading east on I-90.” “Last seen, huh?” Ben folded his arms. Lips pursed in irritation, Rome admitted, “Suffice it to say our men lost them at a damn opera, their vehicle abandoned in the lot. My take? Valen is on her way here. She’ll drive—less conspicuous that way—and stop at small hotels to rest up, because she’s too much of a diva to drive straight through. Probably make Woodcliff by Thursday.” “Perfect.” Not. “They’ll blend in with all the other tourists who start coming up for a long weekend.” “Plus Thursday’s the full moon,” Joe added. “Fuck.” Ben dragged a hand through his wet hair. “And to make things even more exciting,” Scott chimed in, “we’ll have all those extra people coming in for Tess’s wedding.” “Ah, double fuck.” Those upcoming days he thought were going to be so much better without Rome dicking with him just made a one-eighty. Though his job at the ski lodge was a part-time gig, his job with Dean was much different. Ben normally found it a pleasure. Being his alpha’s eyes and ears of the pack mainly consisted of interacting with pack members in an informal way. Tuesday mornings he had a regular group meeting with some of the town’s elders. Then lunch with Dean, followed by God knew what his alpha wanted. This week he could adding to the list ice hockey classes for a bunch of kindergartners in the afternoon. Then

the night skiing lessons he promised Pete and a group the tour guide had booked several weeks ago. Wednesday he was helping a friend move from the apartment complex Ben also lived at to Togan. Thursdays he met with a group of shifters for basketball in the evenings, after which they all headed down to Dean’s bar, Thirio’s Keep, for some food and beer. This Thursday he was on the roster to work with Jack and the juveniles, teaching them the dos and don’ts of hunting in wolf form. Friday he was back at the ski lodge, after which he’d told his mom he’d come by to replace all the interior door knobs and faucets with levered handles. She said her arthritis was making it difficult to turn the round knobs, but Ben figured it was more of a way to get him to come see her. Saturday was work, followed by Tess’s wedding. A jam-packed week and somewhere in all that bullshit he had to find time to protect, seduce, and claim his mate. He also had to explain who he and a good portion of those she’d so far encountered in Woodcliff were, without making her run screaming for the hills or insisting he see a psychiatrist. But just how does one go about telling his mate that he’s not one hundred percent human? So, Will, just wanted to let you know that I turn into a wolf once a month. Well, sometimes more often, if the situation calls for it, but hey, so do a lot of others in town. Somehow he didn’t think that would go over well. A headache began to brew above his left eye and he cursed again. Oblivious to the real reason behind Ben’s verbal venting, Rome nodded. “It’ll be tough but I have faith in you. In all of you.” Ben didn’t know if he wanted to bash Rome’s head in at the pep talk, or drown himself. Luckily he did neither, as the sound of squeaking hinges preceded Willow’s return. She looked at him and offered a shy smile. And just like that, everything inside him eased. Here was his mate, that special female that male shifters long for their whole lives, and she was within his reach. He couldn’t be more delighted with her. She was an intoxicating, tangled mix of sweet, shy, funny,

outgoing, serious, smart, beautiful, and brave. He’d be amazed at all her adorable facets the rest of his life. “Oh. My shorts.” He followed her gaze to his chest, noticing that he’d lifted a hand—the one holding her shorts—to his heart to rub at the sudden ache. He jerked his hand down but her eyes remained fixated on his chest. The look in them had his libido roaring back to life after the last few minutes of ice-cold reality. She appeared almost mesmerized. Ben heard the beating of her heart picking up speed, and it made him want to preen like a damn peacock. Then the tip of her pink tongue swept out to lick her lips, and he nearly groaned out loud. The mating heat was in full, blazing force, the enticing scent of her arousal growing stronger with each passing day. Even now, despite her recent orgasm, he could tell she was getting stirred up again. Rekindled desire tickled his senses, lifting his face with invisible hands to savor the lavender and orange of Willow’s unique essence, sprinkled with the captivating musk of pure aroused woman. It made him damn near salivate to taste the slick honey between her thighs once again. And while he had a hard-on to surpass any hard-on in the history of hard-ons, now was not the time. But soon. Relieved he still held onto the towel, he fisted the end of the terry material and let it drape over the front of his groin. Inwardly he calculated, juggled, and made plans. Outwardly he crossed to Willow in lazy steps—otherwise he might do permanent damage to one of his favorite appendages—and handed her the shorts. “How about Wednesday I come pick you up around seven, and this time we’ll try the gym and Jacuzzi to work your muscles.” “Oh...” He saw the indecision in her eyes and thus held out the carrot. “I’ll make sure we have the place to ourselves.” Clearly baffled, Willow angled her head, causing several strawberry-colored strands of silken hair to fall over her eyes.

“How is it that you can get these places emptied out? I know it’s for protection reasons and to ease my own discomfort, but aren’t you displacing a lot of people?” Ben brushed her wayward bangs from her eyes. “Caring people don’t mind being displaced if it’s for a good reason.” “Still—” Ben silenced her protest with his lips, kissing her with a hunger and possessiveness his wolf was clawing at him to sate. Now. His hand curved around her nape, holding her captive as he stroked his tongue deep into the moist cavern of her stunned mouth. Just as she started to melt, he drew back, satisfied by the glaze of passion in her eyes. “Seven. Wednesday. Bring workout clothes and a swimsuit.” “All right.” Ben speared Rome with a steely glare. “No comment?” Rome took a step back, hands up, palms out, in front of his chest. “I know you’d die to protect her. That’s good enough for me.” After giving Rome a clipped nod, Ben bent his head to whisper in Willow’s ear. Only he couldn’t resist and nipped at her lobe, making her gasp. He sucked briefly on the delicate tissue, knowing his breath would make the damp flesh tingle. “Dream of me. I know I’ll dream of you just as you were. All splayed out like a water nymph being worshiped by her lover.” The little sound she made got him right in the gut. He took her lips one final time in a hard kiss. He needed a week with her, alone. No. Make that a month. Then maybe the sexual tension driving him to distraction would ease. “I’ll see you Wednesday.” Willow licked, then rubbed her lips together, and, silently cursing their audience, he held back from the temptation to kiss her again. “Wednesday it is.” But as she moved in front of him he did give in to one temptation, and swatted her playfully on her pert ass. “Oh. What was that for?” Willow asked, one hand on her butt. Ben grinned. “It’s too cute to ignore.” She rolled her eyes and headed out with Rome. Joe trailed be-

hind, his lips rolled in to keep his laughter from escaping, but Scott shot Ben a kissy face as he walked out the door. Ben retaliated by flipping him the bird. Once they were gone he moved into the boys’ locker room to change clothes and to make a few phone calls.

Chapter Sixteen If it weren’t for Ruth Gentry, Willow swore she would have died of sheer boredom on Tuesday. Sure, Scott had provided her with a laptop so she could surf the Internet, but within a few hours she didn’t even know what else to search for. The cabin had a TV but no reception. There were some movies along with several books on the bookshelf in the living room, but nothing held her interest. Then Ruth had called, and whether the older woman was feeling sorry for Willow or truly needed the assistance, Willow jumped at the chance for companionship. A distraction. Anything to get her head out of the gutter and ignore the way her body was vibrating like a tuning fork. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Okay, that was a partial lie. She knew she was highly aroused, to the point her belly felt like it was stuffed with a giant coil wound waaaay too tight. By three in the afternoon Willow was stuffed full of salad, lasagna, and garlic bread. After popping in one of several movies Ruth brought, they tackled the wedding favors of candy kisses and Jordan almonds, sorting them into green netting that then needed to be tied with brown ribbon, for a hundred and sixty-eight guests. Also on Ruth’s to-do list were name tags that needed folding, placing guests names into cute miniature frames depicting their assigned table, sorting table decorations and elaborate place settings into separate containers, and on and on the list went until Willow’s head spun. She made the decision right then she’d elope. Scott and Joe made themselves useful as well, only until Ruth noticed they were eating more of the party favors then sorting them. With a stern lecture, Ruth threw them out of the cabin. Willow kept her head down so her grin at her bodyguards’ rueful expressions wouldn’t be seen. At six Tess and Kaylie, along with sweet little Lukas, showed up and the evening continued in the same manner, though not as industrious as they all spent more time cooing and playing with the

baby than anything else. Too bad another nightmare wracked her sleep. The dream had started pleasantly enough: Ben holding her tight in his arms, nuzzling her neck as they slow danced at Tess’s wedding. Then it shot to erotic within seconds, as dreams do. She’d been clad in a mesh, green teddy, reclining in a sexy pose on a large, round, satin-covered bed while Ben strolled toward her with nothing on but a tiny white towel and a wicked smile, one finger twirling a pair of fuzzy handcuffs in the air. Then came the gunfire and pain. Willow woke with a jerk, chest heaving as she drew in air. She wiped impatiently at the tears streaming down her face. Instead of Officer Lee Jones taking several rounds to the back, it had been Ben. She never fell fully back asleep after that, too restless and scared to allow slumber to take her. Then she’d missed Ben’s phone call while she’d been in the shower. Hearing his voice, knowing he was well and alive, eased her troubled heart. After reminding her of their date, he’d gone on to tell her in a thick, husky voice that he’d dreamt of her, of kissing every inch of her body, starting with her eyes, her ears, the soft curve of her cheek. He’d just made his way to her breast when a male voice interrupted him, causing him to groan as if in agony. One she replicated. Now she was restless for an entirely different reason. Wednesday was a near repeat of Tuesday, except Ruth showed up at ten in the morning with homemade cinnamon rolls, orangeglazed rolls, and a cheese-and-egg casserole. The woman must have sensed something was off because she laid a soft, comforting hand on Willow’s cheek. “With the rising sun, fear dies and hope thrives. No matter how bleak things look, it will change for the better.” For some reason it made Willow think of that old man Henry, and his play on her name. So she tucked into Ruth’s cooking, not surprised when her bodyguards showed up only moments later, begging for a bite. Soon, the horrible loss that had shredded her heart into a thousand pieces was nothing but a memory.

Amazingly enough, everything on Ruth’s list was completed before she took her leave just before six, with a wink and a goodluck wish for Willow’s date with Ben. Ignoring Willow’s stammered denial, Ruth headed home with a pleased grin on her face. Now the only thing left for Willow to do was get ready for her date, which was really another non-date, with Ben. Granted, Willow was looking forward to stretching and working her muscles, especially after two days straight of sitting, and the idea of a Jacuzzi sounded like heaven to her aching knee. By five after seven, Willow decided, after peeking out the front door a zillion times, Ben had forgotten. Or maybe changed his mind. Or, oh God, had been in an accident! The sound of a vehicle pulling up had her racing to the door once again. Then she counted to ten, trying unsuccessfully to quell her nerves. It took Ben’s tired countenance to do that. Concern immediately replaced jitters. “Are you okay?” He gave her a half-smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just a bit sore. Helped a friend move.” Willow’s mouth dropped open. “Today? After work?” “Not a big deal.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug as if he did that sort of thing all the time. Which he just might have. “But you look exhausted. Maybe we should cancel the gym thing so you can go home and get some sleep.” The incredulous look on his face was a balm to her self-esteem. “Are you kidding me? Of course we’re not canceling. I want to go to the gym. Hell. It’ll help loosen some of the knots moving put into my muscles and if that doesn’t do it, the Jacuzzi will. Best part”—the smile this time reached his eyes, turning them into bottomless pools of glowing bronze embers—“I get to be with you.” He cupped her cheek much like Ruth had done that morning, only Willow wasn’t comforted. She was aroused and trembling, all from the touch of his hand. Then he bent his head and his mouth was on hers, and the arousal and trembling surged into gut-wrenching need. Hanging on as the world began to spin, Willow slid her hand up

the soft cotton of his blue sweatshirt and wrapped her arms around his neck, his hair a damp tickle on her fingers. Then there was only heat and Ben and how she felt pressed up against his masculine strength. She parted her lips on a sigh of pleasure and he deepened the kiss, their tongues dancing and mating, his taste heady, seductive, familiar. His hands were everywhere, tracing her spine, squeezing the curve of her butt over the gray sweatpants, sliding up her hips and under the hem of the matching gray sweatshirt. Shivers of anticipation washed through her as his hands moved up her sides towards her breasts. “Whoa. Sorry.” The male voice broke through Willow’s fog of lust and she jerked her head from Ben. She would have pulled completely out of Ben’s embrace except he held her close, his arousal a hard press against her belly. “What do you want, Scott?” Her face aflame, Willow forced herself from burying it in Ben’s neck, reminder herself they weren’t doing anything wrong. It was just a kiss. A kiss that made her think she might need a change of undies, as she was as slick with arousal as Ben was hard. When Willow did finally peer over at Scott, the man seemed unperturbed, as if catching people making out in the open doorway of a cabin was a common occurrence. “I was just wondering if you had any more of those enchiladas Kaylie brought over last night.” Willow flicked her thumb over her shoulder. “Help yourself. There’s plenty for both you and Joe.” While Scott whistled to his partner, Ben reached down and grabbed the plastic bag containing her swimsuit, towel and change of clothes, telling Willow to get her coat. Once they were in his truck, Willow asked if Ben was really okay. He rolled his shoulders experimentally. “A little sore, but honestly, I’m good.” They talked about this and that, comfortable small talk while Ben drove through and out of town. When he turned down an

unmarked road, she felt her first frisson of fear in his company. “Where exactly is this gym?” His grin was playful and he reached for her hand, kissing the back of it. “I’m not abducting you, Will. Relax. I might have libidinous tendencies where you’re concerned, but I’d never hurt you. It’s a semi-private place.” She glanced down at where her hand lay trapped between his and his hard thigh. “Semi-private?” His lips pursed and he tilted his head from side to side, as if figuring out how to explain. “It’s a place that not everyone in town knows of. Like a community center but only for certain people.” “Oh, God.” She yanked her hand free, her heart thudding in her chest, and not in a fun way. “You’re all part of some weird cult.” “What? No!” “No? You’re taking me out in the middle of nowhere to some quote, community center, unquote, where only certain people are allowed to go?” The look he shot her was priceless. “It’s deep in the woods because it’s for hunters. You know, deer hunting? And that’s mainly who goes there. Hunters. Men like to hunt, pretend we’re big bad predators, yet still want the comforts of home.” Willow eyed him. “A hunting lodge?” “Exactly,” Ben seemed pleased with the label. “A hunting lodge. But it’s not open to the public. When you buy a hunting license you can upgrade to also purchase a membership to the lodge. That way you can still use the facilities outside of hunting season.” She’d hold her opinion in reserve, especially when Ben pulled into the spacious, but empty, parking lot next to a large one-story building. Saying nothing, she allowed herself to be drawn to a side door and watched as Ben used his key and tapped out the code. Inside, after he flipped on some switches, she gaped. “Wow.” Mirrors lined two sides of the open room while a third contained a second door and several blind-covered windows ending halfway down the wall. Beneath the windows sat several heavy plastic benches. Along the fourth wall, from where they’d entered, was another bench, huge cubbies for clothes, keys, or whatever,

and a counter with a computer monitor and what looked to be audio equipment. Cabinets filled the space below the counter, and three wall-mounted flat-screen TVs filled the space above. Finally, situated over the industrial-grade linoleum were enough weights and gym equipment to make the center she worked at in Arizona green with envy. Ben locked up behind them. “Dean’s office is on the other side of those windows and there’s even a bedroom and bath beyond that.” Willow moved around the room, trailing her fingers over the hands of an elliptical machine. “Dean’s office?” “Yeah.” Ben set their bags on a bench by the door next to several cubbies, her white plastic one next to his black duffel. “The Haven was his idea. He’s co-owner and manager but I’m pretty sure he’s looking for someone to replace him.” “Oh?” Willow might not know anything about hunting, but she did know more than a little about community centers. Okay, maybe not enough to manage one, but she was a smart cookie. She could learn. What the hell am I thinking? Willow gave herself a mental smack. I’m not looking to stick around. Once this is all over, I’m going home to New York. She moved on to admire a leg press, studiously ignoring the whisper in her head telling her nothing was left in New York for her except her father, and he could visit anytime. “What else is here?” Ben’s nose scrunched in thought, the action so adorable she felt her heart flip-flop. A little cross at the betraying organ, she glowered at a pectoral fly machine. She hated those machines. “A kitchen, dining hall, two conference rooms, a rec room, a game room, three actual bedrooms other than Dean’s, and a common room, which is just a nice way of saying a large room with a bunch of bunk beds.” Willow raised a brow. “Bathrooms?” “Oh.” He grinned sheepishly. “As it really is just men that use the place, it’s a common bathroom, like in a high school.”

Her brows creased. “Lovely.” “You can use Dean’s bathroom for anything while you’re here. It’s sort of the designated girls’ room.” “I’m sure he’s thrilled,” she muttered under her breath. “So what do you want to start with?” She made her way back to the elliptical and climbed on. “Here. It’s easier on my hip and knee.” “All right.” He showed her the unfamiliar display. “Music or TV?” “Music,” she replied promptly. He walked over to a counter. “Any particular genre?” When she didn’t answer right away, he looked over his shoulder. “Will?” She bit her lip. “Don’t suppose you have any trance?” After a surprised blink he chuckled. “A woman after my own heart. I was afraid you’d want opera or something.” She shook her head. “Not to work out with. You need a fast beat.” As the room filled with the sound of keyboards and the thrilling rush of a synthesizer, Willow began her warm-up.

Chapter Seventeen Swimsuit in hand, the top part anyway, Willow cursed herself. She’d either forgotten her bottoms or else they’d fallen out in Ben’s truck. Hoping for the latter she went in search for him, stepping out into the hallway outside Dean’s office and following it down past several other doors and to the right, where Ben said the men’s facilities were located. She gave a tentative knock on the swinging door, calling his name. When she didn’t hear anything she pushed the door ajar and peeked inside. Not seeing anybody in the dimly lit room, she slipped through the narrow gap and rested her back against the wall, waiting for her eyes to adjust. When they did she saw a large room with toilets on one side, showers on the other, sinks at the back. Lockers towered in the middle. The same heavy plastic benches from the gym were scattered around the lockers. But no Ben. About to leave, she paused at the metallic click of a locker closing. She opened her mouth to call Ben’s name, but something came over her. Curiosity? Maybe. Mischief? Possibly. The almost feral desire to see him naked? Most definitely. Tiptoeing around the bank of lockers, she edged past the last one and froze, gasping at the sight of a gloriously naked Ben in profile. He must have heard her because he glanced her way, apparently unashamed or uncaring of his nakedness. Not that he had anything to be ashamed of. Far from it. Despite seeing him in swim trunks, Willow knew she gawked as if she’d never seen a naked man before. He stood tall, taut strength in his shoulders and arms leading to a hard chest with a light sprinkling of fine hair and rippled flat abs. Her mouth began watering before her gaze reached his narrow hips and the impressive erection springing from a thatch of dark blond hair. She could easily see the thick muscles in his thighs tighten and release, tighten and release, as if he were in flight-or-fight mode. She’d seen the naked male form before. It was difficult not to catch a glimpse or two in the industry, but she’d never reacted like

this. Lust, as of late a steady presence, spiked higher, making her skin feel dry, tight, itchy. Yet she could feel beads of sweat break out between breasts that felt uncomfortably restricted in her bra. Her tummy actually hurt, a deep aching emptiness that swirled low in her gut. Lower, she was primed and ready, her body slick with welcome. “Don’t look at me like that, Will,” Ben growled, not meeting her eyes when Willow finally lifted them from the blatant sight of his arousal. He sounded angry, or in pain. Possibly both, if his thick, straining erection was anything to go by. Then again, the only thing she knew about that never went beyond high school petting. “Like what?” Geez. Was that her husky voice? She cleared her throat, watching his eyes squeeze tight. “Like you want to devour me.” His low whisper was a physical caress. She licked her lips, because oh, yeah. She wanted to swallow him whole. “And if I did?” He let out an agonized choke. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here, Willow.” He drew in a harsh breath. “You really need to leave. Now.” Somehow Willow didn’t think that was what Ben wanted, and it certainly wasn’t what she wanted. Pulling a page from Ben’s book, she inched closer, saying, “I think it’s time for Phase Four of Pleasing Willow.” Ben took a step back, his throat convulsing, his eyes bright with lust, longing, and something akin to desperation. “I mean it, Will.” Inhibitions died as she settled on the edge of the bench next to his discarded swim trunks, watching his internal struggle between taking what he wanted and remaining the so-called gentleman. Helpful lady that she was, she decided to assist him Curling a finger in the universal “come here” signal, she followed it with what she hoped was a seductive smile. “Come here.” “Willow, honey.” Though his tone sounded like a protest, he shifted toward her, slowly, as if being pulled by some invisible rope.

Feminine power filled her, giving her a boldness beyond her wildest imagination. “I want to taste you, Ben,” she whispered, echoing his words to her from Monday night. His control seemed to snap because suddenly his fist was in her hair, dragging her head back to meet his demanding kiss. There was nothing gentle about the way his tongue thrust heavily into her mouth. It felt like he was claiming her, dominating her. She was helpless, her back bowing under the onslaught. She was also eager and greedy, reaching out to stroke his cock. Swallowing his moan, she did it again, amazed at how something so hard could feel so soft. When air became a necessity she did the only thing she could think of. She bit his bottom lip, pushing at his chest until he stood straight. He ran an angry hand through his hair. “Shit! I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Distracted by the feel of him in her hands, she murmured, “For what?” before leaning forward and placing a kiss on the head of his shaft. He froze at the contact. Tentatively, she opened her mouth, touching the hot flesh with her tongue. A shudder went through his big body, giving her the courage to glide her tongue over the pulsing vein that ran from root to tip. “Will.” Her name. That was all he said when he oh-so-carefully laid one hand on the side of her head. Opening her mouth again, she took him inside, her lips stretching to accommodate his girth. His taste was different here, stronger, headier. She tightened her hand on the base of his penis, stroking him as she suckled and laved him with her mouth. When her teeth accidentally grazed him, he jerked. She pulled back quickly and peered up at him. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” His eyes were half-closed, sleepy, but the burning fire that sparked his eyes told another story. “Only in the best possible way.” In a show of his masculine strength, he lifted her to her feet on the bench. It put her chest at his eye-level. “But I don’t want to come in your mouth, baby. Not this time.” He lifted the hem of herT-shirt and nuzzled her belly. Taking the hint, Willow yanked the top off as Ben reached around to

undo her bra. Once that was flung to the side, he helped himself to her breasts, and she let out her own moan, gripping his hair as he played with her, flicking her nipple with his tongue before pressing it to the roof of his mouth and sucking hard enough that her knees wobbled at the pleasure coursing through her. Only the arm banded around her waist kept her upright. As his lips moved to her other breast, he nudged off her shoes with his free hand. Then he eased down her sweatpants and underwear, all in the same smooth motion. His hand traced over her thigh, her anticipation building as he moved closer to her sex with each stroke. Finally, just when she thought she might have to kill him, Ben brushed his thumb over the wet folds of her sex. “Fuck, yeah. You’re so wet, sweetheart.” He eased one long finger inside her. “So tight and wet. You make me feel like a god.” Her legs moved further apart on their own, simply because Willow had no brain power left to control anything. If she had, she might have been embarrassed at her body’s reaction, the way her arousal coated his stroking finger, how her hips bucked of their own accord from his erotic touch. “Please.” He kissed her ribs, her waist, over her belly were she felt teeth graze the quivering flesh. “Please what, Will?” Bastard. How quickly the tables turned. Two minutes ago she felt all-powerful at the way Ben shook under her touch, now she was the one shaking and begging. If he didn’t give her what she desperately needed, she might end up in jail. “I need...” Her whisper ended on a relieved gasp as he added another finger, plunging deep inside her, stretching delicate tissue. Her inner muscles tightened around him, holding him prisoner. “That’s it, baby. Squeeze my fingers as you ride. It’s so fucking hot.” A helpless groan escaped. She didn’t know if she was in hell or heaven, his naughty words only increasing the unrelenting tension burning her body from the inside out. Her breathing came in harsh pants, her lungs unable to fill as she struggled for a release that seemed just beyond her reach. She needed him to touch her— There!

What might have started as a whimper of dismay turned into a choked sob of relief when Ben wrapped his lips around her clit and suckled her like his favorite hard candy. Her orgasm burst through her body in a glorious array of sparkling colors. Even as the waves gentled, she felt herself being moved, laid on her back on the bench. “Lift up.” Too sated to argue, she lifted up while Ben lay something soft under her body. She heard the crinkle of foil and knew he was putting on a condom. She knew with a mix of fear and excitement what was going to happen next. Ben straddled the bench, lifting her legs so they splayed out over his thighs. Then he was kissing her temple, whispering to her how sexy she was, how beautiful. His lips nuzzled her neck, her throat, before moving down to the soft swell of her breasts. She’d expected him to go right at her, not take the time to rekindle her desire. She began to relax, letting his mouth, the hand petting and stroking her thigh, his very busy yet gentle thumb on her sensitive clit, do their magic. It quickly became apparent that either her orgasm hadn’t satisfied her as much as she’d thought or her craving for this man knew no bounds. She was going with the latter as those long, liquid pulls of desire began to coil low in her belly. As if sensing the exact moment Willow was ready for more, she felt his erection prodding the entrance to her body. Instinctively she clenched. When Ben made no further movement, she peeked up at him and at the agonized look on his face. “Do you want this?” he asked. If Willow said no, she knew he would somehow find the strength to walk away from her, because that’s who he was. He was as noble as he was smart and sexy and gorgeous. And she so did not want him to walk away from her. The fierce need to have him so deep inside her body she wouldn’t know where she ended and he began was too powerful to ignore. Reaching up, she tunneled her fingers through his hair. She loved his hair, and his eyes. And his nobility. And his heart. “I do. Very much. It’s just...Ben...” Mistaking her use of his name for a verb, he kissed her, softly,

sweetly. “Been awhile?” Willow didn’t correct him. “You have no idea.” His forearms rested on either side of her head and he continued to kiss her, his hips moving as he guided his cock through her wet folds, gliding over her sensitive clit with each pass. Soon her own hips started to rise. “I think I’m ready,” she gasped. A low chuckle tickled her ear. “You sure? ‘Cause I can do this all night.” Grasping a fistful of his hair, she yanked. “You’re messing with me.” “I’m playing with you.” Even as he said that she felt the broad tip of him part her folds. His mouth was back on hers, a deep, hungry kiss as he breached her body, then pulled back, but not out. Another soft thrust and he was in another inch. He pulled back and plunged in, the engorged head of his cock tunneling and gliding over the sensitive tissue until he was forced to stop by the tight clasp of her body. Willow could feel the sweat dripping from his body and knew he was holding onto his control by the skin of his teeth, trying not to hurt her. But he was so big, she didn’t know if that was possible. “You’re so tight, Will. So hot and tight. Shit.” Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. It didn’t feel pleasurable. At all. While it didn’t quite hurt, she was uncomfortable. She felt too stretched, too swollen, and Ben seemed to be in some kind of pain. “I’m sorry.” He bit her lightly on her shoulder. “Never be sorry with me. Let’s try this.” Sitting up, he spread her legs wider, holding them out and up over his arms causing her hips to tilt up. The new angle allowed each drive of his hips to inch him further inside the humid clasp of her sheath. With another powerful thrust he was lodged to the hilt. “Oh, Christ, Will.” Ben hissed, head back, the strong cords in his neck standing out in sharp relief in the dim lighting. “I’m in you. I’m in you.” She could feel that, could actually feel him pulsing in her body,

amazed that not only had he fit, but that it no longer felt as uncomfortable. She felt full, tingly. And she needed something. Before she could figure out how to tell him what she wanted, Ben began to move, easing out in a tortuously slow withdrawal, only to slide back in the same way. He did it over and over until Willow dug her nails into his wrists, the only part of him she could reach. “Faster,” she demanded. He bent his head to lay a kiss on the back of her hand, humming his approval. “Your wish, my command.” Then he began to move. Each heavy plunge dragged his cock over swollen tissue, the rapid pace creating a friction over delicate muscles that tightened around him. “That’s it, baby, squeeze my cock. Like that. Oh that’s so good.” He continued to praise her, filling her head with naughty ideas and ways to please him. The erotic images burned bright enough to singe her flesh pushing her ever closer to the edge of bliss. Every part of her strained for something she couldn’t quite touch. He shifted to stand, still straddling the bench, his arms locked around her thighs. Experienced fingers parted her outer folds wide giving him access to her throbbing clit. Before she needed a gentle touch; now she needed harder. She felt herself start to go under as his fingers busied themselves on the bundled knot of nerves, providing the firm pressure she craved in sure strokes while impaling himself again and again. “Oh God.” She was going to die. She was really, seriously going to die. Then Ben did something amazing with his hips, a circular grinding of his groin and she detonated. Every muscle tightened, taut to the point of snapping as her orgasm poured out, starting from deep within her body and jettisoning out to electrify her extremities. Bright lights winked behind her closed eyelids. From what sounded like underwater, she heard Ben’s guttural shout of pleasure as he thrust in deep, once, twice more before he collapsed back down on the bench and over her smaller body as if he no longer could support himself.

If he felt anything like she did right now, she understood. She didn’t even have the strength to open her eyes. A million years later she felt his lips at her ear. “You okay?” She stretched, as much as she could with a two-hundred-pluspound naked man on top of her. “Oh yeah.” She let out a happy sigh. “Now I know what all the fuss is about.” Every one of Ben’s formerly relaxed muscled went rigid. Still comfortably clasped inside her body, he leaned up on his forearms. “Will.” He pressed a kiss to her nose. “When you said it’d been awhile, just what did you mean?” She opened her eyes into slits, not liking the suspicion that glinted in his. “Uh. Long time?” He moved onto his hands and she felt the shift inside. Such a weird and wonderful feeling. “Try again.” She licked dry lips. “Never?” Ben’s eyes closed and he groaned. Easing out carefully from her, he rose to his feet. He turned in an agitated circle until he faced her once again. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” “Jeez, Ben. Being a virgin isn’t a disease. You won’t catch it from me.” He made an exasperated sound and performed another circle, hands scrubbing over his face. “I took you in a damn locker room, Will. Your first time. In. A. Fucking. Locker. Room.” What was his point? She eyed him warily. “I don’t need romantic music and rose petals strewn all over a bed, Ben.” “But you deserve that.” His hands fisted at his side, his head flung back as he stared at the ceiling. Slowly Willow moved into a sitting position. “Listen. How about we forget the all virgin thing and move onto the Jacuzzi thing? I have a cramp in my hip that I would really like to get rid of.” He muttered something to himself before saying with reluctance, “All right. Get your suit on. I gotta take care of the condom.” “Yeah, about that suit thing. I seem to have lost my bottoms.”

Ben eyed her bare bottom half as she stood, his features shifting into a wolfish appraisal. “Guess we’re going skinny dipping, then.”

Chapter Eighteen Ben figured he was the world’s most unobservant shifter on the face of the planet, not to mention the biggest asshole of all time. He’d taken his mate—a virgin, for Christ’s sake—for the first time in a fucking locker room. Part of him couldn’t understand what was wrong with the men in New York. The other part was supremely pleased they’d kept their grubby paws off. Maybe it was her upbringing, her hectic career, or possibly no man had sparked her interest. Whatever the cause, Ben would die treasuring her gift. Yeah, the mating heat made it near impossible to deny their physical attraction, but that didn’t diminish a damn thing. Now he only had to get over his regret at the location. Toweling off, he eyed the bench in question, knowing he’d never look at it the same way again. Ben had come back from disposing of the condom to find Willow dressed in her sweats and ready for the Jacuzzi. Ben, knowing it would help ease the soreness of her muscles, tugged his trunks on and they walked barefoot to the next room, where she stripped and slipped beneath the water, naked. Keeping his hands to himself proved difficult, especially when she settled next to him, placing her head trustingly on his shoulder. Cuddling. His heart had done a slow flip-flop in his chest. Mentally berating his rigid cock that seemed to have no pause button where Willow was concerned, he placed his arms around her, holding her possessively at his side, and cuddled his mate. When he brought up the subject of her innocence once again, she’d peeked up at him in clear annoyance, informing Ben he’d better not make her regret giving him her virginity. That, of course, snapped his mouth shut for good and they sat in a sort of lazy silence until Ben noticed Willow falling asleep. He’d roused her and then given her privacy to shower in the bath adjacent to Dean’s office and dress. He did the same, only in the locker room, which was why the bench was now mutely glaring up at him in disappointment.

Great. Torn between laughter and wanting to beat his own ass, or maybe throttle Willow for keeping something so important a secret from him, he stared at the ceiling. I’m being chastised by an inanimate object. There was also that pesky little niggle of unease twisting his gut. The irony wasn’t lost on him. If he was upset at Willow keeping her virginity a secret from him, how upset was she going to be when he told her he could shift into a wolf? The rueful chuckle finally broke through and he dressed. Five minutes later they were in his truck, heading back to the cabin. Tomorrow might be the full moon, but Ben was stronger than his beast. He could control the change and, mulling that over, realized that, theoretically, he didn’t have to tell Willow his secret just yet. Chicken. Ignoring his wolf’s growl, he glanced over at Willow. She’d been quiet on the drive and now he knew why. She was nodding off, her head against the cold glass window, arms curled around her torso, breathing deep and even. Silently, he pulled out his phone and made a call. When he shut the engine off at the bottom of the cabin’s front steps, the door opened and Joe stood framed in the doorway. Ben grabbed his gear and rounded the truck to pick Willow up. Carrying her inside, he nodded his thanks to Joe and headed to her room. He laid her on the bed and slipped off her shoes. Debating only a moment, he moved to shuck off her jeans when she abruptly sat up. Eyes closed, she struggled with her sweater a moment before Ben stripped it, and the shirt she had on underneath, off. Then she flopped back on the bed. After an amused pause, Ben finished divesting her of her jeans with her sleepy help. Of course her bra and panties had to follow. It’s not like she needed the clothes for warmth. He was just going to speak with the boys before cuddling—there was that word again—with her the rest of the night. “You haven’t claimed her yet.” Joe commented when Ben joined them on the front porch. “And tomorrow’s the full moon,” Scott added, ever so helpful.

Ben jutted his chin. “Your point?” “You know how wacky shifters get if they scent an unclaimed female in heat on the full moon.” Spreading his shoulders wide, Ben stared them down. “So I should kill you both now.” Scott took a step back at the look on Ben’s face and held out his hands. “That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.” “So? What? You suggesting I keep her locked inside tomorrow all day and night?” Because Ben could see that going over well. Joe tugged on his ear, his expression sheepish. “Might not be a bad idea.” “Shit.” Ben scrubbed a hand over his face. “How am I supposed to do that?” “If you’d claim her, you wouldn’t have to. Otherwise, I’d suggest sex, and lots of it.” Scott dared to slap a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Lucky fucker.” Grimacing, Ben knew the marathon sex session wasn’t in the cards. While his libido was ready to do a high-five, he knew Willow would be too sore, no matter what the mating heat demanded. Which was why he left his condoms in his locker. “Got enough condoms?” Ben glared at Scott for a long span of time before admitting, “No.” Scott’s grin split his face. “Luckily I brought extras.” Reaching inside his jacket, he pulled out a strip of condoms, dangling them in the air. Ben didn’t move, other than to crack his neck, trying to resist the temptation. His wolf wanted him to claim his mate, and both man and beast wanted to do the horizontal mambo. Or vertical polka. Didn’t matter which. The night was still young, looming ahead of him like an endless abyss. Willow might be exhausted but Ben, and most shifters, were creatures of the night. Then he had to contend with the next thirty-six hours. If sex was on the table, it would be bliss. If not, it was going to be hell. Unless he bit her, marking her as his for all shifters to scent. Then it would be heaven.

Except for one small detail: Ben still had to tell Willow about his kind. Snatching the condoms, Ben stalked back in the cabin, shutting the door on Scott’s smirking face and Joe’s confused one. He undressed, dropping his clothes over a chair in Willow’s room, next to where he had placed hers, and climbed in under the covers next to his as-of-yet unclaimed mate. As if sensing him, she turned on her side away from him, so he curled up close, drawing her smaller body against his, insinuating one of his legs between hers. One arm was bent under his pillow, the other wrapped around his little redhead. He told himself to behave and mentally argued with his wolf who growled that now was the perfect time to take a little bite. Wanting to snarl at his indecisiveness, he snuggled closer, breathing in Willow’s scent, letting her soft warmth seep into his chest. He trailed a finger over her temple, the gentle curve of her cheek. Not touching her when she was close was not an option, which made him think about his desire for an independent mate. Willow was independent. Strong yet soft. A perfect mate. It was him that needed to re-evaluate. When he’d found out she’d gone to Togan without telling him, he’d almost chased her down, demanding an explanation. Which meant maybe he was the one with the dependency issue. But he’d never before felt the overwhelming need to just be with someone. Reluctantly, he agreed Dean might be on to something. Maybe it was just the nature of the beast to want its mate close where it knew she was safe, protected. He’d need to mull that over. Much sooner than he expected, he felt the gentle tug of sleep pull him under. It might have been minutes or hours later when Ben’s eyes snapped open. Willow was moaning in her sleep, her breath ragged and face wet with tears. “Nooo.” The soft wail of distress broke his heart. “Don’t shoot. Oh God. Ben.” She clawed at his arm, her head thrashing on the pillow as if frantically fighting off an attacker. “Sweetheart. Willow, honey. I’m right here.” He ran his hand

soothingly up and down her flank, pressing kisses to her neck, shoulder. “You’re safe with me. It’s just a nightmare, Will. You’re safe.” Her choked sobs undid him. Fighting the savage need to rip someone’s throat out, he gentled her body with long, smooth strokes, whispering words of affection and his unwavering presence. “Ben?” She whispered his name in disbelief, her hand coming around to rest on his hip. He licked the tender skin just below her ear. “See? I’m right here.” Her fingers squeezed as if in reassurance. “I thought you were dead.” Brushing her hair, her cheek, he kissed her temple. “As you can feel, I’m not. It was just a nightmare, sweetheart. It’s all gone now.” Her hand moved down between their bodies, curled around the erection that didn’t understand now was not the time, and he went very, very still. “I need you.” Pleasure warred with pain. He grabbed her wrist to still the awkward short pumps of her fist that were driving him crazy. “You’re too sore.” And hurting her to soothe his raging lust was not an option. “Not that sore.” She wiggled, her ass rubbing against his cock, causing his eyes to nearly roll back in his head. Her head angled to look in his eyes. “Kiss me.” He hesitated for a moment, knowing full well that if he kissed her, he’d lose control. Hell, who was he kidding? His mate was warm and naked in his arms, her arousal perfuming the air like the most seductive of elixirs. Her lips were parted and wet and he did the only thing he could. He bent his head to claim them. One hand slid under her neck, holding her as he devoured her mouth, seeking and taking everything she was giving. He ran his other hand along the side of her body, from her knee, over her hip, up the smooth skin of her belly to brush the underside of her breast. Repeating the journey, he kept his mouth fastened on hers,

his tongue plunging deep with possessive dominance. Moving over her thigh, he dipped his hand between her legs, finding the folds of her pussy slick and soft. He had to grit his teeth to hold back the groan rumbling in his chest. “I love the feel of you against my fingers.” He plumped her clit between two fingers, stroking the swelling knot with his middle. Her legs shifted, parting, her little whimper igniting his rising hunger, making his words thick and raspy. “I loved how you felt against my tongue, too,” he said. “So creamy and sweet.” “Naughty. You’re so naughty, Ben.” His fingers slipped lower and he eased one inside her liquid-hot flesh. She was tight, so damn tight. “Nothing between us is naughty, sweetheart.” He added a second finger, her silky juices gathering to aid his penetration, stretching her for his throbbing cock. “It’s sensual.” He nuzzled her neck. “Erotic.” Her hips churned against his hand in jerky movements, the ripple of tiny muscles around each thrust making the clawing need in his cock almost more than he could handle. Already his gums burned from descending fangs as he fought the instinctual need of his wolf to claim its mate. Before he lost all reason he eased his hand from her body, calming her protests with a soft kisses as he reached for the strip of condoms he’d tossed on the nightstand. “I need to put this on, baby.” Once he had the latex in place, he kicked back the covers, lifting her leg high. He rubbed his engorged shaft along her swollen folds, coating himself in her slick cream before angling his hips. Easy, he reminded himself. So fucking easy. Sweat beaded at his temples as he guided himself to paradise. As if aching to be filled, her body sucked at the crown of his dick, milking his throbbing flesh. He pulled back, thrust in slowly, stretching her tender flesh carefully until he was buried as far as possible from this position. Tilting her body, he latched on to one smooth breast with his mouth as he rocked his hips against her ass. Alternately, he flicked her pebbled nipple with his tongue, then suckled the creamy mound, keeping her senses on edge.

“That feels good. So good.” Her words told him she was losing herself to the pleasure he was giving her. Pleasure he needed to give her. It was a driving force, stronger than his own grating need to plunge hard and deep and take his release. But he was too damn close. With every stroke, her tight little pussy milked his cock, causing his body to shake as he fought the building orgasm. He rested her thigh against his forearm, twisting his wrist so he could strum his finger over the super-sensitive knot of nerves that would shoot Willow into ecstasy. Her soft cry at the intimate contact coincided with an internal grip of his cock that had him seeing stars. His voice was unsteady, his breath growing ever harsher with each plunge into the sweetest pleasure he had ever known. “That’s it, sweetheart. Milk my cock. Feel me filling you, loving you.” She made some humming sound, twisting and pushing back, impaling herself and thrusting him deeper into the fiery depths of her ultra-tight body. Too far gone, too enmeshed with the hunger and the violent demand from his beast that he claim her now, Ben opened his mouth over the bared soft skin where her slim shoulder met her neck. Without thought he struck, his fangs sinking deep as he thrust mindlessly into her sheath. At the same moment she tensed, a long, ragged wail barely audible even to his wolf ears slipping past her lips. Then she shuddered violently, coming apart in his arms. With a hoarse roar that shredded his throat, the orgasm he’d struggled to contain exploded in a hailstorm of fire and pleasure so deep, he tumbled headlong into the agonizing rapture of darkness.

Chapter Nineteen The familiar scent of frying bacon roused Willow from sleep. Nose twitching, she idly wondered if Rome was back. The agent sure did love his meat. Letting out a huge yawn, she grasped one wrist in her hand and stretched. She felt limber and loose, yet a little sore in places she never knew could be sore. But it was a good ache. Thinking about last night, she traced a hand over the pillow next to her, imagining waking up to Ben’s face. What a wonderful sight to open her eyes to. She jerked upright in bed, covers clutched to her bare chest. Was Ben still here? Was he the one making breakfast? Was that a common morning-after occurrence? And most of all, would he ask questions about last night? Because she had a vague recollection of waking from a nightmare, sobbing in his arms. “Breakfast will be ready in five. Get that gorgeous ass up, sweetheart, and come eat. Before I come eat you.” His last comment was in a husky growl that caused her cheeks to redden and her body to tighten. Oh yeah. Ben was definitely still here. Hiding under the covers seemed an excellent idea. Then again, if she didn’t get out of bed, would he really follow up on his sensual threat? It was a tantalizing thought. The grumbling of her tummy made the decision for her. She rose and dressed in another pair of sweats, pulling on thick socks just as Ben’s presence filled the doorway. “You okay?” Eyes that saw way too much skimmed over her form. She straightened from the bed. “Yes.” A long pause. “Want to talk about it?” She didn’t even pretend not to understand. Standing, she stared across the room at a man who caused her body to burn and her chest to ache. He had an abundance of patience, wielding charm rather than sharp demands to achieve his goals and lavishing affection on those he cared for. Yet she had no misconceptions of

his dominance, ingrained in him as prominently as his virility and agreeable nature. It was a self-confidence she didn’t possess in the real world. “No.” Another pause, considering, analyzing. “Then we won’t.” At his simple acceptance, she could no longer ignore what her subconscious already knew. Her heart was truly and completely lost. He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers, cheeks creasing with an easy smile that echoed in his eyes. “If you’re not too sore, I thought after we eat we might go skating, or skiing.” That quickly, her disquiet spun into a heated blush, until she realized he meant her knee and hip. Possibly. That glint in his eye held a hint of male smugness that made her feminine side bristle. “I’m good. Though I’d rather fall on something soft, so maybe some easy skiing would be better.” “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you before you fall.” Her chest tightened, unsure if his husky response was a double entendre or not. As she reached for his hand he drew her near, pressing her alongside his hard frame. His hand cupped the back of her head as he proceeded to kiss her senseless, the stubble of his beard rough under her fingertips. A loud knock on the door was followed by Scott’s voice, inside the cabin. “Hey. We smell food. Hope you have enough for us ‘cause we’re starved.” With a groan Ben pulled away, looking at her with a mix of irritation and desire. “I may have to kill them yet.” Her hands grasped the front of his shirt. “Then you wouldn’t be able to teach me to ski.” “Nah.” He pressed a kiss to her nose. “Wouldn’t take long.” Mischief danced in his eyes. “I know a cliff I can drop them off.” “Play nice.” She pinched his chest to emphasis her comment, or tried to. He was all sinewy muscle under her hands, a thrilling enticement to stroke and pet. Which she did. “I’m not feeling nice,” he grumbled near her ear. No, indeed. By the thick hardness pressing against her belly,

she already guessed at what other emotion he felt, and totally understood. Her own arousal was kicking into high gear. Still, she pulled free. “Maybe after breakfast. I’m hungry.” His smile went wolfish. “So am I, sweetheart. So am I.” Now that was a definite double entendre. Luckily nothing disastrous happened during breakfast and after a quick shower and change of clothes, specifically a turtleneck to hide the hickey on her neck—she would not blush!—Willow went with Ben to his apartment to pick up his equipment. Her bodyguards were not far behind. Intrigued by anything of Ben’s, she walked around his place. Large, comfy furniture in male colors of dark brown and cream dominated the space seemingly too clean for a bachelor. “Doesn’t look at if you spend much time here.” “Not really,” his voice came from a second bedroom. “I’m out a lot. Work and stuff.” She knew what the stuff was by the way so many people thanked him for his help. “But you don’t have to work today?” Water ran in the bathroom and, thinking he may not have heard her, she ambled over to a wall to check out the only picture in the room. It was of a wolf. She stared at it in surprise. It was a summer shot, the surrounding trees heavy with green leaves. Though the animal’s fur lacked the thickness of a winter coat, there was no mistaking its color matched the wolf she’d seen outside the cabin door. “No. That’s mainly just weekends.” Engrossed in the same amber eyes, the same proud tilt of her wolf’s head, she jumped at Ben’s voice. Then she rewound to consider his words. Just weekends? How could he afford to live on a part-time job? “And what do you do in the summer?” “A little of this, a little of that.” His voice became louder as he entered the living room. “Don’t worry, Will. I’m not destitute.” She turned to face him, noticing right away that he’d shaved. A large black duffel bag lay at his feet. Another bag, bright green,

thin, and nearly as tall as he was, propped against the wall. His ski equipment, most likely. “No?” He looked as if he were struggling with something. “My real job is helping Dean.” Her brows flew up. “The mayor?” His expression took on a sheepish appearance. “Yeah. You could say I’m his eyes and ears in the community.” “Really?” Her eyes tightened. “And what does that mean?” “Well.” He scratched his chin, a delaying tactic. “You might have noticed that Dean’s not the easy, approachable type.” Willow only nodded, agreeing with Ben’s assessment of the town’s mayor. “But he’s got a heart of gold and loves this town, his pa...people.” He cleared his throat. “I basically interact with those people. Listen to their concerns, questions. Get a handle on the town’s morale, their needs. Same for tourists.” “And keep Dean informed?” “Precisely.” Huh. “And that includes the kids,” she said, thinking of his Tuesday afternoon skating lessons to a bunch of kindergarteners. A lift of one shoulder. “Kids are people too.” Riiiight. Rather than dig for more as curiosity demanded, she let it go, giving Ben the same courtesy he bestowed by not pressing for answers regarding her nightmare. Less than an hour later she found herself on the bunny slope at the ski lodge, quickly coming to the conclusion that skiing was not for her. She simply could not keep her feet on the ground and push out. Her skis continued to cross in front of her, the poles a miserable excuse for propulsion. By the fifth time she landed on her rump—Ben laughing so hard she could see the tears in his eyes, the jerk—ashe’d had it. Even the little two-year-old boy, also learning to ski, flew down the gradual incline with joyful shouts of glee. She should have stayed on the ski lodge deck with Scott and Joe; then she wouldn’t be cold and wet. Bemused by her lack of coordination, she conceded defeat, but she wasn’t unhappy by any means. Not when Ben kissed her—albeit with amusement swim-

ming in his eyes, the beast—every time she went down. If she’d known he would do that, she might have taken the tumbles accidentally on purpose. She’d have to remember that for next time. The four of them grabbed an early dinner at Dolen’s, the place hopping with a bevy of take-out orders as people streamed past their table with casual greetings, but Willow sensed an underlying current of restlessness in the men, especially the ones at her table. They were back at the cabins by sunset, Scott and Joe excusing themselves to walk the grounds. Willow thought they headed out to give her and Ben privacy and now she shifted nervously from one foot to the other as Ben closed and locked the front door behind them. His gaze raked her figure, probably noticing her unease because he said, “Why don’t I start a fire while you change into something warm and dry?” A smile tickled the side of his mouth. “I wouldn’t want your cute little butt to freeze off.” Willow tore off to the bedroom, replacing her almost-dry clothes with the sweats she’d had on earlier. Her jeans and coat had, for the most part, kept the wet snow at bay, but the denim was still damp and the cold had started to seep into her skin. Gone no more than five minutes—okay, maybe ten, since she’d brushed her hair and teeth and slicked on some gloss—she returned to see Ben had indeed built a roaring fire. He’d also turned out the lights and laid a thick blanket and several pillows in front of it, which he lazily lounged against. He patted the space next to him. “How about a massage?” Willow warily settled next to him. “For you or me?” He reached out and trailed a fingertip down the center of her forehead and over the gentle slope of her nose. “While I love the idea of your hands on my body, you took quite a few tumbles today.” Willow blinked up at him. “I fell on my butt, Ben. You want to massage my butt?” Dark blond brows wiggled with sensual delight over eyes gone dark with intent. “Consider it Phase Six of Pleasing Willow.” Her own eyes narrowed in consideration. “Why do I get the

feeling this is about pleasing you instead?” “Ah.” He put a hand to the middle of her chest and pushed her gently onto her back. “Because everything about you pleases me. Turn over.” After giving him a one-eyed stare, she did as he demanded. She was tense at first, but between the soothing heat of the fire and the sure strokes of his hands, she felt her eyes begin to flutter closed. Until his hands reached under the elastic of her waistband. “Hey.” “The pants are in my way.” Yeah. Right. But she let him do it, knowing her panties still kept her secret, that she was already primed for him. She moved to press her legs together after he’d stripped her of her sweatpants, but his muscled thighs were already making a home between them. She shot him a silent question over her shoulder. “Better access.” Better access, her butt. Oh wait. She let out a little moan when he replaced his hands on her body. Definitely better access to her butt. He kneaded her flesh, tracing up and under her top to turn her back muscles into so much jelly. She didn’t even resist when he eased off her sweatshirt. The pop of her bra as he unhooked it only made her body tighten in anticipation. He was seducing her. And she was lapping up the erotic attention like a thirsty dog. It took all she had left not to arch up into his touch. She felt his lips at her ear, her cheek. “Kiss.” He demanded on a low growl, the command curling around her to make her center throb. “Kiss me.” She rose up on all fours, catching his passionate lips as he crouched over her. Her bra fell down her arms and she tossed it to the side. He braced one hand on the floor, the other busy at her breast, holding the swollen mound in a firm yet gentle grip, strumming his thumb over the pebbled nipple, his hold possessive, a rough brand that burned her skin. She hummed with pleasure and rocked her core against the thick bulge between her thighs. She felt his chest rumble against her back. It felt so good

she did it again. Ben let out a soft curse and reached down to tug at her panties. The sound of tearing fabric shocked her. It also notched the dark lust coursing through her veins to the boiling point. He wedged his hand over her damp curls, teasing her clit with light strokes before easing a single finger inside her sex. His mouth at her shoulder, he nipped and licked at her salty skin as he worked her sex. Grinding the palm of his hand on the hard bundle of nerves hidden within her folds, he swirled his finger in an electrifying vortex of sensation. Her breath came in ragged moans. Then abruptly his heat was gone. Catching the scream of denial before it pushed past her lips, she peered over her shoulder, mollified slightly to find him ripping off his clothes. His erection jutted out, proud and deliciously male. Her girl parts quivered with anticipation, sending out another surge of lust that almost made her embarrassed at how much she wanted him. Almost. He put on a condom before moving over her once again, kissing her shoulder blades, her spine, petting her legs as he positioned her how he wanted her. “Perfect.” She expected him to enter her. Craved to be filled by his thick heat. What she felt was his mouth. “Oh. Ahhh.” Spreading her soaking folds, he began to taste her in slow, hot strokes, his tongue a steady, decadent touch. He teased her throbbing clit with soft flicks of his tongue, pushing her to the edge of sanity. Then he replaced his tongue with his fingers, still too gentle a touch to do more than want to bang her head on the floor in desperate need. “You’re so wet, baby. Gloriously wet. All for me.” She let out a squawk of surprise when she felt him delve inside with his tongue. Hard and thick, he dove in deep to lick at the tiny muscles that instinctively clenched around the soft intrusion, seeking the friction that would ease the terrible ache in her belly. Her hips rocked back, tremors shaking her body. “Ben.” It was a plea to stop. A plea for more. “You want me inside you? Hmmm? Filling your sweet pussy?”

He punctuated his words with more lascivious licks of his tongue. His dirty talk would be the death of her. “Yes. Inside me. Now.” It was a demand, easy to say when she was nothing more than a firestorm of raging need. A very male chuckle. “That’s my girl.” He shifted behind her, one hand gripping her hip. Then she felt the tip of him penetrate her body, her sigh of relief as palpable as his touch. Her body stretched, easier this time, as he filled her in long, slow thrusts. “That’s it.” He praised her. “That’s so good.” His other hand curled over her other hip. “Hold on.” That was all the warning she got before he starting taking her, hard, hot. Skin slapped against skin as he pounded into her, a dominate taking that had no comparison. Willow could do nothing but grip the blanket in both hands and hold on for the wildest ride of her life. “Mine.” Ben snarled the word, his hand a stamp of ownership as he stroked her back from nap to butt and back again. Her hips bucked back to meet his thrusts. “There. Don’t stop.” His next thrust went so deep she felt it echo through her very being. Her arms trembled, her head falling forward as the tension in her belly tightened, tightened. With a sudden snap it sprang free, her lips parting on a scream as she came so hard every muscle in her body spasmed and shook. Even her toes curled at the strength of her release. As she sank to her torso, Ben crouched back over her, his mouth a fervent clamp on her shoulder as he plunged deep several more times before stiffening and shouting with his release. Still joined, they tumbled onto the blanket together, drunk and sated from pleasure.

Chapter Twenty Willow peeled open one eye and stared into the red numbers of the clock on the nightstand. Three fifty-eight a.m. She’d been asleep less than an hour, thanks to Ben’s insatiable appetite. Her lips curved at the memory. After they’d napped in front of the fire they made love again. And again. They’d made their way to the bedroom when the fire died, where Ben proceeded to show her just how much he wanted her. When she’d had enough and didn’t think she could ever come again, she’d begged him to stop. He’d rained tender kisses all over her face, praising her, and she’d slipped into unconsciousness. But now she was awake, and thirsty. Cautiously she edged to the side of the bed and slid free from the covers, not wanting to wake Ben. Thick carpet kept her feet from freezing once they hit the floor, but it didn’t do much for the rest of her naked body. Her clothes were in the other roomshe would not be embarrassed—so she unearthed her second set of sweats from the hamper, glancing at the bed as she dressed. Ben wasn’t in it. Brow creased, she straightened and finished tugging on the clothes. The cabin was quiet. Not a creak or groan or even the sound of steps to be heard. Chest tight with disappointment, she walked to the window and lifted the shade. Bright moonlight displayed Ben’s truck, now covered with a light dusting of new snow. He hadn’t left! Then were is he? She made her way into the kitchen utilizing the scenic route, checking all the other rooms for Ben. Nada. Not bothering with overhead lights as the scattered nightlights, one in every room, illuminated her pathway well enough, she stepped to the kitchen and got out a glass from an upper cabinet. It was as she turned to open the fridge she heard something other her worried thoughts. A voice. Then a soft male chuckle. Thinking Ben must be outside speaking with either Scott or Joe, or both, Willow made her way to the window overlooking the

porch. Instead of lifting the shade she used a finger to edge the side of the honeycombed fabric away from the wall and peeked through the little gap. At first she didn’t see anything unusual. A portion of the outside table and two of the four chairs were visible as were the steps and the whole left side of the back yard. A long shadow moved closer, followed by two smaller shadows, and then Ben came into view. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, in profile, and she let out a small sigh. The man was breathtaking from every angle. His thick hair was beginning to curl and stood in tufts, making her smile. She knew she had a hand—two, actually—in that. In his untucked flannel button-up and jeans he stood tall, hands in his front pockets, his eyes crinkling with amusement, his sensuous lips moving as he spoke with someone. Someone, or two someones, as she could make out the dual shadows, just not the individuals themselves, and they seemed too small to be her muscled body-boys. She bit her lip, indecisive. Her piqued curiosity demanded she simply open the kitchen door and walk outside, but she didn’t know if that would be considered intruding or not. Besides, it was really cold-looking out there. Ben turned to go up the steps and, startled, Willow let go of the shade, stepping abruptly back and hoping like hell he hadn’t seen her spying on him. She moved to the fridge again, waiting to open it when he opened the door, her eyes wide and innocent. No, I wasn’t spying, Mr. Anderson. Ears twitching, she waited for his tread to cross the wood porch. Nothing. He should easily be at the door by now. She edged to the door and put her ear to it, just in time to barely make out his low comment. “—only for a bit. I don’t want to leave Willow for long.” Her head cocked. If he was going to go with his visitors somewhere, why come back up the porch? Still listening, still no tread. Mystified, Willow made her way back to the window, once again pulling the shade aside with the tip

of her finger. Her mouth dropped. Ben was naked! What. The. Hell? Even as she stood there gaping at him, a shower of light encased his body. Her eyes snapped shut and when she opened them again, she immediately closed them. She shook her head and looked back out at the spot that Ben had stood not two seconds ago. Where a tan wolf now stood. The same tan wolf Willow saw her first two nights here. The same two nights Ben was stationed outside to watch over the cabin until his relief showed. The same tan wolf pictured in Ben’s apartment. Willow sagged against the wall as the wolf—Ben?—loped down the stairs, taking off into the forest, followed by two other wolves, their much darker fur gleaming under the moon. Part of her brain immediately said Scott and Joe while another part went into meltdown. “There is no way I just saw what I saw, or think what I think. Nope. Not at all.” She turned to the kitchen, looked around for help. “Too unreal. Too fantastical. Too, too....” Groping around like a blind woman, she found the back of a kitchen chair and sank onto the cushioned seat before she slid in a boneless heap onto the cold linoleum floor. “Full moon. Wolves. Werewolves. Oh God. I had sex with a werewolf.” Several times, in fact. Recalling those times and what they’d done, the hand pressed against her pounding heart flew to her neck. “He bit me!” Several times, in fact. Jumping to her feet, she raced into the bathroom, flicking the florescent light on with an impatient jerk. Leaning over the vanity, she yanked aside the collar of her sweatshirt and probed at the bruise riding low on her neck, at her shoulder. It looked just like a hickey. Desperate for a closer look, she climbed onto the vanity and all but shoved her face in the mirror. Were those teeth marks? “Oh God. I’m gonna turn into a wolf.” She didn’t want to turn

furry. And according to every werewolf legend spinning through her mind, it was every single month during the full moon. . Hormonal changes with her monthly period was enough for her, thank you very much. Drawing her lips back, she checked her teeth, then her eyes, recalling those times Ben’s had rimmed with amber. No fangs, no amber, just normal teeth and clear blue eyes. Now she frowned at her reflection. “Why am I not turning?” Groaning at herself, she hopped off the sink and into her bedroom, where she picked up her phone and dialed Scott. No answer. Joe. Again, no answer. When she rang Ben, the Music Box Dancer melody went off on the table next to the bed. Oh, she was going to murder their furry asses. She put on underwear and several layers of clothes, plus her boots, before heading into the foyer closet for her coat and gloves. Ben had stated he wouldn’t be long and when he returned, she would be there. The liar. The hypocrite. She all but stomped onto the porch, pacing as she waited for his return. Getting all up in my face about not telling him I was a virgin when he’s a freaking werewolf! How dare he? And Joe and Scott? Oh God. And Rome? Rome knew these people. Trusted them with her life. Had he known? He’d called Ben a pup, both as Ben the human and Ben the wolf. Rome had to have known! She put a shaking hand to her temple. Was Rome a werewolf as well? Backing up, she dropped into the nearest chair, letting her mind process all the strange things she’d encountered and filed away. It started that first night in Kaylie’s home when Willow had heard growls and looked around for a dog. Then the weird tingling she’d felt when Dean had basically gotten in Ben’s and Rome’s faces. Was Dean a wolfman too? Then what about Kaylie? Oh God. And Tess? Uploading the time in Tess’s truck on the day of their shopping expedition, Willow recalled Tess’s strange reaction to Willow’s comment about being sick. Tess had sniffed her. Was Tess a wolfman, too? Er, wolfwoman? Was Tess even now

wandering the forest? Hunting? Oh God. The hunting lodge. Now that all made a kind of weird sense. Now her mind went crazy, zipping down the list of people she’d met and seen, wondering if they were all wolf people. A prickling sensation crawled up her spine and she looked up to see three wolves staring at her, all breathing hard as if they’d been out running at breakneck speeds. Two were dark brown and one a burnished tan, the latter nearly the color of Ben’s hair, minus the sun streaks. The three of them stood still as statues at the base of the steps, staring up at Willow, almost as if in—what? Fear? Amusement? Were they off laughing behind her back? Could wolves laugh? And why she wasn’t locking herself inside or running away screaming didn’t even cross her mind. Willow settled back, arms crossed tight over her vulnerable middle. Her eyes narrowed. She was simply too pissed to be scared, much less think rationally as she began to chide a two-hundred-pound predator. “Well. You got anything to say for yourself?” The tan wolf cocked his head, a human gesture that only made her angrier. “Ben.” She said his name like it was dog poo. Or wolf poo, in this case. The two dark wolves started yipping, clearly unhappy as they danced about. She glared at them. “Shut up. Some bodyguards you are, running off and leaving me all alone. Don’t think I’m not going to strip the fur off you two as well. Scott. Joe.” At her words, or maybe her tone, they lowered their heads, as if saying they were sorry. Oh, how one’s life could change in a mere week. She’d made new friends, learned to ski, lost her virginity—and possibly her heart—and now she’d been confronted with the reality of a myth. Her deadly glare shot back to Ben. “I’d better not turn into a wolf.” The tan creature shook its massive head and took a step towards her. Wariness rather than fear caused her to point a finger at the advancing wolf. “Do not get any closer.” On the heels of the beast’s hearty sigh came another light show.

Willow blinked in rapid succession as Ben, in all his two-legged naked glory, appeared. For once he seemed at a loss for words. Good. Maybe that means he feels bad. The jerk. But damn, he still looked good. The broad shoulders, the rippled torso, the muscled thighs that only a few hours ago had been cradled between her own. She could feel her interest rekindle and crossed her restless legs. Stupid physical reaction. His nose flared, eyelids dropping into that sleepy, sexy look that made her melt, as if he could scent her arousal. He took a purposeful step forward. Then another. Oh God. He could smell her arousal, couldn’t he? Wolves, like dogs, could smell better than humans. Oh hell. Dogs. Men. Pheromones. Now she remembered the whole conversation at Tess’s wedding shower. She narrowed her eyes into little slits of pure fury, hoping he read the death threat glowing in her eyes as easily as he read her carnal reaction to him. Evidently he could, since he came to a halt at the top of the steps. He glanced away, his hands opening and closing into fists at his side. After a moment he cleared his throat. “If you wouldn’t mind. While I enjoy the cool weather, it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.” “What?” His chin jutted at her chair and she shifted up, pulling his jeans and shirt from under her. He wanted his clothes? Fine. He could have them. She threw them at him, wide, but he caught them deftly in his big hands. After he was dressed he looked at her. “I’m afraid to say it, but, boots too, please?” Reaching down, she hurled one boot after the other right at his face. Again he caught them easily. She should have thrown them over the rail and into the snow. “Why don’t we go inside for this?” Willow held back a nasty response when Ben looked pointedly at the two other wolves, obviously eavesdropping. “Fine,” she snarled. Look at her, acting all wolfy. Besides, she was cold. She bolted inside before Ben could open the door and sat stiffly

on a kitchen chair, closest to the living room. Ben eased down on her left, running a hand through his hair. He looked, uneasy. Pained, even. She refused to be concerned. Finally he leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. “At least you’re not running away from me.” He studied the tabletop with his thumb, the sensual rubbing making her nipples poke out for the same touch. Stupid nipples. “I’m too angry to run.” His brow creased. “Because I didn’t tell you or because of who I am?” “Both.” “Will.” He looked at her, his voice low as he appealed to her logical side. “You have to understand why we don’t go around announcing what we are to everyone.” Logic be damned. “So I’m considered everyone?” A flash of temper rose in his eyes before he squashed it. “No. You’re special.” Bastard. “Oh, really?” When he reached across the table she shoved her chair back. Interestingly, Ben squeezed his eyes shut and the hands on the table fisted again. It was obvious he wanted to touch her, but she would not capitulate. She’d given enough of herself. “We’re called shifters. Like the fabled werewolves, we heal faster than humans, but not immediately. We’re also stronger, faster, have a much higher metabolism rate, and possess keener senses. Unlike the fictional werewolf, we are not allergic to silver or live for hundreds of years, and we don’t make others through our bite. While it’s rare one of our kind contracts a disease, we still age and can die as easily as a human, or a timber wolf, for that matter.” So she wasn’t going to turn furry next full moon. Good to know. “Is everyone in this town a...shifter?” A definite shake of his head. “No. Only about one-fourth of the male population. Dean is not only the mayor, he’s the pack alpha.” From there he proceeded to explain the pack structure, looking proud when he claimed he was one of the eight leaders and also one of a handful of his kind strong enough to rein in their beast

on the full moon. These few held enough control they could shift forms outside of the magical pull, which was why he was able to come to her on all fours those first two nights. Her eyes got bigger, her brows buried under the soft sweep of her bangs. But one thing stood out the most. “The male population?” A slow nod. “Only the males can shift into wolf form. The females can’t.” Her feminist side shouted “double standard rip-off” while she simply asked, “Why?” His head tilted to the side. “If they had to change every full moon, they wouldn’t be able to carry our young.” Willow’s heart flipped in her chest. The thought of carrying Ben’s young should terrify her, but the idea of a little boy with his hair and bronze eyes running around, laughing, just like his daddy, filled her with a deep longing. Turning her mind from the impossible, she instead focused on his information, relieved her new friends weren’t werewolves. “So the females are basically human.” It wasn’t a question. “Ah. No.” At her questioning look, Ben explained. “Most of the women in town, like the men, are indeed human. Take Kaylie. Even though she’s married to my alpha, she’s one hundred percent human.” Willow nodded. “So Tess is—” “A shifter. In the sense that she is faster and stronger than a human and her senses are keener than a human’s. But she can’t shift form.” Well. There went her relief bubble. Ben made it sound like Tess, and all the female shifters actually, were sort of like super humans. She’d have to think more on that concept, but now back to more questions. “If Kaylie is human and Dean is, uh, not, what is Lukas?” Their cute little baby. Ben shifted in his seat. “Lukas is a shifter and before you ask, he won’t be able to turn until he hits puberty.” He lowered his torso over the table, holding her gaze with the same good deal of warmth and intimacy as when he held her hand. “You see, there’s

only a small percentage of the world’s female population that has the compatible DNA to produce male shifter offspring. Out of that number there’s only one or two who will cause a male shifter to, let’s say, stand up and take notice. When they touch for the first time, they initiate a, mating heat, if you will, that causes this man and woman to, get to know one another better.” Uh-huh. She blinked at him. “Mating heat?” Fitting name for this near overwhelming arousal, this uncanny awareness when Ben was around. Even now she was wet and ready for him. And now she finds it it wasn’t just a physical reaction, it came from deep within her DNA. Wait a minute. “Are you telling me...?” She simply could not bring herself to say it. “You’re my mate, sweetheart. You’re my other half.” She closed her eyes, head shaking in firm denial. “No.” “Yes.” He growled the single word, causing her eyes to pop open. When he reached for her again she growled herself. “Don’t touch me.” “Dammit, Will.” He jammed his fingers in his hair, agitation plastered all over his features. “Dammit nothing, Ben. You can’t expect me to accept all of this and jump back into bed with you.” “Why not?” His face scrunched like a petulant child, wanting something he couldn’t have. As for Willow, her jaw dropped at his sullenness. “Because it’s too much. Because I need to think. Because you’re a damn wolf, Ben. A wolf.” He stood, his anger rising to the surface, a muscle in his jaw working as he struggled to cap his fury. Every inch of his long, lean body rippled with barely held power and she suddenly realized he could probably, literally, snap her in two. It wasn’t a pleasant thought. “What? And now you fear me? Christ, Willow! I’d sooner cut off my head than hurt a hair on yours.” He let out a string of curses, towering over her, hands fisting until his knuckles turned white.

He turned in a circle, hands lacing behind his head. “I’m still me, Will. Still Ben. I’m the same person who took you to dinner, who taught you to ski. Who held you when you had a nightmare, for God’s sake! I’m still the same man you made love with. The man you gave your virginity to.” Yeah. And now she knew why. The mating heat. Ben didn’t want her for her, he wanted her because she could give him fourlegged offspring. She refused to meet his gaze. “I need some time alone.” It was a mere whisper. “Please, Ben. Leave. If you care about me at all, leave me alone so I can think.” For several long minutes he stood there. Stood there watching her still form, her head down as she gazed blindly at the tabletop. Finally, after an eternity, she heard him go back into the bedroom, grab up his things and make his way to the front door. “I don’t know how long I can stay away, Willow. You’re my mate and I... need you. Your touch is a balm to my soul.” She kept her back to him, her spine rigid. “That’s just pheromones, Ben.” “All attraction starts off as pheromones, Will. Until it turns into something more meaningful. Something lasting.” He paused and she so wanted to look at him, to read his expression. She didn’t. “I’ll stay the rest of the night next door, then I have work in the morning. The guys will be back to”—he paused—“normal by then.” A minute ticked by in silence, then, “Don’t shut me out, baby.” An almost mournful sigh. “Just don’t shut me out.” With that, he slipped out the front door. Too shocked to feel anything, Willow remained on the kitchen chair until the sun’s light brightened the room. Three things stood out in the chaos of her mind. One, she really wanted her father. Two, she never did ask about Rome. and three, she was in love with a damn werewolf.

Chapter Twenty-One Willow called Rome, leaving a curt message on his phone when he had the nerve not to answer. “Did you know? Of course you knew. Why, Rome? And just what the hell are you?” She refused to answer her bodyguard’s calls or their knocks on the door, which occurred about every half hour. Finally she went to the door and yelled, “I’m not talking to you, so go away.” Childish, she knew, but she felt like she had the right to sulk for a few hours. Too much. It was all too much. She launched herself onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling. Then she listened to Ben’s messages, the one from Wednesday morning and the two from today. Over and over. The silky smooth sensuality, an animalistic purr that made her want to strip naked and rub against something hard, hot and male. In an attempt to distract herself from the images infiltrating her brain and arousing her body to near fever-pitch levels, she turned to the Internet for information about wolves, both real and mythical. When Rome finally got back in touch with her it was via text message, the coward, telling her “not over the phone.” He said he’d be back tomorrow, that she was safer where she was than in Fort Knox, and to “fkg relax.” It took a minute for Willow to figure out what fkg meant, at least in Rome’s shorthand, and she briefly thought of replying what exactly he could do with his suggestion. But some calmer part of her brain interjected, reminding her that the man had saved her life. So, fine. Until she saw him again, she’d fkg relax. Or try to, anyway. Around five thirty there came a knock on the door. Willow ignored it, thinking it was Joe or Scott again. But whoever this person was didn’t stop. A female voice yelled, “It’s Tess, Willow. Open up.” Willow frowned, undecided. She didn’t know if Tess really considered Willow a friend and wanted to stop by to talk, or if the woman planned to tell Willow to keep her mouth shut about their

kind. No self-esteem issues here. The knocking turned into pounding, then kicking. “Open up, little piggy, or I’ll huff and puff and—” Willow yanked open the door. “Did you just call me a pig?” Tess lowered her booted foot and hiked her skirt back down. She looked fabulous as usual, dressed in a long, tight denim skirt, a cream and tan turtleneck top with a luxurious brown, cream, and green sweater jacket over it that reached to her knees. She held a blue felt bag in one hand. “Whatever it takes.” Tess eyed Willow. “You gonna let the big baddie in?” Rolling her eyes, Willow stepped back, allowing Tess to enter. “So, could you really kick down the door?” Tess looked from Willow to the door and back again. “Nah. It’s solid core steel. Now, the door frame, that’s a different matter.” She held out the bag. “Earrings to go with the dress.” Crap. Willow sunk back onto the couch. “Oh.” She eyed the bag, then Tess. Now Tess rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I’m still the same girl you went shopping with, Will. Or do you consider me a freak now?” “I take it you spoke with Ben.” Tess settled into the chair on the other side of the wood coffee table. “I don’t know what you said to that poor man but I’ve never seen him so dejected. Like someone stole his smile. And put his heart through a paper shredder. Then fried the pieces just for spite.” Willow gaped. “I didn’t...” Tess tilted her head. “Didn’t what? Reject him?” Willow tossed her hands in the air. “I just said I needed time to think. To leave me alone so I could think.” “He’s still a male, Will, and has a bucketful of pride. All the male shifters do. Especially the ten. They have dominant, alpha, chest-beating genes programmed into their DNA. They can’t help it.” “The ten?” Tess hummed an affirmative. “Kaylie told me you meet them

all your first night here, at her place. I can’t believe you didn’t feel the testosterone overload when you stepped into that room.” Actually, she had. A room full of big, masculine, and yeah, proud men. And very gentle, considerate, protective men as well. Willow slumped back on the couch. “Maybe I did.” “And maybe you never answered my question.” Frowning, Willow asked, “What question?” Hazel eyes leveled with blue. “Do you consider me a freak because I’m a shifter? Because I was born with more strength, speed, and sharper senses—and, believe you me, the scent thing can be a real downer at times—than a human?” Willow looked at the woman who sat motionless in the chair. The woman whose gorgeous face and killer body had once graced thousands of magazine pages, and not less than twenty covers. A light bulb suddenly blazed bright inside Willow’s head, making everything crystal clear. “No. It’s like saying you’re a freak because you’re beautiful, or because you have hazel eyes instead of blue, or that your boobs are huge...” Tess waved a regal hand in the air. “Yes, I know the outside package is phenomenal. I’m talking the inside, Willow. The inside package. Just like the men, I carry a beast inside me, so I’m not one hundred percent human like my sister. My DNA is different. My blood is different.” “Is it still red?” Tess visibly relaxed, her lips curving in a tiny smile. “Yes, it’s red.” Willow nibbled on her bottom lip, considering. “And your wolf really can’t come out?” A sad shake of Tess’s head. “No, and trust me when I say that the thought of turning furry once a month is a bit much on top of my monthlies, but every now and then I do wish for the ability to produce a sharp set of claws.” Willow smiled. Exactly what she thought last night, minus the claws part. Except now that Tess brought it up, Willow could see how that particular talent could come in handy. “So what are you going to do about Ben?”

Willow’s smile died. “What do you mean?” “You’re his mate. If you don’t accept him, he’ll either wither away and die or hound you until you either beat him senseless or give in out of sheer irritation.” Her smile was back. “That what you did to Caleb?” “Naw. I fell in love with him.” With no response, Willow looked away. “Oookay. So I’ll leave the earrings on the table here. I expect to see you at my wedding.” Her small squeak of excitement at the word “wedding” pulled Willow’s attention from the far wall to the shining glow of happiness in Tess’s eyes. “Anyway. Put them and the dress on. Show up. Go to the reception. Watch us interact. See for yourself that shifters really aren’t all that different than humans. We laugh, live, love. And we love something fierce, Will. It’s what scared me about Caleb. How fierce his love is. Don’t let go of something precious because you were too afraid to hold on. Believe me when I say you’ll never regret holding on with everything you’ve got.” Graceful as always, Tess rose to her feet. “And if you need more time to think, take it. But don’t keep Ben hanging. He’s the pack’s heart.” Unable to respond because of the fist-sized lump in her throat, Willow glanced away, nodding that she heard and understood. After Tess left, Willow curled up on her side, allowing the tears to flow. She missed her dad. She was scared and didn’t know what to do. But most of all, she missed Ben. **** The next afternoon Willow slipped into a nearly empty row near the back of the church, doing what Tess suggested. Observing. People gathered, sat, mingled, or stood up front, talking to Caleb and his groomsmen, all handsomely attired in black tuxes with varying hues of green vests and bow ties. From the tingles of awareness that raised the fine hairs at the nape of her neck and how her breasts ached, she knew Ben was around, even if she didn’t see him. Not for the first time did she

wonder if his proximity would always cause this type of reaction. Her ever-present and now dapperly dressed bodyguards sat behind her. A male voice announced they were about to begin and people started buzzing around for seats. Someone slid down the row toward Willow. Without looking she knew it was Ben. Could he hear the jagged beat of her heart? She glanced up when he sat next to her, her belly twisting at the naked heat in his eyes. He made no attempt to hide the raw longing as he traced the shape of her body with his eyes. Evidently he liked what he saw, until his gaze landed on his bite mark, now covered by a healthy slathering of makeup. His lips turned down ever so slightly, but he didn’t say a word. He did, however, cover her hand resting on her lap, and entwined their fingers. It was both a clear sign of ownership and desire for touch, two characteristics as necessary to a wolf as air, which Willow had discovered in her foray on the Internet. No matter how charming he appeared on the outside, she needed to remember a deadly predator lurked just under the surface. He was a wild mix of danger and passion, an ultimate temptation, and she wanted to slide into his arms, into his heat. This was exactly why she couldn’t think properly when he was near. She forgot everything except how she felt in his embrace. I’m an embarrassment to women everywhere, she thought, peeking at him as the wedding processional began. But really, who could blame me? An hour later she was standing next to Ben in the hotel ballroom now transformed into an elegant atmosphere. An elaborate display of hors d’oeuvres and drinks were provided while the wedding party remained at the church for formal photos. A DJ played rousing music over in a corner and everywhere she looked, Willow saw people clearly enjoying themselves. But she had no interest in any of it. She needed to speak with Ben. Questions still circled her head and in a room teeming with people, some she knew, most she didn’t, wasn’t the place. “Is there somewhere close we can talk? Privately?” Ben looked around the crowded room, then, grasping her hand,

tugged her out a side door and down a carpeted hallway. Near the end of the corridor he pulled her into a deserted room, closing and flicking the door lock. “This is a woman’s restroom.” Willow said. Ben shrugged. “Best I could do on short notice. If you want, I could check and see if there’s a free hotel room.” This was accompanied by a wicked smile. The way she was feeling, a hotel room would be a bad idea. Beds were in hotel rooms. “No. This is fine.” She looked around at the single stall, tiled floor, and wide immaculate marble vanity. A vanity that could easily hold her weight. She gulped, her eyes locked on Ben’s in the mirror, his sly smile saying it all. He was thinking the same thing. All too easily she could see herself hopping on top of the vanity and testing it out. She remained rigid, not trusting herself to move away from the temptation. Ben closed in behind her, setting his hands on her hips, his chest brushing her back. His lips tickled her neck. “So what did you want to talk about?” Her eyes fluttered in helpless acceptance as warmth washed through her. She missed this: his touch, his heat, his scent. Too good to resist. She tilted her head, giving him better access. “I’ve been thinking.” His hands stroked her ribcage, his lips busy nibbling on her throat. “About how good we are together?” Her response was a distracted murmur. His hands were torture, smoothing over her torso in long, gentle strokes, barely missing the underside of her breasts. Liquid heat gathered between her thighs. His low growl startled her. “God, Willow. You’re scent is making me crazy. I want to touch you. I need to touch you.” He was touching her, just not where her body begged. Taking her silence as acceptance, Ben gathered the skirt of her dress in his large hands and began to inch the material up. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart. You take my breath away.” Her lungs understood. Air swooshed out, shallow and fast as her legs, knees, and thighs were revealed. One hand covered her

breast, holding and kneading the swollen mound. When her belly was exposed he hooked the material over his fingers, leaving his thumb free to strum over her nipple. He skimmed his other hand over her trembling flesh, inching underneath the waistband of her plain cotton panties, arrowing to her mound. “So soft,” he whispered in approval in her ear, giving her lobe a nip, then soothing with his tongue. “So wet.” He parted her folds with two fingers, unerringly finding and strumming her clit with a third. “So hot.” She gazed at their reflection, mesmerized. Her legs parted, her hips arching into his touch. “The mating heat.” Her words came out halted, the fiery sensations building almost too much to speak past. “What about it?” Ben watched her as he played between her legs, his eyes edging with that amber glow she know knew meant his wolf was rising to the forefront. His control was slipping. Slipping because of her. The hard ridge of his erection pulsed at her spine, a thick enticement. Knowing she could make a man lose control was daunting and exciting. At the same time, knowing he had the same power over her was terrifying. Her knees started to wobble, her body growing wetter with need. From only his fingers. As if sensing the rising hunger, he applied more pressure, faster, right over the throbbing nub. A sharp gasp escaped. “Ah. What happens when it’s gone? The mating heat. Then what?” “Nothing will change, baby. I’ll always want you.” He punctured his words by thrusting two fingers deep inside her pussy. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, which fell against his shoulder. “I’ll always want this tight little sheath wrapped around my cock. Squeezing me dry.” She gripped his forearm, tightening when his pumping fingers scissored, his knuckles rubbing over tender tissue, making her gasp and cry out. “Ohmigod. I need...I…” “I know, sweetheart,” he whispered roughly against her cheek, his own breath harsh and unsteady. “I know.” He dropped his

other hand down to her clit, working her sex with both hands. Her muscles quivered and clenched. “Come for me.” It was impossible not to. She fell apart in his embrace, coming in a soft cry as the world spun away. Her body still shivered when she felt his hand go to the front of his pants. The sound of his zipper rasped loudly, and she heard the crinkling of foil. She was limp as he turned her in his arms. “Kiss me,” he demanded against her mouth. More than willing to comply, Willow threw her arms around his neck, wrapped her legs around his waist as he hefted her up with ease. “I’ll always need your scent filling my lungs, your taste in my mouth.” He sucked in air, eyes burning with unquenchable fire as he pushed her panties to the side and slid, big and thick, into her, tunneling through muscles so exquisitely sensitive she let out another cry. “Christ. You feel so good.” His hiss was more a growl, heavy with dark needy pleasure. “So fucking good.” He kissed her temple, her cheeks, as he moved within her. murmuring words so low and deep she couldn’t make them out. Within a few strokes Willow found herself right back at that perilous edge. She whimpered for more, feeling surrounded, consumed. Taken. He pulled back and thrust in, stretching her so tight she could barely breathe. “You’re my heaven, Willow. My light in the dark.” Bending his knees for better alignment, he surged into her. The world spun away last time. This time it exploded. From deep within the gutwrenching need shattered into a million pieces, so visceral she knew nothing but ecstasy. Ben’s muffled roar echoed in the room as he followed her over, his head buried in her neck. It took several moments for her to realize he hadn’t bitten her and the disappointment shocked her. He kept them up on trembling muscles, his heart a freight train in his chest. His mouth was on her face, her neck, her hair, as if he was loath to let her go. She opened her eyes and met his. “Hey.” He pressed his lips to the tip of her nose. “You okay?”

She didn’t have a clue. “Yeah.” He pulled out and eased her feet to the floor. “Let me...” She nodded and turned away as he headed to the stall to dispose of the condom. When he returned he was tucking in his shirt while she busied herself in her purse which she’d dropped on the floor. “I need a few minutes.” He leaned against the wall, big and dangerous and very sure of himself. “Alone, Ben.” One brow rose. “There’s nothing—” Oh yes, there was. “Please, Ben. Just go and give me a few minutes.” He studied her flushed face, silent. “We need to talk about this shyness of yours.” She shook her head. “Go, already.” When he didn’t move she shooed him out the door, causing his eyes to light with laughter. “Fine, I’m going. But I’m watching the clock, sweetheart.” He could watch it all he wanted. She wasn’t going to move from this spot until she was good and ready to face him again. And they hadn’t even talked about the future.

Chapter Twenty-Two “Finally,” a male voice said as Willow stepped from the bathroom. She froze, looking up in horror at a woman dressed in a waitress uniform in front of her. “Really, Willow. A bathroom?” Marg Valen tsked. “That’s so tacky.” So much had happened over the last several days that Willow almost forgot about the danger she was in. Now, she made to rush back into the bathroom but the man who’d spoken slid behind her. Something small and hard pushed against her back. Oh shit. “I think it’s time we had a talk. Don’t you, sweetheart?” Willow wanted to spit on the other woman for sullying Ben’s endearment. “I’m not your sweetheart.” Valen reached up to touch Willow’s hair and she had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from biting the gnarly fingers. She’d probably end up with rabies. “So short, but still so pretty. Let’s go, Tom.” Tom prodded her back with his gun. Wild-eyed, Willow looked around the empty hall, wishing for help even as she hoped no one would show. Terrified as she was, anyone popping into the hall would be just as vulnerable as Willow. At the far end of the hall, near an exit sign, another man came into view. Though dressed for the wedding, the big black weapon in his hand told another story. As if Willow’s sinking heart couldn’t fall any farther, the door to the ballroom opened and Kaylie stepped out. With Lukas in her arms. Oblivious to the danger, she smiled in relief. “Oh, hey, Will. Ben told me there was a bathroom down this way. Lukas needs changing.” Marg’s smile was full of professional helpfulness. “Sure is. Just down the hall and to your right. What a darling child.” The woman reached out and ran a finger over Lukas’s downy cheek. Willow understood the hint. If she so much as breathed wrong, Kaylie and the baby were dead.

In that second Willow understood Tess’s comment about a good set of claws coming in handy, because if she’d had them, she would have ripped Marg’s face off. The rage was so fierce, Willow shook with it. “Caleb and Tess are back?” She prayed the tremors in her voice didn’t betray her. She needed to act natural, and as a friend, she wouldn’t walk past Kaylie without speaking. Tom edged slightly away, making Willow wonder what he looked like, since the sight of an unknown male at Willow’s back didn’t seem to rattle Kaylie. Kaylie let out an exasperated sigh. “They’re still at the church for photos, so they say. Personally I think they’re looking for some ma-n-and-wife time before they head over.” Lukas started to fuss and she kissed his head, moving past Willow in the hall. Amazingly enough, both Marg and Tom let her pass without incident. “They’re like two wolves in heat. Nothing can separate them.” Kaylie said with a wink.. Once Kaylie and the babe entered the restroom, Tom urged Willow on with a muttered “move” and nudge of his gun. “I’m going.” She glanced over at Marg to see the woman’s lips turn up. “Surprised? I’m not a complete bitch, Willow. As long as you don’t cross me. Besides, I do so like babies.” Willow shuddered and kept moving. As they neared the exit, the second man opened the door. Outside it was nearly dark, the sun long gone and the moon’s glow not yet strong enough to seep through the thick clouds. Willow was shoved inside the back of an SUV, the vehicle of choice in the mountains, and sandwiched between Marg and Tom. A third man sat behind the wheel, a nasty leer on his face as he checked her out through the rear-view mirror. Willow gagged. As they took off, Marg caught her looking out the side window at the second man. “Jack’s going to remain behind. He’ll let us know when they start looking for you. I figure, what? Ten minutes? Plenty of time to get out of town.” They stopped at a red light—nothing wrong here, officer—and Marg continued to blab away. But under the blabbing, Willow

heard a sound that made every hair on her body stand up. It was the sound of a howling wolf. A wolf in great distress, or furious anger. Perhaps both. Willow turned in her seat, barely catching a glimpse of a huge tan wolf careening around the corner of a building and running full speed ahead as the light turned green and Leery stepped on the gas, snapping her around. “Ben,” she whispered. “What?” Marg asked. Willow swallowed hard. “So what have you been up to?” One painted on brow rose. “Uh-huh.” Tires squealed behind them, and several horns blared long and sharp. “What was that?” Marg peered over her shoulder. “Looks like some dog is loose.” Leery the gag king raised a shoulder, still eyeing her with undisguised interest anytime she caught him looking at her. Willow gasped, turning and trying to see, yet terrified she’d see something horrifying. “Did it get hit?” Oh God, oh God, oh God! Ben, please be okay! “You’re seriously concerned about a dog?” Tom was incredulous, looking from her to the wicked gun he had trained on her. Willow bit her lip. “I’m worried about all God’s creatures.” “Weird.” Tom shook his head. “So, ah. How did you find me?” Anything to take her mind of Ben’s possibly broken and bloody body. Marg lifted her chin forward. “Stephen here is Tim’s uncle, your partner at the community center. The boy has a serious crush on you. He uploaded some Christmas photos from his phone onto his Facebook account, and though your hair was short and brown at the time, your big blue eyes made Stephen curious.” Fabulous. Outed by Facebook. “Speaking of phones.” Marg yanked Willow’s purse from her grip. “Hey!” “Let’s see what we have here.” By now they were passing through the edge of town, not

toward the city of Togan, but toward Denver. Buildings became sparse as the forest took over. Soon they were alone on the road, apart from the occasional vehicle heading toward Woodcliff. “A phone. How ordinary.” Marg wiggled it between two fingers. “Think this has a bug?” Willow knew it had a tracking device on it. Scott had told her. “So do I.” Cold air blasted them as Marg opened the window and tossed the cell phone out the window. Willow only gritted her teeth and Marg continued to paw through her purse. “Lip gloss. So not my color.” The tube followed the phone out the window. “Stop that!” Willow tried to grab her purse, outrage at the loss of her belongings temporarily overriding her fear of the situation. “Nu-huh.” The damn gun again. “Fuck, it’s cold.” Up went the window and Willow slumped back in her seat, helpless to do anything but watch the bitch continue to rifle through her bag. Down went the window and out went her small manicure set. Up went the window. By the nasty smile on Marg’s lips, Willow realized the woman was enjoying this slow and senseless torture. Each time the window went up, Willow might think the rest of her possessions safe, then down the window would go and another item was tossed. Every item in her purse—minus the eighteen dollars Marg pocketed—were tossed like garbage onto the pavement, until nothing was left. “Could be a tracking device in the purse itself.” Tom offered. Marg’s eyes went snake-slit as she looked from her henchman to Willow. “Hmmm. See why I keep them around?” She kept her gleefully maniacal gaze on Willow as she tossed the whole bag out. Willow jerked her face forward, refusing to give the other woman anything. Then it hit her and she had to bite her lip from laughing out loud. Ben was a tracker, a wolf. His sense of smell was a million times stronger than a human’s and Marg—stupid, idiotic, hateful witch—had just left him a long line of breadcrumbs. Unfortunately, they were now out of breadcrumbs. Now what?

“We’ve got lights behind us.” Stephen said. “No matter. The side road’s just ahead,” Marg replied. “Where are you taking me?” Willow whispered once they turned onto a dirt road, staring at the surrounding forest with dread. She’d thought they were going to Denver. She wanted to live to see Denver. “A nice older couple rented their vacation home to me,” Marg replied with a little smirk that didn’t bode well. “Rented?” She shrugged. “They won’t be needing it again.” Willow tasted bile. All too soon they pulled up, not to a cabin, but a mobile home. Trees grew tall throughout the property, something the homeowners must have enjoyed as they built the covered front porch around one. “Out,” Tom ordered. The cold sliced deep as Willow slid from the vehicle. She crossed her arms, shivering, longing for her coat which was hanging over a chair back at the reception. “Wonder why Jack hasn’t called.” Tom commented. Marg looked Willow up and down. “Guess you were nothing but a diversion for your bathroom buddy.” Willow jutted her chin, yelling in her head, I’m more than a diversion, you bitch. I’m his mate. But she kept her mouth shut. Stephen wanted an explanation of that comment and when Tom told him where they found Willow, the driver licked his lips and ran a hand over his crotch. Willow thought she might have vomited a little in her mouth. Stephen was so fugly that prostitutes probably put a bag over his head. “Dammit, Stephen. You disgust me,” Marg snapped. “If anyone gets Willow, it’ll be me, but unfortunately we don’t have time. Just grab her and let’s go. It’s too cold to prolong this.” Oh yeah. Willow was going to hurl. Thank God Marg wanted her dead sooner rather than later, because she just might tell Tom to pull the trigger if the old crone came at her with lust in her eyes. A flash of anger crossed Stephen’s face before he took hold of Willow’s arm. Ah. Dissension among murderers. Lovely.

Fugly steered her after Marg and they wound deeper into the forest, Tom taking up the rear. After several minutes Marg halted and looked around. “I thought this was where you dug the grave.” Willow guessed that would be her grave. She looked around with wide eyes, not seeing any big, empty pit. Everything looked the same to her. “Nah, it’s over there.” Tom pointed with his gun. Fugly squinted, trying to see. “You sure? I thought it was back that way.” Willow looked up at the stars. Great. She’d been abducted by the Three Stooges. “I fucking told you to set up a flag or something.” Marg cursed her men out. “Incompetent fools.” They turned around and tramped for several more minutes over fallen logs and winding around bare trees heavy with the latest snow fall. Apparently Marg had enough because she came to an abrupt halt. “That’s it. I’m done searching. Kill her now and just leave her body to the animals.” A wolf’s howl broke the silence, long and mournful. It was followed by another wolf, and another. Then came the eerie sound of a seriously pissed-off cat, and Willow wasn’t thinking a tabby. Oh. My. God. Rome. Rome’s not a wolf, he’s a cat. Ben called him a cat back at Kaylie’s place. Her stunned brain was still coming to terms with that news when her heart soared light and free. Ben was coming for her. They all were! Willow gulped and tried to step back as Tom turned his gun on her, but Fugly tightened his grip. Safety minutes away, she struggled in earnest, not to break free but to keep Stephen between her and Tom’s gun. She also screamed bloody murder, remembering belatedly that her scent would travel through the air, and with any luck, lead the wolves straight to her. “Shit, woman. Quit your wailing. You sound like those damn coyotes.” Marg wrinkled her nose in distaste. Willow shot the woman a death-ray glare that would make Tess proud. “Not coyotes, you dumb bitch. Wolves.”

Marg’s mouth dropped in shock. Nobody had ever spoken to her like that. Gaping like a fishmonger she said, “That’s it. Tom.” In that split second Willow wished she’d told Ben she loved him. Loved him so much that her heart ached with it. She loved his charm, his personality, his wit and, yes, even his wild, furry side. And now she never would. She sucked in a breath to scream when two lethal black streaks blurred out from the corner of her eye, her vision suddenly sideways as she was ripped out of Stephen’s grip and shoved onto the snowy ground. Something heavy lay on top of her, snarling and snapping. Breathless, she turned her head—to peer around a large tan paw. Marg stood alone, her mouth open wide in horrified shock. Tom laid at her side, motionless, a large black leopard standing over him, roaring out in victory. Swiveling her head the other direction, she saw a huge black wolf doing the same with Stephen. God she hoped whoever the black wolf was didn’t catch any disease from the henchman. She tried to look up. “Ben?” At her soft whisper the snarling stopped and a big, moist tongue swiped across her cheek. “Ew.” He chuffed and boinked her face with his wet nose, as if assuring himself she was fine. “I’m okay. Really. Just wouldn’t mind breathing.” Ben eased off enough so Willow could sit up, gasping in lungfuls of air, his amber eyes ever watchful as he scanned everyone around them. Willow now saw Caleb behind Marg, Brandon, his best man and one of his deputies, at his side. Both were not only still dressed in their tuxes, but looking hot and sexy as they handcuffed Marg. “Marg Valens. You’re under arrest for kidnapping, attempted murder, and so many other things—including pissing me off—that I can’t begin to list them.” Willow leaned back onto a hard fur-covered chest. If Caleb were here, that meant— “You bitch!” Tess stomped over the ground, her wedding dress hiked over an arm.

led.

“Probably be better to give her to the wolves.” Brandon chuck-

Barreling down on Marg like an avenging angel, Tess drew back her free arm and slammed her fist into the other woman’s face. Willow gawked as Valen fell like a downed tree. Even as Tess shook her hand she turned around to look for Willow. “You good?” Not only had Ben come for her, Rome, Caleb, Brandon, and God, Tess. In her wedding dress! Willow started to laugh. “God, I love you.” Tess eased, a happy smile curling her lips. “Me too.” Other people started to show including Scott, Joe, and two police officers actually in uniform. One of them was Zan, who carried clothes in his hand. Willow felt the air thicken and tingle before she caught a glimpse of a naked male body. Was that Dean? But Ben rounded on her, pushing her back to the ground with his large body so that all she saw was a big, furry, tanned head. He gave her another slow lick along her cheek and she reached out with both hands, grasping the thick fur on his neck. “And I love you, Ben. But we really need to talk about those wolf kisses.”

Epilogue Ben had given her a week. One short week to figure it all out. Though family and friends had called throughout those seven days, Ben phoned her at least once every day to check in, to tease, to tantalize. And to drive her absolutely crazy. She missed him so much and each conversation only made it worse. How was she to think about her future when all she thought of was Ben? The first several days flew by as she was reunited with her adored father, who broke down into sobs of joy when he saw her very much alive and well. Updating each other on what had happened over those missing months filled the beginning of the week. The fourth and fifth days were filled with the news that Valen and her men were immediately charged with kidnapping and attempted murder of Willow, and murder in the first degree of the elderly couple whose vacation home they’d “rented”. The defense had angled for mental incapacity as Valen appeared disoriented and had screamed uncontrollably at the wolf statue just inside the courthouse foyer. While the two men also in custody hadn’t screamed, they had peed their pants. The third man, the one who’d stayed behind at Tess’s wedding, was missing, and Willow didn’t care to know what happened to him. She did learn from Ben, however, that she would never have to worry about any of them again. The night before she left Woodcliff she’d warned Ben she would keep no secrets from her father. So on the sixth day she told the first man she ever loved about the man who now held her heart. Ian’s reaction was disconcerting, to say the least. Instead of reaching out for the phone to contact the nearest psychiatrist, he appeared shocked—understandable—then laughed in utter delight— not so understandable. Then it became Willow’s turn to listen to a story, this one about her great-grandfather, who disappeared into the magical mists and lush green valleys of Ireland after seducing an unwed woman. A woman whose child, Willow’s paternal grandmother, left her homeland to seek solace and anonymity from the veiled whispers

and shaming looks. A descendant of a faery? Yeah, right. There was no such thing. Just as there was no such thing as a werewolf? Whoa. On the seventh day Willow paced her father’s apartment on tenterhooks, rubbing her palms over her long skirt. Her father, bless his wonderful heart, kept everything of hers he could possibly stuff in his own three-bedroom condo. Minus a few worn pieces of furniture she’d bought secondhand, it was all here. Clothes, books, awards, pictures, knickknacks, a bookcase, and even her bedroom set. Ian Yancy was an incredible man. The doorbell rang and Willow breathed deep, tugging the hem of her long-sleeved shirt before walking over to let another incredible man into her life. “Hey.” Ben was all lazy, sexy male. A feast for her adoring eyes. “Hey, yourself.” Her first inclination was to jump up and wrap herself around him like ivy. But she hesitated, trying to gauge his reaction at seeing her again. After all, he’d never told her he loved her back. It was the only piece holding her back. A door cracked open across the hall and an elderly woman stuck her head through the narrow gap. “You okay, Willow, honey? I got the police on speed dial.” She waved the phone like a sword under her second chin. “No, Mrs. Crenshaw. Everything’s just fine.” Several people in the building knew what happened to Willow, and they now took a special interest in her safety. Sometimes Willow got the feeling they were waiting with bated breath for something else to happen so they could get in on the action. She shook it off. “This is Ben Anderson. He’s my...” What, exactly? “Her fiance.” Ben turned that charming smile at Mrs. Crenshaw, who proceeded to preen and pat the curls in her white hair. “Oh. Such a handsome young man. Lucky girl.” “I’m the lucky one.” Ben looked deep into Willow’s eyes.

Without waiting for an invitation, he nudged her inside and closed the door against Mrs. Crenshaw’s prying gaze. Willow walked backwards into the room, hyper-aware of Ben’s advance and the blatant hunger in his eyes. “Fiance, huh?” She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. He tossed his jacket onto a chair, his lips curling into a lupine grin. “I didn’t think she’d understand the importance behind the words ‘my mate’.” She bumped into the wall, effectively halting her retreat. “So you don’t want to marry me?” “Oh, we’ll be getting married all right.” Ben came closer, pressing his heat all along her body. He laid his forearms against the wall on either side of her head. “I missed you, Will.” Her tongue darted out to lick dry lips. “Yeah?” His eyes flicked from her mouth back to her eyes, the dark depths of his pinned her in place, the feel of him surrounding her, melting her into a pool of goo. He was big and gorgeous, seductive and sweet—and all hers. “Oh, yeah.” He brushed his lips on hers. “Open your mouth.” “Wha-” His kiss was hot and sinful and deep. So deep. His arms didn’t move from the wall, but his wicked thigh wedged between hers, rubbing against the arousal between her legs. She yanked her head away, her hands pushing against his shoulder to get air. “How? The mating heat’s gone.” Another deep kiss. “Told you. The mating heat only ensures mates get together initially, then twice a year to continue the line. What you and I have is more than just chemistry, sweetheart.” Chemistry that was damn near combustible. She wasn’t sure if the top of her head was still attached. “What more do we have, Ben?” He nuzzled her temple. “Affection.” Her eyes started to close. “Affection?” “I love you, Willow Yancy.” Her eyes popped back open. “What?’ He reared back, his eyes confused. “I’ve told you I love you.” “I—I—” Her stupid mouth wasn’t working right. “When?”

He looked at a loss for words. Then he rested his forehead on hers. “I’m sorry. I’ve told you so many times in my head that I thought I already told you out loud.” She reached under his shirt to twist the little bit of flesh she could grab. “Maybe if you’d told me before I left, I wouldn’t have been so crazed this last week.” Ben only reached down to take the hand abusing him and kiss each and every finger before holding it, palm open, over his cheek. “I love you so much that I could barely breathe when you were gone.” Ohhhhhhhhh. Mush. She was so much mush. “I want you home with me. In Woodcliff.” “A job—” He covered her mouth with his hand. “I don’t give a flying fig if you ever lift a finger. Just don’t ever leave me again.” She mumbled under his hand, prompting him to lift it. “What?” ”Dean called and offered me a job. As manager of your ‘hunting lodge’. It certainly won’t be much but then Josh called—” “Josh Renner? What the hell?” The amber she now knew signaled his wolf was close to the surface started to bleed into his eyes. “If you’d stop interrupting me, I could tell you.” Clearly unhappy, he clamped his mouth shut. Amused at him, she slipped her hands around his body to stroke his back under his shirt, knowing he needed the skin-to-skin contact. She needed it as well. “He called to tell me that one of their female physical ed teachers is pregnant. They’ll need a replacement within the next couple of months. Potentially permanently. She’s already hinting about not coming back.” “I’m not sure I like the idea of you spending so much time away from me.” She kissed the mulish set of his lips. “Just think of me as the extension of your eyes and ears for the pack, Ben.” His eyes brimmed with emotion, strong hands skimming down to curve over her butt. “Not my eyes and ears, Willow. My heart. You’re my heart.”

As he claimed her lips for another toe-curling kiss, she realized that without all the ugliness that had come into her life, she would never have known this man. Was he her reward? Maybe. But to have this man in her life, she would go through the fires of hell again and again. And if hell should ever rear its unwelcome head again, Willow knew without a doubt she would never be alone. Ben would always be at her side.

THE END

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Copyright Information A Ravenous Romance® Original Publication www.ravenousromance.com Seduced by a Shifter Copyright © 2012 by Jennifer Dellerman Ravenous Romance® 100 Cummings Center Suite 123A Beverly, MA 01915 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review. ISBN-13: 978-1-60777-495-2 This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.