Seduced by a Shifter Page 3

  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 becau
se 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 encourageme
nt 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.”