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.